Everything I Need to Know I Learned From My Kids

Before I became a mom, I used to think of myself as a pretty intelligent person. Little did I know. Now, every day, multiple times a day, I am asked questions to which I have no. earthly. idea what the answer could possibly be. Why, oh why didn't I pay more attention in science class? Or history class....or math class for that matter. 

Thank goodness for Google and Wikipedia. They save my pride more times than I care to admit.

Other than the prolific amount of academic minutiae I am re-learning with my kids, there are emotional and spiritual lessons to be had, too, and so many ways that I realize I have grown up way too much and need to remember some simple, childlike qualities, such as...

Forgiveness. It always amazes me how kids are so quick to forgive. You apologize, and they are over it. And then later, when motivated by the ever-present "Mom Guilt," you re-apologize, you are bound to hear, "Mom, you already said you were sorry." Oh yeah. I did. And I guess I really am forgiven. Amazing.

Wonder. I used to walk down the street and be grossed out by insects, snakes, and rodents. Not anymore. They are now a stimulus for examination, discovery and discussion. That roly-poly? I used to find it annoying. Now when I see it crawling across my floor, I know I have to call in the kids, because someone is bound to want to hold it for awhile. The other day, I saw a 6 foot long snake when I was out running. My jumping-up-into-my throat heart was thankful it was dead, but my next thought was how I wished I could take it home to the kids, and how they would love to check it out. What on earth has happened to me!?

Laughter. My kids recently informed me that children laugh hundreds of times a day, and that adults only laugh a few. It's so true. I want to adopt their attitude of finding humor and joy in every little thing, from blowing bubblegum until it pops all over your face to going down a slide into a freezing cold pool and not minding a bit. The things that I find passe, they find exhilarating. This was never more clear to me than when Jack and  I were going through security at the airport and he kept asking me WHEN we got to take our shoes off, because that was "his favorite part." Really?? Never would have crossed my mind to find fun in that before, but now I certainly will.

Appreciation. When the power goes out, as it did last night,  I get frustrated. For my kids, it is a chance to build pillow forts in the living room and snuggle up in them with a book and a flashlight. There's no distraction from a computer or a movie. It's simply time to be together and maybe even take advantage of the darkness to see how much brighter the stars appear.

Love. I was always told that there is no love like the one you have for your children, and while that is more true than I ever could have dreamed, no one prepared me for the love that they give in return...

 Unconditional. Never, ever concerned with how I look....they could care less about that. 

Uninhibited. There is never a shortage of hugs and sloppy kisses and "I love you's."

Unquestioned. They never agonize over how they feel. We love each other, and that is it.

So, I don't think I'll let today go by without a little extra squeeze for my kiddos, and maybe a stroll down the street for some ice cream. Just because. Oh yeah. And that cricket that kept me awake last night? Maybe I won't mush it when I find it. Maybe I'll share the wonder over it, just a little.

Grandparents

I realized, only by looking at my calendar, that it was Grandparents' Day today. This is not a holiday that is celebrated in Guatemala, and I don't remember it being a big deal when I lived in the U.S. However, I felt very sentimental this morning, because it was a reminder to me that I only have one grandparent left. And it was also a reminder that I have been blessed to have so many happy memories of my grandparents. Because of that, I do believe I am an expert in what makes a Good Grandparent, and so.....here is the definitive list (or, in any case, my opinion)
A Good Grandparent always shows (or feigns) interest in whatever topic a grandchild wishes to discuss. One must be prepared, because this could encompass any topic, from the ever-so-enthralling detail of what said grandchild ate for breakfast, to the origin of black holes, to the question of which is the most dangerous animal on the planet.
A Good Grandparent delights in serving nutritious, delicious meals to his/her grandchild. The meal usually consists of an icee composed of sugar and red dye #2, washed down with a Mountain Dew. For balance, you see.
A Good Grandparent is an expert in the art of good-night storytelling. The story must be exciting, adventurous, and yet, at the same time, devoid of anything scary or nightmare-inducing.
A Good Grandparent never tires of answering questions, especially those that begin with, "Why?"
A Good Grandparent can make up, er...I mean, accurately recite, stories from his or her childhood in which he or she always ends up being the hero.
A Good Grandparent keeps toys and books around, even though she may not see her grandchildren for months.....just in case.
A Good Grandparent is never too busy to put down an all-important project in order to dance to a song, or drive down the road to see a horse, or listen to a silly knock-knock joke and pretend NOT to know the answer.
A Good Grandparent makes a grandchild feel like he is the most interesting person he has ever met, and that nothing could be more exciting than what they are doing together at that moment.

 I am incredibly blessed to have had grandparents who gave me a rich treasury of memories, and even more so to have parents and in-laws who are giving my children the same gift.
Happy Grandparents' Day indeed.

Sand in My Suitcase

I'm not a fan of unpacking. Now packing a suitcase, that's a different story. There's so much anticipation, the imagining of what the trip will be like, the expectation of reuniting with family and friends, the excitement of a long-awaited vacation from the daily grind.

But unpacking is bittersweet. And when I do it right after arriving home, like I did this trip, there's more bitter than sweet.

Oh yes, there's still the thrill of unloading all of the things we were blessed enough to purchase, the fun of putting them in their new places.
But there's also the sand. And the sand is what brings on the tears.

You see, on this trip, we got to share three amazing days on the beach with our family, soaking up the sun, the waves, and each other. While we were there, I had an epiphany: when we lived near family and friends, we all too often took them for granted. We knew we could see them anytime, that they were just around the corner...and while we saw them as often as we could, we didn't cherish that gift like we do now.

But on vacation, we simply lived life with those we love.

I got to wake up each morning and drink coffee with my sweet friend Melanie.

I got to watch her kids and mine pick up their friendship right where they'd left off.

I had the luxury of spending a couple of hours walking to and from Starbucks with my sister-in-law and brother, hours in which we shared our thoughts and our hearts with each other.

I got to make an early morning donut-run with my grandma, a woman whose shared wisdom is precious to me.

I had plenty of delightful, "let's just hang out together" time with my niece and my brother.

I spent priceless hours on the beach with my kids and loved watching my dad and mom watch their grandkids.

I had the talks I can never get enough of with my mom...the kind where we can go from oohing and aahing over cookbooks to telling our hopes and dreams for each other in a matter of minutes.

And so, while the sand-encrusted swimsuits in my suitcase (and the myriad of shells I fished out that eventually ended up in the bottom of my washing machine) made my heart physically hurt with the missing, and while the tears I'd tried to squelch came up....it was impossible for me to forget just how ridiculously blessed we are.

To have family and friends who love us and express that love to us.
To spend hours with those we love and have the freedom to debate, to laugh with (and at!) each other, to accept and actually like each other.
To get to see them as often as we do and know that, for that brief moment, we will all put the busyness of our lives on hold in order to take advantage of every hour together.

So, I'll take the "bitter" in the unpacking, because I got to taste the sweet, and now I get to savor the memory of that.
I'll dump out that sandy suitcase and hold onto those memories.

And dream about next year.

Oh No He Didn't

This past weekend, we enjoyed a long-overdue getaway to Lake Atitlan. It is the deepest lake in Central America and is shaped by three volcanoes.
We swam, canoed, read, ate, and just relaxed together as a family. The surroundings were breath-taking.
And peaceful.
Until Jackson decided to share his wildly entertaining personality with the other guests.

Steve & I were sitting by the pool taking in the view of the lake and keeping an eye on Jack, who was splashing around in the hot tub. The quiet moment was interrupted when Jackson suddenly stood up and announced LOUDLY, "Dad, I just peed in the hot tub."
Whaaaat????
And again.
"DAD, I JUST PEED IN THE HOT TUB!"
I jumped up, not quite in time to stop him from announcing it AGAIN. LOUDLY. I told him I'd take him to the bathroom. At this suggestion, he replied, "I CAN'T STOP!"

At this moment, all of the other guests, who'd been very politely pretending that they couldn't hear our sweet little boy could not hold it together any longer, and everyone completely erupted in laughter.

Steve managed to get Jackson out of the tub while he (Jackson) was in mid-sentence informing everyone that, "It's weird, because the hot tub doesn't smell any different now."

More wild laughter.

We hustled him off to the restroom, and joked with the other families that we were pretty sure we wouldn't have to share the hot tub for the rest of the day. All was quiet again, and everyone went back to their reading and relaxing.
Until Jackson ran back to the pool and let us all know, "I didn't have to go anymore."
Surely our proudest moment as parents.

Well, This Was a First

Building houses is something that our teams do here. A lot. There's always a huge need for decent shelter for families, since many of them live in conditions that Americans would call slums.

Two weeks ago, a team from Georgia was here and built a home for a family of 4 living together in one room. And not a very big room at that. Our people constructed a much bigger, more sanitary structure that would keep out the rodents and insects and keep the family safe from the elements. The family was so touched by all that was done for them that they decided to make a special gesture of gratitude.

Now, this is not abnormal. Typically, a family who is receiving a home does not have much to give monetarily, but they will do things like buy drinks for the team or maybe share some treats. But this time was different.

The young woman of the family announced to our team that, to show her gratitude, she was going to change her son's middle name.

To Steve.

As in OUR Steve.

When Steve heard this, he was a little bit in shock, but he quickly recovered and posed for a picture with his new namesake.

Good thing "Little Steve" didn't seem to mind much either.

Same and Different

Life is life, no matter where you live it. There is a common human experience that makes it possible for us to relate to people who may not even speak the same language we do. In the interest of such experience, I'd like to answer the question most commonly asked of me:
"How do you live in a Third World Country??"
Here's how:
In the States, I went to the grocery store. In Guatemala, I go to the grocery store. The only difference is, I can only buy what I can carry in bags (or boxes) to my car, which is usually parked a couple of blocks away.
Well, there might be another difference. I am getting some lightning-fast math skills since I convert every price I see into dollars by dividing it by 8 in my head. I say "price I see," because often there is no price that I can see, and apparently whatever price the cashier assigns it that day is the final answer.

In the States, we sometimes visited our local farmers' market to buy produce. In Guatemala, I sometimes buy produce at the mercado. The only difference is, I speak Spanish, I try to haggle for a different price, and I have learned to ignore the iguanas, rats, roaches, and other wildlife I may come across.
On the plus side, the produce is so ripe and ready that it tastes exactly like it's supposed to.

In the States, I turned on my stove. In Guatemala, I turn on my gas stove, and if, perchance, it is out of gas, I call my friendly gas people and they bring me a new tank. If you run out of gas in the middle of cooking dinner, there's always cereal.

In the States, I went running. In Guatemala, I run with our IDC running club. The only difference is, in our many (hilly!) miles, we have come across all manner of animals, including snakes, pigs (large, and dead), aggressive bees and dogs. We also get the view of an active volcano puffing nearly every time we run.

In the States, I ran errands. In Guatemala, I run errands. The only difference is, I've learned to use my hand as my turn signal, cobblestoned streets don't even feel bumpy to me anymore, and I'm pretty sure I no longer remember what a stoplight means.

In the States, I swore we'd never own a motorcycle. In Guatemala, we do. Enough said.

In the States, we drove everywhere. In Guatemala, we still rely on our car a lot, but we've also taken advantage of our local transportation system, such as chicken buses, tuk-tuks, and just plain old walking.

In the States, I took my kids to the doctor. In Guatemala, I sometimes don't have to. Amoxicillin is available at our local farmacia, right over the counter. Nifty!

In the States, I used my dishwasher every day, sometimes twice a day. In Guatemala, I wash dishes by hand, in a single sink, and at the risk of sounding arrogant, I am pretty darn fast at it.

In the States, I bought fruit and ate it. I turned on the tap and used the water for cooking and drinking. In Guatemala, the only difference is I clean fruit with a disinfectant, and I use a special filter for all of the water. Because parasites are not our friends.

In the States, we went to church. In Guatemala, we go to church. The difference is.....pretty much nothing. We worship the same God, read the same Bible, have the same love for each other, feel our hearts stirred in the same way.

In the States, we were blessed. And in Guatemala, we still are.

Redemption

Lately, I've been frustrated with God because I've been asking Him some questions, and I haven't gotten any answers.
There have been so many times I've heard His voice, known what He wanted, known His plan for me. But not lately.
And so, today, as I was asking Him again my questions, I got my answer.
"You keep asking because you know my answer, and you just don't like it."
Ouch.
Truth.
In my mind, I'd already picked out my desired answer, concocted an amazing scenario in which it would all work out the way I wanted, all the while forgetting that, in fact, I am not God.
I read a quote recently in the book "Unfashionable" by Tullian Tchividjian that described the way I have made decisions in my life:
"To be a wordly person, is, in fact, to be a 'practical' or 'functional' atheist. It's someone who--despite all he professes--lives and makes daily decisions as if God doesn't exist. A practical atheist is a person who comes to conclusions about money, business, worship, entertainment, ministry, education, or whatever else without the directing influence of God and his revealed truth..."

I've been a Christian for years, and I can rattle off a list of things I believe. But in my reality, my life, I don't live this way. I make decisions based upon what I want, not upon the answer I've sought from God.
I forget that God is not capable of doing wrong. That He is the ultimate Redeemer, and that if I would just listen and then, the tricky part, obey, He will work it out.
Not in that cliche, "happily-ever-after" way that I mistakenly believed for years, but in a way that will, as it has so many times in the past,
Blow. My. Mind.
That is the way He redeems. So that He gets all the credit, and I can only stare in disbelief.
He takes my knotted-up mess that I am just so sure can never be made right and beautifully reworks it.
So, I'm gonna take that scary leap, jump that gap between what I see and things unseen.
And choose to believe that He will redeem.
"... stand up and lift up your heads, because your redemption is drawing near." (Luke 21:28)

Torn

The last few weeks were full of questions.

We were blessed to catch up with so many friends and family in Florida, and they all had questions as to how life is in Guatemala.

There aren't any simple answers. I think the best way I can put it is that I feel I have a heart torn in two. Not in a bad way, like a broken heart, but a heart that is stretched between two places.

On the one side, our time in Florida felt like we were being bathed in love. When we spoke at our home church and had so many people hug on us, tell us they loved us and prayed for us, press donations into our hands, we felt so supported, so humbled by their care.

When we spent 2 1/2 weeks being spoiled rotten by my mom and dad, so overwhelmed by how they just poured their hearts into letting us rest and renew, we felt so blessed to call them our family.

All of these good things made saying good-bye more painful than it's ever been. It was a reminder of how many people we love that we leave behind for months at a time. It was a reminder of the silly little comforts we miss....grocery stores so shiny, clean and stocked with everything.....speaking English.....Starbucks!......smooth, broad streets. All of these are unimportant, but they sure are nice to have.

And yet, now that we're back in Guatemala, although I wish I could pull up to a Starbucks drive-thru and get my favorite, and although my heart hurts if I think about the very tearful good-bye my children said to their grandparents, there is peace in knowing that this is where God has us.

No, we don't know how long we'll be here. We don't know what is next. But we know that, right now, we are obeying God's plan for our family, and even though that may cost us emotionally, the peace that accompanies that obedience is indescribable.

I've heard from other missionaries that this tearing of the heart is something that you, somehow, learn to live with. This trip to Florida was the time I felt it the most. For all the pain of missing my family, my friends, I knew that I didn't really "belong" there right now. Maybe someday, but not right now.

We shared with our church that missionaries are not "supermen" or "superwomen." They're just ordinary people following God. We've learned this year just how ordinary we are, how being a missionary is not some romantic feat. We've never wanted to glamorize it or be less than honest about it either.

Some days are really, really hard. Sometimes we wonder why we're here.

Some days are amazing. Sometimes we know why we're here.

And when you think about it, we all have torn hearts, longing for those things that we'll only know and share in eternity. No matter where God has led us, we should never really belong. One day, the tear in our hearts will be healed, and how good that will be. Until then, we want to do more than just survive. We want to live a wild adventure following the Spirit, trusting Him to care for those we love, trusting Him to bring the healing and peace we need. And He does.

Beach Days

My mom and dad rented rooms at a charming B&B on the beach (Beachside Palms), and we had 3 wonderful days of laughing, eating, swimming, eating, running, eating, catching up, reading, napping, eating.....it was great to have the whole Moore family together for the first time in more than 3 years!

The List

Since we arrived in Florida on Friday, we have begun to check off items on my dad's famous multi-page list of things for us to do while we're here.

Interestingly enough, when Nate read the list, his response was, "It's all about food!"

Well, yes. Yes, it is.

So far: Starbucks, Dad's famous breakfast, Mom's pot roast, the Lighthouse Doughnut Store, Cracker Barrel, Mom's Chex Mix, the pool, and somehow, we even managed to go to church in between all of our eating! It was great to see everyone, to hug and be hugged. 

Better go check the list to see what's next.....

On How We are Keeping the Local Hospital in Business...

Last week it was my turn to go to the hospital. I pride myself on my pain tolerance. I mean, I've had three kids. And a root canal. So, when I felt some intense pain that reminded me of well, nothing I've ever felt before, I woke up my hubby and informed him, quite calmly, that we needed to go to the hospital.

The first sign that things would not be boring was the fact that the hospital was totally, completely dark, and we had to buzz the intercom to get into the also-very-dark waiting area. The mumbling desk clerk gestured in the general direction of the hallway, so we assumed that was where we were to sit. 

The fact that the clerk had to call the doctor multiple times to rouse him from his slumber was apparently not enough to send us home.

However, when we both saw the ginormous rat...yes, RAT, hurtling himself down the hallway, we almost gave up. But no. We were committed.  And still in pain.

In the interest of good taste, I will not describe the noises that were coming from the patient in the first room. Suffice it to say that he or she must have been visiting the hospital due to intestinal issues. Maybe that's why the rat was running.

Anyway, when the doctor finally woke up, he proceeded to examine me. Now, I always thought that charts, writing down blood pressure, medical history, weight, etc. was kind of important, but I was very, very wrong.  I also thought that doctors checked the part of your body that actually HURT, but I have obviously never been to medical school. I'm not sure the doctor has either. 

Apparently when your appendix region is in great pain, the correct area to probe is your leg and your toe. Go figure.

I digress. The nurse eventually came in to draw blood and to have me collect a sample in a used baby food jar (hey, it had been washed. I think), and the doctor, upon exiting the room, threw out an afterthought for Steve to answer. This was in Spanish, but I will translate:

Dr.: "She's never had any children, right?"

Steve: "Um. Yes."

Dr: .......silence......

Steve: "Three."

Dr: "But of course they were natural births."

Steve: "Um. No."

Upon which the doctor had to push the nurse aside, to see for himself if this were true. It was.

We eventually did leave the hospital with no real diagnosis, but I was amazed at how quickly I began to feel better at the thought of just going home.

The best part is, we got to visit our friends at the hospital again last night, after Steve decided to see if a saw was indeed able to slice through a nail and a finger. It is.

His hospital visit was much less exciting, although we are learning so much medical information each time we go. For example, did you know that a used water bottle is perfect for pouring some sort of cleaning liquid onto an open wound? And that cotton "pieces" (formerly known as sterile cotton balls or gauze) do not have to be sterile? They can be stored in strips of brown paper bags. Awesome.

We've had some great laughs in our medical adventures, but in all honesty, we have an excellent family doctor here, and we are very thankful for our local hospital. Rats and all.

Before we moved to Guatemala, I had been a runner, but I'd only done a 5K race and a couple of 10k Turkey Trots. That all changed when I started running with what we affectionately call the "IDC Running Club" (Iglesia Del Camino). There is just nothing like running here...we have experienced puffing volcanoes, attacking bees, dead animals on the road (from huge pigs, to snakes of every size, to a bat, and everything in between), rain, speeding chicken buses, and more. 

We have seen the mountains from every angle, in every light, cloud-topped or clear, sun-dappled or hazy. We have passed people walking or riding their bikes to the market, to work, to their villages, and when we see some of those people walking without shoes, it is a reminder of how blessed we are, and how much more there is to do here.

We have pushed our bodies to their limits and experienced the highs of meeting new goals, crossing new finish lines.

But today was the best run I've ever had, because it was the first time Nate and I got to run in his first race together. He'd been asking for months if he could do a race, and today was his day to take part in a 5K in Guatemala City. I can't even express how proud I am of him. He ran his first race in a foreign country, on a course that was fairly hot and hilly, and he was amazing! He didn't complain, and when he started to get worn out and I gave him the good ol' "Mom peptalk," he listened, and then I could hear him telling himself, "I can do this. I can do this."

We sprinted over the finish line together....I hope there are many more finish lines to come.

Oh yeah---and even though the course was mismeasured (happens all the time here!), so that the 3 miles was actually almost 4, he finished the race in 35:54, having only done ONE training run. I'm gonna have to step it up!

Thanks, Nate, for a wonderful day!

Life and Death

I hope I never get numb to seeing hurting people, to seeing pain. It's easy to do, living here, because there is pain, poverty, hurt, need everywhere. I walk down the street with my kids, and I pass so many people sitting with a bowl, begging for money. I see people so drunk that they literally pass out and sleep on the sidewalk. There are homeless people sleeping in the grass. There are children who walk around the town with no shoes on their little feet.
It's easy to get hardened, to get "used" to seeing these sights. But this week brought a reminder again of why we are here. God wants us to bring His good news of healing and hope, restoration and freedom. We can't just "preach" to people without showing them first that God loves them. One way we do this is by meeting their very real physical needs, and one of the biggest ways we've been able to do that this year is through taking teams to the Malnutrition Center. This is a place for children whose parents cannot even feed them properly, or for children who, for one reason or another, simply are not thriving physically.
This has been a beautiful ministry for our family to be involved in. We've all gone there, and Nate and Shelby get so excited to play with the kids, to love on the babies, and just to help in whatever way they can. But this week, while Steve and a team were ministering there, a 7 year-old child named Benito (who weighed only 25 pounds when he was brought in), passed away.
Heartbreaking.
It was devastating for my children, even though they understood that Benito is not hungry anymore, is not in pain, is playing and eating whatever he wants right now.
And it was a powerful reminder that this is why we are here, that this is no game but serious business, helping to save lives both physically and spiritually.
Matthew 19:14-15 But Jesus said, “Let the children come to me. Don’t stop them! For the Kingdom of Heaven belongs to those who are like these children.” And he placed his hands on their heads and blessed them before he left.

Planting Seeds

Mission team season is in full swing here, and since Steve's main job is setting up all the logistics for those teams and then leading them in their projects and outreach events, he is very busy during this time. A cool blessing that comes with this job is the opportunity for our kids to go along on some of the projects. Both Shelby and Nate went with the group to the Malnutrition Center. They absolutely love going, playing with the children there, and loving on the babies, too. 

By the end of last week, we were pretty wiped, so we planned a family day for Saturday, just relaxing and being together. The kids bought seed packets and planted a tiny garden in the small piece of ground we call our backyard! They weren't crazy about preparing the soil, but they loved making little holes and putting those tiny seeds in, ever so carefully. 

That night at dinner, Jackson was sure his plants had already grown, and he needed to go check on them. The next morning, the kids were out the door before breakfast to water the ground. If excitement and lots of watering can grow a garden, then ours is sure to be amazing!

Allergies

Here's the latest life lesson from my five year old.

Jackson: "Mom, I think God is allergic to some people."

Wow. This is how I all-too-often live my life, my words declaring that God loves everyone, and my actions saying, "I can fake like I love you, but really? Not. even. close."

I act like there are people who God SHOULD be allergic to. So, this must mean that I can get a pass on loving them, too.

But then I read something like this, which I "stumbled" across yesterday after I was really, really ticked at someone...justifiably of course, and oh yeah, I was righteously angry, of course.

Romans 14:1, 10-12, 22-23 in The Message:

 Welcome with open arms fellow believers who don't see things the way you do. And don't jump all over them every time they do or say something you don't agree with—even when it seems that they are strong on opinions but weak in the faith department. Remember, they have their own history to deal with. Treat them gently.

^10-12So where does that leave you when you criticize a brother? And where does that leave you when you condescend to a sister? I'd say it leaves you looking pretty silly—or worse. Eventually, we're all going to end up kneeling side by side in the place of judgment, facing God. Your critical and condescending ways aren't going to improve your position there one bit. Read it for yourself in Scripture: 

   "As I live and breathe," God says, 
      "every knee will bow before me; 
   Every tongue will tell the honest truth 
      that I and only I am God."
So tend to your knitting. You've got your hands full just taking care of your own life before God.

^22-23Cultivate your own relationship with God, but don't impose it on others. You're fortunate if your behavior and your belief are coherent. But if you're not sure, if you notice that you are acting in ways inconsistent with what you believe—some days trying to impose your opinions on others, other days just trying to please them—then you know that you're out of line. If the way you live isn't consistent with what you believe, then it's wrong.

...And therein lies the prescription for those pesky allergies. 

 

Grillin' Guatemala-Style

We've lived in Guatemala for 9 months now, but it is not easy to think of yourselves as "at home" in a very different place when the entire fabric of your lives has been woven in America. Strangely, it's the little things that start to make us realize, "O.K., this is home now." Here's one of those things: we bought a grill. 

Propane? Who needs it!

Lighter fluid? Pshaw!

Blow dryer? Check!

And the amazing part is, in Florida, we used to cook year-round on our pretty decent propane grill. The kids never even knew it existed or cared. But when we brought out our new little cooker last night, it became a family affair. Everyone wanted to help, and everyone was spellbound by the fire! Even more amazing, those burgers were the best we'd ever made!

For all the challenges of living in a foreign country, I know that all along the way there are priceless gifts like these, moments where I realize that my family is learning to really appreciate what we've always taken for granted, to enjoy time spent together, to get really, really excited about the flavor of a burger cooked over some coals and a blow-dryer. 

Thank you, Lord for the simple things.

Two Weeks in Pictures

We had a special 2 weeks having family here. On their second day here, we had a 5th birthday party for Jackson. Jack likes to combine the words "fiesta" and "pinata" and just call it a "piesta!"





We took them shopping at our Publix, the market...


We celebrated Christmas early...



We celebrated 12 baptisms...


We experienced a Mayan village...




The boys got to experience the zipline at Finka Filadelphia...




We visited the Malnutrition Center and loved on the kids there...







It was a great reminder that family is special, that I am thankful for people who have known us for years, who know our history, our faults and triumphs and who love us just because. Thank you for coming, Mom and Dad O.!

Because I Needed a Challenge

There aren't enough challenges here, so I thought I'd artificially create one. Let's see, one part pushing my body to its limits, one part running up massive hills, add 2 parts being chased by chicken buses, oh, and one part high altitude. Add a sprinkle of "the race people just ran out of water," and a big scoop of running hard with your friends and what do you get? The Maya Marathon.

Slice of Life

Last week, our Leadership Council from our home church, Pathways Community in Largo, FL, was here for a visit, and I got the chance to hang out with the ladies in the group.
We went to a small village near another small village called San Antonio de Agua Calientes, and we were welcomed into the home of a lady named Victoria. She described to us how she saw a need in her town for the women to be able to earn some money for their families. They were weaving beautiful textiles, but other people were buying them and taking them to the Mercado (market) in Antigua, and the women weren't making much profit.
So, Victoria started a co-op. Each lady had to contribute a piece of aluminum, and together, these pieces formed a roof for a small shelter. On this dirt floor, every day, the group sits and weaves. This is their tradition.
Victoria described their daily life to us, from grinding rice into milk for a drink called Horchata, to how they balance baskets on their heads so they can carry a lunch into the field for their husbands, to the weaving process, to cooking tortillas.
She taught us about their Mayan traditions, and we acted out a Mayan wedding ceremony (I was the groom!). Then, we all made our own tortillas on their small stove, and sat down to a Guatemalan lunch that had taken these ladies hours to prepare for us.
As I listened to the descriptions and ate the amazing food, I felt so humbled. These ladies were kind, generous, and treated us as honored guests. They answered all of our questions, were so loving and hospitable. I felt shallow for my grumbling about my small kitchen and lack of dishwasher when I saw their tiny shack of a kitchen.
I need these reminders more often. It is like jumping into a vat of cold water. I wake up to what's real and true, and the pieces of my life shift back into the proper places.

The View from Here

Steve and I spent some time last night watching some of the convention speeches on the internet. It was a surreal experience.

I have never watched a convention from another country.
I have never been so interested in a speech that I would watch it twice.
I have never been so thankful to be an American citizen.

I think the emotions rose up in my heart because our conventions are so uniquely American. The flags, the patriotism, the hope and pride, the fact that we, unlike so many places, get to choose our leader. We are not made to vote. We are not coerced or threatened into voting for a particular candidate. We vote, and it counts.

I remember the excitement I felt when I finally got to vote in my first election. I lost that feeling for awhile, but after these last few days, that thrill is back.

I am thankful for the country I live in, the place God has called our family. But every time I have boarded a plane this last year, I have realized what a gift that blue passport is, how many people dream of the day they can have one, and how I don't want to take it for granted.

God has brought us to a new country, and He has proven that He can tenderly change my heart to feel contentment and even happiness in a new and very different place. He keeps drawing us to relationships, to meeting people that we already have grown to love. But, when I send that absentee ballot in this year, I will not think of it the same again. God bless America, and God bless us all.