Thanks Uncle Ronnie

Dear Uncle Ronnie & Cindy,

I don’t know how you made it a whole month, but you did. I’m sure it was a month full of questions and companionship you weren’t quite expecting.

I want to say thanks. Thank you for wanting Saimon to come. Thank you for wanting him to stay. Thank you for teaching him how to rake and bail hay, 

how to count and feed cows and chickens, how to install gutters and vinyl siding, how to keep himself from getting kicked by the cows, how to grow watermelons and tomatoes and fruit trees properly, pick and shell purple hull peas, 

inspect and mend fences, get ticks off the dogs and cows, how to peel tomatoes for homemade tomato sauce, and how a rim coated in butter keeps the water from boiling over.

Thanks for letting him drive the trucks, tractors, and the mule. 

Thanks for letting him shoot at crows with the shotgun. 

Thanks for teaching him silly jokes and sayings he laughs at every time he repeats them.  Thanks for introducing him to “Alf” –his new favorite TV show. Thanks for picking up lunch with him right out of the garden. 

Thanks for being patient with him on long drives and longer days.

I’m sure there are many more lessons and memories yet to be told. But Saimon truly loved and enjoyed being with you and helping you work.

And we are so grateful he got to do that.

Lessons from my East African Sister

I found this draft that I had started in April 2018 on my blog. I don't know why I never posted it--probably just got interrupted by the daily busyness and never got back to it. This was written when we shared our home with a family of 7 for 11 months...

I don't know what it's like to be black

I called a friend to ask for prayer and catch up. When I asked her "how are you?" Her answer came slowly and cautiously, "It's been rough the past few weeks." 

Pause.

I waited and then urged her to tell me more. Throughout the rest of our call and the rest of the day I realized...

I don’t know what it’s like to be black. I don’t know what it feels like for race, discrimination and biases to be a huge part of my life. I don’t know what it’s like to experience hurtful comments and emotional injuries to my personhood in every aspect of my life—my neighborhood, my church, my job, my school, my ministry, my travel--because of the color of my skin. I don’t know what it is like to navigate this with my black children.

I know there are many injustices, but I don’t know what it feels like, as a black woman, when racial injustice gets lumped together with all the other sins and nothing changes, nothing is dealt with, and it is dismissed.

I don’t know what it feels like to live uncomfortable. To be on edge and afraid to travel--especially at night. I don’t know what it is like to ignore, to look past it, and fix my face when comments are made and looks are given because I am black. I don't know what it's like to tell one of my kids to "fix your face" when someone has just hurt them.

I don’t know what it’s like to be black.

My friend does. She shared these things. This is just one small glimpse into her world. This may not be every black person's story, but it is hers. And I am undone. She is my friend and I had no idea. I'm so sorry for that.

 

I look at the news and I know I cannot change the world and make all of these painful things go away. So I turn to my friend and ask her, how can I love you?

Reach out, check in, be normal, be a friend.

Talk and ask questions.

Be willing to be uncomfortable.

That’s a start.

Quarantine Week 4

We are at the end of the COVID-19 pandemic week 4 quarantine. My emotions have swung from being grateful everyone has more time at home to grouchy that everyone has more time at home. I have moments of grace—I look for those moments in each day when I wake up and recall what the day before held.

But seconds after I write down what I remember and before I finish my coffee, I am already disgruntled by the big, hard things going on…like dreading school work, hoping to get some office work done before kids show up at my desk, while not knowing what to do with all the other perplexing thoughts crowding my mind. 

It’s the latter that gets me the most.

A few days ago I texted a friend that I was praying God would use this time to help us all work through what we all needed to work through….that we didn’t miss it. The day after that text, all Hell broke loose. Or Heaven? Is this how God was going to answer my prayer?

I believe sometimes it does feel like Hell when God is doing His most important work on us. Uncomfortable. Uncertain. Unlikely. un Un UN! It’s NOT fun!

I am uncomfortable with no control. I am uncomfortable not knowing.

I am uncertain I’ll see change…ever.

If God is answering my prayer, He is choosing an unlikely path. A path I would not have chosen.

So what do I do in the meantime?

Pray.

Meditate on Scripture.

(this week I’ve been staring at Psalm 91)

Take it one day at a time.

And change the ending of those UN words.

I will not underestimate the God who loves me and who daily displays his mercy, power, and grace on us.

I will ask for understanding for myself and those around me where things are unclear.

And I will trust that God is working in a million untold ways to draw us to Himself, make us more like Him, and to remind us He is with us in the trouble.

Another launch

A lot has changed since I wrote this post. And even more has changed since we took this picture...

Dear Wesley,
You have become a person I really like. You know I have always loved you with my whole heart, but now you are a person that I like...a whole lot.  You are a person I really enjoy being with. I love how you make people laugh. I love how you can dance with friends, old ladies, pre-schoolers, or just by yourself and you have fun with it no matter who is around.

When these pictures were taken, you were able to climb out of your little bed and make your way to a cozy place between mom and dad every night. We would wake up to take you back to your room some nights and eventually we would just wake up to the alarm and find you in between us. We thought you would never grow out of it....but you did.

I love how you love adventure. I love how you love experiences. I love how you love your quiet spaces too. Many times I have found drawings or letters written during those quiet times showing what you care about, what you think about, what you wish for. 

I love your patriotic spirit. I love that you care about our Country and the people who serve to keep us free. I love that your passion and interests will grow and take more shape as you go to a school that shares the same values.

9 months

Age 10

Age 14

Age 16

Age 17

almost 18

At this point in your life, at age 18, you are the most delightful person. I was kinda joking kinda not when I told you the first 17 years were just okay, but this year has been so fun. So fun to see you grow and mature. So fun to see you making choices that honor God. So fun to have you home a little longer and have you come and talk to us about your disappointments and hopes.

As you leave, things change. You will hardly be home in 2020 and you will be missed by all of us here. But I am so excited for you. I am so looking forward to the new adventure, new friends, new lessons you will learn. 

You will learn things that you could not have learned under our roof. And I am confident you will continue to be a person I like. A truly delightful person. A person who cares about others and who is cared about. And no matter what, I will love you with my whole heart.