My daughter, for the longest time, ran forward, up-and-down, if that
makes sense. Seth and I often mentioned how it seemed like her little
toddler body bobbled up and down while running, which slowed down her
forward motion. She still went forward, but a lot of energy was going
into a different direction at the same time. Now she is learning to
lengthen her stride, lean forward and move more horizontally than
vertically.
Every
year around this time I feel an air of malaise that slows down or
discourages my efforts. I'm still running forward, generally doing the
same work; but I feel like my joints are creaky and slow, my steps
bobbled, and I'm not moving forward like I was.
Missionaries, especially newer missionaries, may feel homesickness
over the holidays. A break from homeschooling, welcome though it is, may
also contribute to a low moment. The missionary mom stops running full
speed ahead and has to watch out that the low moment doesn't become a
full-blown crash! I know for me personally, I school according to the
calendar year, in conjunction with the national school year here. So by
Christmas we're done for the year. I'm planning for next year, my feet
are unwillingly moving forward; but I'm tired, and subconsciously my
body is taking a more vertical pattern trying not to get into next year
yet. :)
Do you relate to those moments of low spiritual and physical energy? How do you lengthen your stride and pick up the pace again?
Today
Callie invited me to "Look, Mommy, come see!!" a "pider" outside (I
just love those invitations to see bugs...) As she ran ahead of me, I
noticed that she was running more like a child now, less like a toddler.
Aw! Her legs stretched farther apart, she leaned more forward than up,
and she moved faster.
I think an important motivation for me to run forward again is my New Year's Goals. Every year, taking stock of how I did with last year's goals
helps me to see how much I really did get done! Planning next year's
goals gives me the impetus to tentatively peek at how much God still
wants me to do.
Exhaustion, discouragement, or homesickness can
cause a temporary vertical scope to my running, a moving forward while
still remembering what's behind. But setting those goals for the New
Year in every category--personal, spiritual, homeschooling,
ministry--reminds me to keep "pressing toward the mark"! I'm not
perfect, and I'll never be; but the point is that I keep pressing, I
keep pursuing, forgetting what is behind, and reaching forward to those
things which are before.
What goals have you made for your New Year? What keeps you going in a "vertical running" moment?
Pages
▼
Monday, December 30, 2013
Sunday, December 29, 2013
Thursday, December 26, 2013
New Years! Looking Back...
I love New Years. Always have. It is the wonderful feeling of completing something colliding with the excitement of starting a new adventure.
It is strange here, though. This country follows a different calendar. For them, it is the year 2070 and their New Year is in the spring. We, however, still choose to celebrate the international calendar New Years.
One thing we love to do for New Years is reflect on the things that happened throughout the year. We made a container for this purpose. Everyone in the family writes down memories or adventures (good and bad) from the year, minimum 10 per person. I help Gabe write his. Then we fold them up and put them in the container. On New Years Eve, they become part of the fun.
Monday, December 23, 2013
An Unfair Sacrifice
On the hottest two days of the year, I kept my oven running for seven hours making five batches of Christmas cut-out cookies and gingerbread men and caramel corn. Next the cookies had to be iced and then arranged and wrapped on individual take-out styrofoam trays. This was my latest brainchild for our church to make money (itself!) for our church building project.
Unfortunately, the next four days were rainy, which was the first strike against my new business idea. One day during a more dry but still drizzly spell, four teen girls walked around the strip mall nearby and tried to sell them. This actually was the second strike--they are very timid. (Yet I am happy and proud of their efforts!) But the final strike came when careless potential buyers broke several cookies, and of course, never bought them. How could I sell broken cookies? We made a total of $2, which wouldn't pay off the investment. I had hoped to make between $20-$30, which would have bought about three more bags of cement for our foundation.
My high hopes crashed. I had really thought it might work to capitalize on Christmas cash with pretty cookies around here, but it didn't. Sigh. I could write a whole article on the worldview that doesn't value other people's work or personal responsibility. That my labors were ruined on top of the failed venture was really hard to swallow. This was a low missionary moment for me, I'll admit. All sorts of not-so-nice names came to mind for these crumblers-of-cookies (and therefore profit).
And it's not like I had anything else to do, right? I had sacrificed Christmas baking for the family, homeschooling time, personal hobbies, and sleep for this endeavor.
Well, I was advised by a friend to make lemonade with my lemons (or should I say, ice cream topping from my crushed cookies?), and I did manage to salvage enough un-crumbed cookies and caramel corn for Christmas presents for neighbors and for an adult Christmas party Sunday afternoon.
But I felt discomfited--because of the situation, as well as my response to it. I was frustrated. This was now my fifth idea for what to sell, and I was pretty optimistic that it would be a hit, especially at this time of year when they sometimes buy a little extra for Christmas.
"What in the world will they buy?" I wondered. I had thought the eye-candy of something related to Christmas would appeal to them. I should have known that "new-to-them" would not be an easy sell to people who still call butter by the brand name of the original distributor of butter and pop by the brand name of the original distributor of pop (Coke), and whose lack of tradition regarding Christmas (outside of a day off of work, maybe some extra food, and a time to drink) would render cookies in the shapes and colors of Christmas meaningless.
But why did they have to break the cookies on top of not buying them? I had even anticipated this and warned the teen girls to be careful. That was the straw that broke this camel's back. (Not a pretty picture, I know, but neither were my hopes.) My mind started down the road to reviewing faults of the Tsonga culture related to their manhandling of my carefully prepared cookies. Unbidden, but too indulged, a memory arose of two people at the nearby bakery each gripping three loaves of bread in succession and leaving finger holes in the loaves, before taking the fourth loaf, which was no different in softness than the former three now-mangled loaves still sitting on the shelves.
Why did they do that? This was so unfair! Yet another unseen, unthanked sacrifice for the Tsonga people to add to my list--not that I was keeping a list, of course!
That night, the passage of time having lessened some of my angst, I sat with the family listening to my husband read our daily devotional for advent, from Psalm 22.
"I am poured out like water, and all my bones are out of joint: my heart is like wax; it is melted in the midst of my bowels. My strength is dried up like a potsherd; and my tongue cleaveth to my jaws; and thou hast brought me into the dust of death. For dogs have compassed me: the assembly of the wicked have enclosed me: they pierced my hands and my feet. I may tell all my bones: they look and stare upon me. They part my garments among them, and cast lots upon my vesture."The commentary said,
"Though he would be innocent, the Lamb of God would take the punishment for sin upon Himself. God gave His people a picture of how He would die--surrounded by scoffers and unbelievers, exhausted in body and soul. His hands and feet would be pierced as they hung Him up to die, and His killers would disrespect Him so much that they would gamble for His leftover clothes."The Holy Spirit used my overly-tuned sense of justice to enlighten me as to how frustrated I would have been in Jesus' situation--a truly unfair one! He took cruel punishment He did not deserve, with no thanks or understanding, even by those He was closest to. Not to mention the slights and humiliation offered by his enemies.
He left the continuously offered worship and glories of Heaven and came to a place where the "manners" and "culture" of the people must have felt very degraded indeed. He "made himself of no reputation, took upon him the form of a servant, humbled himself, and became obedient unto death, even the death of the cross." He was unthanked, persecuted, hurt, grievously misunderstood, blamed, and sullied; yet He loved us and gave Himself freely for us.
And what are some cookie crumbs in comparison to that? I lay my hand on my mouth and shed a thankful tear.
Friday, December 20, 2013
Our Top Posts in 2013
We have some amazing contributors here on the Baptist Missionary Women blog. I am amazed and humbled at the wealth of knowledge, wisdom, and experience they share here every week. If you would like to meet our contributors - click here. Please take the time to visit their blogs. And as always, if you are blessed and encouraged by something your read here, please leave them a comment. We do read them!
I just wanted to share the top blog posts of 2013. May you have a wonderful Christmas and a very blessed New Year!
- Side Dishes: Accordian Potatoes (over 4,000 pageviews!)
- Please Excuse Me, I'm on Furlough
- Opened Package...Embarrassing Contents
- Resurrection Rolls and Other Fun Easter Recipes
- How To Pray for the Missionary Wife
- How to Support Your Missionary Wives
- Setting Up a Guest Room
- Burn Out
- Without Grumbling and Complaining
- Homeschooling Children for Ministry (series)
What have been your favourite posts?
Thursday, December 19, 2013
Lessons from Minecraft? Seriously?
Soon Christmas will be over, the presents will have all been opened, and new toys will fill the house. It's time for the question that I dread so much...
Sung with the excitement of a group of enthusiastic Christmas carollers,
Now, before you cast stones and vote me "Worst Mom of the Year," let me explain. Well, it's more of a confession than an explanation.
Sung with the excitement of a group of enthusiastic Christmas carollers,
"Mommy, will you play with us?"
Now, before you cast stones and vote me "Worst Mom of the Year," let me explain. Well, it's more of a confession than an explanation.
Monday, December 16, 2013
The Many Jobs of a Missionary ~ Septic Tank Builder?
OK, this one has a funny side to its madness.
When
we built our house in the village, we also had to build a septic tank.
Most of the villagers have an outhouse, but we wanted indoor plumbing.
You know, the benefits of being able to have indoor relief, then use one
finger to flush away the filth from your house, are just soooo many.
We googled how to do it. That in itself is kinda funny.
We didn't count on termites eating the oil-treated poles that held up the lid to the septic tank. Well, what were we thinking??
Seven years and some heavy rainy seasons later, the grass over one section of the septic tank was noticeably sagging. We were worried about our kids and the village kids who always play here. We knew we would have to do something to reinforce the lid.
The Monday before Thanksgiving, Seth started removing sod and digging around the edge of the septic tank to fix the lid. He got some of the corrugated iron that was the lid away, and then...augh! Inevitable slide of concrete and zinc, and most of the lid fell into the morass of filthy water beneath!
Hundreds of pounds of cement and zinc just fell in there, and now how to get it out? Seth got some of it out through an ingenious, quick-thinking rescue as it was falling; but the majority will stay beneath the ground for infinity.
Cockroaches. Everywhere. These aren't the wimpy American kind, either; they're as big as your thumb. Thankfully, we had two bottles of cockroach killer in the house. Several escaped, but so far they haven't shown themselves in the house beyond their relatives already there. Like I would know the difference, right?
I kept the kids in the house all day. Thankfully, two church members helped Seth individually throughout the day. There was one period when he had no one with him, and I went out to make sure he didn't fall in. Obviously, a septic tank is what it is, but I was surprised that it really didn't stink. The amount of "gray water" in there from baths, etc., really diffused a lot of my imagined horrors.
Seth used lintels (concrete steel-reinforced beams used in building over doorways and windows on cement houses) this time as the basis of the lid, with two layers of corrugated iron on top of that, then a layer of poured cement, and finally replacing the sod when the cement dried.
We contemplated digging another one, but after some inspection, we think this one is big enough, even having some space taken up with the former lid :), for another few years. Either way, it had to be covered.
I'd had nightmares of the kids falling in, or Seth getting hurt or sick while working on it. No one fell in, praise the Lord!
That is, until the next day, when the first church member who had helped came by to see the new lid, and stepped on the only weak, yet unfinished part--a small square hole opening (to get in later if we can ever find a company here that pumps out septic tanks), with a poured cement lid. His foot went right through lid and he fell in up to his hip--one leg in, one leg out! Poor guy! He was in the water up to his calf. Somehow he managed to keep his sandal on! He got pretty scraped up on that leg from the steel that reinforced that particular small lid. So we'll have to redo that now. :/ He's better now, but we sure felt sorry about it! He got through the former morning with no accident, only to fall in when it was safest!
I
got a tickle on Thanksgiving Day out of hearing Seth recount to his dad
and then brother, both professional plumbers and builders--geniuses in
technical matters!--of the lid-falling-in, and hearing their surprised
and somewhat stumped, "Oh! Oh my!" Yeah. Wow.
Live and learn! We've learned so much about building by being missionaries! Did you ever think? How many Americans have ever had to build their own septic tank?
We googled how to do it. That in itself is kinda funny.
We didn't count on termites eating the oil-treated poles that held up the lid to the septic tank. Well, what were we thinking??
Seven years and some heavy rainy seasons later, the grass over one section of the septic tank was noticeably sagging. We were worried about our kids and the village kids who always play here. We knew we would have to do something to reinforce the lid.
The Monday before Thanksgiving, Seth started removing sod and digging around the edge of the septic tank to fix the lid. He got some of the corrugated iron that was the lid away, and then...augh! Inevitable slide of concrete and zinc, and most of the lid fell into the morass of filthy water beneath!
Hundreds of pounds of cement and zinc just fell in there, and now how to get it out? Seth got some of it out through an ingenious, quick-thinking rescue as it was falling; but the majority will stay beneath the ground for infinity.
Cockroaches. Everywhere. These aren't the wimpy American kind, either; they're as big as your thumb. Thankfully, we had two bottles of cockroach killer in the house. Several escaped, but so far they haven't shown themselves in the house beyond their relatives already there. Like I would know the difference, right?
I kept the kids in the house all day. Thankfully, two church members helped Seth individually throughout the day. There was one period when he had no one with him, and I went out to make sure he didn't fall in. Obviously, a septic tank is what it is, but I was surprised that it really didn't stink. The amount of "gray water" in there from baths, etc., really diffused a lot of my imagined horrors.
Seth used lintels (concrete steel-reinforced beams used in building over doorways and windows on cement houses) this time as the basis of the lid, with two layers of corrugated iron on top of that, then a layer of poured cement, and finally replacing the sod when the cement dried.
We contemplated digging another one, but after some inspection, we think this one is big enough, even having some space taken up with the former lid :), for another few years. Either way, it had to be covered.
I'd had nightmares of the kids falling in, or Seth getting hurt or sick while working on it. No one fell in, praise the Lord!
That is, until the next day, when the first church member who had helped came by to see the new lid, and stepped on the only weak, yet unfinished part--a small square hole opening (to get in later if we can ever find a company here that pumps out septic tanks), with a poured cement lid. His foot went right through lid and he fell in up to his hip--one leg in, one leg out! Poor guy! He was in the water up to his calf. Somehow he managed to keep his sandal on! He got pretty scraped up on that leg from the steel that reinforced that particular small lid. So we'll have to redo that now. :/ He's better now, but we sure felt sorry about it! He got through the former morning with no accident, only to fall in when it was safest!
Live and learn! We've learned so much about building by being missionaries! Did you ever think? How many Americans have ever had to build their own septic tank?
Sunday, December 15, 2013
Thursday, December 12, 2013
Opened Package... Embarrassing Contents
Getting mail here is... um... different. Very different.
In the States, I simply walked out to the mailbox, opened it up, grabbed the contents, and went back inside to open it in the privacy of my home. If there was a package too big for the mailbox, often it was placed on top of the mailbox or even brought right up to the front porch. Only occasionally would I ever find a note that said I needed to go to the post office to pick up a CLOSED package. Simple. I would go pick it up. Again, I would go inside my home and open it. No one but my family and me would know the contents of the box. If I wanted to, I could even go in my room and open it away from the prying eyes of my children.
Privacy. Secrets. Hidden things. Safe.
But here?
In the States, I simply walked out to the mailbox, opened it up, grabbed the contents, and went back inside to open it in the privacy of my home. If there was a package too big for the mailbox, often it was placed on top of the mailbox or even brought right up to the front porch. Only occasionally would I ever find a note that said I needed to go to the post office to pick up a CLOSED package. Simple. I would go pick it up. Again, I would go inside my home and open it. No one but my family and me would know the contents of the box. If I wanted to, I could even go in my room and open it away from the prying eyes of my children.
Privacy. Secrets. Hidden things. Safe.
But here?
Monday, December 9, 2013
The Many Jobs of a Missionary~ Historian
Yesterday after church a teen girl asked me, "Do missionaries have to finish grade 12?" She has expressed interest in being a missionary, and I got the impression that she was hoping I'd say, "No! Missionaries? What education do we need?? Just drop out of school in 10th grade and read your Bible!" ;)
Here in South Africa starting in 10th grade, the students have to choose which track they will take in school--one heavy on business and accounting or the sciences or history and social studies. If they do not choose the history track, they learn very little history in school.
But missionaries never stop learning history. Or they shouldn't. For one thing, we are in the middle of living history. Nelson Mandela died last week. This is such a huge, real moment to South Africans--and all blacks or those struggling with freedom from racism.
Who was Nelson Mandela? I had heard the name but didn't know him until I became a missionary to South Africa. I got world history a few times in school, but you know how you never seem to get to the final chapter or two of the history textbook in school? Not enough time. So Mandela was little more than a name to me.
It is important for me as a missionary, though, not to show ignorance and apathy about a name that meant little to me, but is heroic to many of the people I live with. And therefore, he should have great significance to me. He (and the former white president of SA--F.W. de Klerk) did a great service for the blacks of SA. But even more, perhaps we could say he did a service for the whites. Because all of the hate and anger and injustice served to a people group for decades could have rolled back in a tidal wave of revenge on whites who did not begin the system yet kept it going and lived in it.
And then maybe we would not be so welcome here as (white) missionaries. Maybe SA would have gone the way of Zimbabwe with a dictator who cannot give up power, chases the whites off their farms, and impoverishes his people through corruption and fear tactics.
Mandela's example of peace and forgiveness protected many whites and blacks from what could have been a messy civil war. He and de Klerk truly deserved the Nobel Peace Prize they received together in 1993 (unlike America's president now, who apparently got it simply for his color, not for any actions associated with it?)
And then unlike many African politicians, he freely gave up his presidency after one 5-year term. His people loved him. They would have voted him in forever if he had chosen to change the laws and preserve his power and fame. But he didn't. And that in itself is praiseworthy in a continent full of politicians who give lip-service to democracy until their inability to allow themselves to be voted out or serviced out shows that they never really gave up their tribal monarchy ideals.
So when one church member this week emotionally told me that Mandela was the greatest statesman who ever lived, and then slightly shocked and embittered said, "America called him a terrorist!" I had to think fast. I have never read a biography of Mandela, and my grasp of modern history is only so-so. I did come up with enough to hopefully explain America's lack of support for Mandela in the situation.
No, we weren't supporting racism. America has almost always stood as a bastion for freedom. There was that pesky Cold War we had just gone through where we were *this* close to blowing up Russia and vice versa, so maybe we didn't take that well when Mandela and Co. went to get training and weapons from them. ??? Uhh...same thing with support from Cuba. Yeah, that wouldn't be seen as a good thing by the US of A.
Isn't it funny how history can lead to ethics though? Here is this beloved politician who can do no wrong to South Africans, and this church member says to me, "But he had to take money from wherever he could! If I were in his situation, I would do it for freedom! America should have supported him anyway, at least verbally!" Hmmm. Oh boy, what to say? Do I plead the 5th, since my knowledge of to what extent America supported Mandela or apartheid is admittedly lacking (and I suspect my friend's was as well...)? Do I realize that what he's really seeking is affirmation that yes, Mandela was great, and therefore your culture and race can do really great things? Do I stick with an old adage? "It's never right to do wrong to make something right."
Probably the worst thing to do in that situation is to take umbrage that no matter how many billions of dollars in aid America sends every year to Africa we can still do no right in the eyes of Africans: always, we should have given more, or taken up this or that war--and then when we do (Iraq), they say we interfered under false pretenses. Sigh. I'm afraid I didn't pass that test so well. Ah, well, live and learn. At least, that's what we're supposed to do from history--learn!
Maybe I should learn from Mandela how to better be a peacemaker.
So all that to say, missionaries, that once again, our job is not as easy as "A-B-C, 1-2-3, Pray with me." There is a whole history behind the worldview of the people we minister amongst, and it is our duty (and pleasure) to learn it.
Here in South Africa starting in 10th grade, the students have to choose which track they will take in school--one heavy on business and accounting or the sciences or history and social studies. If they do not choose the history track, they learn very little history in school.
But missionaries never stop learning history. Or they shouldn't. For one thing, we are in the middle of living history. Nelson Mandela died last week. This is such a huge, real moment to South Africans--and all blacks or those struggling with freedom from racism.
Who was Nelson Mandela? I had heard the name but didn't know him until I became a missionary to South Africa. I got world history a few times in school, but you know how you never seem to get to the final chapter or two of the history textbook in school? Not enough time. So Mandela was little more than a name to me.
It is important for me as a missionary, though, not to show ignorance and apathy about a name that meant little to me, but is heroic to many of the people I live with. And therefore, he should have great significance to me. He (and the former white president of SA--F.W. de Klerk) did a great service for the blacks of SA. But even more, perhaps we could say he did a service for the whites. Because all of the hate and anger and injustice served to a people group for decades could have rolled back in a tidal wave of revenge on whites who did not begin the system yet kept it going and lived in it.
And then maybe we would not be so welcome here as (white) missionaries. Maybe SA would have gone the way of Zimbabwe with a dictator who cannot give up power, chases the whites off their farms, and impoverishes his people through corruption and fear tactics.
Mandela's example of peace and forgiveness protected many whites and blacks from what could have been a messy civil war. He and de Klerk truly deserved the Nobel Peace Prize they received together in 1993 (unlike America's president now, who apparently got it simply for his color, not for any actions associated with it?)
And then unlike many African politicians, he freely gave up his presidency after one 5-year term. His people loved him. They would have voted him in forever if he had chosen to change the laws and preserve his power and fame. But he didn't. And that in itself is praiseworthy in a continent full of politicians who give lip-service to democracy until their inability to allow themselves to be voted out or serviced out shows that they never really gave up their tribal monarchy ideals.
"The history of liberation heroes shows that when they come into office they interact with powerful groups: they can easily forget that they've been put in power by the poorest of the poor. They often lose their common touch, and turn against their own people."--Mandela as president, 1996Was he perfect? Well, not by American standards. And that's another reason missionaries need to learn history, specifically national history of their country of service. There are those troubling connections with terrorists and Communists who supported him financially, in training, and with weapons and other promised aid.
So when one church member this week emotionally told me that Mandela was the greatest statesman who ever lived, and then slightly shocked and embittered said, "America called him a terrorist!" I had to think fast. I have never read a biography of Mandela, and my grasp of modern history is only so-so. I did come up with enough to hopefully explain America's lack of support for Mandela in the situation.
No, we weren't supporting racism. America has almost always stood as a bastion for freedom. There was that pesky Cold War we had just gone through where we were *this* close to blowing up Russia and vice versa, so maybe we didn't take that well when Mandela and Co. went to get training and weapons from them. ??? Uhh...same thing with support from Cuba. Yeah, that wouldn't be seen as a good thing by the US of A.
Isn't it funny how history can lead to ethics though? Here is this beloved politician who can do no wrong to South Africans, and this church member says to me, "But he had to take money from wherever he could! If I were in his situation, I would do it for freedom! America should have supported him anyway, at least verbally!" Hmmm. Oh boy, what to say? Do I plead the 5th, since my knowledge of to what extent America supported Mandela or apartheid is admittedly lacking (and I suspect my friend's was as well...)? Do I realize that what he's really seeking is affirmation that yes, Mandela was great, and therefore your culture and race can do really great things? Do I stick with an old adage? "It's never right to do wrong to make something right."
Probably the worst thing to do in that situation is to take umbrage that no matter how many billions of dollars in aid America sends every year to Africa we can still do no right in the eyes of Africans: always, we should have given more, or taken up this or that war--and then when we do (Iraq), they say we interfered under false pretenses. Sigh. I'm afraid I didn't pass that test so well. Ah, well, live and learn. At least, that's what we're supposed to do from history--learn!
Maybe I should learn from Mandela how to better be a peacemaker.
So all that to say, missionaries, that once again, our job is not as easy as "A-B-C, 1-2-3, Pray with me." There is a whole history behind the worldview of the people we minister amongst, and it is our duty (and pleasure) to learn it.
Saturday, December 7, 2013
Furlough Frenzy
We are counting the days until Christmas for more than one reason this year. We are leaving for furlough late in the evening on Christmas Day. Several factors weighed in on that decision; one of them was that the tickets were $200 per person cheaper on that day. So, we will celebrate Christmas a little late once we get to Texas. We will have a little something for the kids to open before the long flights though.
While the children finish up their school semester, I am in “furlough frenzy” mode. Decisions, decisions – what to pack away, what to leave out, what to give away, what to take back with us, etc.
We have been talking to our children about furlough and things that are different in America. Somehow we got on the topic of refrigerators that have an ice maker built into them. Danny was having a hard time wrapping his head around that one. He wanted to know how it worked, but he was excited about an endless supply of ice! He is always disappointed when our ice bin is empty.
Our daughter was talking about the color of a certain cup. She said, “My teacher calls that color ‘lemon green.’” I told her that in America, it is called lime green. Here in West Africa, all of the citrus fruits are green, whether it is a lemon, a lime, or an orange. Bonnie had a hard time believing that the lemons in America are yellow.
The boys both remember things about America, but Bonnie was two when we left and does not remember much about it. It will be fun to experience things through her eyes!
Until next week, keep your sunny side up!
Thursday, December 5, 2013
Christmas on the Mission Field
Photo by: artur84 |
Oh,
the memories! When we lived in our “home” country,
I remember fragrant trees full of lights, the magic feeling of entering the
living room on Christmas morning. I remember believing in Santa Claus—and then
finding out Santa was my Daddy. I remember eggnog, fruitcake, making cookies, and
eating pumpkin pies. My mother decorated the table with red candles and
greenery. We loved Christmas!
My
husband and I were in our twenties when we made the
move across the sea. Spain was a whole new Christmas experience. While strolling
through the city, we noticed that almost every store window contained some
version of a manger scene. Some included a whole village of people, cows, and
sheep—beside wise men and camels! We took our little children to the parade in
town. It started with a young man in Eastern dress carrying a pole with a
comet-star on it. Then came people with torches, and floats. The first float
had a makeshift stable on it, with Mary, Joseph, and Baby Jesus inside. After
the floats, passed shepherds with small herds of sheep and children carrying
lambs and rabbits. There was a group of men in native Spanish costumes, strutting
with huge bells on their backs. Then, we heard the excited crowd, “They’re
coming! They’re coming!” In no time, we could see the horses. Melchor, Baltasar,
and Gaspar (the three wise men, traditional Spanish names for them) rode in
splendid costumes and threw candy to the children. (How much closer this is to
the Bible than Santa Claus and elves!) Our Spanish church held a traditional
Christmas feast—lamb chops and much more, each lady bringing her own special
dish.
The season in Spain lasts from Christmas
Eve until January 6th (Kings’ Day, Reyes). We enjoy the long season because it isn’t all over on
Christmas Day. It gives us more time to think about what God did when He became
flesh for us.
Christmas also provides us with a
natural opportunity for a gospel witness to the people we know and to the
communities around our church. (Several people are in our church today because
of Christmas tracts.)
Christmas
abroad is nothing like Christmas at home. But it
doesn’t have to be.
One Christmas, we visited our son and
daughter-in-law, who minister in the tropics. It was so different to see palm
trees adorned with lights and to get sunburned while enjoying a Christmas walk together!
The message of Christmas is always the same: God wants to redeem people, so He made a Way. It was the
Way that was planned before the earth was formed. (Hebrews 9:26) He planned to
let His Son take on the body of a baby, live a sinless life, and be sacrificed
for the sins of the world.
Jesus is the message of Christmas.
How
can you bring the true meaning of Christmas—Jesus—front and center in your family?
Here
are some suggestions. Some will recreate that
“fuzzy feeling” of Christmases past for you and your family, and some are to
help you keep a Jesus focus.
- Decorate. Do whatever you need to with the means you have to make the inside of your home festive. Use garlands or paper chains or ribbons. Hang shiny things and red and green. Use candles. You don’t have to have a tree, necessarily. If it works with your adopted culture, put up a manger scene or two. Let the children help. Decorations make Christmas special.
- Bake. I’m certainly no pastry chef. Some of my cutout cookies ended up as unrecognizable. But they smelled good while baking, and they tasted yummy. Especially if you have little children, make cookies. You can make something simple and decorate with colored sugar or sprinkles. Any baking the family does together is memorable. You can make pumpkin (or butternut squash) pies, fruitcakes, or festive fruit breads. Even an apple pie or chocolate cake takes on a new face during the holidays. Our family especially loves cinnamon rolls with icing for Christmas breakfast!
- Create family traditions. For some reason, Christmas is tailor-made for traditions. Some that our family enjoyed were: decorating and baking together, an English language missionary-only get-together on Christmas Eve,* reading Luke 2 before opening Christmas stockings on Christmas morning (oranges and walnuts in the stockings, with candy and maybe a little present), opening Christmas presents one at a time after breakfast, turkey and stuffing for Christmas dinner, and lots of Christmas music from the day after Thanksgiving until after Reyes (January 6th). (*For the missionary Christmas Eve, we observed it early in the afternoon. It included music and sacred readings—something from each family—and some funny readings after the more spiritual part. Everyone brought Christmas goodies to share. Later, some of the families would have their Christmas Eve at home. We would go back to our house, get the kids to bed, and bring the gifts out of hiding and put them around the tree for the early morning surprise.)
- Read the Christmas story from the Bible. Read Luke 2 and Matthew 1:18-2:23. Passages like Philippians 2:5-11 and John 1:14 take on fresh meaning at Christmastime. If you have small children, help them understand the Christmas story. Teach them to love the Baby Jesus. Tell them how God came to earth. You may want to act out the story, using robes and drapes for costumes and a doll for the Baby. Let them color pages about the Christmas story. Talk with older children about the characters in the Christmas story. (Who was Gabriel? What can we admire about Joseph? What did Mary give up to become the mother of her Savior? Why is Mary’s speech so much like Hannah’s in 1 Samuel 2? Why was the birth of God’s Son first announced to shepherds? Did the angels sing? How old was Anna? How did Simeon know this Baby was the Lord? Who were the wise men? What happened with the star? Why was Herod furious?) Make the Christmas story central to your Christmas celebration. Make sure the Birthday Person is the reason for the party.
- Share the gospel. According to 1 Corinthians 15:1-4, the gospel is all about the death, burial, and resurrection of Jesus. But, without Jesus coming to earth as a human being, without His incarnation, the gospel wouldn’t have been possible. Jesus said, To this end was I born, and for this cause came I into the world, that I should bear witness unto the truth. Every one that is of the truth heareth my voice (John 18:37b). People are more receptive to hearing about Jesus at Christmas than at any other time of the year. Be prepared and share Christ this Christmas season. Make sure the whole family gets involved.
Have
a truly blessed Christmas, wherever
you are!
The Clique Sick Church
I was scanning back through old posts on my personal blog when I came across this post. What a great reminder it was to me AGAIN! And challenging! I hope you enjoy it.
Who do you hang out with at church? It's definitely easier to hang out with people who are like ourselves and who have similar interests! Back in the States, it was easier for me to relate to other homeschool families or football fans or ladies my own age. Here, it is definitely easier for me to hang around the Americans or those who speak English well. It just makes me feel like I belong... Like I am a part of something... Unified.
****************************
Who do you hang out with at church? It's definitely easier to hang out with people who are like ourselves and who have similar interests! Back in the States, it was easier for me to relate to other homeschool families or football fans or ladies my own age. Here, it is definitely easier for me to hang around the Americans or those who speak English well. It just makes me feel like I belong... Like I am a part of something... Unified.
Tuesday, December 3, 2013
Christmas Goodie Round-up
Good Morning and welcome to December!
I'm sure this is a busy month for all of us so I thought I'd post all the Christmas recipes in one place.
Tasty Tuesdays will be quiet for the rest of the month, but I'm looking forward to being back in this space after the New Year!
Quick Hot Chocolate Mix to have on hand whenever you want some yummy cocoa.
Not eating refined sugars? Try this Hot Chocolate recipe!
Need Christmas breakfast ideas? Orange Streusel Coffee Cake is delicious!
Stained Glass Jello is a tasty and beautiful side dish.
My Nina's Christmas mints are a must make every single year!
Another breakfast idea is these quick and easy Biscuit Cinnamon Rolls.
Need a sugar cookie and frosting recipe ~ these are the best sugar cookies you'll ever put in your mouth!
A newer recipe for our family, but the first now to be eaten up ~ Buckeyes AKA Peanut Butter Balls AKA Homemade Reeses'!
We brought back some White Chocolate Peppermint M & M's from furlough so I'm gonna give these cookies a try!
I'm also going to try these Thin & Crispy Coconut Cookies ~ hoping my sugar-hating-but-coconut-loving Ghanaian friends will like them.
This last one is for my friends eating gluten-free, dairy-free, or "traditional foods" diets ~ Chickpea Peanut Butter Honey Dark Chocolate Cookies. I'm gonna make some this week!
Monday, December 2, 2013
Defeating Complaining. Just Stop It!
Why is it so hard to go through even one day without grumbling and complaining?
1. We all want sympathy (to be related to).
This comes from selfishness. We are only thinking of ourselves and our desires and needs, and we find it difficult to see other people's situations or perspectives. It would really be great if everyone else would just recognize and agree with us that we have it tougher--really we have had more than our fair share of problems!
2. We are not mature.
Perhaps we lack wisdom or work ethic. Children complain, but we are supposed to put certain childish things away after childhood. As we grow, we learn how life just isn’t FAIR, and that we need to have a Christ-like spirit even in the middle of difficulties. We act like children when we complain.
3. We have unrealistic expectations.
We expect life to be fair and easy. Or, if we’re in generation Y or close to it, maybe we expect waaay more than that…you know, because we’re *special*. When tough stuff comes our way, we’re not prepared to accept it. There is nothing that prevents a thankful heart more than holding on to unrealistic expectations.
We tell ourselves that we have a right to complain either because life has been really hard lately, or because, really, this is just a little thing—no big deal—this little complaint. Maybe we tell ourselves that we’re not truly complaining, or that at least we can talk like this to our husbands (or closest friends.)
So just stop it!
We love that Bob Newhart skit with the girl full of problems who seeks counseling and is repeatedly told to just “Stop it!” But it’s not that easy to get rid of habits, especially ones that made us feel better. Here are some thoughts on how to stop it.
1. Regard each complaint as sin.
It’s not insignificant, but it’s something you cannot defeat on your own. And it sent Christ to the cross.
2. Desire to quit!
If you think about grumbling as a sin that put Jesus on the cross, you can't think that it’s a small matter! You will want to please your Master, to leave this sin. That desire will help you to fight it.
3. Desire to protect your testimony, to have care with your “light.”
Remember these verses:
4. Replace grumbling with joy, faith, and gratitude.
It hurts and discourages me to think of how often I haven’t helped Christ’s cause here by my ungrateful spirit. These thoughts were for me more than anyone.
Happy Thanksgiving from Africa!
1. We all want sympathy (to be related to).
This comes from selfishness. We are only thinking of ourselves and our desires and needs, and we find it difficult to see other people's situations or perspectives. It would really be great if everyone else would just recognize and agree with us that we have it tougher--really we have had more than our fair share of problems!
2. We are not mature.
Perhaps we lack wisdom or work ethic. Children complain, but we are supposed to put certain childish things away after childhood. As we grow, we learn how life just isn’t FAIR, and that we need to have a Christ-like spirit even in the middle of difficulties. We act like children when we complain.
3. We have unrealistic expectations.
We expect life to be fair and easy. Or, if we’re in generation Y or close to it, maybe we expect waaay more than that…you know, because we’re *special*. When tough stuff comes our way, we’re not prepared to accept it. There is nothing that prevents a thankful heart more than holding on to unrealistic expectations.
We’re not thinking correctly if we think that we won’t have problems in life. We will! But how did Jesus say that we should take them? With tears, pouts, and complaints? No—we strengthen our hearts and rejoice that Jesus has overcome the world.My soul, wait thou only upon God; for my expectation is from Him. --Psalm 62:5In the world ye shall have tribulation: but be of good cheer; I have overcome the world. --John 16:33
4. We justify ourselves.Pride slays thanksgiving, but a humble mind is the soil out of which thanks naturally grow. A proud man is seldom a grateful man, for he never thinks he gets as much as he deserves. --Henry Ward Beecher
We tell ourselves that we have a right to complain either because life has been really hard lately, or because, really, this is just a little thing—no big deal—this little complaint. Maybe we tell ourselves that we’re not truly complaining, or that at least we can talk like this to our husbands (or closest friends.)
So just stop it!
We love that Bob Newhart skit with the girl full of problems who seeks counseling and is repeatedly told to just “Stop it!” But it’s not that easy to get rid of habits, especially ones that made us feel better. Here are some thoughts on how to stop it.
1. Regard each complaint as sin.
It’s not insignificant, but it’s something you cannot defeat on your own. And it sent Christ to the cross.
2. Desire to quit!
If you think about grumbling as a sin that put Jesus on the cross, you can't think that it’s a small matter! You will want to please your Master, to leave this sin. That desire will help you to fight it.
3. Desire to protect your testimony, to have care with your “light.”
Remember these verses:
Do others think of you as a joyful person or a complainer?Do all things without murmurings and disputings: That ye may be blameless and harmless, the sons of God, without rebuke, in the midst of a crooked and perverse nation, among whom ye shine as lights in the world; Holding forth the word of life…
4. Replace grumbling with joy, faith, and gratitude.
As a Christian, that old stuff of complaining should be replaced with something new—joy! Thanks! Then when you are placed again into a trying situation, you are practiced; you have a new habit of rejoicing and thanking instead of complaining.Therefore if any man be in Christ, he is a new creature: old things are passed away; behold, all things are new. --2 Corinthians 5:17
It hurts and discourages me to think of how often I haven’t helped Christ’s cause here by my ungrateful spirit. These thoughts were for me more than anyone.
Happy Thanksgiving from Africa!