Holidays: Trading the Tree for Yarn

When we found out we were going to move to our new country, we knew we would have some decisions to make, even decisions on how we celebrate holidays. We were moving to a country where the people worship trees and idols.  We were concerned with how they would perceive a tree in the home... or a nativity scene on the mantle.

Christmas is still such a new holiday in this country. This is the fourth year it has been an official holiday.  Most people really are not sure how to even celebrate this new holiday.  It is a prime opportunity to introduce them to the real meaning of Christmas.

We sought counsel from other missionaries serving here. Some do not use a Christmas tree or any decorations that might be confusing. Some have a Christmas tree each year, but keep it in a private room. Others just celebrate the holiday the same way they did in the States.

After listening to the counsel and seeking God's direction for our family, we chose not to have a Christmas tree or any decorations that could potentially be confusing to someone entering our home.  As a family, we decided that the traditional Christmas tree was not as important to us as using the opportunity to show the real meaning of Christmas. We didn't want any room for confusion or distraction.

(This post is definitely not an attempt to criticize others who have chosen differently on the field. It is simply the direction the Lord led our family. This is all coming from a family who every year went up on the mountain to cut down a Christmas tree, ride a tractor down the mountain with our new tree, and drink hot chocolate while we decorated the tree in our home! My hope is that this post will encourage and inspire those who may have to or simply choose to celebrate Christmas a little differently for whatever reason.)

Since having a tree each year had been such a special, very treasured event, I knew we had to come up with an activity that got us AWAY from the tree. So in the States, we gave it a trial run. No tree with presents underneath, no nativity scenes, no Christmas lights on the house... but instead...

We followed a star.  Um, and a bunch of yarn!

Taste of Fall: Something for Everybody

Hope you've been having a lovely November!
Thanksgiving is rushing right up on us, and December seems to be nipping at its heels!
If you are not tired to death of pumpkin and apples, I've got a few last links that I thought you might enjoy......hopefully a bit of something for everybody!

Pumpkin Pie Crumb Bars from Cooking Classy
Banana Pumpkin Breakfast Shake from Dine & Dish
Oatmeal Pumpkin Creme Pies from Sally's Baking Addiction
Apple Cider Cupcakes with Cider Frosting from Allyson Kramer
Starbucks Pumpkin Pound Cake from Something Swanky
Sourdough Pumpkin Quick Bread from Cultures for Health

The Many Jobs of a Missionary ~ Undertaker

Sometimes missionaries find themselves in surreal positions, thinking to themselves, "I never thought I'd be doing this!"

An extreme example of this facet of our job occurred this morning at 6:30 when my close friend in the village (Martha*) knocked on our door. She was stunned by the "khombo" (danger) that had befallen them in the night. The 7-month old son of her best friend and relative who lives on her property passed away in the dark of night.

She had just held him two hours before and rejoiced that she had finally gotten him to take a little milk after what seemed like two days of stomach flu. She had spent what little money she had on a tin of milk powder, hoping to try something the child would drink. Finally, he took some. He played on her lap, and Martha and the child's mom were relieved. Two hours later Martha awoke to try to feed the child again, but "his eyes were open and would not close." How shockingly sad.

They wanted to bury the child today, she said. Did we have a box they could use? And would Seth (my husband) "do the prayers" for them?

Of course we would help. We had church at 9:00; but she already knew that, and we hoped to finish the funeral before church began.

Seth left the sitting room, and I heard him begin to break a pallet down in our garage. I looked back at Martha in time to notice her hand over her eyes as the tears began to flow. She recounted her shock again--how could this happen? He was just happy two hours before! My own tears came as I looked straight ahead at the jars of marbles sitting on our bookshelf, filled with one marble for each month of our children's lives for 18 years. That mother had only 7 months to spend with her baby.

I fed my children and dressed them for church in record time, tasks my husband usually helps with. It felt so surreal when he came in to measure our toddler, trying to guess at the dimensions of the casket he was building. We shared a shocked glance at the thought of measuring our own child for a casket. Yet practicality reigned on the surface while emotions simmered beneath. We discussed how long a 7-month old might be and raced back to our respective work.

I dressed the children in their best clothes, thinking this might be the first funeral they would attend. At first, we hoped Seth could run the funeral and come back to get us; but as the casket took shape, we both realized we would have to go all together and straight to church thereafter.

The casket was beautiful. The wood itself was rough shelving board, but I was surprised to see a hexagonal shape with a perfectly fitting lid. I had expected a quickly fashioned rectangle.

While Seth dressed for church, I grabbed my kitchen shears and ran out into the garden. I snipped Gerber daisies, hibiscus flowers, hydrangeas, and any other flowers and greens I found that were blooming and made a quickly thrown-together arrangement in one of my melamine glasses.

Seth had asked me to scribe a message on the lid. Surreality washed over me again, as I asked the dead baby's four relatives (children), who were all standing at the edge of our garage watching, what his name was and made sure of the spelling.

When we arrived at the house, it was Martha, Seth, and I who arranged the baby in the casket. I have never felt a dead person before. Again, I wondered to myself at how my left hand could ease the dead child's head into place as my right hand held my toddler on my hip.

We held a short service with about 15 people as some men finished digging. My sons and the other children were out of my sight elsewhere in the yard during that time. The people wanted to perform some traditions and invited us to head to church. Seth felt obligated to remind them that we would have nothing to do with ancestor worship. Then while the ladies sang, the men worked in turns to shovel the dirt back into the grave.

Before we left for church, I went into the house with Martha to speak to the mother for a bit. She cried, and I sympathized. My heart broke a little for her.

Then we took our kids, as well as their other children, to church. We arrived 15 minutes late and conducted affairs as usual. It felt...strange--almost like it hadn't happened. But when we got home and cleaned up the mess left from our hurry, reality began to hit. Seth had been both carpenter and preacher, all in one morning.


*Names were changed for this story.

Lessons from a Ladder

Recently, my husband traveled to another town and was gone for a couple days.  It seems like we always have some type of excitement when Daddy is gone.  The first day that he was gone, the power was off several times throughout the day.  I waited for about thirty minutes each time before I went outside to fire up the generator.  Sometimes, it is only off for a few minutes; other times, it is off for hours.  

One afternoon while he was gone, the boys had been playing outside.  They needed to borrow some of Dad’s tools for the project that they were doing.  When it was time to come inside, they put the tools away and locked the door. When Danny was bringing the keys inside, he was throwing them up in the air as he went. He must have thrown them quite high because he sheepishly came in and told me that he threw the keys up and that they had landed on the roof of the carport. The eave of the carport is about ten feet high.  Danny said, “How will we ever get them down, Mom? I’m going to be in big trouble with Dad!”  I was right in the middle of fixing supper.  I told him to wait a few minutes, and I would come out to see what we could do.

Climbing ladders is not my favorite thing, but I got some practice in that day. We have an eight-foot folding ladder.  I had Danny help me get the ladder.  (I am afraid of heights, which might have something to do with falling from a zip line three times in the same day once upon a time, but that is another story!) On the first try, I got to the top of the ladder, and it was too close to the edge of the carport to see anything. So, I got down, moved the ladder, and tried it again. I still could not see the keys. So, I moved the ladder out into the yard, climbed the ladder, and spotted the keys. They had landed just behind the only tree that is next to the carport.  It is some type of evergreen tree with heavy branches. On the next attempt, I climbed the ladder as I dodged tree branches only to discover that I was not in the right spot. So, I got down, moved the ladder, and tried it again. I finally got the keys!

Later, I got to thinking about climbing that ladder.  It is a picture of living by faith.  It is easy to sing about living by faith, but actually doing it is another story.  The Bible says in Galatians 2:20: I am crucified with Christ: nevertheless I live; yet not I, but Christ liveth in me: and the life which I now live in the flesh I live by the faith of the Son of God, who loved me, and gave himself for me.

To get to the top of the ladder, one must go forward.  My son was down on the ground watching me.  He had no idea that it scared me to climb that ladder.  I could have just waited for someone else to get the keys down the next day, but it was an urgent matter to him.  I had to go forward.  Moses would not have parted the Red Sea if he had not obeyed God’s instructions.  (Exodus 14)  He wanted God to tell the people to go forward, but God told Moses to just do what He had told him to do.  

What “ladder” are you facing today?  

Until next week, keep your sunny side up!

Welcome to the Golfutar Grand View Resort

Remember that post way back when... Setting Up a Guest Room?

Well, our family came! The guest room was ready for them.

We cleaned the room from top to bottom and decluttered EVERYTHING! We put our best linens on the bed. We followed the Setting Up a Guest Room list and were able to complete most of the items.

We had a desk with a guest book and a basket of goodies. Some things in the basket were practical things like face masks for riding around on the dusty roads, face wipes, and toiletries. Other things were just fun things like chocolate and chips.

We had fresh flowers in the room for them when they arrived.

A nice touch? Nicely folded bathroom towels. I found the instructions on Pinterest . Mine were not as fancy as theirs. Our quality of linens is not as good here.

A few extras that were not on the list... we made a welcome banner and a brochure. The brochure made our home sound like a vacation resort until you read it. We named our home The Golfutar Grand View Resort. It was funny! We listed off amenities just like a hotel would, only ours were slightly more creative. For example, the swimming pool open during the summer months was really just the huge puddle in our side yard created by monsoon rains! Our exercise facility? STAIRS! Our security guards? Our dogs! Our beautician giving out free facials was our dog who loves to lick faces! The family really got a good laugh out of it.

We put a Do Not Disturb sign on the door so they would have maximum privacy. When the sign was up, no one was even allowed to knock on the door.

We put a gift bag with coffee mugs in it on their bed. The mugs had the country flag on them. We had a phone ready for them to use while they were here if they needed it.

At the end of their stay, we asked them to give us any ideas on how to improve our guest room. They were able to give us a couple of ideas how we could tweak things a little, but overall they said it was wonderful. They could tell we had put a lot of effort into it. From the thank you card on the pillow to the scented candles to the space made for them in the wardrobe... every detail spoke of how happy we were to have them with us. It was worth every effort. THEY were worth every effort.

So, how is your guest room coming along? Have you made any improvements since the first post?

Malaria and Worry

Here is an experience we had last year. I felt it was a good picture of the emotions missionaries sometimes have.

_____________________________________

Last Saturday night we took Callie (my daughter of 18 months at the time) to the hospital to get tested for malaria. Her test was negative, thank God! Following are the factors that caused us to worry for her sake:

We had just spent a short holiday in a low-risk malaria region, but had to leave early in order to preach for the funeral of a neighbor of ours. She actually died of malaria, and her baby was in the hospital the week of her funeral to recuperate from malaria as well.

Some missionary friends of ours announced that they are leaving their field of service (in Africa) because of malaria and its effects on their toddler.

Then last Saturday Callie got a fever that soared and wouldn’t come down, along with some stomach trouble.

I would normally treat her with Tylenol and wait a couple of days to see if she healed on her own, but the conjunction of these events worried me. We’ve been told before that malaria is not a problem in South Africa, except for select few areas, which we’ve been told do not include our village. But we had been out of our village on holiday near the border of Zimbabwe.

I researched a bit on the internet about malaria and its symptoms, as well as malaria regions in South Africa, and decided to call the doctor. She told me that we actually can get malaria in our villages; and if I was concerned, the only way to know for sure was to do a blood test. This would be considered an emergency, and she would run the test as soon as we could get to the hospital.

We decided to have the test done, though it was almost her bedtime, and my husband needed to brush up his sermon for the next day. Would I normally make that decision if all of these events hadn’t lined up just so? Probably not. But I was worried.

I wonder if my worry was sinful. “Trust in the Lord with all thine heart, and lean not unto thine own understanding.”

“Be anxious for nothing; but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known unto God.”

On the other hand, I talk to myself, believing that I took the course of common sense. It’s not “worry” to take precautions with your child’s health—especially if you believe it could affect your future in missions! I’ve been told I’m a pessimist (translate—“worrier”); I respond that I’m a realist. ;) My husband is an optimist.

Does believing that God works out all things for good to those who love Him mean that we don’t work with all of our might to prevent those bad things from happening (that will eventually be worked out for our good)? Does trusting in the Lord with all of our heart mean, as the prosperity preachers prevalent in our area say, that if we have enough faith, bad things won’t happen, or they will be taken care of/healed, etc.? Obviously not.

But I wonder if I could see the truth in my own heart, how much of my heart was filled with what percentage of these two courses. I doubt I would have changed my decision. I’m glad I know for sure that she is not endangered right now by malaria. But did I sin in my heart—in my emotions? How much of my heart was filled with fear for my baby, fears and doubts about the unknown, and lack of trust in our loving Father’s sovereign hand truly working all things together for our good?

Jonathan Edwards said, “Resolved to examine carefully and constantly what that one thing in me is which causes me in the least to doubt of the love of God, and so direct all my forces against it.” I can act for my baby’s good health, but I must do so with unshakeable assurance that God’s ways are best.

Sooo tired.

On vacation in a baobab tree.

“To Market, To Market…”

Going to the market circle in our town is quite an experience.  It is truly an adventure when the whole family goes!  Our children did not have school today.  We needed to get some material to have some outfits made.  So, we loaded up and headed to town.

The market in Takoradi, Ghana, is set up in a unique fashion.  There is a circle that is one mile in circumference.  All the way around the outside of the circle, there are little stores.  There is also a roadway that is off to the side of the road right in front of the little stores.  It is full of people sitting on stools or buckets selling their wares that include fruits, vegetables, dried fish, cooking utensils, cleaning supplies, cooking supplies, shoes, clothes, and just about anything you can imagine.  The people sitting on buckets or stools have not paid for a booth in the market; they are just “squatters.”  From time to time, the market police come through, and the “squatters” put their wares on their head and take off running. 

Inside the circle, there are many different rows of little shanty type stalls.  Walking through there is kind of like going through a maze.  You might pass the pigs’ feet on your way to get fabric.  Or, you might have to step aside for a whole cow that is being carried through. 

As we were driving around the circle today looking for a parking space, Bonnie said, “I’m going to pray that we make it out of here!”  She bowed her head, closed her eyes, and prayed right then that God would help us to get out of that circle.  I forgot to mention that there is also an open sewer ditch that runs along the outside of that roadway where the vendors sit on their stools and buckets.  The ditch is covered with cement, but there are big openings every few yards.  The smell is worse on some days than others.  It was a nice, sunny day today; so, the smells were quite strong. That was with the windows up and the AC on!

My husband and I were just praying for a parking space.  We passed several cars that were double parked.  The Lord had saved us a parking space right at the end of the parking area. 

We got out of the car and put the buddy system into play immediately.  My husband had a boy on each side, and Bonnie was my “partner.”  As we ventured inside the market circle, we had to form a single-file line to squeeze through.  We made it to the row where we needed to turn to head to see a lady who sells fabric.  After we got the fabric, she took us to the tailor.  He got the boys’ measurements.  Then, we went to see the seamstress.  All the while, people were talking to us in Fante.  When Bonnie greeted them in Fante and told them that her Fante name was “Yaa Baby,” they went wild.  Everyone wanted to talk to Yaa Baby after that.

Just as we got back to the outside of the circle, here came the market police.  Women were running in all directions to avoid the police. 

When we got back to the car, the parking attendant was there waiting to be paid.  She tried to make us pay double the price because we had been there “so long.”  When we told her that we had been there for less than thirty minutes, she took the fifty pesewas ($.25) like she was supposed to.  The cost is fifty pesewas per hour.

And thus we survived another trip to the market circle!

Until next week, keep your sunny side up!