So Far From Home

I bought apples.  

This doesn't sound like a big deal, but I only buy apples, shipped here from South Africa, on special occasions and yesterday was one of those.  Lydia, who had spent two nights in the hospital, was coming home. 

Today, as I was cutting the apples, my mind flashed to mini me climbing the side of a tall wooden hay wagon as it passed under the apple trees in an overgrown orchard on our farm in Upstate New York. Then, unbidden, came memories of apple picking through the years. New York crisp autumn days, then in college with friends in Michigan, later with Mariama toddling behind me picking the soft ones off the ground, then pregnant with twins, pulling Mariama and Lydia in a wagon.  I thought, "I'm so far from home."  Those memories don't really make "home," but the joy of apple picking, a natural, sweet excursion with those you love, and promises of treats to come, is a delight that has echoes of home.  

Carrying the apples to my children, I looked around my house here in Nigeria, and the sense of being distant drifted as I knew that I AM home, building new memories with people I love.  We have mangoes hanging green, promising smoothies and sticky chins.  We have passion fruit flowers, their purple centers and delicate frilly white flowers, speaking of sticky, sweet yumminess sucked out through holes bitten by an eager child's little teeth. I hear exuberant shouts daily with the count of eggs that our new quail have laid that my children have collected and are running into the house to show me their camouflaged treasures. 

 

 All of this reflection reminded me that we are only ever as close or far away from home as we are close or far away from Jesus and the sweetness we experience in following him where he leads us. Following him leads each of us to worlds where we have echoes of eternity because he's there, bringing beauty even in pain, loss, and disappointment. Sometimes we experience the undeniable beauty through the evidences of himself he's left in a child's giggle or a setting African sun. 

 It brings a song to my heart sung by folksy, pop artist Josiah Queen (if you haven't listened to his songs before, you can start here): 

Hold on, wait a minute
I don't want what You ain't in, and
I don't wanna go unless I'm going there with You
It's You there, rain or shining
You're the sun on my horizons
You are my everything.   

My promised land is you. 

Home is defined by being with Jesus, so I'm never far away because, "I will never leave you or forsake you," and "I am with you always, even to the end of the age," were some of the last words he spoke to his disciples.  May we each experience the sweetness of "home" with him as we follow him where he leads.  And may he fill our aching loneliness for simpler, happier spaces where we found comfort in mother's arms or pleasure in our feet pressed into green grass or the exhilaration of taking off your soccer cleates after a match well played. 

May he draw our gaze toward the beauty in our midst that speaks of...himself...our promised land.

CV and Such

 I shout "I’ve been driving for 24 years!" 

When the recently-graduated-from-diapers 

Guard placed his hand 

Through the window of my Van

On my steering wheel 

To help me reverse, for real? 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Masters in Scripture Engagement

On the border of enragement

Why don’t they ask for my help? 

I stumble in the emotional kelp. 

Tying me up, as I want to prove 

I am not one to remove 

From the complicated equation 

Of a community engagin’ 

with Scripture

“I studied education"

So I have the qualification

See my kids are phenomenal 

Their minds and hearts full

Also studied the arts for kids

Hence the drama of the life cycle of aphids

Studied appropriate technologies

Agriculture n small animal husbandries

That’s where my yard looks likes mini model,

And the start-up petting zoo, minus the cattle. 

I’ve lived in West Africa for ‘bout 20 years, 

Learned Spanish, French, and Hausa in tears. 

Started an organization to help the less fortunate, 

Hundreds of kids on their academic journey set. 

I’ve written smashing musicals and plays, 

Invested selflessly on hot African days, 

Gone without water and electricity

All for the gospel, chosen simplicity. 

I can boast and I can brag, 

Give my self a nice hash-tag

But if all they see is me and what I do. 

If it does not bring joy to You, 

Jesus, I lay it down and call it for what it is. 

A wild flower, fading, Dr. P's vanishing fizz

I could write a lengthy CV

‘Bout my accomplishments and degree

Yet one thing is resoundingly true

It’s all rubbish compared to knowing you. 

A Smashing Fullabulent Day!

 
I've just finished reading "The BFG" to Mariama and Lydia over the phone and I do believe that the way the BFG talks is exceedactily what the English language needs!  More ways to describe the quirkifulous world we find ourselves muckdancipating around in! 

For clarity, I'll use a more standard repertoire, it was a fantastically busy and meaningful day!  Let me tell you about it. 

After four days of special drinks, walking, timing, trying to induce labor of one of the young women in the home (Rooted House) we supervise was told she needed a C-section because labor wasn't progressing. By 7:30am I was at the hospital holding her while she cried and praying with her.  Thankfully we have great staff who have been with her all day! 

I rushed home to have a retreat with the other ladies of Rooted House (they are 13 in total), and got pictures by 9am from the staff in the hospital of the most beautiful baby girl! 

By 10:30 the retreat was in full swing, though they were all eager to see their new house member so after worship we headed over to see the baby sucking happily and the sweet teen mom in good health. 

The retreat focused on making wise choices, using examples of individuals in the Bible.  Three lovely ladies watched the residents' babies and one dear sister made us cinnamon rolls for tea time and ramen noodles for lunch.  Dear friends stopped in to talk about social media use (he's written a book on the subject), share their love story, which mirrors God's design for committed relationships, and give insight into how to see ourselves as God sees us. 

The beautiful ending to the retreat was a dance class led by our friend Dala.  To see 10 young men (from Zach's Bible study) doing the salsa, waltz and swing with the 13 residents of the Rooted House warms my heart so! Not to mention that I get to do the demonstrations and see them excitedly building their dancing toolbox fills me with such joy! 

On the way back to my house for the weekly Bible study I'm doing with Zach's guys, some of our staff were coming home from a training on how to do children's ministry well. We designed this course together with our staff.  I asked, "How did it go?" And one of the participants said with a big smile, "It was powerful, excellent, and fun!"  So deeply thankful for individuals who have owned the vision of children's ministry and can competently teach others. 

The ladies left to get home before dark and I continued the Bible study with the young men, discussing marriage, romance, sex, and dating from the video series "Loveology" by John Mark Comer.  Such good stuff! They handled the delicate topic of the night with much maturity and clicks of their tongues as we discovered how God's design and thoughts on sexuality is so much sweeter than the world's! 

Then a birthday celebration with a friend and colleague who is the acting director while Zach is gone provided such encouraging fellowship. 

The day was topped off by watching one of my favorite films "A Knights Tale" with Daso and our permanent house guest Emmanuella who had to return home yesterday after her boarding school sent all the kids home due to a statewide closure of all schools for safety until further notice.

I also made homemade chai tea, since we can get all the spices here to do that.  It was just a warm happy on top of a really spectaculous day.  Indeed a smashing fullabulent day! 

No Idea

'All this for me?' -Blessing

 

"She is crying because we are walking on the other side of the tennis court, feeling she's being left behind. She has no idea that in a weeks time, Mommy will stay while the rest of us go.  I wonder how often we're like that with God, crying that things just don't feel right when he's there and will remain with us.  We have no idea of his deep love."  -Zach while we did our daily morning walk on the tennis court (Blessing often joins us). 

Now that week has passed.  Me (Christy), Daso, and Blessing returned from watching our four sisters and Zach scan their boarding passes.  It was teary, but they were brave and excited to see loved ones on the other end of the long journey.  The heartbreaking cries that lasted all the way to the hotel and intermitently all night long from Blessing weigh on me, but I know that we are all doing our very best to let this sweet person know she is secure in our love and, most importantly, in God's love for her. 

How often do we underestimate the sacrifice of Christ, the great length he went to be sure we could know his embrace in this broken world? How often do I cry from my side of the "tennis court", "Where are you, God?" when he is not only close by, hearing my desperate cries, but also planning something that will draw me closer to the fullness of life he has in store for me?  

 “So don’t worry about these things, saying, ‘What will we eat? What will we drink? What will we wear?’ These things dominate the thoughts of unbelievers, but your heavenly Father already knows all your needs. Seek the Kingdom of God[e] above all else, and live righteously, and he will give you everything you need. (Matt.6:32-33)

Please do pray for us during this time of physically distant (in 5 weeks Zach will return and shortly after Christy will go to meet the girls), that every one of us will know our Father knows our needs and he is trustworthy.

 

Puddly

Rainy season in Nigeria leaves everything in varying shades of green. A few mangoes still cling to the naturally symmetrical trees and cows grace loudly on the hill behind our compound. There are puddles to play in, both in the mud and on the old tennis court where we play pickle ball every morning. One morning Zach said he'd take the puddle side of the court. Since it rains every day, it had been a long time I'd played without puddles. I knew how to manipulate the puddles and dig them out of a piddly bounce. I accepted! That was my mistake. After a stellar winning streak, I lost. I wasn't playing on my side, and yet, I didn't want to go back to the puddles either. I wanted to work to make it on this dry, easy-to-manuever surface that I had just discovered! Things were easier, yet, I had to find a different way to work.

The dry side

The puddle side

 

 

When we were wrapping up, I reflected on the experience. It was easy for Zach to choose to go to the puddle side. It was hard for me to go back to the puddle side. I didn't know how nice it was to not slip, dig, strain my brain to get across the court safely. If I'd never experienced it, I would have continued living contentedly with my puddles, something no one should really have to play pickle ball in. It's not safe and it's not really fair either. 

So it is for so many who find themselves living in a part of the world where having the bare minimum of shelter and food come through hard work, but at least they come. It is so difficult to think of going back to the puddles where it isn't really safe and no matter how hard you work, you may not reach your goal. If you do manage to, you often get really messy doing it and put yourself and those you love at risk. 

It's easy for someone from a puddle free environment to head over to the puddle side for a time, like my husband valiantly did. It's a choice. Most people living on the puddle side never have that choice, and they are often content living with the puddles because they have developed strength and resilience. In that process, if they are followers of Christ, they also tend to foster joy, a kind of joy that comes through struggle. The kind of joy that bubbles up in boistrous laughter and shining smiles. It still doesn't make it right. 

It would be audacious of me to tell someone who has found themselves living puddle free to say, "Go back and play in the puddles, you'll be fine, you've done it before."  By the time you've learned to play on a new side, your mind has adjusted, the returning is a whole other game.  In line with Romans 12, I pray that I may, "Not think of (myself) more highly than (I) ought, but rather think of (myself) with sober judgment, in accordance with the faith God has distributed to each of us. For just as each of us had one body with many members, and these members do not all have the same function, so in Christ we, though many, form one body, and each member belongs to all the others." (Romans 12:3-5) 

How would I treat a member of my body, think of them and their sacrifice, honor them in my prayers, and interact with them so they know that they are not alone in their struggle?  How can I respect the sacrifices they make to edify the body?  May God give us all wisdom. 

All in a Days Work

Days seem to pass in a blur.  Oh, but what a colorful blur they are!  Here are some snippets. 

 Wednesday:  

 

After a tournament of pickle ball with this birthday boy, we celebrated him breaking out of his teens into the big 20!  I've known him since he was 7. What a privilege to watch him grow into the athletic, caring, humorous person he is. 

Thursday: 

 

We went to the zoo!  We carried 45 kids to the zoo in piggyback trips! I had never seen a porcupine so close up!

We harvested some of our field corn.  I had serious nostalgia lifting my little girls up and teaching them how to twist their wrist just right to pick the ears off the stalk.  

 

 

Friday: 

 

The twins class in the Orange Hat are learning about insects.  I walked up to find them observing the ants and how they make holes in the ground. 

 

The Ministry of Women's Affairs for our state visited the Rooted House (a residential community established by the Orange Hat to help young women find wholeness).  We walked into a room with five girls concentrating on learning to sew. It was so joyful and beautiful!

 

 The Orange Hat Childcare Foundation was established initially as a place where children could come and read.  This year it has expanded to include: 

• The Lovin' Oven - A bakery for young women to be empowered as they learn to bake and grow in community. 
• Hwolemen- A mentorship initiative for young men
• The Rooted House- A residential community for young women currently with 11 residents. 
• Holiday Orange hat - Five weeks of super fun with 200 children exploring and learning 
• After School Lessons- For secondary school students the Orange hat sponsors in school. 
• After school lessons- For primary school students from local schools  

Any given day, I get to visit and experience the joy of at least two of these initiatives in full swing.  It makes life so full and joyful! Not to mention my own 6 lovely ladies +2 until they go to school, and one hard working husband.  Please do pray for these many initiatives and our family as we get to experience God working in powerful ways in the lives of so many.  

Relearning...He Cares?

Taken by one of my little girls during homeschool 2025. 

Do you ever feel like maybe your are as dense as diamond, pressed so compactly that concepts you learn over and over and over again do not penetrate your being to transform your thoughts?  And that maybe you are as rare as a diamond too, for this uncanny capacity to disregard all the whisperings of the Spirit deep in your being over the years doesn't seem to be the fate of all the maturing people around you? 

When I first memorized Philipians 4:4-7 sixteen years ago, I thought that "Always be full of joy in the Lord," didn't need to be said again, but Paul said it anyway, "I say it again--rejoice."  I was pretty confident in my ability to hear it and apply it the first time, but now, I realize how little I comprehend the power of rejoicing and I think I need Paul to say it about five hundred and seventy-eight more times.  It's not old age-o! (Nigerians often put "o" for emphasis, so I hope you understand that I am not OLD!) I'm just thick-spirited, if that is a thing.  Oh, and then the next bit.  

"Don't worry about anything; instead, pray about everything." Right. Of course.  I think Paul had to state the obvious for me, in this very season of my life and all the other thousands of times that I have felt it was just for me in THAT season of my life.  If this was the only verse I ever knew and took to heart and obeyed, it would transform everything about my life and how I handle the hard, currently really, really hard, things that I experience. Like that wasn't enough, he goes on. 

"Tell God what you need, and thank him for all he has done.  Then you will experience God's peace, which exceeds anything we can understand.  His peace will guard your hearts and mind as you live in Christ Jesus."  The simplicity of this exhortation is astonishingly challenging for me.  My kids find it easy, "Mooooooooommy, I'm huuuuuuungry," says Acacia, who must be going through a growth spurt because after eating 4 servings of spaghetti for lunch, this is the third time this minute she's told me that.  When I finally stop with the last urgent need of putting Blessing on the big potty because the little one is too little and the big one is too big, I give Acacia a snack, and she says, "Thank you mommy, I love you mommy," and gives me a sloppy kiss on whatever part of explosed skin is closest to her mouth. She is at peace, contented, knows she's loved and heard. Any doubt that I loved her has now dissolved like the Munch it (Nigerian cheeto) she is sucking on. If only I could give my need to God and trust he's good, his goodness and peace guarding my heart. 

When I was in Sunday school last Sunday, and the teacher (who happens to be my husband) recited 1 Peter 5:7-8, "Give all your worries and cares to God for he cares for you. Stay alert!  Watch out for your great enemy, the devil. He prowls around like a roaring lion, looking for someone to devour," I immediately started tearing up.  He said, "Think about a care or worry that you have now." And immediately, the roaring was upon me, worry and anxiety clamoring and attacking my faith, grabbing my attention away from the God who cares for me.  I had never realized how similar these two verses are.  Giving my cares to God (Peter) and not worrying about anything (Philipians), helps me to stay alert (Peter) and allows his peace to guard my heart and mind (Philipians) as I live in Christ Jesus. 

I have never been a worrier, had a great capacity to have faith and trust God in a beautifully childlike way! Well, the devil is a roaring lion, and he has figured out that if he can make me not give my cares to God, not pray, then he can consume me with the cyclical thoughts of "is God going to do this thing or not? Does he actually care? What if this all flops?"  It's the age-old temptation he used in the garden to think that God is holding out on me, and I should probably take things into my own hands.  He's not very creative, but he doesn't have to be because my sluggish human will and wandering heart finds dwelling on these devouring questions easier than meditating on my caring God.

Well, I'm onto him.  I may be slow but I've not closed my ears to those counsel of the Spirit's wisperings. The prowling growls that are trying to distract my heart and mind from the truth that God has brought me this far and he cares for me are being disarmed as I cast those cares, heaving them off my weary heart and into his enfolding embrace. He can carry each dream, longing, project, and loved one and mold them into his good pleasure and purpose.  

This season is sweet, with long days of ministry in the area of Bible translation, nurturing young people as they grow, and connecting with Zach on the pickleball court early in the morning.  It is also challenging, as we look at an uncertain date of traveling to the United States for furlough due to paperwork, of the huge task of Bible translation in Nigeria, of pressing needs all around us that we so desire to be wise and discerning in handling.  Pray that we will "give all our worries and cares to God, for he cares" for us. (1 Peter 5) and we know that his "peace that passes all understanding will guard our hearts and minds in Christ Jesus" (Phil. 4:7) as we unfailingly lay them at his feet. 

If you have cares that we can cast at Jesus feet together with you, please do write and let us know.  

Buying beads in the market.  I love shopping in Nigeria. The colors, sounds, and noises are a sensational bombardment. Invigorating!