hey diddle diddle

I hear it every day but Nede's voice still makes my heart happier than almost anything. She awes me as she continues to grasp 3 languages. As she learns English from me, her Zimbabwean teachers, Nigerian and Burundian school friends, and our South African, Swedish, British, and Irish friends, some things, to many, are unintelligible. Sometimes she even sounds Italian! Nevertheless, it's good for lots of smiles!

Story 2: it was the size of my head, red eyes, fangs…

Saturday night Sarah and I got chased away from our cribbage game early to escape the hungry mosquitoes, who, we were assured, are NOT malaria carrying! (We’ll see about that in the next 7-10 days!) After 3 days of playing in the sand and sun I thought I was just going to crawl into the sanctuary of my mosquito net and fall fast asleep. For some reason, once I got into my net, which I was sharing with Nede with our 2 single mattresses secured beneath, I got a bit ambitious and thought I would read for a bit. I started on my back but then my arms got tired from hold my book above my head. I wanted to lay on my left side but then I knew the light from my head lamp would shine in Nede’s face so I turned on my right side. Positioning myself this way left only a few inches between me, my net and the wall. Not the most comfortable but that’s how it is. Shortly after, Sarah came in and was settling herself in her bed on the other side of Nede’s. All was still, tranquil, relaxed when I let out a HUGE scream as a RAT raced next to my head about 6 inches from my face!!!! I FLEW away from the wall, landing on Nede’s leg. Sarah startled, obviously, and said “What’s wrong???” To which I screamed, “There’s a RAT INSIDE MY MOSQUITO NET!”

Sarah then said a few choice words on my behalf as I reached over Nede trying to untuck the mosquito net from the far corner of the foot of Nede’s bed. As I tugged unsuccessfully the rat jumped up against the net in it’s own attempt to get out of the prison he put himself in. I continued to be unsuccessful in trying to get this critter out of MY personal space. It then ran up the length of Nede’s bed RIGHT next to her head! I repositioned myself to make the reach across Nede to free the intruder from the far corner of the head of Nede’s bed. I was finally successful and in a split second he was gone. Where to, we never found. We were pretty sure he had gone out from our net but we never saw where he went.

Sarah and I then, after some time, got out from under our nets (I felt safe NO WHERE now) to move EVERY item in the baraka to make sure he wasn’t still hiding somewhere. We lifted every sheet, every mattress put ALL our bags outside and over an hour later felt somewhat confident to retuck our nets back under our mattresses and climb back into bed.

Nede slept through it all.

And me? I have been traumatized. The security of the mosquito net that I have put my confidence in for greater than 2 years is now gone. And now I have been having visions in my head of a rat the size of my head, fangs and red eyes that looked into my soul…

I didn’t sleep well that night.

Story 1: his name is much?

One day while at the beach Nede and I walked together to ask the staff to turn on the hot water so we could take hot showers. As we walked away Nede said, “That man is coming? His name is Much?”

I responded, “What Nede?”

“That man? His name is Much?”

“I don’t know the man’s name who is going to come turn on the water.”

“But his name is Much?”

“Nede! I don’t know his name? Why are you asking?”

To this she frankly answered, “Well, why did you say ‘thank you Much’ then?”

the beach

Nede, Sarah and I just spent the last 4 days at the beach! It was fantastic!!!

This is where we slept…

This is where we played… 

This is what we ate… 

(Yes, those are ants. I opened a BRAND NEW sealed package of cheese and these busy friends were securely added under the plastic label. Unbelievable!)

And this is how we celebrated our first outing together!

REJOICING!

(to be continued…2 stories not to miss to follow;)

prayers of a 5 year old

For several months now I was blessed by friends who allowed me to borrow a car as I pursued the seemingly impossible search to buy a car. Finding a car was something Nede and I prayed about together for quite awhile. One day a few weeks ago before Nede went to school she asked if when she got home we could draw pictures of Jesus. I promised her that after her nap we would draw pictures of Jesus. It turned out that I drew the below picture of Jesus, Nede and me. Then I asked her if there was something she would like to pray and write on this picture (I know, it looks like Nede drew it!!! I’m no artist!!). These are honestly the exact words from Nede’s mouth that I wrote on the picture that day:

Dear Father, I need to buy a new car, one that goes very fast. Please help with money for a new car. AMEN

On Saturday we drove this car home!!!!

It was provided for us differently than we expected and my dread of such an experience was as pleasant as it could have been in Mozambique. I even think the woman from the car “dealership” is going to become a friend as she already mentioned inviting me to her Rotary Club meeting next week:)

We’re ever so grateful for how the Lord provided this car for us. Perhaps not what I thought I originally needed but I trust that it’s just what HE knows we need.

Thanks to those who made this a reality! I didn’t realize the burden I was carrying in borrowing and being without a car. I feel a new sense of freedom having my own, low gas mileage wheels!

Happy Easter

Happy Easter from us to you!

May the LOVE of Jesus touch each of us today,

and every.

I miss you and love you!

xoxoxoxoxoxoxo

who’s teaching who?

I used to think God must have a really big plan for Nede’s life. I mean, he’s got to, right? To redirect my life as he has? He MUST have BIG plans for Nede. I don’t know what that may look like—a voice of Africa? The next Mother Teresa? A motivational speaker? A doctor researching a cure for AIDS? A voice for the children of the HIV/AIDS pandemic? I’ve been sure it’s going to be big and it’ll be worth it.

But today, when I walked into the room where Nede was sitting at my computer watching a video about Noah’s ark and coloring, I was surprised to not find her nose glued 6 inches from the screen. Instead I found her hands folded in prayer. I stopped to observe and she opened her eyes and looked at me and stated ever so frankly in only the Nede way, “I’m praying!”

Other thoughts that I’ve had periodically were then confirmed. God has no bigger plans for Nede than anyone else. God has created each child that I see, each child you see, each child everywhere, to know love, to be love, to adore and to be adored, to care for their community, to care for the poor, to glorify Him and to live a life of praise while being a part of the Kingdom now.  If that’s the life Nede keeps up, that’s BIG. That’s worth it. If she lives her life trusting Him, being a stranger to this world, that’s BIG. If she lives each day looking to Him as the healer of her wounds or if she loves beautifully, even when it’s difficult, wouldn’t that be BIG?!

And then I realized, wow, what if I did too?

Maybe the poets are right. Maybe love is the only answer. –Woody Allen

I sit down to write in an attempt to process my own struggles, an attempt to make sense of all that goes on in my head in a day. All that is considered, momentarily, before every thought is interrupted by a squeaky voice needing yet another tangerine or singing, “I’ve got peace like a liver” (still working on pronouncing r’s).

I’ve been thinking a lot about love in the recent weeks and months. Love. I never really gave it much thought before. It’s never been very hard for me to do. I actually recall several times in my life where I’ve thought, and prayed, that I wish I didn’t love so easily. It sounds silly now when I think about it, it’s not as if I love so well. It seems that the way I wear my heart on my sleeve opens my heart up to vulnerability that at times, when I’ve been hurt, I have wished that I had had a stronger guard on my heart. But, I like to love. I like to have a crush and I like to dream of what it’ll be like to find my “true love”. I love to watch “chick flicks” that (I admit) give me a terribly warped idea or what love really is.  I like to take care of people. I like to express the emotions of my heart. I like to find ways to show that I love.

Through some years of struggle and wrestling with discontentment I’ve learned that I have a lot of love to give and I require a lot of love in return. This is how God has wired me.

I like to love.

I like to love most when it’s easy.

I’m grateful I’ve never had to learn a terribly hard lesson of difficult love. Sure I’ve been annoyed. Sure I’ve been hurt. Sure I’ve screwed up and hurt others. But overall, I’ve just skated through life having plenty to love and receiving that plenty I need in return. I’ve been blessed with a loving family. I’ve never been abused or mistreated. I’ve never been highly rejected or alone. I’ve always known I am loved and I’ve most always enjoyed showing others how I love them.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m sure I’ve blown it many times. I’ve missed plenty of opportunities to love and I have probably dealt with many things immaturely and given up on love. 

In my recent reflection on love the words of Jesus keep ringing in my ears, “love your enemies! Pray for those who persecute you! In that way you will be acting as true children of your Father in heaven.” Matthew 5:44 And verse 46 reads: “if you love only those who love you, what good is that? Even corrupt tax collectors do that much. If you are kind only to your friends, how are you different from anyone else? Even pagans do that. But you are to be perfect, even as your Father in heaven is perfect.”

I like to love when it’s easy. I like to love my family and my friends. I like to (and feel I know how to) love people who speak the same language as me and I like to love people who are a part of a culture that I can relate to. I like to love when I don’t have malaria and when I’m not overly tired. I like to love when people don’t drive ridiculously around me and I like to love when you see me for more than my skin color.

It seems lately, if the above stated categories don’t match then, “I’m sorry. The circumstances aren’t working out and you’re a bit too difficult for me to love at the moment. Please return when I’ve reached this perfection that I’m striving for because right now, I’m just like everyone else.”

Lately I’ve been given some opportunities to practice loving when it’s not easy. I hate it. I hate that it’s hard for me to love. I hate thinking about something else that is difficult and I hate trying to learn a hard lesson. I hate that I don’t even know how to love. But, it’s good for me to be out of my bubble of easy loving. It’s good for me to think about all this and I’m challenged as I walk through this Refiner’s Fire.

It seems I agree with Jesus, Woody and the poets. It does seem like love is the only answer. So, until we’ve fulfilled our calling to perfection, I’ll keep praying for the insight and heart to love ESPECIALLY when it’s difficult.

(I better stop. I somehow just ate 13 of my treasured 36 crispy mint “Chocola’s”, specially delivered from South Africa!)

recent funny events

There are always things that happen that still make me shake my head and say, "Wow! Mozambique, it's like no other!"
For example:
***
I'm in the process of renewing my visa. When I went to submit my documents I was told I needed a passport picture so I walked to a new place I had heard takes passport pictures. The women at the desk was cordial. I paid at the desk and went to the room to have my picture taken. This is usually a humorous experience and today was no different. At first the man told me I needed to change my shirt because I can't wear a white shirt. Why you may ask? Well, probably because the lighting is so bright that with my white skin against the white background with a white shirt would make me out to be hair and eyes only. I told the man I didn't have another shirt. Another customer then offered her advice that they just change the color of  my shirt on the computer after they take my picture. The man bought the idea.
I then sat on the stool as the man studied me as if a specimen of something exotic, tilted my head ever so slightly sure not to make a difference of anything in the photo, held up his Nikon Coolpix camera, bent his legs to apparently be at the precise angle for this ever so professional shot. "Fechar a boco." Close your mouth I was reminded and there it was, the ugliest picture of me ever.
It wasn't over though because there was apparently a problem with the photo-shopping of my new shirt. My hair was covering part of my shirt so they couldn't put the new shirt on me. So, with some language confusion I was soon getting a new photo taken with my hair up. Trouble was that I didn't have anything but a pen to hold my hair up off of my shirt. Picture no.2 was taken with my hair thrown up, held by a pen, mouth closed and within a few minutes for sure the ugliest picture of Dara Hillstrom was produced-- complete with a nice red button down shirt that looks slightly too busty for my body. I will never show any of you this photo and will despairingly show my id card with this photo on it.
***
I had a couple friends over for dinner the other night, one from Sweden and one from Zimbabwe. As we were speaking about an acquaintance I couldn't help but be shocked, yet totally understanding the reality, I'm still laughing that this could be spoken about anyone:
"It's rare to hear him say something that's true."
Sad. Telling a lie is all to common here.
***
Several weeks ago when my friend who had watched Nede when I was away was still here we got stopped by the police when I was driving the Land Rover to Church. My heart still beats quite hard when this happens but I should be learning there's not much of a threat. This time (we were stopped in the same place my friend had been stopped a few times while I was away) the police officer didn't even approach me on the drivers side. He immediately went to my friends window and smiled and had a little small talk with her. He didn't ask ANYTHING about my drivers license or the car. He didn't even acknowledge me. As we pulled away laughing my friend let me know that this was the same police officer who had asked her for her phone number a couple stops ago. Charm can get you a long way here.
***
"Wow! Mozambique, it's like no other!"

4 little monkeys jumping on the bed