birthday

The last three days have been filled with blessing. There has been so much excitement and energy around this house that I wouldn't doubt if you felt it from where you're sitting. Today was Nede's 6th birthday. This girl has been singing "Happy Birthday" to herself in the bathtub for the past 360 days. When it came her time to sing how old she was, she was ready!  Again, I have these emotions that I continually am shocked by, I don't anticipated them and they grab me out of nowhere! Yesterday was another, when she sat in front of about 20 of our friends and her little voice sang, "I'm 6 years old now, I'm 6 years old now, I'm 6 years old now, my friends, I'm 6 years old now" I was stinking proud of her. This child who a year and a half ago I was worried about because she was not talking and withdrawn, now exuberates confidence, has a heart of compassion and as we were getting ready for bed this evening she sincerely said to me, "Mommy, thanks for my presents." 

I'm not sure whose life has changed more since 2008 when I first met this little girl in a ragged yellow dress. 

One of the highlights of the party yesterday was when this little girl confidently (and innocently) stuck her donkey tail on another girls party hat!! She was so determined that I couldn't even get her facing in the right direction.

Nede's biggest disappointment of the weekend may have been that the wings of her "pharaoh" (confusion with "fairy") dress don't actually make her fly.

If there was some sort of meter to measure the happiness of a child, Nede would be off the charts! My prayer for Nede's life is the promise that Jesus gave when he said,  "I came so they can have real and eternal life, more and better life than they ever dreamed of." (John 10:10, The Message). 

It's no wonder Jesus also says to be more like these little ones. How much different would my life look if I lived in the now and didn't worry? Finally, as Dr Seuss says from one of the gifts Nede received, 

From sun in the summer,

From rain when it's fall-ish,

I'm going to protect them, 

No matter how small-ish!

Amen Dr! 

If I Give to You My Love

I don't think I totally understand this song but I think it's how I want to live. I'm sure it's what I believe. I'm confident it's what I'm called to. I struggle with it. I share the song with you because... I think it's beautiful.

Thank you Kate Hurley for giving me something to cry out.

we, we're dying like the chickens

I started writing this last week sometime and never finished it. Mainly because I didn't know how to. Here's what I had written and I'll try to conclude it after the happenings of the last few days. I still don't know how to properly conclude it 'cause I'm one confused girl, in one difficult place:

I had a conversation with one of my guards today. As per the usual news, someones baby had died. My guard explained it as a "bad spirit". When I inquired more he said, "Senhora! The baby was fine one day and died the next! That's not a bad spirit?"
I don't know what it is but I know that it's one of the many things that makes Mozambique so difficult.
Our conversation then moved to the population that is dying from malaria, and then I brought up the words that I've never heard my guards speak, HIV.
"OH SENHORA! HIV!"
Then he said it, "We, we're dying like the chickens."
I didn't really understand this analogy at first so I brought it up later. "What do you mean you're dying like the chickens?"
I still don't understand completely but the gist of it is that people go buy, or raise, a chicken with the sole purpose to kill and enjoy. The life of a chicken is short-lived and not valued.
I see what he means. Human life, like the chickens, is held quite loosely too. A death is usual conversation.
My guard also shared of a woman who was hit with a car just by my house. She, the baby on her back and the young child in her hand, dead.
Three more, gone.


This is where I ended because I didn't know what to say next. And then, on Friday evening we had a bad hail and wind storm. Thankfully I and 2 friends were safe in my huge concrete house. And, though it leaks like a sieve and a window got cracked and a number of other things were damaged, we weren't in danger. My house isn't made of mud with a grass roof. I don't have tin sheets of metal moderately secured as my roof that could fly off and detach someones arm (apparently that happened). I wasn't walking with my baby on my back in the market with no place to get away from the pelting hail which would bring both to their death (apparently that happened too).

I still don't know how to end this message. I write out of my own confusion sometimes. What I don't get is  why is it okay that so many die around the world to things like AIDS and malaria? Why, for 28 years of my life, did I not know about this? I didn't even know to care. They don't show this on the news in America do they? Not often, that's for sure. It makes me crazy that just because we in America aren't "dying like the chickens" that we ignore this, or are too afraid to face it and make it personal.

I may sound angry but I am, I'm mad at HIV and mosquitoes and the lack of the worlds response. This isn't how it's suppose to be. This isn't what the Church is supposed to be doing. We're called to more, much more.

It makes me sad that my guard compares the value of his life to that of a chicken. He's worth more. They all are.

child development

Since taking in a child at 4 years old I've obviously missed observing a number of steps in child development (and my mind is a little groggy in recalling nursing 211). I often find myself wondering if what Nede is doing or how she is acting is appropriate for her age and development. I'm often fascinated. Below is an example. Nede has tried jumping rope periodically and then, all of the sudden, she's doing it. It seems a bit manic if you ask me! Is this normal? 

tonight my light melted on my wall

Tonight when I went into our bedroom to get Nede ready for bed, after a bit of tickling and out of control giggling, I smelled something. As if something was burning. I was quickly led to the light that I had clipped to a nail above my bed. During Nede’s nap time today I had tucked the mosquito net on the light to keep it out of our faces. Not such a great idea. This evening Nede had gone into the room and switched on this light to find her pajamas, as she does every night. I still don’t quite get it but, whatever happened it’s not good, the lightbulb obviously was too hot or the electricity was too strong and the plastic of this clip on lamp had melted, a lot. I’m afraid it was only a matter of minutes more before the mozie net would have gone up in flames. I’m told that none of the electricity is “grounded” in this house and, apparently that’s not good, I’m learning that it sure isn’t! None the less we’re praising God tonight that this story didn’t turn out worse. If you’re now wondering how I survive on my own out here-- there’s only one word to explain it. Grace.

3 years ago

I remember you so young, 
so frail.
So broken,
inside
and out. 


You shattered me like none other.
But the heartache you experienced was like nothing I'll ever,
in your 20 young years.


I saw you in the death of an elderly American.
I turn my head to the lives of young Mozambicans.
Your suffering can never be 

                             changed.

I heave at the INJUSTICE. 


Your legacy is held in one beautiful child.
One strong child.
His precious ONE. 


We're fighting for life here.
Abundant life.
Her's WILL BE different.
Her's IS.


I'm sorry yours wasn't.


I'll kept fighting.
Because His grace is sufficient.
I pray.

she are!

Nede: “Mom, are you sad?”

Me: “Why do you ask?”

Nede: “I’m just asking, Mom, are you sad?”

Me: “Yes, Nede I’m a little sad today.”

Nede: “Why?”

Me: “Well, I wish I felt like Jesus was a little closer to me.”

Nede: “He is. He lives in your heart.”

Me: “You’re right Nede. You’re right. But, do you ever just wish that you could feel a hug from Jesus?”

Nede: “But She are. She is hugging your heart!”

Me: “You’re right Nede. He is!”

xoxo

know it all

Conversation with Nede while hand washing bedding in the tub this morning:

Nede: “That’s not how you do it Mom. Do it like this!”

Me: “Nede do you think you know everything?”

Nede: “Yes!”

Me: “Nede what is 10 + 10?”

Nede: “Washing.”

Me: “No. See Nede you don’t know everything.”

Nede: “Ma’ma, what is washing?”

Me: “The process of making things clean.”

Nede: “No! It’s Kupadza. See you don’t know everything too.” (Kupadza may actually be the word in Shona. I don’t know.)

Me: “Nede you don’t even know what you’re talking about.”

Nede: “Me either, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

monrovia, liberia, 2007

I’m reading a book right now about a families experience with adoption.

As I read tonight I was taken back to a place in my memory that I haven’t visited in a long time.

Monrovia, Liberia, 2007. I was there being a nurse but nursing did not facilitate my life change. This came on my day off. This particular day I chose to visit an orphanage.

It’s still fresh in my mind. Too fresh almost. I went with a group. That part I don’t remember well. What I remember is that I was somehow left along in a room. Well, not alone. I was alone with babies/children. That was exactly where I didn’t want to be at the time, alone with crying, orphaned children. What I particularly hate about this memory is that I didn’t want to hold that one child. I can still see her sitting there. I wanted to not see her. I didn’t even want to touch her. I was extremely uncomfortable with her physical appearance. Her pencil-thin limbs surely could not support her body and, although not certain, I am sure she was far older than I would have pegged her. I remember thinking/hearing/knowing/feeling (whatever that was), “Dara, that is the very child you NEED to hold. You need to love that ONE!”

I responded. I went and held that child on my lap, against every desire of my own, I did it anyway. I sat, uncomfortable, holding this smelly child whose abdomen was enormous and her affect was flat. She lacked any spark of life, hope or fight. It was hard for me to show love to this child. Because I couldn’t do anything to change the situation I would have rather not been exposed to it. I felt to helpless.

I only held that child because I knew God wanted me to, because I KNEW HE adored her. He loved her and I was supposed to also.

Fast forward a few months and I was back in my bed in my Arizona apartment and I woke from dreams numerous nights in a panic. I would find myself sitting up in bed anxiously thinking, “Who’s holding the children? Who’s loving the orphaned?”

Now that I think about it tonight, that’s part of what started this all.

I have no idea whatever became of that child. I never even knew her name but she and her environment is etched in my mind.

I knew then and I know now that because HE loves them, I need to too.

Grumpy turned Miracle

Last October when I moved into my house in Chimoio I used to refer to one of my guards as “the grumpy one” (totally not nice but it was true). There was a time when I thought, “can I really have this guy ‘guarding’ me, my family, and my house?” Little did I know how unwell he was.

This afternoon I was sitting inside trying to enjoy a cup of coffee and reading a book. I kept hearing this strange noise outside so I went out to see what was going on. It was nothing, just the neighbors doing something. But of course, just showing up outside Nede’s always convinced that you stepped outside just to see her and spend the next hour being bossed around and playing a game according to her rules only. Today was different though, my grumpy guard was sucked into the game too.

At first he was rigid, awkward and maybe even nervous as Nede told me where to stand and him to stand in between us. She was ready to whip a basketball at him as she prepared to enjoy a great game of “Pickle-in-the-Middle.” (No wonder he was afraid, he had no idea what we were doing and she had a big ball). I had a difficult time explaining the game in Portuguese so I decided to be the first “Pickle” and show him what to do. It took about 3 seconds (of me being a total clown in the middle as Nede flailed this way and that trying to fake me out) for Grumpy to start laughing, a real laugh. A belly laugh that tickled my ears as it's so unfamiliar to hear such a sound from a Mozambican man! This went on and on for almost a half hour as we took turns being in the middle. The simple joy that this game brought each of us seemed like such a gift. It’s taken 10 months for this sound of laughter to billow over my fences. I think it was music to the ears of God. It felt like a really special miracle.

I then brought out Nede’s bubbles and started blowing a few. Of course  Nede scrambled around like a wild woman trying to pop each and every one. Pretty soon my guard was reaching from the chair he was sitting in trying to pop any that came his direction. My mind then drifted from were I was. I was brought back to when I was in college and Deanna and I had bought bubble guns from Walmart. We used to drive down University Avenue blowing bubbles out the window. It was those carefree moments where just a simple bubble brought lots of joy and laughter, leaving behind the stresses of life.

Since knowing Nede I’ve spent a lot of time thinking about the significance and simplicity of the Scriptures that encourage us to have “child-like faith.” Today playing ball and blowing bubbles with my 2 friends (who couldn’t be more different from me) I realized, “this is it! This simplicity of joy, laughter and unity is what it’s about. This is life. Delighting in the simplest of things as if there’s not a care in the world.” Yes, I’m sure God was laughing and smiling down upon us, pleased to give us this miracle. I felt pure joy and the presence of God more than I have for a long time while I was the “pickle-in-the-middle”. Former Mr. Grumpy was able to leave his worries outside the fence and be a kid, the child he probably was never able to be. And, my own kid me got me out of the house and, in her childish ways, brought me to my faith, noticing God again.

And I would say, it was one of the best hours I’ve had in a long time.

It was simple, yet, profound. I wonder how much happier I could be if I allowed myself to see and enjoy more simple miracles? I want to try.