A Day of Firsts

Today was the first day of school for Stephen, Matthew and Elizabeth. After day 1, third grade, first grade and kindergarten seem to be going well.

My trip to the grocery store was very lonely. I almost stopped at Publix and asked for a cookie in honor of Elizabeth. We go so often, they know she prefers sugar over chocolate chip. And then our house was incredibly quiet. There have been very few days in our house since 2000 where we haven't had a baby, a toddler, or a preschooler making a bunch of noise. Something about the last one heading off to kindergarten does make you kind of sentimental, even if you're not a sentimental kind of girl.



Elizabeth on the other hand transitioned well. She walked right into her class, sat down and said good-bye. She was ready for her new adventure. She made lots of friends which is no surprise since she is a social butterfly. Unfortunately she doesn't remember any of their names.



Matthew told his teacher that they never had to raise their hands at his other school. (He's very convincing, even though it's not the truth! Scary!) He also informed us that his teacher is old. I said "You didn't say that to her, did you?" If you know Matthew you know he says whatever he thinks. Thankfully, he did practice some restraint and didn't say that to her. Just so you know, she is older. She started teaching in 1969 before I was even born, but she seems as sweet as can be. Surely she can handle Matthew!


Stephen seemed to have a good day. My only way of knowing this though is his one word answers to my questions and the fact that he didn't complain about school. If there's anything to complain about, he'll complain. So since we didn't have complaints this afternoon, I assume that means we had a good day.

The only other exciting news to report about the day is that Matthew complained because I put a note in his lunch. I thought I was doing a good mama thing this morning by writing my kids notes. Isn't that what we're supposed to do to "make their day"? Well it appears that it's not cool in 1st grade. He said the kids made fun of him because he got a love note. I promised not to write anymore unless he asks me to. He insisted and so did Stephen that no one else got a note in their lunch. That is hard for me to believe. I thought this was good mama etiquette. So then I ask Matthew tonight, "What do you want in your lunch tomorrow?" and he says "The same thing as today, WITHOUT the love note." It broke my heart!

Here is a picture of them this morning. Elizabeth just lost her other front tooth last night, so now she has a beautiful 6 year old, all I want for Christmas is my two front teeth, SMILE!

Where There Are No Birthdays

This post has been stirring in my head for days. My fearless mission team leader and sweet friend, Kathleen gave me this title last week and I knew I needed to write a post. So I want to give her credit for the idea. Thanks Kathleen!

Where are there no birthdays? Where is that you might ask? It's in Zambia. They do have birthdays, just like every other country, but they don't celebrate them. Why? Because the majority of children don't even know their birthday. If they can tell you a date it's only the month and day. They don't know the year and so you have to do the math.

Many of them just say "I don't know" when you ask "do you know your birthday?". That alone will break your heart. So we give them a birthday, Jan 1. and then the year depending on their age.

Martha told me her birthdate is Jan. 1, 1996, so that means that she really doesn't know when her birthday is and she's been assigned this birthday by a previous counselor. She has 5 siblings and lives with her mom. Her father is mentally ill and doesn't live with them. So somehow, Martha's birthday has been lost in the midst of that.


I had four other girls tell me their birthdays were Jan. 1st. One girl said, my birthday is July 8. I said "That's today. Happy Birthday!" She had no idea that July 8th was a day for celebrating her. Nobody took the time to tell her, "Happy Birthday". Maybe nobody at home cared.

Birthdays in the U.S. are a huge deal. I'm sure we spend millions of dollars celebrating birthdays. Around here, many families spend hundreds of dollars to throw a fun party at the jumpy place, at the Y pool, at laser mania, at the skate rink, etc. The list goes on and on of options for elaborate birthday parties. Don't misunderstand, I'm all for celebrating birthdays. I'm just amazed as I examine the contrast between Zambian birthdays that are pretty much non-existent and American birthdays which are sometimes over the top!

What breaks my heart is that "where there are no birthdays" is just another example of life in Zambia. The children are not valued (for the most part) and many are not celebrating life with these children. The latest statistics are that one out of every five people in Zambia has AIDS. With those statistics, each day of life should be cause for celebration.

The only hope for these children and for the people of Zambia is that God is offering them new life. He wants to give them a very special birthday. A birthday of when they opened their hearts to Him. He has come that they might have life...and have it more abundantly!


John 10:10 (The Message)
6-10Jesus told this simple story, but they had no idea what he was talking about. So he tried again. "I'll be explicit, then. I am the Gate for the sheep. All those others are up to no good—sheep stealers, every one of them. But the sheep didn't listen to them. I am the Gate. Anyone who goes through me will be cared for—will freely go in and out, and find pasture. A thief is only there to steal and kill and destroy. I came so they can have real and eternal life, more and better life than they ever dreamed of.

Worth a Laugh

Matthew asked if we planted sesame seeds from the hamburger bun would bread grow?

Elizabeth told us that they used paper clips in her hair. (She went to Sweet and Sassy with a friend and she meant bobby pins)

The best laugh though is that Elizabeth ended up in our bed at some point last night (I am such a heavy sleeper and half the time I don't even know we have someone extra in the bed until morning...lucky me) Anyway, Elizabeth talks in her sleep A LOT and here's her funniest comment from last night, "My daddy has a real gun!"

Favorite Foto Friday

Two of my favorite Africa pictures. The first one I didn't take. Maybe Kathleen did. I'm not sure, but it's the picture that captured my heart for the children of Africa. The dirt, the poverty, the need for basic necessities like shoes.

The second picture I took. I don't even know this boy. He was one of 1100 children at Camp Life Week 5. He was proud of his new shoes. It's hard to tell, but he has a rag in his hand and he was polishing his shoes, wiping the dirt off of them so that they would stay clean (very difficult in Africa dirt and dust). More about shoe day coming soon! It was an exciting day at Camp Life!

The Race

This is a long poem, but worth the read. I shared it Thursday night at Bible study and I feel like I need to post it here as well. This week's homework is about lukewarm Christians.

It doesn't really matter how you started, what matters is that you finish well!

The Race
by D.H. Groberg

"Quit! Give up! You're beaten!" They shout at me and plead. "There's just too much against you now. This time you can't succeed!" And as I start to hang my head in front of failure's face, My downward fall is broken by the memory of a race. And hope refills my weakened will as I recall that scene; For just the thought of that short race rejuvenates my being.

A children's race—young boys, young men how I remember well. Excitement, sure! But also fear; It wasn't hard to tell. They all lined up so full of hope; each thought to win that race. Or tie for first, or if not that, At least take second place.

And fathers watched from off the side, each cheering for his son. And each boy hoped to show his dad that he would be the one. The whistle blew and off they went! Young hearts and hopes afire. To win and be the hero there was each young boy's desire.

And one boy in particular whose dad was in the crowd, Was running near the lead and thought, "My dad will be so proud!" But as they speeded down the field across a shallow dip, The little boy who thought to win lost his step and slipped.

Trying hard to catch himself his hands flew out to brace, And mid the laughter of the crowd he fell flat on his face. So down he fell and with him hope he couldn't win it now— Embarrassed, sad, he only wished to disappear somehow.

But as he fell his dad stood up and showed his anxious face, Which to the boy so clearly said: "Get up and win the race." He quickly rose, no damage done. Behind a bit, that's all— And ran with all his mind and might to make up for his fall.

So anxious to restore himself to catch up and to win— His mind went faster than his legs; he slipped and fell again! He wished then he had quit before with only one disgrace. "I'm hopeless as a runner now; I shouldn't try to race."

But in the laughing crowd he searched and found his father's face. That steady look which said again: "Get up and win the race!" So up he jumped to try again ten yards behind the last— "If I'm to gain those yards," he thought, "I've got to move real fast."

Exerting everything he had he gained eight or ten But trying so hard to catch the lead he slipped and fell again! Defeat! He lay there silently a tear dropped from his eye— "There's no sense running any more; three strike: I'm out! Why try?"

The will to rise had disappeared all hope had fled away; So far behind, so error prone; a loser all the way. "I've lost, so what's the use," he thought. "I'll live with my disgrace." But then he thought about his dad who soon he'd have to face.

"Get up," an echo sounded low. "Get up and take your place; You were not meant for failure here. Get up and win the race." "With borrowed will, get up," it said, "You haven't lost at all, For winning is no more than this: to rise each time you fall.

So up he rose to run once more, and with a new commit He resolved that win or lose at least he wouldn't quit. So far behind the others now, the most he'd ever been— Still he gave it all he had and ran as though to win.

Three times he'd fallen, stumbling; three times he rose again; Too far behind to hope to win he still ran to the end. They cheered the winning runner as he crossed the line first place, Head high, and proud, and happy; no falling, no disgrace.

But when the fallen youngster crossed the line last place, The crowd gave him the greater cheer for finishing the race. And even though he came in last with head bowed low, unproud, You would have thought he'd won the race to listen to the crowd.

And to his dad he sadly said, "I didn't do so well." "To me, you won," his father said. "You rose each time you fell."

And now when things seem dark and hard and difficult to face, The memory of that little boy helps me in my own race. For all of life is like that race, with ups and downs and all. And all you have to do to win, is rise each time you fall.

"Quit! Give up! You're beaten!" They still shout in my face. But another voice within me says: "GET UP AND WIN THE RACE!"


Do you want to finish well? Get up and win the race!

Hebrews 12:1-3 Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a huge crowd of witnesses to the life of faith, let us strip off every weight that slows us down, especially the sin that so easily trips us up. And let us run with endurance the race God has set before us. We do this by keeping our eyes on Jesus, the champion who initiates and perfects our faith. Because of the joy awaiting him, he endured the cross, disregarding its shame. Now he is seated in the place of honor beside God’s throne. Think of all the hostility he endured from sinful people; then you won’t become weary and give up.

My Aching Heart

Well, I have several more posts rolling around in my mind about Africa. I'm not sure which to write next, but this is the one that I keep thinking about.

I told Derek the other night that I know that part of my heart is still in Africa and you know what, it hurts. It physically hurts at times because I feel like part of me did not come home to the US and probably never will.

I know that I'm not the same person that I was when I left, but how does this different, changed person fit into the former person's role. Those are the things that I continue to wrestle. It's completely normal, so I hear, but somedays I just feel out of place.

Isn't this how we're supposed to feel? After all, "This world is not my home, I'm just a passin through". We should probably feel "out of place" all the time, because even Peter told us that we are aliens and strangers in this world. (1 Peter 1:1, 17; 1 Peter 2:11)

I can't even explain it except that Zambia captured my heart. I've been on a mission trip before, but this time it was different, this time I came back different, this time I'll even return to the mission field different. Have you heard the story of David Livingstone? He was a Scottish missionary to Africa and he spent some time in Zambia. There is much to learn from him. He had great faith. He had a mission. He didn't quit, no matter the cost. On May 1, 1873, his servants found him dead in his tent kneeling in prayer at the bedside. What I love most about Dr. Livingstone most though is that he loved Africa so much that he asked that his heart be buried there.

His servants found him dead beside the bed, still kneeling. They cut his heart from his body and buried it there on the spot. They then carried his body to the coast to British authorities to be carried to England for burial. For over 1,000 miles, they fought their way through hostile tribes with that body, never allowing it to touch the ground, so much they reverenced their master.

Now listen, I'm not wanting my heart to be buried in Africa, but I can relate because part of my heart is there and always will be. I can't describe it except that when I wake up in the middle of the night, I think of my girls in Africa. When my tummy gets a little hunger pain, I think of my girls in Africa. When my kids complain that there's nothing in the pantry (come on, it's full of food), I think of Africa. I dream of Africa. I smell the wooden items I bought in Africa because the smell reminds me of Africa (I know it's crazy, but the wood really does smell different). I pray and plead with God that I'll get to go back in 2009 and 2010 and 2011 and until He calls my heart somewhere else.

But I also realize that until June 2009, I have a job to do here. I have ministry here. I have a husband, three kids and several responsibilites at church that need my time. They need someone who has passion for them, not just a passion for Africa. And so, I'm still working it all out. I'm trying to find the balance in all of it. God's not calling us to live in Africa, because He has a job for us to do here. May He fill me with that same passion and love I have for Africa for those within my reach each and every day.

I'll leave you with some quotes from Dr. Livingstone. I love them all. Do you have a favorite?

"I determined never to stop until I had come to the end and achieved my purpose."

"I will go anywhere, provided it be forward."

"I will place no value on anything I have or may possess except in relation to the kingdom of Christ."

"Nothing earthly will make me give up my work in despair."

"Fear God and work hard."

Matthew's Photo Shoot...Not Really

I haven't had a nice professional picture of Matthew done in a couple of years...we'll do that soon...so this will have to do until then.

He's too cute. I couldn't help but post his professional Chuck E. Cheese potrait.
Enjoy!