Not much has changed

Six years ago last month....

This morning....

Not much has changed... except now they are all potty-trained and we have a way nicer couch. :) 

The one about how I hate death

We woke up this morning to blissful rain. As we cuddled in our sweatshirts and enjoyed hot coffee in the below 80 degree weather, we thanked the Lord that we are not yet in the grasp of the dreaded El Nino and its promised droughts. 

Brant worked with his new language helper for two hours this morning and made great strides in identifying different levels of tone. He was so encouraged he literally was jumping up and down. His excitement was contagious and the boys flew through their schoolwork with great attitudes as I unpacked boxes and cleaned fruits and vegetables sent in on our recent supply flight. 

It was a beautiful, cool, peaceful morning…. one you dream about when you envision missionary life in the tribe. 

And then…. you knew there had to be an “and then” in this story…. we got word that a woman from a village up river had died in childbirth. Her husband had attempted to take her down to the clinic, but she had lost too much blood and died last night. The plan was to bring her to our village to bury her; we’re still not sure why. We bribed the boys with candy and the iPad and locked them in the house, and Brant and I headed to the village to find out what was going on. We met our co-workers on the path and they went with Brant down to the port to wait for the boat that was supposed to bring her body to our village. 

I decided to take advantage of the lull and sit with a few ladies in one of the houses and practice some new vocabulary I have been studying. Not that anyone was very chatty. It was pretty solemn in the hut I went into, but the ladies welcomed me and gave me a spot to sit down. We sat for a few minutes and more people came into the hut. A growing sense of dread started to well up inside me as people in the hut began to weep openly…. a man sitting nearby motioned towards me and said “That is where they are going to put the body” ….at least I thought that’s what he said. But my funeral and dead body vocab isn’t really polished, so I did what every good language learner does when she doesn’t understand something…. I ignored what he said. 

I shouldn’t have. Within minutes, the funeral procession was coming inside the door. The wailing and crush of bodies was overwhelming. There must have been 80 or 90 people crammed into that tiny 20 by 20 foot hut - all screaming and wailing and weeping. They carried the body in and placed it right next to me. I tried not to throw up as tears started streaming down my face. They carried in the husband - too overcome with grief to walk. The mother came in and start grabbing at her daughter - yelling at her to wake up and shaking her. She collapsed on the floor - not 5 feet from where I sat. Yes, it was overwhelming. Yes, I am crying as I type this. 

They actually did prepare us for such traumatic situations while we were in our missions training. Focus on the physical details. Count the people. Notice the color of their shirts. Distract your mind. Dozens of women crowded around the body, screaming and wailing. The teenage girl I studied language with last week. The woman whose 4 year old son cut his finger with a machete on Sunday that I had helped bandage. A lady who had just given birth to a healthy baby boy. All their faces contorted and stricken with raw, violent, unrestrained grief. 

It was hopeless. Dark. Fearful. There was no Hope in that house and as I cried with the women, my heart broke. This woman, too, died too early to hear the Gospel. Her friends and relatives know little of the concept of Heaven and Hell, but they did know that the End was bleak and dark and scary. The Enemy comes to steal and kill and destroy and he had deceived these people yet again. No witch doctor or careful adherence to keeping the taboos had saved her. Hell was in that room. 

God was there too. I prayed through my tears and a gentle, cool breeze blew into the room and with it the reminder to my soul that God is already in the process of bringing Hope to these people. We are here. We shine the Light in this darkness. Brant and I and our teammates are not the Hope they need, but we carry the Message of that Hope. God is faithful. He has begun the work here and though it seems agonizingly slow at times - too slow to give this woman a chance to hear - He will complete the work of sending His Word out amongst these people. 

Tonight my clothes smell like smoke and my eyes are puffy from too many tears shed. My heart is heavy, yet at peace. There will be more funerals. There will be more death, but we work and we study verbs with as much strength as God gives so that someday soon those deaths will be marked with Hope. 

Glimpse into the last week

Lots going on here lately, but in the little boys' world...

I considered myself a parenting success after the following conversation....

Caleb (while reading a book): Mom, what's B-O-R-E-D mean?

Elijah: That's board - like what's on our walls. 

Me: No, that's a different kind of bored; not wood; it means you don't have anything to do. 

Caleb: When does that happen?

....And a failure after this one....

Me (during a history lesson on the Civil War): After day 3 of the Battle of Gettysburg, the South retreated back to Virginia and the Union claimed a decisive victory.

Elijah: YES! We are winning this war! 

Me: No, WE did not win the war.  

This little man lost his first top tooth. Two days later, he lost the second. 

The little boys are training to be spies.....

And Elijah, with the latest critter we said NO to as a pet. The people bring some new exotic animal by almost weekly.... 

God's love and sick little boys

Lots of tears around here lately. Today the happy kind. 

Last night Caleb, our 8 year old, had an asthma attack. It’s been building for weeks - the cold that he never shook, the cough that kept getting tighter and harder, the sleepless nights hacking and restless. Last night was the worst. We were up almost all night giving drugs and draping towels over steaming bowls of water and essential oils. Medicine on the chest, a nebulizer borrowed from our teammate. Nothing helped. It was a long, dark night. 

This morning, before we even had electricity enough to do so, we sent out an email to the missionary medical staff in town. Within an hour, emails from two nurses and the doctor poured in, encouraging us with prayers and Scripture and medicine dosaging information and the promise of a hospital grade nebulizer and some strong medicine on a flight tomorrow. They dropped everything this morning to coordinate with the pilot and our supply buyer to take care of our little Caleb and to encourage his very frazzled and exhausted Mom and Dad. I felt so loved and cared for. I wept as I read all the emails and effort being expended for our son, for us. 

So this afternoon as I was reading my Bible and praying, I thanked the Lord for people that love us. People who pray for us in the States and support us financially so we can be here sweating in this jungle. People in town who work tirelessly to take care of our physical needs and literally keep us alive so we can one day present the Gospel to these people. 

And as I thanked the Lord for all those people who love us, clear as day He said, “That’s ME loving you. That’s how much I love you.” And I wept again as it hit me - all the love and care that so many people showed us today is God showing HIS love and care for us. He is always ready to help us, any hour, day or night. He provides exactly what we need, right when we need it. He is always there to encourage us that we are not alone - that He is here with us, cheering us on to finish the work that He has assigned us. 

On verbs and death in the jungle

In just a few weeks, we will celebrate one year of living in the tribe. This time last year I could not even say “hello” in this language. Last night I lay awake in bed working through verbs and figuring out aspect and telic with clitics and tone and all these really scary linguistic terms. I had a huge break through. I almost started crying with excitement as it all became clear.... tone 3 denotes total punctuality on verbs. So ha! We ARE going to conquer this language!

This morning I cried again. We got word that one of the women in the village died. Young mom... had 3 little kids. She was excellent at helping me with language and always very kind to our whole team. She got a cough a few weeks back - when it was going around the village and all my boys got it. I showed her how to cut lemons to boil and add sugar cane to sweeten the “tea,” but she just got thinner and weaker. And last night she entered eternity without Christ.

My verb “ah-ha” moment came too late for her. Too little, too late. Too little, too late.... echoes again and again in my head this morning as I sweep dust off the floors and wipe dead bugs off the counter tops.

I just finished reading Acts. God makes me mad in the book of Acts. Paul’s life, while exciting at times, was also, in my mind, a classic example of poor use of time. He became a believer and then spent how many years in the desert? He could have been out preaching during those years. When he was imprisoned in Jerusalem and tried before Festus, he appealed to Caesar.... later Festus says Paul could have been released had he not appealed to Caesar. Why did God allow Paul to say those words and be jailed for years because he was now bound to stand trial in Rome? I don’t understand and I don’t like it.

The woman who died last night will spend eternity in hell due to poor timing... we didn’t get here soon enough, learn the language fast enough, couldn’t explain the Gospel in time...

That’s a lie, of course. Just like Paul and King David and countless others in Scripture show us, God’s timing does not always make sense in our minds. Delays and roadblocks and detours.... in my mind, usually all a huge waste of time.... but all planned by God. All controlled by God. All part of God’s plan to bring Himself glory. 

I don’t understand and I don’t like it. But today, through the tears, I am clinging to that truth. God knows. He sees and He is here, working out His plan for my life and these people. One verb at a time. 

This & That

We finally broke down and got a 3rd computer... because 2 computers for 2 adults is not enough. :) Really, we needed a non-Mac computer to run our language learning software and some of the boys' school programs. I get the cheapo netbook for most of the day (Brant's nice newish Mac will run Parallels but my old Mac won't.)

So the other day I walked in and Brant was using ALL THREE computers... pure selfishness, that man. ;)

Our sky has looked like this for weeks.... (don't be fooled, those aren't clouds in the picture - they are just cotton balls glued to the computer screen)

So our river looks like this.... Actually this was taken last week.... the dry land to water ratio has greatly increased.

This week's cooking project... homemade soft pretzels.... pure yum.

Summer in the tribe

We have been on summer break for three weeks now.... getting creative with how to fill the hours...

Cooking lessons... Elijah is learning to make mac and cheese, and Caleb is learning to turn on the stove... 

Our annual Summer Reading Contest....

The boys have to write out their books and add up the pages (like how we get some math in!?)

Bugs have been popping up all over the house... thankfully the plastic types. :) But I have been scared more than once....

 The boys even laced them into the screens... notice our new railing on our back porch!

Monday is "Cooking Day" and we do a project... last week was Salt Water Taffy. Quite fun & tasty, but we decided that all future candy making will be on hold until we return to a less humid climate. :):) I told Brant that making Salt Water Taffy was a twice in a lifetime experience... once as a kid and once with your kids. :) 

I love the cool evenings and walking the airstrip before dinner. The sunsets are beautiful.