about pietie being a flower

this should have all been posted about on wednesday, or tuesday night even. Losing internet in my room makes it difficult for me to do and share as i like. 

i've felt a lot of conviction lately over my feelings of entitlement. i feel entitled to a lot. and though i do feel that a lot of what i think i am "owed" or "deserve" is something i should in fact be having/utilizing, in reality, its not. i'm having to lay down a lot of things i want and need because reality is, i'm alive, and fine and functioning without them. and if the Lord wants to bless me with those things, then so be it and i'll gladly accept the blessings, but i dont need them to be happy, to be joyful, to appreciate everything else He is giving me or blessing me with. i could share my lists of wants and needs and enlist sympathy and support but that would only fuel the problem. i'm the disease, my unrest is the cause. He is the remedy.

i digress....

i wanted to share more about little pietie coming to school. what a sweet little boy. his grandfather was almost the spanish inquisition in asking so many questions of me. i thought my part in meeting him tuesday morning would be just sorta handing out the pamphlets i created for the school and sharing a bit about the school and value of education in little ones and then i'd just sorta sit quietly while moira conducted the farm business she had to do. i was mistaken. of the over 2 1/2 hours we were there, the majority of time was spent answering various questions and sharing my life. 

it was hilarious. wonderful. un-nerving. delightful. impassioned and a million other emotions.

it was very obvious the grandpa (that is more like a father) cares extremely about his little boy. he kept asking if being here is a "calling" or a "career" for me. i found that so difficult to answer, because its both, and neither. i got a degree an education, taught for a year, didn't like it at all, and stopped. i loved aspects of it, but the educational politics in the US are ridiculous and i couldn't do what i wanted to do. i was done with teaching as my profession in the states. though teaching here is very different i still have to jump through hoops and that drives me nuts. i told Leon (the grandpa) that if this was my career i'd be long gone. i dont get paid. i don't live with my friends. i dont have a nice house. i don't have this or that things i'd want if it was my career. so, its not my career.

but, its also not my calling. not really. i love education a lot. a whole lot. i love the idea of imparting the knowledge i have in a certain area to others lacking in that area. i love that education is the greatest currency in the world.* i love the advantages children have when they have a solid educational experiences and have knowledge to glean from. i love that what children learn at a young age is the foundation for everything else they'll learn in life. i believe in that. but it isn't my heartbeat. 

leon kept telling me that if he is going to send his child to my school he needed to know what i believe about darn near everything. so for close to two hours i humored him. i explained and articulated what i believe about children, about africa, about race, about america, about my own family upbringing, about my college experience, about race, about abuse victims, about my future goals and dreams, about what i did before moving to africa, and on and on it went. 

leon told me little pietie is his choice flower in his garden. that he doesn't want his grandson to be just another plant in mine, but a plant that will be chiefly looked after and tended to. i couldn't' agree more. and i tried not to cry.

then pietie came up to his opa's lap and said with his head tucked into his opa's neck: "i am his favorite flower in his garden." it was as if he knew what was being said in a language he didn't know at all and wanted to prove the point. oh, he proved it all right.

i suppose my answers and my heart alloyed his fears because as moira and i drove away it was with one little pietie sitting on my lap too. i had a new flower in my garden.

i loved that conversation. i loved what leon asked and what he cared about. he cared more about me and what i teach and what i believe than the fact that the curriculum is what Limpopo requires. it is up to standard. i have paperwork headaches to prove it. but he didn't care. he could care less about that. he cared that his grandson had someone who loved and believed in children teaching. and that is what i care about. i mean, i want the boys to learn. i do. i want them to grow up and get their bachelors, their masters, but more than that, i want them to live, to laugh, to enjoy this age. they are forced to grow to fast and i refuse to have them grow in my classroom to fast. so we dream and create and wrestle and count our numbers, and draw photos, and match up our alphabet letters....

they are more than students. when they enter the room they are treated as i'd treat my own children. disciplined. encouraged. praised. laughed with and at. danced with. i spend close to 10 hours a day with them. they often feel like my own children. as i cut their food into bite size pieces, as i wipe their butts when they can't reach, as i pour them cup after cup of water or juice, as i hold them when they fall down and cry, as they rush to see my approval after finishing an assignment....

the boys and i dance a dance of growth. i pour into them myself and they pour into me too. in slobbery kisses. in jumping hugs. in laughter. in obedience. in mismatched lego houses. we dream and create together and i pray and believe they will always dream and create. and always believe education can be this fun. because it can. because it always was, and still is for me. 

i have another flower in my garden. one i need to water and shelter and nurture. what a difficult and rewarding and joyful task....

.........................

and because its been too long since the boys and i played with the camera. here are some photos from this past week. enjoy!

the boys were so sweet sleeping. i love how calvin has his hand on perfects back. just making sure he isn't alone.

amelie was very scared when we were watching winnie the pooh.

hahahhahaha this little scrunched up face makes me giggle. he was so proud he got the correct shape and color to show me.

this is a much more normal photo of johanno. he just moves way to fast, that boy!

this is what i woke up to one morning.  battlefield playground. i think it is from the horses. but i know the wildebeest and impala were down in this area that night too, so who knows? i'm not an animal poop expert. i try and keep my distance from that crap. (pun intended *smile*)

pietie makes himself at home on the trampoline.

hahahaha this photo, too bad my shooting is horrible, but this photo is perfect yelling at the pooh to go away. he was telling it how mad he was it was in his playground. it was seriously the most hilarious conversation i have ever witnessed. you can just sorta see his hand/fingers flailing out to the side. hahaha love that boy.

normally this one is too fast to get a shot too. i lucked out. such a handsome little boy.

why do boys always insist on doing things differently?!?! its not enough to have one bike to ride one, we gotta ride on two at a time.

anyway, i hope you have a delightful saturday and weekend. i have so far spent it sleeping in, reading 3 different books. finishing two books, drinking coffee with hazelnut creamer (thanks grammy!), doing the laundry, swimming in the pool, updating this blog, being quiet. cleaning my room, and later i'll skype with my church family (love you, kaleidoscope!) as we plan their trip here later this year, means i'll see mom and dad (!!! woo hoo!!!) on the computer, and play some games at doc and beth's house and meet some american doctors in residency over here at a hospital. thats a good day indeed and an excellent run-on sentence if i do say so myself. 

and i do.

*in my opinion, at least.

spilling my heart

i dont have a lot to offer people. especially right now.
one of the biggest struggles for me here in africa is feeling like i have no place, no home to have and welcome others 'into.' i so love having a room to entertain and a kitchen to whip up fresh cookies or make tea or coffee. i've always felt my ministry is best in having someone over, into my space, one-on-one.

right now, i have a glorious chair, but its still small, and my room/home is small and i often feel like i am saying: "come in, come sit on my bed." which is all well and fine, and in fact, i do love laying down on a double bed with a girlfriend and whispering into the light around us truth and sharing our hearts, but it makes it difficult to have others over onto your bed when that makes them uncomfortable, or its boys coming over. i don't mind boys seeing my room at home, but here it just seems more private and (this might sound weird) but sacred and it is weird for me to invite them in like that.

but i love spilling myself for others. the Lord asks for our best. and i've always felt my best is my time, my heart, my ear and prayers. and that is what i give back to Him, through others time and again. my sacrifice is myself. its my best, and worst, given to Him.

and He meets me there.

i spill the best of me. my heart, my tears, my fears, what i've seen and learned, and each time i ache to do it more....

the past two weeks have been surprising. i felt like i should share about jordan and everything on another blog as a new mentoring series was started. so i prayed and sat and tried to keep it under 300 words. i couldn't. so i did "two posts," only each was over 300 words. but each less than 310 words, so thats progress, right?!?! i dont even know if what i wrote will go 'live' but writing it reminded me of how big He is. i love sharing how He has walked beside me, but i dont like sharing if not asked. it was a good stretch doing that for me. a good faith step to believe He could minister out of me.

then, a good blogging friend shared a gentle request to someday hear my story. i love the invitation to share life. there is something sweet and sacred about honesty and pain and joy. i didn't try and keep this telling to 300 words. in fact, i checked and before i realized it, i was at over 11 pages single spaced! geez, i'm long winded! *smile* i'm just amazed at how far the Lord has taken me and how He gently is giving me back what locust ate.

tonight i just had dinner at the hopehouse. the americans occupy that place and invited tommy and i for dinner. TACO'S!!!! i love SA, but these people dont do mexican food right at all. it was yummy and i enjoy those americans. we were just about to watch a movie when one of the girls asked me to share my testimony with her. i asked if she wanted to hear it now, and all of it, or just the past few years?

so sitting around the countertops, joined by almost all the house occupants, i began to weave my life. we sat on the countertops because its the best place for conversation. love that house. love the blessing it is. but it was seriously not designed for conversation or comfort. the sofa is annoying and not comfortable and nothing faces each other. the countertops are more comfortable and at the right angles for conversing. i probably shouldn't say that...but its true. i love being over there and partaking of the house's blessings but its annoying too. and thats ok. life is also good and annoying. anyway, i digress.
so we are sitting around the countertops talking...

and i finish. i dont remember where i began. its always a bit unnerving knowing how to wrap things up. how to not make light of things but also let others know its ok to move and continue with life. i usually will crack some semi-inappropriate joke so everyone knows i'm ok and its ok to go do whatever it was they planned on doing before. one of the girls came up to me after when no one was around and with tears asked if we could get together and talk tomorrow. yes! only...i have so little to offer when i want to make a meal or cookies or have a comfy sofa with pillows and air-conditioning for the heat, and and and...

sometimes i want to say, "no." the trap that my lapa isn't enough to host someone makes me feel inadequate and embarrassed. just like how i sometimes want to tell the Lord no when He wants me to step out and minster where embarrassed and feeling inadequate. but i realize all He asks is for a heart willing to give it all. holding nothing back. He wants the best and worst parts.

so tomorrow (today, now) i'll share my lapa with one of the girls. the spilling of me will occur in sharing my home, in sharing my heart. and that is what He delights in.

there is such joy in spilling for another. i dont know. i can't explain it. but its life to my bones. its vindication and restoration and laughter and tulips on spring mornings and raindrops...

i'm reading an excellent book. i'm probably reading it a bit too fast. but its so good i can't put it down. it is super practical. it is my kind of book. it follows the Israelites and pulls lessons from their wondering so when you are walking through the wilderness you might learn from them. i like it. a lot.
one thing rick talks about is the fact of desert Oasis' awaiting you/me. he talks about what causes them. he talks about the fact that they will come. your desert might seem so dry and empty and barren, but in every desert is an oasis. its just a matter of time till you come upon yours.

then he says that people very often prove for a season to be the water and respite for our hearts. oh, how true!!! i can think of so many planned and random people who spoke calm and rejuvenation into my spirit the past few years. he then says we shouldn't just be ok with others being our oasis. we are called to be Christ, to be the water, the cool breeze for others. even when hurting.

it struck me. i think i find that the more i spill of myself the more i feel refreshed and uplifted.
that is Him in me. that is His promise proving true. that is what i stand on.
that as i pour He pours back. its such a promise. its such a beautiful gift.

the equal parts giving and spilling and being poured back into.
fill.
to filling and overflowing.

this afternoon we sat on the cold tile floor and shared stories. stories that should not even be imagined, let alone lived through. we cried happy tears after pausing to wipe the snot falling down our faces. we uttered faith and belief and trust when it seems bleak. i spilled my lessons learned. my hopes and doubts. she shared her fears and guilt. and together we became an oasis of calm.

i spill out, and He always spill back into me.
i spill my best, my time, my heart.
he spills his best too, his crimson, his time, his life.

a voice behind you says....

two days ago i was talking with my friend lelane. she was up here at the farm for RaG regional meetings, she runs our operations, or something like that?! she's basically just cool and a very sharp women. it was her daughter i wrote about having in school for two days, here.

anyway, we were talking about my future and my life in general. it was exciting and terrifying at the same time.

she said something that stuck with me. she shared one of her favorite passages from the bible to me. it also has been one of mine since stumbling upon it 7 years ago (or maybe earlier, who knows?!?)

"Whether you turn to the right or to the left, your ears will hear a voice behind you, saying, "This is the way; walk in it."

Isaiah 30:21

that verse has always bothered me because of the 'behind.' but i also had never really given it much thought. i can be a VERY deep thinker, or not at all. *smile* it was more a strange comfort to me. always believing and trusting Him that i would hear that voice behind me say this is the way walk in it.

if i'm honest, all of my life, on and off, i've felt like a bad follower of Jesus because i struggle to hear His voice. He's always more whispered to me. or spoken in peace. i am not one of those people that has dreams where He speaks clearly. Or someone who hears Him speaking audibly.

i know people like that. and i always wondered, what was up with me? did i not love enough? was there some deep unconfessed sin that blocked my hearing? a mind can wonder and go crazy.

but i have come to hear Him. and i do recognize His voice. probably not always, but most of the time. and i pray to hear it more. and i pray for confirmation. and let me tell you...i can think of 3 major things last spring (fall for you americans) where He told me something and someone here reiterated the exact same thing. He was just letting me know it was Him.

but its in whispers and through the nudging on my heart even then. i've learned to trust the thoughts that come...and i've learned to test them.

but still i sometimes wish i dreamed or had visions or heard Him. even yesterday Lizzy was telling me about a dream she had and then how it happened a few months later just as in her dream. He doesn't speak to me like that. and i'm learning its ok. its ok.

and really, it is. and i like that he knows me well enough to know my heart and speaks to me quietly and internally. because i am more quiet and internal. and thats nice. its nice He knows me like that....

but it was so nice talking with lelane, it was such a blessing to me. because she said that for her, He doesn't really speak from in front saying: "come, follow me this way or that way," that for her, she walks forward in faith and then the reassuring voice says, "this way or that."


and that is how he talks to me! so often i'll see an open door or have a bit of peace, not total or complete, but a bit, and i get out of the boat and i walk, and then comes the sweet voice of Him to my heart.

nigeria: a love song.

i haven't been able to find words for this post.
it has haunted me for three days now.
it isn't comfortable. or happy. and, i do so
like happy things.
things like little birdies. red balloons. laughter. coffee. my car that i sold last year.
happy things. family things.

this is not happy. and,
this is not pleasant. but its reality.

i have had an unsettled stirring in my heart the past three days because people are killing people and i go to bed each night and lay under my covers and feel warm and fuzzy. and when i dont feel warm and fuzzy i hold my little stuffed animal, L.E, close to my heart and she's always warm and fuzzy.

people are killing people, people!
wait, i dont think you heard me.
people are murdering, brutally murdering, their neighbors.
because they believe different. because their skin color is a shade darker or lighter.

as 'fate would have it' i decided i need to escape two nights ago and i decided to watch Tears of the Sun*. i know the average person would not find that 'light' viewing. but to me, its gripping. and gripping has always given me what i need in a movies, an escape. so i watched it. i was missing west africa and it felt right. as the movie loaded i perused various global papers. i was horrified to see the 'movie' i was just about to watch play out on papers in front of me. the movie is about a doctor who refuses to leave the people she is working tirelessly to help and heal. and so the marine team sent to rescue her b/c ethnic war just broke out ends up with lots of refugees 'tagging' along. 'fake' people like this lady doctor have always inspired me. but the movie was becoming real....

i was horrified and sickened by what the papers were telling me. this is an excellent, but very non-pg version of what happened. like i had to take breaks to read it.** people being chopped up by machetes is not light reading. but its reality. so i said it here. because i hope to sorta scare you into realizing stuff like this happens!!

oh, Lord! we need your mercy!!

you see, i've been to nigeria. it was a brief visit. it was fully illegal. i climbed a mountain. i drank a coke. i took some photos.

500 hundred lovely people. brothers, sisters, mothers, fathers....babies. their life was taken too swiftly. too brutally for me to sit and do nothing. so what do i do? i write a blog. i send my president an email. i pray for mercy.

i am a christian. i guess if i boiled it down, what i mean is: i love Jesus. i believe He died for me. He created this world. He created us to have free choice. as the best lover he allows me to love in return or not. its my choice.
i am an american. i have freedom of speech, i have freedom to exercise my rights as i believe, and wish, and want, and dream. i love those two facts. i love not being afraid of what i believe. i also appreciate not being afraid of my friends or family with different beliefs to face physical death or persecution.
i'm just at a loss to understand what it would be like to see my entire town wiped out. in one day....

i hate how religion wars against religion. how race wars against race.
i hate it. i hate it. i hate it.

i dont think the fact that i am american or a Christian is the reason why. i think i care about people killing people because i'm a person. and i want all people to have rights. all people DO have rights, or they should.

this is a short clip of a mass burial from sunday. its not even two minutes. its actually very pg/family friendly (if you could use those terms to describe a mass burial), but it puts faces to survivors and just makes you weep again.

*i dont recommend this movie. but i do. its awful. its bloody. there is cursing. i realized the last few times i've seen it, it was on tv, so viewing the non edited dvd was a bit, uh...eye closing for me. i forgot how graphic and realistic the violence of the 'cleansing' was. it was a lot...but it was probably nothing compared to what reality is. reality for 500 of my brothers and sisters just murdered.

**are you like me? do you sometimes just 'skim' over facts not letting the reality of it set in? i feel like reading about this horror was one thing, but after finishing tears of the sun and seeing it...it sank in. i hate that i desensitize myself, for SO many reasons to feel. feeling is uncomfortable. being uncomfortable requires some sort of action....i forced myself to go back and re-read things...to feel them...to act. will you?

what a day :)

o dear....

how to summarize the past few hours and day?

its impossible.

i love this culture. i mean, today i do. somedays i'm confused and dont understand the hows? and whys? but today. ah, today it all makes so much sense and fills me with joy.

i went for what should have been a 20 minute business meeting at a neighboring farm. at least, i expected it to last that long.

2 1/2 hours later. 2 cups of coffee later. one child later.
i arrived home.

i can't even find words.
today the opening of the school to the community began.
the response overwhelmed me.
i only made it to one of the neighboring farms because this quick visit lasted so long. but it was great.
i have a new little boy.
boy. of course.
*smile*

i'll write more tomorrow. maybe. probably not. tomorrow will be crazy....
ahhhhhhh

amelie.....

today we've had a little girl in school. this is only the 3rd time in the school's history we've had a girl come to school. its a pretty big deal.
ok, a very big deal.
its made me realize a few things.
i figured i'd want to remember long-term, so i'm writing them down here...

1. girls are dainty
2. girls smell good
3. girls don't pick their nose
4. girls dont eat as much as boys
5. girls like to color
6. girls wear pink, a lot.

sweet amelie is the daughter of one of my bosses here on the farm. she's up visiting from roodepoort. big regional conferences are going on here at the lodge so i have a few more students in the school. its been hectic and joyous and exhausting and fun.

the boys and i dont know what to do with girls. girls are just so fragile and dainty. i kept finding myself marveling at amelie. the way she would sit. the way she folds her hands. the way she tucks her hair behind her ear. the boys did too. i tired not to stare, i didn't want amelie to think she is a freak and thats why we were watching her...but when you're used to one thing and something different comes along, you stare. i prefer 'marvel' to stare, but its the same general concept....

she is just so different then my boys. i couldn't get over it. its SO many little things i dont even know where to start. even in similar personality traits the way they present themselves are so different i'm in rapt attention and awe. girls are all cute and sweet and dear and my boys are.....rough, and hilarious, and dirty, and a million other things. its fascinating the differences at even a young young age.

i love watching the boys translate for the new students. i love seeing the kids smile in their eyes doing an activity they enjoy. i love it. today, as much as it held many moments of me wanting to crawl under my bed from exhaustion, was full of joy. i love my job. i really do. each day with the little people i'm reminded again that this is not what i want to do forever, but i enjoy it so much now. 

oh, i enjoy their antics. and them.

them as people.

my little people.

amelie missed her mom a lot today. she kept asking where she was. when she was coming for her. i dont blame her, i like her mom too. but she had to stay in school. we literally marked the clock till 4 and each hour, every few minutes we 'checked' to see how close she was to coming. was it soon? would it be soon? "i love my mom," she'd tell me again and again. poor thing. and so she became a tumor to my body the entire day. never being down or away from me more than a few minutes. 

i learned the afrikaans words for head, shoulders, nose, eyes, mouth, and toes today. we sang a lot.

the kids cried a lot. i wanted to pull out my hair a lot.

we watched a lot of movies. 

sometimes i feel bad putting on a movie for the kids. i want them to imagine. to think. to create. but when it is the ONE activity that stops the constant flow of tears...its hard to say no? you know?

*sigh* perhaps tomorrow my resolve to be creative will outweigh my desire to have a bit of quiet. its doubtful.

i'm exhausted. tomorrow will likely exhaust as well. so off to bed i go. 

but! before i do....

i HAD to share this still from Red Balloon. 

few things delight me as much as balloons...i love this movie. i LOVE this photo. so old timey and whimsical and sweet.

happy monday

about the link we share

as long as i remembered. when one hurts, so does the other.

when one experiences joy, so does the other.

when one is feeling beaten down so is the other...

its just how its always been.

how it always will be.

i remember being 8. laying in a hospital bed. a routine surgery didn’t turn out as planned.

i reacted to medicine the normal person can handle. what should have been in-and-out,

lasted for 3 days. or was it more, mom? i can’t remember...

i do remember being so sick...and hurting so much....

and dad brought abi and joey to see me. i remember his face, my baby brother, not even 3.

we strangarity’s might not always say our emotions well, but we have always worn them well.

seeing me so sick traumatized the poor kid.

not even 4 hours later, out shopping with dad he decided he was going to start throwing up too.

because i was. because he hurt for me. 

so he literally became sick too. 

all over the grocery cart, check-out counter, everything.*

thats how its always been with us.

when i'd have a giggle and joy rise up for boxing out someone twice my size, because you can do that when you box out properly, he'd smile too.

when he'd smash some tail back out of nowhere, cause a fumble, because thats what he did

as one of top linebackers in the state, i'd laugh with him. 

an innate sense of joy and accomplishment after destroying "the enemy," 

(the other team).

there's always been an unspoken trust. 

a shared form of mental processing that is weird and off but perfectly normal to each other.

february stole a lot of energy. good and bad. 

from me, from you.

and its amazing how catching up reveals all that.

two hours skyping is almost as good as getting coffee at chestnut cafe in person.

ok, ok, not even close. but the next best thing, right, joey?

i wrote a song this morning for us, brother.

about Him. and His new grace each day. about how He forgets every stain, every choice, everything, when we but ask. about how i can't and don't and wish i could. about how i don't know how to forgive myself. about how i miss you. i wrote it out sitting behind my lapa in the trees. monkeys danced in the limbs above me and i said my heart. for you, for me. then i stole away to roelene's and the piano. and i sat and created melody and music. melody and music that is fitting for hope. for future. because we have hope and future, and He isn't finished with us and will complete what He started. melody that is about Him and His blood making me new. about music that says what words always fail to communicate. about me feeling so sweetly comforted knowing you understand. knowing you believe for me, for yourself.....

it was the weirdest fastest its ever come. but that doesn't surprise me. it always comes so fast when i'm overwhelmed and words fail...

i love you, little brother. don't you want to fly to me for spring break?

*this could be one of our favorite family stories. it certainly is up there.

and momma....because you always worry and remind me of our 'link,'

i'm ok.

really, mom. He is very big today. i love you, too; 

and daddy, also you.

jealous you're all getting together to see Joseph. may it be good and sweet and may you miss me there less than i will miss you all together, here..