Advent Season is Harvest Season

If you walked into our home, you would know. We are celebrating advent.

A small Christmas tree is decorated. A string of lights light up half the room. Paper snowflakes flutter in the verandah. Stockings are hung. An advent calendar is on the wall. Manger scenes rest on tops of shelves and tables. Christmas music is being sung, piano pieces practiced and a drama in the works. Luke chapter two discussed and memorized each morning, another candle lit each Sunday. We are celebrating advent. 

Meanwhile, Gumuz are busy in their fields. Villages are nearly empty during the day. In the evening, a day of harvest is celebrated and the sound of flutes and drums is heard throughout the villages. The keya grain drink is served in gourds. It is a festive season. No one is hungry during this month.  

But our hope is that Christmas too will be celebrated. As new Christmas songs are taught, this will in some form be a way of celebrating advent. A time to remember when and how Jesus was born. A time to learn for the first time or be reminded again the reason for this holiday: Emmanuel, God with us. 

An incredible idea to people who live in fear of spirits and even God. The Gumuz have just finished celebrating Key Misa, a cultural holiday that has many aspects to it. A time where the blood of a cow or sheep is poured out on the ground. Keya, a grain drink is also poured out. A meat offering may be given. The hope is that god will not cause harm to their children, that god will bless their crops for next year, that they might receive blessing instead of a curse. 

So imagine learning that the true God actually cares for them. Emmanuel, God with us. God, willing to live with man? God who showed us how to love and how to forgive through his son Jesus! God, who willingly sent His son to us so that we might be saved. May this advent season touch the hearts of Gumuz. May it also touch our hearts again. May we love more deeply. May we forgive more freely. May we be in awe of what a great gift it was to have Jesus walk among us. 

Gumuz Led Weekend

It's been two years. Two years of building relationships with Gumuz church leadership and staff. Two years of serving the community in physical ways. Two years for Gumuz to know and trust us and understand that we didn't come to lead the church but discipleGumuz into biblical leadership.

Gumuz in leadership. This has not come easily. This has come because through great hardship, past missionaries persevered and then passed on the baton. This has come because of the grace of God and the power of the Holy Spirit.

This month, Gumuz men were called to attend the first weekend of (hopefully) many weekends that will train more Gumuz to lead fellowships in their villages. These weekends are meant to disciple these men in the Word, in character and in servant leadership. These monthly training times are meant to teach Gumuz how to use their culture of song to bring the gospel. (These training times will also include training women.)

And as the weekend came to a close, Rolf knew that the leadership team got it. They looked around and said, “We, Gumuz, are leading this. We can train our own people!” 

Volleyball was played. Gumuz Scriptural songs were used to teach the stories, to teach the Word and they were powerful. The drum beat was heard into the wee hours of the night as these Gumuz men continued to worship the Lord around the fire.

Sessions were shared between Rolf and the leadership team and they taught in unity. The hours of sharing testimonies, discussing how to tie Scripture teaching and song together, praying together, encouraging each other and dividing the responsibilities had paid off. Gumuz teaching. Gumuz discipling others.

This was just the beginning. The goal: to disciple men into leadership within villages that have responded to the gospel. Train more Gumuz to go to more villages. To train women to bring the gospel back to their home villages. Teach through word and in song so that God's word might be understood by many and pierce their hearts (stomachs). 

Teach love so that leaders bring love to the village. To their homes. To their spouses and their children. Love that comes from God. God Almighty willing to send His son to love and to die so that we might be saved. Forgiven. Free.

Pray with us. The Gumuz actively practice animism. Spiritual warfare is guaranteed. Our hope is that these men and women discipled into leadership will be clothed with the armor of God. That they might be protected from the evil one. That they might grow in their knowledge of God. That there might be godly leaders in many Gumuz villages and that they might take the gospel beyond their own people.

Our baby turned THREE

You Are Three.

You, our fifth and last child, entered the world with much drama and much beauty. The joy you bring our family is immeasurable. You are full of giggles. Our sunshine and our stormy cloud. We always know how you are feeling and your words are rarely few. 

You are persistent. Though I may sigh as you repeat the same request for the 10th time, I believe this trait will serve you well. You will persevere. You won't give up even when things look impossible. 

You are loved. Everyone loves you because you are easy to love. You live among many cultures and you seem to know that being friendly or being openly honest opens people's hearts. You are not intimidated by language and are loved for your willingness to speak.

You are the youngest but that doesn't stop you from fully participating in everything. Your siblings think you are fun and crazy. They say you are, “Silly and cute.” “Sweet and mischievous.” “Dramatic.” 

You can often be heard saying, “I mean it!” “Joel, stop it!” “ROAR!” “Tickle me.” “Can I have that?” 

We celebrated your birthday in the city of Bahir Dar surrounded by new friends in new places. You embraced it all. The birthday pancakes, the games, a birthday cake covered in butterfly sprinkles, candles, singing and cheering. Sweet waitresses inviting all the children to sing to you again. 

Your eyes were wide open and you took it all in. This was your day and you knew it and you loved it. Amazed. Thrilled. Sunshine...all day. 

Sonia. You are loved. Deeply. You fill our family with laughter and joy.

You are three. A little older and a little wiser. 

Sonia. Wisdom. May you live wisely, speak wisely and love wisely. 

And remember that true wisdom comes freely from your Father in heaven.

A trip to town (by Rolf)

Saturday is a busy day in the town nearby because market draws people from all the surrounding villages on that day. Women walk to town carrying very heavy loads to sell and are understandably tired by late afternoon as they begin heading home. Last Saturday I found myself in town. There are few buses and even fewer cars that villagers could hope to catch a ride with so when a lady from our church saw me... 
"My toe is sore; let me come in your car."
"It's fine. There's room. Are there others?"
"Yes, my girl children are here. Here is my neighbour also; she will go with us."
"Fine, get in. You three here. Your seats each have a belt; they connect like this. Now, you other three: here. And the belts. And you two up here with me."
There we were: seated and belted. There was just one more thing on my shopping list: injera. So, I conduct the car down the street and pull up at the hotel. 
"Whooo. . . (girls crying in the back seat) it's going up!" 
As I park and get out, I hear them giggling and comparing notes on how it felt to swing around the traffic circle and pitch up the driveway in front of the hotel. I imagine the feeling is like finding your sea legs or something. 
I'm back with the injera and we head for the edge of town; crowds of people; a familiar face. Girl's faces glued to the window; smiles, laughter.
"Chow, Ehats!" The lady in the crowd can't hear beyond the pane of glass but I'm sure she gets the point: "We got a ride; you didn't." 
"Oooo, the goats, he's going to hit the goats. No, we passed them! Did one go under the wheel?! No, whew! Look there's Yechuli, ha, ha she's footing it."
Each familiar face we meet, the women pass some remark as we whizz past. "Oh my! We're at this mountain already? Broop. Just listen to the car. Broop. Ha, ha, ha, this is like flying." 
"Oh! Cows!" There's a sound of gasping in the back seat. Perhaps they think we are heedlessly careening into them. The beasts are all around us now, flowing about, black, red, spotted flanks wheeling, balking, now parting like water.
"Have these people seen the inside of a herd before?" I wonder. From our vantage point it seems surreal; like a moving picture; no dust; no noise; out of reach of horn and hoof.
"Hey! There's Egoshe. Look, she's almost home. Chow, chow!" Giggles from the girls and then. . .  With a sense of awe Egachuk says: "and just like that we're home."
As they unbuckle their seat belts and climb down: "Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you. . ." 
For most of them, a first time experience. Perhaps they'll not ride in a vehicle again until they are grandmothers. Meanwhile, their family's welfare (indeed the welfare of their entire community) rides on their shoulders everyday as they carry wood for cooking, water for drinking and food to sell or eat. And they make out like I'm the hero.

One week. 12 of many accomplishments. 8 people.

1. Killed 2 rats. 

2. Cleaned the house (swept out rat droppings, cleaned windows....) 

3. Disposed of 4 rat nests. One in the oven. 

4. Fixed a rat chewed screen. 

5. Unpacked all our stored belongings. 

6. Set up homeschool room. 

7. Completed 5 school days. 

8. Repainted the kitchen. 

9. Hosted 7 church leaders for 24 hours (from 3 different churches in the Toronto area) 

10. Ate 3 pumpkins in soup, stew and cake form. 

11. Fixed two windows/screens at neighbours house after a break in. 

12. Did 5 loads of laundry, hung, and put away. Collected laundry water for other uses.

A difficult yet warm welcome

When asked on numerous occasions whether I was looking forward to returning to Gesses, my answer was the same. No. A better question would be: Will you be happy to be back a week after arriving? 

I knew. I knew that it would be a hard re-entry. It always is. Possibly it is part of God's plan. From day one, it is obvious. We can't do this without him. I can't be cheerful about my husband having to kill 2 rats after getting into bed. One in our closet. One in our pantry. I can't be cheerful cleaning rat feces out of my kitchen cupboards and bedrooms. I can't be cheerful about a rat nest in my stove that takes an hour to remove. Four dishcloths pulled inside. Four sides of insulation urine saturated and then dried. Each time I lit the stove, the smell nearly knocked us out. Another hour to clean the inner metal of the oven in hopes that vinegar is stronger than ammonia. 

I can't be cheerful having to hold my breath when entering my pantry. It will take weeks to clean it so that it is useable again. Games, jars, spices, canned goods, medicine covered in dried feces and urine. I tried to laugh as my husband joked about rats' bladder issues. It was really hard. I can't naturally be cheerful about the huge amount of work it is to take everything out of storage.  

But "God's mercies are new every morning." It means that every day begins new. Fresh. Clean. Like my house. There is still an odor in the kitchen when I light my stove. There will be for awhile. But it's okay. It's not the same as yesterday. I don't have to go through the same troubles again. 

"Each day has enough troubles of its own." Imagine if we had to store up all of yesterday's troubles (and the days' preceding that) along with today's. We would surely despair. But we don't. We are not even discouraged. We expect trouble and we can meet these troubles with joy because one day there will be no more. For now. He's with us and that is enough. 

Am I happy to be back? I am. Gumuz women stopping by with a greeting and a pumpkin. Seeing newborn babies prayed for while in the womb. Visiting a home and coming home with cobs of maize. Singing Gumuz gospel songs in church. Dancing with the women. Working, serving, sharing, loving, receiving. 

 We hosted 7 men from 3 churches in the Toronto area for the last 24 hours. In parting, one of the pastors said, "This is not an easy place to live. I think you were created for living in this place. It's like God made you specifically for this." Humbling words. Made to live in a hard place. Really Lord? Sometimes, I am ready to quit. Yet, it is true. I was made for this. If I am not, I shouldn't be here. 

I am tired and yet I thrive. It's really hard and yet really good. It's home again. Better. We are happy to be here. We are happy to need him. His mercies are new every morning. 

The final leg: part 4

Here we are, finding our way through the mucky road after last night's rain (no time to upload pics). We are travelling a road that most people only travel by foot. We are watching men throw rocks off of trucks into the muck making it possible for vehicles to pass.

Yesterday, we travelled 7 hours on new and old pavement. Pavement with drop offs, dips and turns. Pavement with dangerous embankments through mountain passes. Pavement touched by many more feet and hooves than rubber tires. Pavement that has been prayed over and sung over. Favorite spots to picnic in and stretch our legs. Baboon places and waterfall places. Places were we have been sick and places where we have cried.

But all of this. The pain of saying goodbye, the days and hours of packing and travelling. It is worth it. It was worth it when our children sat around the supper table and asked, “Are we going to come back to Ethiopia after these two years? We really miss our friends and family but we like being missionaries.” And they all decided. All 5 of them. This is what we should do. We should be missionaries.

Really? For our children to not only accept our life of ministry but embrace it. That is a gift.

We are returning to a people that we love because God first loved us. We are returning to a place we call home. Through my children, I can see that the journey past and the journey present has prepared us to give our hearts again.

May we be generous and wise. May we be ready at all times to share the reason for the hope that we have. May we seek to love the Lord with all our heart, soul and mind and love our neighbour as we love ourselves.

The journey part 3: jetlag and repacking

So we landed and it was morning and I foolishly thought if we could keep our bodies awake until evening, we would sleep through the night and wake in the morning. Jetlag should be a breeze. But it never is and there were no real surprises. It took 8 days. One day for each hour of time change. Some of the kids made it through sooner.

But there were blessings in the jetlag that I hadn't really appreciated in the past. Instead of wishing my circumstances were different, I chose to embrace the experience. Middle of the night storytelling and snacks with the little ones and early morning devotions. Time in the Word in the wee hours of the night when all were asleep. These were gifts. Brief gifts to be endured or enjoyed for only a brief time. And THIS made them sweet.

The packing continued. The boxes and trunks brought from our homeland now had to be reduced by one third. More hours looking at stuff and wondering why I thought bringing all this stuff was a good thing. Surely we could live with fewer possessions. So why then was it so hard to decide what to leave behind?

I must admit to hitting a point of despair when my husband graciously informed me that I needed to reduce the number of trunks from 8 to 6. Really? I can't do it. Physically I could, emotionally I was finished. Finished looking through stuff and making decisions about what was most important. I am not the kind of person that enjoys spending hours in the house. I enjoy people so it was time to do something else.

Time in the sunshine and time playing soccer. Fun with chattering children. Chatting with the neighbours. Smells of cookies baking and pizza making. Okay. I am ready.

And I did it. Everything that I deemed necessary for the next two months found a place in the landcruiser and honestly, we could do with less. For two months, we will savor the treats from home like bacon bits, chocolate chips and taco seasoning. Children will read books and then read them again. We will ration the sugar, ground beef, cheese, vegetables and eggs purchased in Addis. We will share what we have with others and we will know. We could live with a lot less.

The journey part two

God's mercies are new each morning. I find particular joy in that statement because I am not a morning person. I need a lot of extra mercy in the morning especially when I have to wake up 5 children, see them dressed, fed and ready for a shuttle at 7:15am. Ever minute counts with international travel and our shuttle arrived 30 minutes late because it took another group ahead of us. God's mercies are new every morning.

With the 8 of us and our luggage loaded, we were on our way. Our shuttle bus driver assured us that 2 hours was plenty of time. But I knew. We needed every minute. And we had 30 less than we needed.

It took a full hour checking our bags. It took us another hour to go through security. All our carryons needed to be checked twice because of a swab that came back positive. Boarding was in progress. We were cleared and we ran. I laugh now. Memories. We were making a lot of them. Kids on moving runways. Kids jumping off and celebrating the success of not falling flat on their faces. Arriving at the gate and finding we were the second last to arrive but the plane was still waiting. 15 hours and we didn't need to run anywhere.

More memories: Kids' movies and odd food at odd hours. Thunderstorms over Rome. God calming the storm before we landed. Technical problems in Rome. Sleeping on empty seats. Receiving kind words by fellow passengers. “Your kids travelled amazing.” Yeah they really did. They didn't whine or complain. They didn't argue or scream. Actually we seem to function best when we are squished into small places like airplanes and landcruisers.

The roughest flight we have ever been on. Three children quietly throwing up. No tears. No complaints because this is what we do. We travel and it isn't usually easy. We were the very last off a flight that ended up being 17 hours long. It was morning in Addis Ababa. God's mercies are new every morning even when we get two mornings in less than 24 hours.

The visa line was long but we were immediately ushered to the front. We were then ushered to the front of the customs line and our bags were the first off the plane. Not one bag was checked. No questions asked. Petros was waiting for us. Unbelievable. We were last ALL day long and here we were among the first. By God's grace and grace extended to us from strangers all along the way. We made it and we celebrated!

I wonder. Did I just get a glimpse of heaven? Will those whose journey is toughest, also celebrate the most joyfully? I wanted to shout for everyone to hear. Did you see what we just did? We are done and we made it! The real journey's end is going to be so much better.

The journey: part one

 

10 days ago we boarded the plane to leave our homeland again. This is a journey that we are well familar with. The heartwrenching goodbyes, the tedious job of packing and repacking so that every free pound has been packed into a trunk or box.

Then the trip to the airport, where dear ones come to say farewell while our bags are checked and our tickets are issued. Yet this time, it was different. Maybe it was the fact that our niece was travelling with us. Maybe it was because we were only flying to Toronto and overnighting in a hotel. Maybe it was because it was an afternoon flight and we had time for lunch before. Somehow the final minutes weren't quite as painful. The tears had already been spent and now it was time to travel. And there were eight of us. Certainly it would be less stressful this time. Our kids are older and each one is able to walk and talk. An extra pair of adult hands.

We travelled well to Toronto and even enjoyed our 3 hour flight despite the fact that even snacks must be purchased. Surprised but thankful that I was actually prepared with snacks. For if my children are well fed and rested, they travel well. But then there was the matter of getting ourselves from the Toronto airport to the hotel. It sounded so simple on paper. A shuttle would pick us up and take us to our hotel. Done.

Wrong. We had to pick up all 18 pieces of luggage. We had to call the shuttle bus. We had to find the loading area and this airport was not small. Since I had no Canadian cell plan, I used the wireless network to text my mom who then called the shuttle. They would arrive in 45 minutes. Perfect! We had our bags so we would certainly be waiting at our appointed place. Wrong again.

It took us 1 hour and 15 minutes to load our luggage onto our carts, find an elevator, push our 8 carts of luggage, find bathrooms and keep the little ones with us. The shuttle was waiting. My husband with his still strong back was able to load all that luggage onto the shuttle and 15 minutes later unload it at the hotel. We were ready for bed but there was still the matter of food. A phone call and 30 minutes later: pizza and chicken wings for a 9pm supper. What a great last Canadian meal! We were finally in our beds at 10pm and I wondered. Why did it look so simple on paper?

But we are real people with real little children. We need time to buy carts, time to load carts, time to talk, time to give out treats, time to visit the bathroom, time to learn to push 2 large carts of luggage at the same time. Time to laugh. Time to meet people and receive the blessing of extra hands or a kind word.

But it wasn't over. The journey was just beginning.

Sunday Blessings and Tears

It will be a week of "lasts" and today was only the beginning.  Last Sunday in Canada.  Last family gathering before we leave.  Tears in the morning and prayers of blessings.  Tears in the evening and more prayers of blessings.    I wish everyone had the chance to be prayed over by a church community, by two sets of parents, by siblings, by friends.  They bless us in our going despite the pain.

In the last 18 years of my life, I have said goodbye 7 times.  This will be the 8th.  You would think this would get easier.  It doesn't.  It gets harder.  And I know that is is a good thing. 

It means we have loved deeply.  And what I fear more than tears, is a hardened heart.  A heart that will not allow others close to it.  A heart that says it is too hard to love.

So I will love.  I will cry.  I will sorrow for my children who say goodbye but don't really understand how much will change while they are gone.  I rejoice.  These cousins, these kindred friends have given a gift to our children.  They have given the gift of love.  And they will still be ready to love when we return.

I cry for myself and for you.  It's not just about me.  It's about us.  Kindred friends.  Kindred sisters.  Kindred parents.  For friendships so deep that my heart feels like it is being ripped from my body when I give that last hug.   And I know.  It is doing the same for you.  And I am sorry for the pain that I cause by saying goodbye.  And I rejoice.   For our friendship will remain.  When I see you again, it won't take us long to pick up right where we last ended.

And most of you aren't the greatest long distance communicators.  I want you to know that it's okay.  Neither am I.  You might get to like some shallow facebook updates and I will like yours.  But I know.  There is so much more.  And you'll get to hear how I am feeling through a blog that strangers are reading.  But know that I am writing for you.  

Blessings and tears.  They will be many this week.  But when I board that plane, I will be counting my blessings and I will wipe away those tears.  Because I know.  And you know.  It is all worth it.  For Jesus.

The Amazing Race

written a few days ago....

The due date showing on the milk jug in our fridge is now showing a day past our departure date. And as the day draws nears, I attempt to smother a feeling of panic. How will we finish all the tasks ahead? How can we complete the list for the day? Can we handle the emotional upheaval of saying goodbye to all who are dear to us...again?

Recently I watched an episode of the Amazing Race Canada. I watched one of the participants nearly collapse under emotional and physical exhaustion. She was being pushed to do too many unfamiliar tasks in too little time.

I'll admit, I do a lot of multi tasking and sometimes I do it well. As I write, we are travelling home from another great visit and our kids are listening to another great episode of Adventures in Odyssey. My husband is behind the wheel, the little ones are asleep and I get to reflect.

I wonder. Am I pushing myself to complete too many tasks in too little time? Am I pushing my husband and my children to do too much in too little time? These tasks are familiar but they are not always comfortable. Particularly in close quarters, car seats jammed against tender shoulders. And when emotions rise and fights flare up, I know. I have pushed everyone too hard. The little things like a foot pressed against a seat back. I place the blame on myself because I am the one making the appointments.

And in the past couple of years, I have discovered something uncomfortable about myself. I find it difficult and at times impossible to say no. I cannot turn away the Gumuz person at my door who suffers. I cannot turn away a child who is hungry. And I cannot say no to an invitation unless the date is already booked. In fact, I will make every effort to find a way to say yes.

But too much of anything, good or bad, can ruin a person. And so the time has come to say, the calendar is full. And I need to face reality. I will NOT complete all the tasks that I would like to. We will not get to see everyone we hoped to. And I hope that you are okay with that. We wanted to call you. We wanted to have you over. We just ran out of time.

Tonight we will put our weary bodies to bed. Our hearts will be glad for dear friends to play with, pray with and love. We will thank God for the gift of friendship. We will thank God for this “Amazing race” that we have the privilege of sharing with you. This is not a race against time. It is a race to finish well. And our prayer is that we will finish it well at every stage of the race and that includes our upcoming goodbye.

It also means that when the race is officially over and we arrive at our Maker's feet, He will say to us, “Well done, good and faithful servant. You have raced well.”

Letting go: Proud of who he is

(Note: This was written a week ago so the amount of time left has significantly changed.)

3 weeks. 21 days. 288 hours. As I entered my son's 4^th grade classroom, I was very aware that time was running out. My heart was full. Then my daughter's math teacher engaged me in a teaching moment just because of who she is. My son's teacher welcomed me into the classroom.

My 9 year old son stood up in front of his class and presented his “Star of the Week” speech about himself. He was to share 8 items, 8 ideas about who he is. This was not going to be just any speech. 

My high energy, outgoing son was nervous (he said later his knees were shaking and he couldn't talk any louder).  So no, he wasn't the most fluent speaker but tears began to well up in my eyes.  Because as my boy presented it came out loud and clear.  He was proud. Proud of who he is. A missionary kid (MK). A Third Culture Kid (TCK).  And maybe one day he will give a speech on what that means. But today he just shared a glimpse of that.

1. A Canada flag.
2. An Ethiopian flag.
3. A brown leather soccer ball made in Ethiopia.
4. A plastic tree. Because he climbs trees every month of the year.
5. A roll of injera. Favorite food.
6. Toy tortoise. Kufkuf his tortoise is in Ethiopia.
7. Gumuz necklace. Already worn 780 days.
8. Action Bible. Reads everyday.

He read his notes slowly but he shared a glimpse of his life. This is who he is. A boy who loves the Lord, loves his Canadian friends but also loves living in Ethiopia. This brought tears to my eyes and my heart was ripping in two. 

His ability to move between cultures is a gift.  Few kids his age get the chance to try that.  To live in a national geographic magazine.  But my son doesn't have a choice.  He does it because we do it.  It also means that he is not living the “normal” life that most 9 year old Canadian boys live.

My heart throbbed for a boy who thrives in a classroom with other kids.  I ponder the future.  He lives in the moment. And I wonder: Does my son even know that he is different?

Then, the children in the classroom listed why my son was a star. What made him special? What surprised me was how fast the answers came. They came from the hearts of kids he has seen this summer. And kids he has spent only 7 days with in school. 7 days.

The very first comment was this: I want to live in Ethiopia. (Really? My son has shown you that it is cool to live in another culture. I love that. It shows he is happy with who he is and happy where he is going.)   An awesome friend.....kind....takes care of his friends....full of energy....enthusiastic....athletic.....cool...

Tears dripped down my nose. Down my cheeks. My son has been blessed.

Blessed by friendship. Blessed to be able to love others.

Although my heart is heavy for my son, my heart is also glad.

No my son won't engage in multiple sports. He'll play soccer.  He'll know how to shoot Gumuz arrows.  He won't sit beside classmates.  He'll sit by his sisters. He won't build snow forts.             He'll build stick forts. He won't sit in a lunchroom. He'll sit with his family or roast chicken over a small fire.

He's learnt that language is a necessarily tool for communication. He's learnt that housing for some people is only a shelter. He's learnt that the neighbour kids are hungry. All the time. He's learnt that clothes can be worn until they are shredded.

He won't grow up to be a typical kid. He'll be a third culture kid. He'll probably struggle to settle down in one place and call it home. He'll probably be great at making friends wherever he goes.

He might not make strong ties with anyone.

He's proud to be a 3^rd culture kid now. I'll be praying for him the rest of his life. That he will embrace the present and be proud of his past. That God will use him more and not less because of who he is.

And I will pray the same for our 4 girls.  They will each have their own story.  My hope is that it will be one that will shape them into godly women who know how to forgive and know how to love deeply.

Who Rules your heart?

This past Sunday, I did a children's feature as part of our presentation on missions.  I thought I would share that message with you.  It is a message about the choice we have EVERYDAY to let God rule our hearts.

The Israelites wanted a king so that they could be like the nations around them.  This wouldn't be so bad but do you know what? They already had a king.  He was the Almighty God!  But their hearts desired an earthly king more than God.  God gave them their desire.  But as God knew they would do, the nation turned their eyes away from their God. Now the king of the earth would lead them. The Israelites had a choice:  Earthly king OR God.  

We live among the Gumuz people.  They don't really have a king that they follow but they do have chiefs and witchdoctors that lead them in different ways.  Most of the Gumuz live in fear of their enemies, evil spirits and even their ancestors.  They fear lightning, curses, and sickness.  Fear is ruling their hearts.

But when the Gumuz people heard about the true God, some of them began to sing a new song.   About Jesus, the true king who takes away the sins of the world.  Their fear was replaced by hope.  Peace.  Joy.  God was ruling their hearts.

Not all the Gumuz have chosen to follow Jesus. God allows them choose who will rule them. The Gumuz have a choice:  FEAR or God.

When we return to Canada we wonder if people realize that their is a choice they have to make.  When we asked our children what they thought was the most important to the people around us, they said this:  computers, cell phones, video games.  (STUFF)  To this I would add: sports, security/health, education.  These things are not bad but they take a lot of time and energy. 

In a few weeks, we are leaving for Ethiopia again.  Our family has a lot of practice putting our most important stuff into just one or two bags each.  But even if we only have a little stuff, it can still rule us.  When we come back to Canada to visit, we have a busy schedule and each day I have to choose also.  Am I going to let stuff or being busy rule my life?

There is a verse in the Bible that says this: “Do not store up treasures on earth....Store up for yourselves treasures in heaven....For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.” Matthew 6:19

God isn't saying we shouldn't have stuff or schedules but he is saying: Don't put those things first!  Don't expect those things to fulfill you.  His heart is grieved when we replace Him with stuff, schedules and security.    He wants us to seek treasures of great value.

I hope that you will think about God's kingdom this year. You can still have stuff. You can still play sports.  You can still seek security.  But God allows you to choose.

EVERY DAY you get to choose who is going to RULE you!   STUFF or GOD

Beads are a Gumuz treasure. Nearly every Gumuz person has them... even the newborns.

 I am going to give you one of these necklaces as a reminder to pray for the Gumuz people.  Pray that they will choose God to rule their lives and not fear! And let it remind you also to let God rule (reign in) your life.

A delightful month

 

A month of wonder and friendship. A month of sunshine and rain. A month of conveniences and controlled indoor temperatures. A month filled with experiences that are so “normal” for most North American families but an extra delight for us. Learning to play baseball, bike rides, playgrounds, travelling without carsickness, and clean bathrooms.

                                  Sharing life in Gesses from a child's point of view.

 

 Birthday parties with friends, time with grandparents, cousins, neighbours.  Attending VBS, Bible camp, church and family gatherings.  Building sandcastles, swimming, canoeing, buckets of ice cream, boxes of popsicles, barbecues, incredible churches, incredible people who pray for us and our children.

 

Delicious Mennonite food

 

                                                  My sister's beautiful wedding.

  

 And so much fun on the water.  Learning to swim, canoe, paddleboat and even kayak.  Joel with his little sister. 

These days will end all too soon but we will treasure this summer for the next two years and feel blessed.