Home for Christmas

and..... deep breath.

and as I breathe that deep breath, an amazing sense of peace washes over me. A peace that says we're doing the right thing, at the right time.

We have made the decision to leave Zambia. There were a myriad of factors leading to this decision, and it certainly did not come easily, but the decision has been made and we hope to be home by Christmas.

Home is such a strange word, isn't it? Since we started dating 10 years ago (and really before that), our focus has been on the next step to get to Africa. Four years ago, we arrived. Literally. Figuratively. Zambia became home. We bought our first refrigerator and washing machine. We adopted one, then two dogs. We established a routine of cooking from scratch and navigating the markets and learning to communicate at all stops along the way. We arrived in Zambia with rose-colored glasses and an uncrushable spirit.

But to be completely honest, our spirits have been crushed. Through hurtful situations. Through spiritual valleys. Through circumstances far outside our control.

We've tried to stick it out. We've redirected our ministry more than once. We've focused on the things we love (the Zambian people, the pace of life, the climate, tropical fruit, etc.). We've prayed. We've cried. We've prayed some more.

And God has shown us it's time to go. We won't say we're done with Africa. We certainly aren't done with missions. But for now, we will no longer call Zambia home.

We will no longer call Zambia home.

Those are hard words to swallow, but go down so smoothly.

We know home is where God calls us to be at that time. He goes before us and is with us.

So as we once again sell most of our belongings and prepare to say a thousand sad good byes, we look forward to our next home. Details are slowly working themselves out. It looks like Charlotte, North Carolina will be home for the foreseeable future (though we promise our friends and family in Illinois and Missouri to spend the holidays with you).

We will still be missionaries, but for the time being, our role will be to equip and mobilize other missionaries in some way or another from our home office. As we know more, we will share more.

It's all so bittersweet. But we have peace. Peace we've not had in many months, maybe years.

Thank you for praying with us through this transition. Thank you for loving us despite our crushed spirits.

We'll be home for Christmas.

"It is the Lord who goes before you. He will be with you; he will not leave you or forsake you. Do not fear or be dismayed."- Deut. 31:8

Full Circle

As I combed Grandma's thin white hair around the bandages where the doctor removed patches of skin cancer, I remembered her combing my white-blonde preschool-age hair, unsure what to do with this little girl she was watching while Mom and Dad were away on a week's vacation. A tomboy herself, Grandma only had one child, my dad, and all his cousins were boys.

Despite her reservations and inexperience with little girls, she never had any problem treating me as her little princess, though I think it brought her great comfort that I liked playing with Dad's old lincoln logs and was willing to run around in the yard with my brother and the neighbor kids. Even so, she bought me dolls and dresses and at the age of three or four, a beautiful little yellow coat complete with puffy balls on the end of the hood strings and a muff to keep my hands warm. Grandma took us to the zoo and the Science Center; I accompanied her to the beauty shop and the grocery store. She'd send us out to play and call us in for peanut butter and jelly or homeade soup. We licked off the cookie beaters and when I asked for the whole turkey leg at Thanksgiving dinner when I was probably 6 or 7 years old, that's what I got.

Even at a young age, I knew Grandma had arthritis. I didn't really know what it was, just that her fingers were all sorts of knobby and crooked. We were thrilled to have her walk down the aisle at our wedding four years ago - at that point she was still pretty strong. As Jason's wedding neared last fall, we weren't sure whether or not she would be able to handle the drive. But she was there, smiling through the pain and the growing discomfort from incurable incontinence. And though she desperately would have like to dance at the reception, she was overjoyed that Grandpa could dance with that little girl that she once really didn't know what to do with.

My grandpa is a good man. Having grown up in the depression, he's incredibly frugal, but also incredibly generous and charitable. He has always made it very clear how much he values solid education, proper grammar and a good book. A man who keeps a dictionary at his side when he reads the daily paper (picking out all the errors as he goes), he used to pay Jason and me each a dollar for every book report we wrote for him. Grandpa recorded educational programs and gave them to Mom and Dad. One of the first times he met Luke, he said "did you know Tiffany graduated Summa Cum Laude?" He was tickled pink when he found out that Luke had as well.

A smart man, and an honest man - and a man with a bit of an ornery streak. Especially in our regular battles on the cribbage board. And as we drove to St. Louis for the doctor appointments yesterday, everyone else on the road was either an imbecile or a cowboy.

Grandpa is a stellar golfer and quite the fisherman. Having worked for the IRS, his understanding of money and taxes baffles me. He keeps up the yard, and reads anything and everything. But other than his famous oatmeal, he's never cooked a day in his life and wouldn't have the slightest idea when it comes to starting the laundry - he's never had to because Grandma has always taken great care of him. Now Grandpa is slowing down a bit. His reaction time has slowed, and his memory is slowly fading. He beat himself up because he couldn't remember the name of one of his medications. When we play cribbage he has a harder time counting his points. And I'm not sure how many times he asked me yesterday how many miles I have on my tires on my car.

I love my grandparents. As I've spent more time with them recently - real, conversational, caring time - I've learned what truly fascinating lives they've led. Grandpa tells me stories of his time in the military. They talked of their first homes, and how their town is evolved, and as we drove past the local lakes, they talked of how they used to walk to the town swimming holes and spend the days there in their childhoods.

There is such a richness to these times, but it is oh so bittersweet. Grandpa is 87 and Grandma just turned 85. I can no longer crawl into their laps or hug them tightly. Grandma can hardly lift her arms and sends Grandpa out for most of the errands. She still cooks, but the basic chopping and lifting and moving around are getting increasingly harder. Many of their friends have long since passed, so much of their social time occurs during their trips to St. Louis to visit with doctors of every sort and variety. Time is at a minimal - although it feels as though it stands still when we begin to talk. And for the first time, Grandpa and I were able to talk in depth about my Jesus. How I wish I could say his Jesus. I wish and pray that Grandma and Grandpa would come to know the goodness, the love, the saving grace of Jesus Christ. I know God can move mountains, and His timing is perfect - and I pray He moves those mountains in due time.

Because time is fleeting, and I can't stand the idea of not seeing my Grandma and Grandpa pain free, worry free, praising God in eternity.

(Photo 1: Grandma at our rehearsal dinner in 2006; Photo 2: Grandma Sunday night as she tried on hats to find one to cover the spot where the doctors would shave part of her head and remove the skin cancer patch the next day - this is not the hat she chose!)

Mary, Did You Know?

I don't know about you, but one of my favorite Christmas songs is "Mary, Did You Know?" If you're not familiar with it, here is the first verse:

"Mary did you know, that your baby boy, will one day walk on water?
Mary did you know, that your baby boy, will save our sons and daughters?
Did you know, that your baby boy has come to make you new?
This child that you delivered, will soon deliver you."

The song goes on to tell of more of the amazing things that Jesus did, ending with the line, "this sleeping child you're holding, is the great, I AM."

What the song does not ask, is "Mary, did you know, your baby boy would have to suffer death on a cross in order to save the sons and daughters?" It doesn't tell of the pain and persecution he endured - it doesn't ask if she knew of the lashings He would receive or the nails in His hands. How would she have acted if she had known? Would she have begged Him to reconsider following God's plan for His life so she wouldn't have to lose her baby boy for the salvation of the world?

We don't know the conversations Jesus had with His earthly parents regarding God's purspose for Him. Did they plead with him, suggesting He spend His life as a carpenter or perhaps a priest? When Joseph and Mary took 12-year-old Jesus to Jerusalem and Jesus lingered behind, their parental concern was evident:

"His Mother said to Him, 'Son, why have You treated us like this? Your father and I have been anxiously searching for you.'" His response: "'Why were you searching for me?' He asked. 'Didn't you know that I had to be in My Father's house?' But they did not understand what He was saying to them." (Luke 2:48-50)

How did they react, when 21 years later their precious Son was being led to Calvary? Had they come to terms with Jesus' purpose on the earth? Did they even understand it? Looking back after His resurrection, did they regret the times they pleaded with Him to change His course? Did they see God's ultimate plan for the salvation of the world? Were they proud of His humility and sacrificial love -- or ashamed by the thorns and nail-pierced hands?

It's not easy setting aside our wishes for those we love in order to make room for God's plan for their lives. We find ourselves wishing they remain close to us and fulfill our plans for their lives. It isn't necessarily selfish -- but rather a lack of eternal perspective. Mary may not have known that her baby boy would "one day rule the nations," and she may especially not have approved the means for Him getting there, but He went. He fulfilled God's plan for His life and even though it may have been hard on Mary and Joseph, think of the consequences for all of us had Jesus decided not to follow His Heavenly Father's will because His loved ones here on earth wished to keep Him safely with them.

Though letting someone go so they may follow God's will may be hard, "all things work together for good to those who love God, to those who are the called according to His purpose." (Romans 8:28)

Praise the Lord that Jesus stayed the course and followed God's ultimate will for Him in order to give us salvation from our sinfulness, even if it is only in hindsight that His beloved friends and family could understand the necessity of His brutal death on the cross.