People. It is 2016. What? And it's not like today is January 1st, its the 16th! What is happening? Also. What is wrong with my blogging skills, or lack thereof? Sheesh.
So many things have been rattling around in my head since the last post. It feels like so much has happened since OCTOBER. For real, though? I need to get with the blogging program.
We were in Arizona for six weeks for the Holidays. Being in the States was so good and so hard all wrapped into one. People were often asking if it felt good to be home. What a confusing question to answer. The thing is that Arizona no longer feels like home. It felt good to be back. It felt amazing to be with family. It was fun to eat so much delicious food. But, it was weird because it didn't feel like home.
I honestly struggled a lot while we were in the States. So many conflicting emotions, so many hard questions to answer. It made me feel frustrated with this Honduras thing that we have done.
Sometimes Honduras feels so great, like such a cool adventure that we are on. Our girls are having new experiences, learning a new language, meeting new friends, cliff jumping, zip-lining, motorcycle riding, wearing ratty clothes, collecting spiders and bugs, and having an adventure. We are having new experiences and meeting new people and seeing the world and Jesus through new eyes.
And sometimes, Honduras feels so hard. We are saying a lot of really hard goodbyes. Saying goodbye to our incredibly amazing family who we adore is hard. Saying goodbye to friends in the States is hard. Saying goodbye to friends in Honduras who have become like family who have decided to move back to the States is hard. Saying goodbye to people from short term teams who we have come to love is hard. This feeling of not belonging is hard. When we were back in the States, I found myself longing for the time before we ever started this Honduras thing because in that space I didn't feel caught between two worlds. That's how I feel. I feel caught between worlds. This Honduras world doesn't quite fit because it doesn't have the family and friends that are home to me. The US doesn't quite fit because it doesn't have all of the familiar things and places and people that Honduras does. It feels too big and too loud and too comfortable and has oh so many options.
As I struggled, I kept asking why. Why have we done this? Why are we making these sacrifices? Why are we giving up relationships? Why are we saying goodbye? Why are we giving more than we have to give? Why are we pushing ourselves? And stretching ourselves? Why me? Why, Jesus, why? What good am I doing? What is this accomplishing? Do I even make a difference? Why?
As I asked and pondered and mulled through these questions, someone said to me, "Jesus sees you and your sacrifice and He rewards obedience. He is faithful." Hmm. He is faithful. Yes. He rewards obedience. Not sure. That seems like a big statement. And one that may be widely accepted and believed in Christian circles. Maybe you agree, maybe you don't, but I found myself questioning it. Have I found this to be true in my life? Has he rewarded obedience? Does my life look like I thought it would or like I wanted it to look? If it does or doesn't, does that mean that he has or hasn't rewarded my obedience? What does rewarding obedience mean? What I would like for it to mean is that because I sacrifice and I am willing to obey, that he will make my life look like I think it should look and want it to look. If my life doesn't look that way, then I assume that he doesn't reward obedience and I get upset because he isn't doing what he is supposed to do. Hmm. I don't think I'm on the right track here. I am realizing that I have been asking myself the wrong question and focusing on the wrong thing: the reward. "Jesus, don't you know what I've sacrificed? What's in it for me?" I have gotten sidetracked and focused on the wrong thing. I should be thanking and praising him for HIS sacrifice. I should be asking, what can I do to love him more, to thank him more, to praise him more?
One reason I have avoided writing another blog post is because I seem to always be processing through hard stuff. There is joy. These days Kyler is bringing so much JOY. That girl. She's funny. She loves animals. She loves music. She loves dancing. She loves her sisters. She teaches our family how to laugh. So often, the five of us sit and watch how funny she is and just marvel at her being her. JOY. Watching my girls love each other. They fight so much, but the sweetness and the love and the laughter is there. And when it is there, it is SWEET. There is just something about the love of and relationship with a sibling. And there is more. The colors of the ocean. The song of the toucan. The howl of the monkey. The splash of the water. The tricks on the bicycle. The healing of a patient. The restoration of a relationship. Sweet moments, joy. But, so often, the joy feels hidden in the pain and the struggles of life. And so often, I feel like all I do is think and process the hard and the pain and the struggle. And that gets tiring. And so I don't write. But, the writing gives life and truth and realness to the hard. And it helps it to loose its power somehow. And it helps the truth to seem more real and more joyful. So, tonight, here's to the joy, alongside the pain. Here's to the sacrifice. Praise Jesus for his ultimate sacrifice. He is good.
Thanks for reading :)
- Katie
Saturday, January 16, 2016
Tuesday, October 20, 2015
The Bumper
Over the past year and a half, I (and everyone within close proximity to us) have come to the conclusion that cars hate Peter and I. Every time we come within driving distance of a car, the car seems to sense our presence, and henceforth feels compelled to break. I know cars are not living and breathing, but we do NOT have good luck with cars. We bought one when we moved to Honduras a year a half ago. It has been drive-able for about 5 months of that time. So frustrating, although at this point it has become comical. If I don't laugh, I will cry, ya know? Anyways.
A friend of ours here was going out of town for a couple of weeks and offered her truck to us to use in the time she was gone (she is brave). We agreed to take it into town for a routine 110, 000km check while we were using it. We went into town, dropped it off at the car place, waited for it to be fixed, went to the grocery store, and were on our way back home a mere six hrs later (ha! everything seems to take exponentially longer here). We arrived home and began unloading groceries. As I was coming around the back of the truck with the last load of groceries in hand, I noticed that the back bumper was no longer on the truck. I yelled to Peter, he came out, assured me that the bumper had been on the car when we left the dealership, and went to look for the bumper.
We live about an hour and a half away from town where we do our grocery shopping, have our cars worked on, etc. Forty five minutes of that drive is on a very bumpy dirt road, so it did not seem outside the realm of possibility that the bumper had fallen off of the truck in our trek home.
When Peter left to go in search of the bumper, it was almost dark. As he drove, he shone his lights back and forth on the road, trying to look in the ditches to see if maybe it could've fallen to the wayside.
He got to a village that is about twenty minutes from where we live when a taxi chased him down, with the taxi driver waving out the windows for Peter to stop. Peter slowed and began talking with the guy. He asked Peter what he was looking for and said that his friend might know what had happened to the bumper. He didn't want to answer any of Peter's questions, and seemed to be trying to figure out if he could somehow get some money out of the deal. When Peter realized that the taxi driver was not going to be helpful, he gave the taxi driver his phone number, told him that if he could find the bumper, Peter would have a big gift for him, and came home.
When Peter arrived home, I couldn't believe it ... someone was essentially holding the bumper for ransom?! Off of a truck that wasn't ours?! I did not want to have to tell Judy that we had lost part of her truck (I warned you that cars hate us - ha!). Within minutes of Peter arriving home, he received a phone call from the taxi driver saying that he had been able to find the bumper and he wanted to know how big of a reward we had for him. Peter assured him that it would be worth his while, asked our neighbor to go with him to pick it up, and left to retrieve the bumper. About an hour later, they returned with the bumper in our possession and were only $15 poorer because of it. Life in Honduras is never short of adventure!
A friend of ours here was going out of town for a couple of weeks and offered her truck to us to use in the time she was gone (she is brave). We agreed to take it into town for a routine 110, 000km check while we were using it. We went into town, dropped it off at the car place, waited for it to be fixed, went to the grocery store, and were on our way back home a mere six hrs later (ha! everything seems to take exponentially longer here). We arrived home and began unloading groceries. As I was coming around the back of the truck with the last load of groceries in hand, I noticed that the back bumper was no longer on the truck. I yelled to Peter, he came out, assured me that the bumper had been on the car when we left the dealership, and went to look for the bumper.
We live about an hour and a half away from town where we do our grocery shopping, have our cars worked on, etc. Forty five minutes of that drive is on a very bumpy dirt road, so it did not seem outside the realm of possibility that the bumper had fallen off of the truck in our trek home.
When Peter left to go in search of the bumper, it was almost dark. As he drove, he shone his lights back and forth on the road, trying to look in the ditches to see if maybe it could've fallen to the wayside.
He got to a village that is about twenty minutes from where we live when a taxi chased him down, with the taxi driver waving out the windows for Peter to stop. Peter slowed and began talking with the guy. He asked Peter what he was looking for and said that his friend might know what had happened to the bumper. He didn't want to answer any of Peter's questions, and seemed to be trying to figure out if he could somehow get some money out of the deal. When Peter realized that the taxi driver was not going to be helpful, he gave the taxi driver his phone number, told him that if he could find the bumper, Peter would have a big gift for him, and came home.
When Peter arrived home, I couldn't believe it ... someone was essentially holding the bumper for ransom?! Off of a truck that wasn't ours?! I did not want to have to tell Judy that we had lost part of her truck (I warned you that cars hate us - ha!). Within minutes of Peter arriving home, he received a phone call from the taxi driver saying that he had been able to find the bumper and he wanted to know how big of a reward we had for him. Peter assured him that it would be worth his while, asked our neighbor to go with him to pick it up, and left to retrieve the bumper. About an hour later, they returned with the bumper in our possession and were only $15 poorer because of it. Life in Honduras is never short of adventure!
 |
| This taxi is similar to the one that chased Peter down |
Thursday, September 17, 2015
Daily time
I have been re-realizing (pretty sure thats not a word, but, well, you know what i mean) the importance of quiet time with the Lord. I mean, I know that it is important. I know that it should be my priority. I have known that since I was in junior high. Youth pastors tell you. Head pastors tell you. Parents tell you. Teachers tell you. Mentors tell you. Spend. Time. With. Jesus. Every day. No distractions. Just do it. But, if I am being honest, its hard to find the time every day. Life is busy. Kids get up early. Kids stay up late. Work is hard. School is busy. Homework is never-ending. There is always more ministry. One last email to write. One last phone call to make. The list goes on and on. Finding quiet time is hard. And honestly, at times, I can go weeks without spending good quality time with my Jesus. BUT, over the past few months, my Jesus has been patiently showing me just how important spending time with him is.
About four months ago, I was scrolling through Instagram and saw a picture of one of my friends who was switching over to a new prayer journal. And it stuck with me. Journaling and writing has been a huge part of my walk with Jesus, from the time I first gave my heart to him. It has allowed me a safe place to pray and vent and cry and rejoice. It has shown me how to be real and true in my relationship with the Lord, while at the same time showing praise and respect and awe for who Jesus is. Somehow, in the busyness of life and kids and moving and ministry, my way of connecting with Jesus fell to the side, because I didn't "have time". As I stared at that picture, I heard Jesus speak to the depths of me and challenge me to get a new journal. So, the next week when we went into town for groceries, I found a journal and I started back up again. Making time for Jesus. Daily. To be real. To talk with Him about the truth of my heart. To worship Him. To praise Him. To be accountable. To be in relationship. For the last four months, I have only missed a three or four days of spending time with Him. I am NOT saying this to boast in myself, but to boast in Him. He is changing me. He is teaching me accountability. He is transforming me. He is showing me the power in prayer. He is showing me the power in His word. He is teaching me joy, an peace, and contentment. He is making me new.
I struggle with how to make this real and how to stress the importance of this. There are so many Christian have-to's and sayings and cliches. How do I talk about this truth and reality without bringing on eye-rolls and "uh-huh". How do I truly teach my girls and talk to them about the importance of a quiet time without having it become some kind of cliche to them? How do I truly impress the importance on them? I'm not too sure, really. I think that I make it a priority in my life. I model what I preach. I show them the ways that it makes me a better mom to them and show them how it changes me. I allow Jesus to change me and transform me. I give Him credit in those moments where change happens.
I don't know why I struggle so much with Christian cliches. I don't know why they get under my skin so much. But what I am learning, is that so many of those cliches and things that make me roll my eyes are TRUTH. Even if I don't want to teach my kids a cliche, I need to and want to teach them the TRUTH. I want to teach them how to grow and change and become more like Jesus.
I am constantly amazed at the lessons that I keep "learning" over and over again. I started my relationship with Jesus about 20 years ago (yes, I am old). Spending time with Him daily seems so basic, yet it is a lesson that I keep having to learn over and over again. As I am learning this lesson over again, I am learning about myself to. I am learning that writing is an important part of who I am. It helps me process and grow and connect. It helps me grow closer to Jesus. It brings me joy. For you, it might not be journaling. It might be something else. Find what that thing is. Connect with Jesus EVERY day. He will change you, as he is changing me. He is so faithful.
- Katie
About four months ago, I was scrolling through Instagram and saw a picture of one of my friends who was switching over to a new prayer journal. And it stuck with me. Journaling and writing has been a huge part of my walk with Jesus, from the time I first gave my heart to him. It has allowed me a safe place to pray and vent and cry and rejoice. It has shown me how to be real and true in my relationship with the Lord, while at the same time showing praise and respect and awe for who Jesus is. Somehow, in the busyness of life and kids and moving and ministry, my way of connecting with Jesus fell to the side, because I didn't "have time". As I stared at that picture, I heard Jesus speak to the depths of me and challenge me to get a new journal. So, the next week when we went into town for groceries, I found a journal and I started back up again. Making time for Jesus. Daily. To be real. To talk with Him about the truth of my heart. To worship Him. To praise Him. To be accountable. To be in relationship. For the last four months, I have only missed a three or four days of spending time with Him. I am NOT saying this to boast in myself, but to boast in Him. He is changing me. He is teaching me accountability. He is transforming me. He is showing me the power in prayer. He is showing me the power in His word. He is teaching me joy, an peace, and contentment. He is making me new.
I struggle with how to make this real and how to stress the importance of this. There are so many Christian have-to's and sayings and cliches. How do I talk about this truth and reality without bringing on eye-rolls and "uh-huh". How do I truly teach my girls and talk to them about the importance of a quiet time without having it become some kind of cliche to them? How do I truly impress the importance on them? I'm not too sure, really. I think that I make it a priority in my life. I model what I preach. I show them the ways that it makes me a better mom to them and show them how it changes me. I allow Jesus to change me and transform me. I give Him credit in those moments where change happens.
I don't know why I struggle so much with Christian cliches. I don't know why they get under my skin so much. But what I am learning, is that so many of those cliches and things that make me roll my eyes are TRUTH. Even if I don't want to teach my kids a cliche, I need to and want to teach them the TRUTH. I want to teach them how to grow and change and become more like Jesus.
I am constantly amazed at the lessons that I keep "learning" over and over again. I started my relationship with Jesus about 20 years ago (yes, I am old). Spending time with Him daily seems so basic, yet it is a lesson that I keep having to learn over and over again. As I am learning this lesson over again, I am learning about myself to. I am learning that writing is an important part of who I am. It helps me process and grow and connect. It helps me grow closer to Jesus. It brings me joy. For you, it might not be journaling. It might be something else. Find what that thing is. Connect with Jesus EVERY day. He will change you, as he is changing me. He is so faithful.
- Katie
Friday, July 24, 2015
Representing Christ
It was a wonderful time having Doug visit. He is Physicians Assistant I worked with in Phoenix. Having him here was a delight. We were able to spear fish, ride motorcycles, and have a blast working in the hospital. Unfortunately, an event happened to Doug which made me feel very convicted. I am trying to witness to Doug and to be a picture of Christ for him. While I realize that I am not perfect, I hope Doug was able to see an inkling of Christ in me.
He had a mild verbal altercation with another visitor who was also staying in guest housing. I will call this visitor Freddy. Freddy has led many teams here over many years. He is a wonderful man and you can tell that he loves this hospital and the work that is done here. He was baking a casserole in the community kitchen of the guest house. Doug inadvertently turned the oven off while trying to cook his own food on the stove. Doug immediately realized his mistake and went and told Freddy that he had accidentally turned off the oven. Freddy became very upset and roughly address Doug and even insulted Doug. This was Doug's first interaction with Freddy.
Immediately after this, Doug and I went to Fellowship, which is the mission's weekly time of praise and worship. After singing praise songs, Freddy got up and introduced his team and preached a little bit. The look on Doug's face was one of disgust.
My dad used to always say, "there is never so polite a driver as in the church parking lot". I need to realize that my witness is not to other Christians, but an ever-present action of submitting my will to God's. I can't even imagine how many times I have failed to let God be glorified in my life or how many times others have been disgusted when I preach. It was a humbling moment for me to realize how many times I fail to represent Christ. I pray that I can come to see every interaction that I have with every person that I meet as an opportunity to witness and be a witness for Jesus. So often life with Jesus is not about going out to minister or preach and making a difference with those people out there, but it is about loving those and ministering to those who Jesus puts in my path in the small moments in the daily things. Oh that I can be faithful to him in those moments and glorify him there. Dios obra aquí.
- Peter
He had a mild verbal altercation with another visitor who was also staying in guest housing. I will call this visitor Freddy. Freddy has led many teams here over many years. He is a wonderful man and you can tell that he loves this hospital and the work that is done here. He was baking a casserole in the community kitchen of the guest house. Doug inadvertently turned the oven off while trying to cook his own food on the stove. Doug immediately realized his mistake and went and told Freddy that he had accidentally turned off the oven. Freddy became very upset and roughly address Doug and even insulted Doug. This was Doug's first interaction with Freddy.
Immediately after this, Doug and I went to Fellowship, which is the mission's weekly time of praise and worship. After singing praise songs, Freddy got up and introduced his team and preached a little bit. The look on Doug's face was one of disgust.
My dad used to always say, "there is never so polite a driver as in the church parking lot". I need to realize that my witness is not to other Christians, but an ever-present action of submitting my will to God's. I can't even imagine how many times I have failed to let God be glorified in my life or how many times others have been disgusted when I preach. It was a humbling moment for me to realize how many times I fail to represent Christ. I pray that I can come to see every interaction that I have with every person that I meet as an opportunity to witness and be a witness for Jesus. So often life with Jesus is not about going out to minister or preach and making a difference with those people out there, but it is about loving those and ministering to those who Jesus puts in my path in the small moments in the daily things. Oh that I can be faithful to him in those moments and glorify him there. Dios obra aquí.
- Peter
Monday, July 6, 2015
Put On Truth
Comparison is the THIEF of Joy.
PUT. ON. TRUTH.
These two sayings. They have been rattling around in my head for the last month, alternating, playing over again. I am realizing tonight how, for me, they relate to each other. Well, I should say, Jesus is opening my eyes to how they relate to each in my life.
.
I don't know if its because I grew up in the church and in Christian school, but for some reason, I have a really hard time with Christian cliches and sayings: things that everyone says all the time, but often sound and feel so empty. They grate under my skin. Now, don't get me wrong. I love Jesus, and I am amazed and oh so grateful for his redemptive work in my life, but I hate the cliches and the lingo that often come along with Christian things. I feel like they can make Jesus and his work on the cross sound so trivial. I hate that. Put On Truth has been one of those saying for me. It seems empty, something people say to encourage you or challenge you, but why? What does it mean? And why does Jesus keep reminding me of something that is so irritating to me?
Why is comparison so difficult? Why is it so alluring and yet so painful at the same time? Facebook and social media have made comparison so much more of an ever present part of our lives. If you're like me, you see someone else's pictures or posts and you wonder why your life isn't like this or that or you feel happy that you aren't doing this or that. I find myself comparing myself to people and pictures and places and statuses I see on the screen and I find discontentment sneak in. I find myself feeling unhappy with my current situation, whether it's the behavior of my girls or my hair or my house or my vacation or my lack of vacation or my weight or my clothes or my family or my school or my talents or my lack of talents or my whatever it may be today, I feel unhappy and discontent. I may have felt perfectly happy and content before I started my comparison game, but then, all of the sudden, I feel completely miserable. Ugh. I don't like this person.
The past month or so, anytime that I start to play this comparison game, Jesus reminds me PUT ON TRUTH. What is truth? What is he talking about? The truth of his Word. What does he have to say about me? What does he have to say about my current situation? What does he have to say about my talents? This month I have gone searching for his truth in a different way that I have before. Yes, I am reading the same verses that I have read many times before, but my soul is soaking them in and meditating on them in a way that it hasn't before. I am realizing and recognizing the beauty in his Holy Word in a way I never have before. I am recognizing the importance of fighting back with his Word. How do I combat this comparison game? How do I combat these feelings of discontentment? PUT ON TRUTH.
My whole life people have talked about the importance of memorizing Scripture. Honestly, I knew that they weren't lying to me, but it never seemed that important to me. It seemed like a lot of work when I could just go and look up a verse in my Bible anytime I needed it. However, this month I have seen the value of memorizing Scripture, of putting on truth. Having God's Word in my mind allows me and equips me to fight. It allows me to fight in the moment, to take control of my mind and find joy in the midst of struggle, to find wisdom in the midst of confusion, to find peace in the midst of a fight. PUT ON TRUTH. His words are truth and life. It takes work, but it allows me to experience joy, unending joy.
-Katie
PUT. ON. TRUTH.
These two sayings. They have been rattling around in my head for the last month, alternating, playing over again. I am realizing tonight how, for me, they relate to each other. Well, I should say, Jesus is opening my eyes to how they relate to each in my life.
.
I don't know if its because I grew up in the church and in Christian school, but for some reason, I have a really hard time with Christian cliches and sayings: things that everyone says all the time, but often sound and feel so empty. They grate under my skin. Now, don't get me wrong. I love Jesus, and I am amazed and oh so grateful for his redemptive work in my life, but I hate the cliches and the lingo that often come along with Christian things. I feel like they can make Jesus and his work on the cross sound so trivial. I hate that. Put On Truth has been one of those saying for me. It seems empty, something people say to encourage you or challenge you, but why? What does it mean? And why does Jesus keep reminding me of something that is so irritating to me?
Why is comparison so difficult? Why is it so alluring and yet so painful at the same time? Facebook and social media have made comparison so much more of an ever present part of our lives. If you're like me, you see someone else's pictures or posts and you wonder why your life isn't like this or that or you feel happy that you aren't doing this or that. I find myself comparing myself to people and pictures and places and statuses I see on the screen and I find discontentment sneak in. I find myself feeling unhappy with my current situation, whether it's the behavior of my girls or my hair or my house or my vacation or my lack of vacation or my weight or my clothes or my family or my school or my talents or my lack of talents or my whatever it may be today, I feel unhappy and discontent. I may have felt perfectly happy and content before I started my comparison game, but then, all of the sudden, I feel completely miserable. Ugh. I don't like this person.
The past month or so, anytime that I start to play this comparison game, Jesus reminds me PUT ON TRUTH. What is truth? What is he talking about? The truth of his Word. What does he have to say about me? What does he have to say about my current situation? What does he have to say about my talents? This month I have gone searching for his truth in a different way that I have before. Yes, I am reading the same verses that I have read many times before, but my soul is soaking them in and meditating on them in a way that it hasn't before. I am realizing and recognizing the beauty in his Holy Word in a way I never have before. I am recognizing the importance of fighting back with his Word. How do I combat this comparison game? How do I combat these feelings of discontentment? PUT ON TRUTH.
My whole life people have talked about the importance of memorizing Scripture. Honestly, I knew that they weren't lying to me, but it never seemed that important to me. It seemed like a lot of work when I could just go and look up a verse in my Bible anytime I needed it. However, this month I have seen the value of memorizing Scripture, of putting on truth. Having God's Word in my mind allows me and equips me to fight. It allows me to fight in the moment, to take control of my mind and find joy in the midst of struggle, to find wisdom in the midst of confusion, to find peace in the midst of a fight. PUT ON TRUTH. His words are truth and life. It takes work, but it allows me to experience joy, unending joy.
-Katie
Thursday, May 14, 2015
Feeling Homeless
This past month I have been thinking a lot about home. Where is my home? What is my home? Honestly, at this point, I have no idea. It has been one year and four months since we moved to Honduras. Considering the fact that I lived the first 31.5 years of my life in the U.S., is not a very long time. There are days when it feels like we have been in Honduras forever and days when it feels like we have just arrived. But, where is my home? Is it in the U.S., the place where I have spent most of my life? Or is it in this new country, that so often feels strange and foreign, but yet so familiar and certain?
I feel so different now than I do when we moved last January. Time has changed me. Experiences have changed me. The changes that I see might not be obvious on the outside, but in my heart, they feel colossal. Things that were important to me then, seem insignificant now. Insignificant things then, seem colossal now. Life in Honduras has changed me.
One huge change is in my cooking. Because of all of the allergies that my girls have and the lack of resources here, I have started to cook most things from scratch. I have started to enjoy cooking (say what?!). Someone told me, within the last month, that I am a good cook. A year ago, I would've laughed at this thought. Today, it feels normal, like something I was always meant to do.
But, I digress ...
Where is home? When I think about going home, where do I think of? I don't think I have one anymore. My family of origin and I are so close. Most days, I miss them so much that it hurts. I long to be with them, living life with them. But, when I think about the possibility of someday moving back to live where they are, I feel joyful at the possibility of being where they are, but I also feel confused because that place no longer feels like home. I have changed: I'm different now. That home no longer fits exactly who I am.
So, then, is Honduras home? My family is here. My house is here. My things are here. My girls are in a routine here. I cook and clean and live here. This is familiar and home for now, yet, somehow, it doesn't feel like home either. Though I have changed and feel like I don't really fit back in the States, I also don't really fit here: my Spanish is still broken, I will never fully understand this culture, I will never be Honduran. Every day I learn more about this culture and assimilate further, but I will always be a foreigner. So, this home still doesn't really fit either.
When we thought about moving to Honduras, we thought a lot about how the move would effect our girls. We knew that it would have benefits and drawbacks. They don't really fit into this Honduran culture and yet they don't really fit into the American culture. Missionary kids are often referred to as third culture kids meaning that they don't really have a culture that they fit into. They are, in a way, culture-less and homeless.
This is something that I had thought about and prayed over for the girls, but wasn't really something that I had given thought to in regards to myself. I assumed that home would always be where home has always been. I have been so surprised to find myself feeling like a third culture adult. I feel homeless, in a way. I feel like no place truly fits me.
So often, I ask the Lord why He brought us to Honduras. I ask Him about His plans and remind Him that I feel confused about His plans for me. But, as I have been thinking and praying this month, I keep coming back to this idea of home and feeling displaced. The Lord has been slowly showing me that this is part of His plan and His purpose. He has plans to use me here in Honduras, yes, but He also has plans to change my heart and to make it and me into something and someone that will glorify Him. So, maybe one of the reasons I am in Honduras is to show me this feeling of homelessness; to allow to me sit in it and live it and experience it. To experience it so that at some point in my life I can better love someone who is homeless too. To experience it so that I can better love my girls when at some point they are overwhelmed with feeling like a third culture kid. But mostly, I think He wants me to experience it so that I will long for Heaven, my true home. Longing for Heaven sounds so cliche or like such a typical "Christian" answer. I was raised in a Christian home, school, church ... I've been around it all so much and sometimes I get callous to the basics of my faith and I take things for granted. Saying that I long for Heaven can sound so "overly Christian". I get so distracted by life and things in front of me that longing for Heaven seems impossible. And the thing is, that is ridiculous. He is what matters. He is the only thing worth living for. He is my all and my everything. Of course He wants me to long for Heaven, because that's all thats worth living for AND that is the only place that I am ever truly going to feel at home.
So, I think that right now, that's what this Honduras thing is about for me. It's about missing family and home and feeling out of place so that I will long for the only place and the only One who can ever really fill me and make me feel at home.
- Katie
I feel so different now than I do when we moved last January. Time has changed me. Experiences have changed me. The changes that I see might not be obvious on the outside, but in my heart, they feel colossal. Things that were important to me then, seem insignificant now. Insignificant things then, seem colossal now. Life in Honduras has changed me.
One huge change is in my cooking. Because of all of the allergies that my girls have and the lack of resources here, I have started to cook most things from scratch. I have started to enjoy cooking (say what?!). Someone told me, within the last month, that I am a good cook. A year ago, I would've laughed at this thought. Today, it feels normal, like something I was always meant to do.
But, I digress ...
Where is home? When I think about going home, where do I think of? I don't think I have one anymore. My family of origin and I are so close. Most days, I miss them so much that it hurts. I long to be with them, living life with them. But, when I think about the possibility of someday moving back to live where they are, I feel joyful at the possibility of being where they are, but I also feel confused because that place no longer feels like home. I have changed: I'm different now. That home no longer fits exactly who I am.
So, then, is Honduras home? My family is here. My house is here. My things are here. My girls are in a routine here. I cook and clean and live here. This is familiar and home for now, yet, somehow, it doesn't feel like home either. Though I have changed and feel like I don't really fit back in the States, I also don't really fit here: my Spanish is still broken, I will never fully understand this culture, I will never be Honduran. Every day I learn more about this culture and assimilate further, but I will always be a foreigner. So, this home still doesn't really fit either.
When we thought about moving to Honduras, we thought a lot about how the move would effect our girls. We knew that it would have benefits and drawbacks. They don't really fit into this Honduran culture and yet they don't really fit into the American culture. Missionary kids are often referred to as third culture kids meaning that they don't really have a culture that they fit into. They are, in a way, culture-less and homeless.
This is something that I had thought about and prayed over for the girls, but wasn't really something that I had given thought to in regards to myself. I assumed that home would always be where home has always been. I have been so surprised to find myself feeling like a third culture adult. I feel homeless, in a way. I feel like no place truly fits me.
So often, I ask the Lord why He brought us to Honduras. I ask Him about His plans and remind Him that I feel confused about His plans for me. But, as I have been thinking and praying this month, I keep coming back to this idea of home and feeling displaced. The Lord has been slowly showing me that this is part of His plan and His purpose. He has plans to use me here in Honduras, yes, but He also has plans to change my heart and to make it and me into something and someone that will glorify Him. So, maybe one of the reasons I am in Honduras is to show me this feeling of homelessness; to allow to me sit in it and live it and experience it. To experience it so that at some point in my life I can better love someone who is homeless too. To experience it so that I can better love my girls when at some point they are overwhelmed with feeling like a third culture kid. But mostly, I think He wants me to experience it so that I will long for Heaven, my true home. Longing for Heaven sounds so cliche or like such a typical "Christian" answer. I was raised in a Christian home, school, church ... I've been around it all so much and sometimes I get callous to the basics of my faith and I take things for granted. Saying that I long for Heaven can sound so "overly Christian". I get so distracted by life and things in front of me that longing for Heaven seems impossible. And the thing is, that is ridiculous. He is what matters. He is the only thing worth living for. He is my all and my everything. Of course He wants me to long for Heaven, because that's all thats worth living for AND that is the only place that I am ever truly going to feel at home.
So, I think that right now, that's what this Honduras thing is about for me. It's about missing family and home and feeling out of place so that I will long for the only place and the only One who can ever really fill me and make me feel at home.
- Katie
Wednesday, February 25, 2015
Holding on Tight
Does anyone else feel shocked at the passing of time? I remember when I was little, I felt like time dragged on and on .... my birthday only came once a year and I felt like it was an ETERNITY until it came each year. I wanted to "be bigger" and I felt as though I would never arrive. Anyone else?
This week I celebrated another birthday and, now that I'm old (33!!), I feel like the birthdays come faster and faster. It feels the same for my girls ... Kenna turned 6 this month ... SIX!!! How. Did. That. Happen. This morning when I took her to school, we were holding hands and then, as we walked through the school yard, she shook my hand away from hers and wanted to walk without touching me (GASP!!). I knew this day was coming, but now that it is here, I can't believe it. I can remember my dad talking about the first time that I didn't want to hold hands with him. He was so sad. And now, as my sweet Kenna girl shook her hand out of mine, I know how he felt. She is growing up, getting bigger and turning into her own person. So much of that is good. I LOVE the person she is becoming, but I also find myself feeling sad about the change. Change is hard. Good? Yes. Needed? Yes. Hard? Yes.
This morning I've been pondering the growing and changing that I have done and continue to do. I've been thinking about holding my dad's hand ... and holding my heavenly father's hand. I hope that as I continue to grow and change, I continue to grasp His hand, no matter what comes. So often, I am tempted to shake off His hand and go my own way, do it my own way, figure it out on my own. I don't like change because it is uncomfortable and I try to increase my comfort. When I do, I am always left feeling alone and lost; I find myself running back to Him. So this morning, I am asking Him what I can do to keep holding on. What can I do to push back the urge to go it on my own? What are ways that I can remind myself to hold on tight and never let go, to walk with Him even when it hurts? When I do hold on, the change seems so much more manageable. It is still hard and can still hurt like crazy, but it doesn't feel insurmountable, because I know that I am not alone.
The girls getting a ride to school with Peter
First day of school ... Kinzie had just gotten in trouble and was not happy about smiling for a picture :)
- Katie
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)