Fighting the Monster

My kids know my buttons - what makes me cranky, what makes me give in, how to butter me up. It's come from years of practice, I'm sure (although, Melody, who has the least amount of practice seems to have the most expertise!).

I also believe that the devil (yes, I do believe he is alive and active in this world of ours), knows my buttons. There have been very concrete moments in my life when I have seen him pushing my buttons, trying to get me to react in a way that would be pleasing to him. There was a quiet thought in my head when I was with a team in New York City - it said "why are you here? don't you know that these kids would rather you weren't? You don't fit, you won't make a difference". It was a long night battling the feelings of insecurity, but when I spoke to another adult, she amazed me when she said that she had the same thoughts the night before. Another time I volunteered to be up front during an event, and as soon as it was over, waves of insecurity and embarrassment washed over me, making me want to run and hide.

That wiley devil knows just which buttons to push to paralyze me. What will make me want to quit, what will humiliate me and make me feel a failure. And push them he does!

Thankfully, I am no longer a slave to his button pushing! As Ephesians reminds me, I have the full armor of God and the power of Christ to overcome any attempts Satan makes to undo me.

So this week, when Louisa and Ellen could not make it two times in a row to our classes, the temptation to feel discouraged and frustrated started to lap like a wave against my shore. I was quickly reminded of the promises of God, and I had to make the conscious decision to fight that temptation, through those promises, and to persevere. Once this was done, God gave me extra blessings in confirmation from our pastor and deacon board that this was a needed outreach and one that the church would like to get behind. What a gift from God. Just when we feel lowest, He lifts us up, as we continue to trust in Him.

This is just another lesson to me that it is not me who is in control, but my heavenly Father. And He in his goodness as provided for me all that I need to follow Him - it's just a matter of trust.

A New Found Respect

Remember that saying that says something like "Never judge another until you have walked a mile in their shoes"

I can't say I've gone a mile, but the hundred yards or so I have trekked lately has made me really appreciate what some women handle in their lifetimes.

In the 20+ years I have been married to David, I have only held a full time job for about 1 1/2 years - and that was 17 years ago. Since then, any work that I have done (and I promise, I have worked!) has been on a part-time, from my home, in my control basis. No 9-5 office jobs, no rush hour traffic, no having to get all my grocery shopping done on Saturday afternoon, when I'd much rather be doing something else.

These days, however, things have taken on a slightly different hue. Yes, my office is in my home, and yes, I am extremely blessed to have a wonderful lady who comes and helps me keep the housework under control (which is a challenge for 6 messy people and 3 dogs!). Those two things alone are enough to exempt me from any true comparisons to every woman I know in the States who has to work full time with a family to boot. However, I have had a much clearer picture of some of the issues that working mothers deal with, and I am feeling the pain and strain of operating a very busy and growing business while trying to keep my family in a place of happy communion.

I suppose this blog is a bit of a vent - just an airing of my frustration of losing control of my time, and finding that the "tyranny of the urgent" becomes the rule rather than the exception.

While I was thinking about this today, I realized that it is a matter of letting my schedule dictate me, or me dictate my schedule. It's too easy to let the panicked customer, the piles of papers on my desk, the unwashed dinner dishes take control of me, and change me into a grumpy and distracted mommy. The kids have all, in their own way, let me know that they miss the way things were and that the way things are aren't ideal. My favorite part of today was when Allison came up to me, while I was busily trying to cook dinner, read the paper and clean off the counters and said "I need a Mommy hug". I told her I needed an Allie hug. Everything stopped, and we just spent a few minutes cuddling in the middle of the kitchen.

Somehow, I need to find balance and set boundaries on what captivates my time. I know I've been down this path before, but the scenery was a bit different. So, I trod a familiar path, but in a different place than it was before. Hopefully, it won't be a long journey or one with too many obstacles. Hopefully the years of practice and experience will pay off this time and I'll master what is required to accomplish this new phase of my life.

Holiday Madness

Most of my memories of the Christmas holidays since I entered adulthood are seasoned liberally with images of late nights, shopping cram sessions - trying to get it all in at once - and me...in up to my elbows in either craft projects, cooking projects, or both, all in an effort to make the Christmas season memorable for my family. The unfortunate consequence to this effort, is that except for enjoying the moments of pure glee on the faces of my children, I am just too tired to enjoy the holidays myself. If only I could go back to my childhood, when it was MY mom who was working herself to the bone to give us a holiday to remember.

Moving to South Africa brought about a HUGE change in the way we celebrate Christmas. No more chilly evenings, no more snow. No bundled up bodies. No frost bitten nose. No freshly cut Christmas trees or pine needles all the floor.

Now we have heat..and sleeveless tops as well (never mind that long gone are the days that these arms of mind deserved to see sunlight!) Outside barbeques replace the all day marathon turkey roast. Everyone here goes on holiday vacations to the beach or some resort somewhere - so much for the saying "there's no place like home for the holidays!".

At first, I was determined to do my best to recreate our American Christmas here in South Africa. What we ended up with was soggy, sea salt tainted gingerbread houses, Christmas chocolates all melted and a house full of hot sweaty family members opening up presents in a rush, only to be too overheated to pick up the mess afterward.

Now I'm wiser, and more experienced in the ways of the South African Christmas. A few things I refuse to give up: We still dutifully decorate our sad little fake Christmas tree with all the ornaments we have collected over the years. I still make an effort to cook (though I admit to a Christmas dinner at a restaurant one year). The kids (and David) still get to have the great debate with me as to whether we will open presents on Christmas Eve or Christmas Day..(one day I will win!)and we still read the Christmas story and pretend it's cold outside - if only for a few minutes.

This year will be a different year even still. Already, I feel the madness of the rush creeping into my psyche. Never mind that I haven't even THOUGHT about what everyone is going to get for gifts..I'm still frantically trying to squeeze in time to paint the ornaments everyone is requesting. I also have planned to host a "Christmas biscuit and browse" open house on December 8th, to give the Craft Class a chance to market the items that are made up to that point. This spins me into a tizzy trying to "fill in" their items, as the amount of time they have had to make things is very limited.

Which reminds me to update you on our progress! We met on Wednesday morning and got "stuck" into making gift boxes to sell. I wish I could tell you how great it was to see them go from very hesitant and uncertain to much more confident in just 2 1/2 short hours! We will be meeting twice a week until Christmas, to build up stock, and hopefully give them some money for the holidays as well.

I do have a prayer request on their behalf, as well. For 10 days, I didn't see any of the ladies at their usual robots (traffic lights). Other than pray for them, there is little more that I can do. They don't have phones, and neither do they share their address with me. So I prayed...and hoped. On Wednesday, I got to the church on time, unloaded my things, then sat on the steps waiting. Doubt and concern for them crept all over me, trying to discourage me and get me to "what iffing" the future. About 10 minutes late, Ellen came with Blessing, and we got started. It was about an hour later, that Scholasti and Louisa came, feeling very worried that I would not forgive them. Louisa told me that they have had to stop coming to our town, due to pressure from the police "to move on", and from Child Services (Louisa told me that one social worker tried to physically take away a woman's baby. The woman hit the lady with her umbrella, then ran). I certainly understand the concern that the public has for the children, as it really isn't a safe environment for them to be in day after day...but then I think about what other options these women have. And unfortunately, there isn't a government or private effort that is reaching out to them, because they are not South African Citizens. I guess technically speaking they would be classified as refugees - but we don't even have a refugee camp for them.

Anyway, if you could just join me in praying for these ladies and their safety. Now they are traveling much further to try to find a place that will allow them to beg for their sustenance. And the fear of arrest and deportation weighs heavy on them. The pressure to try to give them an alternative means to live by sometimes tries to weigh on me. It's then I must remind myself that this is God's project, not mine, and that He will do as He wills with it - providing as He sees best.

And I must just trust and obey, as the old song goes.

At A Loss

I have been struggling today trying to decide how I would write my update for this week. It's almost as if I am treading on some sacred ground, and I fear somehow sullying it by writing about it.

I think there are somethings in life so personal, so moving, so tender -in a painful way - that to speak them out somehow diminishes the intensity of the issue.

I had such a wonderful hour this Saturday just talking with my "students" - they have decided that our group is "school" and they take great joy in telling their neighbors that they are going to school.

Louisa is definitely the "mama" of the group. She understands my English (which some English people here battle with), she translates to Ellen, who is younger and doesn't have as wide a vocabulary as the others, and she helps the others to explain things to me.

We were talking about expectations. I tried to tell them why I wanted to teach them these skills, what my motivation was. I wanted them to know that while they were always welcome in our church, there was no requirement for them to attend in order to come to the classes. I also wanted them to know that I wasn't trying to manipulate them or use them in anyway.

In turn, they explained to me how they felt that God had singled them out from all the other ladies, and had brought them to this outreach. They feel that God has shown them that He is caring for them and is with them, even though their lives are so hard. I am in awe of the Holy Spirit, who so obviously is speaking to these ladies hearts without my having uttered a word.

Jehovah Jirah- God who Provides.

All three of these ladies are from Zimbabwe. You would have to be living in a box to not know that this country has fallen to pieces. There is no food to be found, no work and what they have for shelter is being destroyed by the leader of the country, for his own purposes. These three ladies, and the dozens more who are in our town, are here because they can get food and send it back home to their families. In addition to the babies they carry on their backs, they each have 2-3 children at home - two of the families have no adults living with them. When I asked Louisa if she found it so hard to be away from them, she said to me that it was very hard, but that if she wasn't here, they would starve. She has had to make a choice that no mother ever wants to make.

I know that I am probably sounding melodramatic, and I in no way am trying to simply bring tears to your eyes. But my purpose in sharing their stories, which I do with their permission, is to show you how you can pray. This is the most important thing these ladies need. They need to know that God is with them and their children, that He will give them strength and courage. That He will give them hope beyond their circumstances.

Our classes begin next week. We will be working two days a week until December, when we will have our first "market". I am going to host a Christmas open house tea of sorts - complete with decorations, music and of course everything we are able to make before then. Could you please pray for this event? That it will be a good kick off to what will be a great year ahead and that my new friends will be encouraged and have a sense of accomplishment for having a job well done.

Being Misunderstood

The definition of the word misunderstand is:


Misunderstand \Mis*un`der*stand"\, v. t. [imp. & p. p.
p. pr. & vb. n. Misunderstanding.]
To misconceive; to mistake; to miscomprehend; to take in a
wrong sense.

I've been thinking about this word today. It started with a post
I had made on a card making message board introducing myself. I
had asked for ideas for our little group of ladies who will be
learning how to make cards..

The next morning I was surprised to find a note in my email box
saying that my post had been deleted because it appeared to solicit
donations. Being wrongly accused of something created some rather
strong feelings in me. Now, I understand that these message boards
have to be careful, but it was so clearly a case of misunderstanding.
My intentions were not at all what the moderator had taken them
to be.

On Friday, I had invited another lady from the "robots" to come to
the soupkitchento get some soup and bread for her and her little one.
She joined the group of ladies a little late, and was really quite
peeved with me when she realized that all she was getting was soup
and bread. This was someone I had thought perhaps might be a good
candidate to join our crafting group, but it soon became clear that
she and I had a misunderstanding. She had an expectation that I could
not fulfill at that time.

Today, I met with Louisa, Ellen and Sholasti about our craft classes.
We sat for over an hour talking about their lives, their families,
the things that they deal with on a daily basis. The stories would break
your heart. But I thought again about this word- misunderstanding.
One of the definitions is to to miscomprehend.

By all outward appearances, these three ladies are beggers - shunned
and looked down upon by most of those around here. One could easily
miscomprehend who they are as people.It only took a short while to see
that they are smart ladies, eager to learn,not showing any sense of
entitlement or even a typical mentality that those who have must give
to those who don't. They have been misunderstood.

It's a good reminder that we cannot judge by outward appearance
and circumstance.And we cannot limit our actions because of
miscomprehensions or misunderstandings we might have of others.

Jesus was certainly the perfect example of one who didn't allow
common perceptions to alter the way He treated others. He dined
with tax collectors, touched lepers,and had common fishermen for friends.
I pray that God will give me grace for others,as He has given me,
an imperfect sinner, that same grace.

And We're Off!

I truly feel like a racehorse at a the starting gate! Don't ask me what my racehorse name would be - probably something like "Chomping at the Bit" or "Ants in the Pants".

I have now gotten the almost official go-ahead to begin the classes for this new outreach. Unfortunately, I have missed a Zulu class, and the chance to have my very clever teacher correct my Zulu grammer. However, I have reviewed my lessons, discovered my root words and have come up with what I hope is the name - Beautiful Creation - Babazekhle dala . Not only will these women be making beautiful creations, but they will also be learning that they too, are beautiful creations!

Our first meeting will be this Saturday morning, just for introductions and communicating what exactly going to be involved.

AND! I met lady #3!! Ferriera and her teeny tiny daughter of maybe 1 1/2 years. Amazingly, when I stopped to speak to her today at her "robot", she mentioned that she had heard of a lady who has been handing out clothes. So, the ground work is laid, and now we move forward!

Projects #1, #2 and #3 are gift bags, gift tags and cards. I've got some handy dandy patterns for some very cute paper boxes and bags, and am going to organize some simple straight forward cards.

Keep your eyes open for pictures of our first efforts - and, if they will allow me, photos of my new friends, Ellen, Louisa and Ferriera. Please do not forget to pray for us!