Our MTV Movie Debut

I have had a dream of being a rockstar. Flipping my hair in an "I don't really care that I'm singing, playing guitar, and all of you are chanting my name" kind of way. Ripped jeans, cool scarves, and swanky coffee shops. When I sat down this weekend to play the piano in an MTV movie, this is not quite how I envisioned my rockstar debut as going. 

 Several weeks ago, our landlord asked us for a favor. Favors are how things are done over here. So we agreed to perform in an MTV movie about a man named Milton Gardner. 

We did hair and make-up for a really long time. This whole getting pretty stuff takes a long time, that's why I don't do it very often. They tried putting make-up on Makaria. I just stood by and laughed. She looked like she had run through a dust storm, tripped, and dragged her face through a sand pile. After the make-up artist looked up at me with desperation, I told her that none of her make-up would look right on my gloriously black child. 

They spent forever on my hair. I then went to another hair lady and she did it all over again. 

As we started shooting the first few scenes, I realized that I had received no direction from the director. I cannot play the piano, so I just pretended like I was typing my name on a keyboard. That is apparently not correct. They called someone in to teach me how to put my hands and gave me direction on where to look and when to smile. 

Kesed managed to get a picture with the most glamorous Chinese woman on set. All before lunch. 

Malachi and Charis had to jump rope in a scene. The Chinese kid got the ax when we heard the director tell him, "You are an ugly jump-roper!" This took several takes because Malachi had to run in while Charis was jumping. The smaller kids had to be jumping up and down, counting, and clapping. There was lots of hand-eye coordination happening and well, you're dealing with 8 kids under the age of 10. 

The director was so patient though and did a fantastic job instructing the kids. Another time he told a Chinese boy, "You are handsome, but you're a wuss!" 

I was supposed to be teaching a music class. Without knowing how to play the piano or any ability to sing, it required an Oscar-like performance. I'm really not into theatre, so this was quite a stretch for me.  But getting to watch my kids learn what it is like on a real life movie set was totally worth every hour we spent on that mountain. 

Then they had Malachi (who was playing Gardner as a young boy) and a boy climb a 1,300 year old tree. It's a local historical landmark that I'm sure we didn't have permission to be climbing. They made a call to local officials to take a sign down because it was interfering with the shot. They made the call, but I'm not sure they ever got an answer. The kids yelled and jumped while the tree climbers beckoned them to come up. 

Then we headed to a grassy area to play ball and other games. 

All the family actors.

Then they brought out the piano that I was supposed to be gaily playing while the kids pranced around the yard. 

We headed to another location where at one point, my son and a girl were dangling from a large wall. 

The director explained things to the kids and kept commenting on how wonderfully my children were being raised. I was so humbled and also proud of how well they did.  

They told Selah that had she been a few years younger, she could've performed too. The kids spent lots of time watching playbacks with the director. 

In the middle of the shoot, an old woman shuffled by to fill her bucket at the well. We were making a movie and she was trying to cook dinner. Look how tiny she is! She would've taken me out in an arm wrestling match, no contest. 

We had to buckle down the mountain a ways to get to the ancient well.  

Losing daylight, the director asked for everyone's iPhones. They shot the second half of the scene being lit by seven iPhone flashlights. 

The Chinese boy dropped his bucket in the well and no joke, 2.3 seconds later a mysterious 80-year old man come bouncing up onto the well. He hoisted himself down into the well and fished out the bucket with his feet. Then he pulled himself back up! WHAT?! Nobody knew where this guy came from. But all three of his teeth were beaming as we clapped his heroic rescue. 

We aren't sure when the movie is coming out. They still have to come over one more time to film a dinner scene. They have said that they will give us a copy when it's finished with production. It was a long 12 hour day on the mountain, but we learned a ton and had a blast doing it. 

And somewhere along the way my dream was full-filled of being a music star :).

The Flower Grandpa

A few weeks ago I started trying to breathe in people's stories. Not in the nod your head and smile kind of way, but in a slow me down and let me understand you kind of way. 

 

While I am boiling dumplings at my archaic stove, this man has become a mini-series of stories for my mind to enjoy. Daily he wanders downstairs to water his plants or dry out red beans in the afternoon sun. His lanky shoulders tower over dainty dandelions as he steals dirt and puts it into his house plants. He shifts the dirt into piles so that passersby won’t notice what he’s doing. But I see. I watch his sly grin purse as he pats down the new dirt and he gingerly tends to the garden already there. As if being gentle minimizes the fact that he is stealing their dirt.

My kids roll through and talk to him. I watch him teach them about uses of the sunlight and how much water to feed a potted aloe plant. He laughs and sometimes scolds as my kids take off their shoes to run around in bare-footed freedom.

I’ve never seen a wife, son, or daughter with him. But his connection with his plants has become a stop in curiosity for me. He tenderly wipes their leaves with a soft rag. The flowers are spoken to. I haven’t listened to what he is saying, but I imagine he is telling them that he will be back tomorrow. That tonight it’s going to rain, so they will need to be brave. But he will be back tomorrow. As he exhorts the tiny dandelions all tucked in for the night, I see his sense of purpose straighten out his shoulders.

 

With retirement he was replaced by talent and youth. That did not go unnoticed. But he walked into retirement determined to find his place. While he is no longer a manager of hundreds of people, he knew he could be a manager of a few. He knew that instead of letting retirement be defined by self-indulgence and pity, he could still serve someone else. He walks down those concrete stairs each late afternoon, looking around to try to find a need to be met. It requires keen observation to see a need that is buried beneath the surface of things. It requires patience and thoughtful digging to bring resolution. But because he is willing to engage the world in such a way, rows of dandelions march through the summer breeze in confidence. My kids run downstairs to ask him questions because they know he will take the time to answer. He is present. Presence sees the person in front of you not as a task but as a story.  And in that presence he is listening.

Entrepreneurial Fails

Last night, the hubs and I went on an all too rare night out. We joined the other 6 million people in our city who went out to eat during this holiday week. Within 25 walking steps of each other, I snapped these few pictures. This top one was my favorite. It's a coffee bar/cat playground. No joke, you go in and buy something to drink. As you do so, cats are walking around and on the tables. It was filled with young college girls are sitting on the floors, hanging out with the cats while drinking green tea. 

Next up was a "Unique and Artless" children's play place. At least they aren't faking a creative billing. You walk in and play. There is no creative art happening. But at least those wide-eyed non-Chinese children decals look happy in their non-tactile play place. 

Rounding the corner, we ran into sushi cakes. That honestly sounds like slang for cow patties. But in case you are looking for an edgy kindergarten birthday party snack, Sponge Bob sushi cakes will definitely do the trick. 

East-West Wedding

Some friends of ours got married on Saturday. The wedding was a mixture of western and eastern ceremony. A few dozen tables were set outside as the bride processed around the audience. 

This was one of the most fun Chinese wedding because there was very little smoke or loud drinking and lots of good friends. 

Two of the girls were flower girls and Kesed was a ring bearer. By ring bearer, I  mean that he held a basket of flowers with the rings thrown in among the petals. 

The other ring bearer was MIA until it was time to stroll down the isle. I actually don't think he knew that he was performing this prestigious task. Kesed spent his time walking down the isle and whispering directions to his friend. Kesed carried the rings while I had hot flashes and nightmares of the rings flying out of his basket into the abyss of the dark night. 

The girls held the veil and tried not to trip down the stone stairs. They did a fantastic job. 

Behind the bride, there was nose picking and dress adjusting, but no major missteps. 

They were a beautiful couple who loves the Lord. We are grateful for them and for so many people who came to celebrate them. 

Halfway through, Malachi pulled up a stool and sat next to the bridesmaids. 

At this point, the doves were released. I think the doves might have been slipped something because they flew drunk. They flew into each other and dive bombed tables. It was fantastic. 

Here's Selah with one of the poor dizzy birds. We are grateful we got to be a part of their day and thankful for what the Lord has done in them both!

Today this man reminded me...

 

There is a single ,particular group of people that I find nearly impossible to love unconditionally. The Chinese grandparent. I historically have seen them as demanding, critical, and inflexible. A few months ago I started having a "What Would Jesus Do?" moment. He would clearly not avoid old people. So I've started to take time to either ask them their stories or pause and remember that they have a story, even if I don't get to hear it. It's been in their stories that I've found a softening and appreciation for all they have been through.  

Pining through the suburbs of Shanghai where even the food smells rich, this man slowly shuffled down the uneven backstreets. Passing them I felt the heavy determination of his legs as he forsook his wheelchair, opting for independence instead. It seems as if a stroke kidnapped his dreams and mocked his future. Walking, I watched his history rolling passed him like a silent film.

A smokey room parts as the younger version of him blinks his watery eyes and spots his bride for the first time. She shifts in her chair and allows the right corner of her lips to fold gently into smile. She turns away but through the wisps of her dark tussled hair, peeks in his direction, willing him over to her. As they begin talking, words seem to be spilling into a river of comfort. As if somewhere before their lives had met and shared the same waters.

The conversation began to carve into the earth, permanently marking out a future. Contours of a marriage, banks of parenthood, currents of traveling the country together.  

As they married and started a family, they held onto dreams like a well-worn quilt. Tucked between the two of them at night, laid down to be forgotten as they drifted in and out of work each day. Their hopes became grey hairs and arthritic knees. At times forgotten. Maybe not forgotten as much as fictionalized. With age came a reality that needed to be attended to.

After his wife died, his mind surrendered. Actualizing dreams without the person who conjured them with you somehow made them seem child-like. Hoping seemed like something left for people with plenty of time left. He was running out. Future was no longer measured in years, but in moments.

As I watch him place his feeble arms onto the security of the wheelchair, he shifts his feet forward. For a brief moment he wants to feel his independence holding up his entire self. He wants to be reminded that his body is more than a shell. He has not forgotten how to hope, his hopes have just become a matter of the daily. See, he doesn’t’ have time to wait on ‘one day’. He is living in the now because there is no guarantee of a later. His stiffened arms and locked in grimace are a reminder that to wait is to squander. To wait is to let fear win. So he bears down on his weakened legs and tries to walk. It is slow. It is full of labor and pain. But aren’t all things worth hoping for full of those? Demanding hope to be pain-free and easy is minimalizing hope to a simple wish. Wishes don’t keep us alive.

  Hope does.

10 Lovely Habits I've Picked up by Living Here

1. I interrupt people on their phones. I can clearly see that they are talking on their phones, yet I will dive right in to ask them a question. I blame this on every person in the retail sector here. Talking on the phone is merely a hand gesture,  not actually an action to take into consideration when you need something from that person.


2. I push old people around. And oh no, not emotionally, but physically. I used to take a passive stance when getting on a bus or standing in line at a market. While being kind and polite, sure enough, an old lady would come up and push me out of line. She wouldn't even look back to see if I was offended. So I started throwin' elbows. Simple as that. (I am firmly aware of all the things wrong with this.)

 

3. I reply in 3's. When asked a question, my response is always in 3's. For example, "Are you going to the train station tomorrow?" My reply would be, "Ya, ya, ya." In both languages, my response feels incomplete in 2's.

4. I forget to shave. Culturally it's totally the norm for women to not shave. Chinese aren't particularly hairy people, so this shaving trend hasn't really taken off here. I hated shaving in America and the only reason I did it is because of the cultural pressure put on me to not look like a dude. Cultural pressure gone=freedom to not shave much.

5. I pick up my soup bowl. When I am done eating noodles or even at home finishing a bowl of Tomato Basil, I pick up the bowl and drink it. I realize there's some cross over in cultures on this one. But for the most part, Americans don't pick up their bowls and drink. Especially not as adults.

 6. I like to soak my feet in hot water before bed. It really does help you fall asleep at night. I will also say that my feet are pretty dirty by the end of the day, so it's nice to get into bed with clean feet. It makes me feel better when I don't wash the sheets for weeks on end. At least I didn't drag ground funk into bed with me.

7.  When walking by myself, I slap my upper arms. This is not an every time occurrence, but more often than I'd like to admit to my American counterparts. Slapping your arms, walking backwards, and throwing your back up against a wall is an apparent requirement when seeking retirement. My inner monologue used to ruthlessly mock this habit. Until one day, up came my arm and I decided to give it a go. It really does get the blood moving. I'm a fan.

8. I no longer use contractions in English. When we taught English here, we stripped our English of contractions because they tripped up all of our Chinese friends. Now I awkwardly say things like, "I cannot go to the store today. Let us go out to eat instead." This sounds like an English butler or someone getting their American citizenship for the first time.

9. I take pictures of people without asking or even pretending to be discrete. This is a daily occurrence for our family, so I have found it quite normal to aim my camera straight at someone without a second thought. This is going to get me arrested or on some type of neighborhood watch list when we visit the States. I am convinced that our kids' picture is on the wallpaper of hundreds of iPhones across China.

10. I yell at the waitress to bring our bill. This has taken a long time to get used to. I used to passively raise my hand or follow the poor girl around the restaurant. One day I realized that really and truly it's culturally appropriate to yell, "Hey waitress, bring the bill!"

So there you have it. For you and every one to know that I've got real issues here people. Please tell me that people living outside of the US have morphed in similar ways. It really would make me feel better about my current state of living.

To My Daughters: Insecurity is a Horrible Dance Partner

To My Daughters, 


It's ok to be afraid of the dark. You see, when I walk into a bathroom, my heart still pounds until my fingers inch their way to the light switch. There is unknown settled in the dark. When we can't see in front of us, we question even the things that we do confidently, like walking. Insecurity crouches in darkness. It enjoys the company of anonymity. The minute you pin down an Insecurity, you are equipped with the power to defeat it. Left alone, Insecurity can make a comfortable nest in the dark. And if left there long enough, its second home will be in the silent corners of your thought life.

They whisper. They mock. They sit sullenly in the corners, like at a junior high dance. They sit until you look their way and invite one of them to dance. At first you will feel as if he is following your lead. But before long, the music turns. You begin looking around you, wondering how many eyes are bearing into your soul. You start to question your ability to dance. As the music fades, you realize that you are no longer leading; you are following an uncomfortable flurry of footsteps that Insecurity seems to have memorized from frequent use.

He twirls you passed friends to showcase how effortlessly your life is being led by him. You waltz passed your parents who are thought you looked happy, like you were dancing with that man, Popularity. Your church friends don't recognize you with Insecurity with you, so they call him Humility.

You dance.  For hours you spin and circle the floor with ease. Insecurity can be a good dance partner. As a matter of fact, Insecurity is a popular dance partner. When he faces the crowd as Self-Deprecation, he's met with laughter. When he turns towards the church he can be labeled as A Good Team Player. Turning towards a spouse, he responds to the name, Indifference. But regardless of people's nicknames for him, he was birthed as Insecurity.

Eventually your legs get tired and your eyes dizzied from the blurred world of spinning. You've been turning for so long, desperately looking for a centering point. But Insecurity doesn't stop long enough for you to grasp your bearings. He knows that all he has to do is keep you in the dance.

It's up to you to stop. To bow out of this dance, turn off the music, and go home. Turn off the lights, throw away your dance shoes, and lock the doors. Leave no remnant of this dance because the second you turn around wondering what he is doing, he is right there ready to partner again. Walk away and don't look back.

There are better dances to abandon yourself to.

Pick music that will set your soul. 

Chose Freedom and Restoration. They make better dance partners in the long run. They aren't out to confuse your thinking or make you crave validation. They are out to secure you in grace; to remind you that they chose you, not the other way around. You will certainly find affection from the wrong partners at some point in this dance, but that doesn't mean you have to collapse your life into him. I hope that there is something in the music that your father and I have played that reminds your ears that there is something more real to be had. Find that music, trust that partner, and dance.

Making Promises can be Destructive

Ten years ago, I finished up my time working with junior high and high school girls at a church. As wonderful as that job was for me, I discovered that I had picked up one rather destructive habit. My pattern of ministry was filled with promising a coffee date or taking a girl out to dinner and never actually following through on that invitation. My intention was pure. I wanted each and every girl to feel loved and wanted. I wanted to show them that despite their fathers being gone 80% of the year, I wanted to see them smile. With those motives, I opened my mouth and promised to meet with scores of young women. Many of them I followed up on, but sadly, many of them were left as empty promises.

Several years after leaving that job, I discovered this pattern of ministry that had grown in me. Somehow by telling someone that I'd love to get coffee with them felt like I had fulfilled loving them simply because I had extended the invitation. As I look back, the invitations that remained unmet, probably left those girls uttering the words, "Typical."

That makes me cringe just typing that. Just thinking how many girls rolled their eyes after I extended a bouncy invitation to meet them "sometime" for dinner.

This habit has taken years to unravel. It started as my kids began to understand what it meant to promise something. I would promise to play dolls and get caught up in doing dishes instead. Or I would promise to take them for ice cream and then tell them it would have to wait for another day, I was sorting laundry.

I got tired of weaving into them a distrust for promises. 

I started changing my vocabulary first. I began saying "maybe" and "we are thinking about..." a little more often. I kept my mouth shut unless I knew I could open my calender right there and scribble down a time to do that activity or meet with that person. 

This habit has been hard to break and I will say that at times I slip back into offering my time with a closed fist. But more and more I am realizing the damaging effect this has not only on my family, but my community. As believers, we need to follow through because it's gives an accurate picture of God's faithfulness to his children. By touting our promises and not following through, we are building into others that God is a manipulator or even worse, a liar.

When he says things like, "I, I am he who comforts you," a hurting person needs to trust in that even if they don't understand it.

When God reminds us, "I have put my words in your mouth and covered you in the shadow of my hand," a frightened little girl needs to know that shaded darkness won't make her afraid.

I want my kids to understand that when God says, "For all who are led by the Spirit of God are sons of God," that it doesn't God tolerates them, but adopts them into his family.

I hear people despair when they talk of wanting authentic community. But I also hear people promise to have someone over for dinner or invite them out to coffee and never follow through. Community isn't built on empty promises of intimacy.

 It's built on sitting across the table from someone and entering the messy.

 It's built on sitting Indian style on the carpet and actually doing the puzzle with your 4-year old. 

It's built on inviting your neighbors over for dinner, even if there's play-dough scattered on the kitchen table.

Intimacy is kept by following through. If we wait for the perfect timing to follow through we will never do it. Let us not fool ourselves into believing that the simple invitation is an act of love. It is not. The act of love comes by sacrificing your own time because that other person is worth it.

We are Having THE TALK-"The Wonderful Way Babies are Made"

 

 It just happens. Jokes, questions, connecting dots, and then THE TALK. I have really enjoyed having "the talk" with our kids. At this point, only my 11 and 9-year old have sat with us to talk about the whole procreation thing. I've been biting my lip every Christmas as we deal with the title, Virgin Mary, because my younger ones are asking way too many questions already.

 The Wonderful Way Babies are Made is our go to book when the time finally comes to have, "The Talk."

 

I'm not going to walk you through how to have this talk with your kids. Sorry friends. I'm scared of the keyword searches that might link people to my blog. And well, you know your kids and your family. The thing I will say though is HAVE THE TALK. Living here, we've seen the hurt young people experience because you just don't talk about these things in Chinese culture. So you have these poor married couples that have no idea how to make babies. Or that this is not just about making babies, but making a marriage. 

About the book. 

These pictures are beautiful and diverse and lovely. It's not just pages of white people. That's reason enough to buy it. 

 

On each page there are two stories. One is a poem that weaves the stories of procreation in a younger child format. It starts with how God had intention and beauty in mind when he created the earth. Next, he leads kids through how flowers and animals reproduce. Mother hamsters make baby hamsters and so forth.

 

On the same page is a more detailed description of how all of this works. A little more biology and explanation. The writing describes everything as not just a means to a baby, but something to be treasured and enjoyed because that's how God made us. About 3/4 of the way through, a family is put together through adoption. If we are talking about putting families together through biology, isn't it also appropriate to teach kids about adoption!

 

The story ends with a reminder that Joseph adopted Jesus. That a beautiful story of redemption was being played out when Joseph took Jesus as his own. 

I highly recommend this book for talking to your kids about intimate issues. The words are beautifully written, carefully crafted, and age-appropriate. 

Focusing in on Best Things

I have said several times on this little space that 2013 is my year of boundaries. I'm attempting to shave away good things so as to have a larger space for best things.

This post on Desiring God walks us through some litmus tests on deciding whether or not to take on something new. 

It goes on to say this:

"Questions are mental machetes God gives us to slash through the overgrowth of the world’s demands on us. We are not to uncritically take a new obligation on. We must test it against what we want to become. So we must ask obligations questions like  

Why should I do this?

Why now? 

What is it promising me? 

What kingdom end will it accomplish?

Will it fragment my focus on my primary callings?

Why does it feel so emotionally compelling to me?"

 
It's easy to think that our motives are pure when we say "yes" to something. For me, asking that last question about emotional compelling is a big one. I have found that many times my yes is a subtle luring of the affections of others. When this is my motivation, that means that my reward is given to me by men on this earth and in this life. That makes void the greater, more fulfilling reward that the Lord promises me from him. Working overseas like we do can be a dangerous calling for the heart.

We can:

--see people as projects simply so that we have something to report.

--invite ourselves into situations simply so that we can tell others that we were there when...

--allow our egos to inflate when people praise our sacrifices.

--feel like we are more important than we actually are.

--look down on the national people that we work with as if they need our constant influx of wisdom and knowledge.

Asking these questions laid out above is crucial to our hearts. It allows our humility to become a committed part of our hearts rather than a platitude said during prayer time.

Asking these questions very quickly becomes not just a way to become less busy, but a way to check our hearts as we submit our daily tasks to our Father.

Coffee to Your Door!

This a post for those of us living in China and find ourselves compromising our coffee standards by drinking boatloads of this:

 

Blue Eyes Coffee is offering fresh coffee from around the world, roasted and shipped from Yunnan Province. They are not a mass-bean-producing plant, but rather a family-owned company that will ship bags of coffee TO YOUR DOOR. That's right, I just told you something that actually makes life easier for you by living in China. Even if you don't like coffee, you should have it shipped to yourself just to remind you that there are things in life that are simple.

AND...

the owner is American, so you get to SPEAK ENGLISH ON THE PHONE! It doesn't seem to matter how long I've been here, I still feel like lisping sloth when I speak and listen to Chinese on the phone.

 

There are several different types and they can even put you on a yearly plan so that you don't even have to order the beans every month. We do tons of hosting, so knowing that beans are on their way is a huge advantage. The bags are a great price and we have had nothing but great customer service from these guys.

Here's the Taobao link. You can order directly from the Taobao store.


Or, you can go into the contact area for the email address or phone number and they will send you a full spread on all of their coffee options. Once you place an order, they will send you an invoice through taobao.


We just stumbled upon this company a few months ago and have been really pleased with the coffee. If you order, tell him we sent you so that he can continue to get the word out!

Releasing homeschool control

¹³ The carpenter stretches a line; he marks it out with a pencil. He shapes it with planes and marks it with a compass. He shapes it into the figure of a man, with the beauty of a man, to dwell in a house. ¹⁴ He cuts down cedars, or he chooses a cypress tree or an oak and lets it grow strong among the trees of the forest. He plants a cedar and the rain nourishes it. ¹⁵ Then it becomes fuel for a man. He takes a part of it and warms himself; he kindles a fire and bakes bread. Also he makes a god and worships it; he makes it an idol and falls down before it. 


¹⁷ And the rest of it he makes into a god, his idol, and falls down to it and worships it. He prays to it and says, “Deliver me, for you are my god!” Is. 44

Homeschool. 

There is a shield of control that is taken up when you decide to homeschool.  We convince ourselves that if we purchase the perfect curriculum or we have our children memorize the right Scriptures, that it will give birth to a child guaranteed to walk in holiness. 

All this curriculum

I have labored and agonized over my educational choices for my children. I've listened to experts convince me that this form of teaching or that writing assignment will be the closing arguments to a successful homeschooling career. 

Planning, researching, preparing, and asking questions is not wrong. It's when we put our full selves into those things and become resentful when our kids struggle that it is an issue. As a parent, we want a guarentee that something is going to produce our desired results. 

It seems as if the Israelites were wanting this very thing too. They measured and cut and fashioned. They shaped and nourished. And in the end, the only thing being produced was self-reflective idol of worship. While they were righteous in their planning and preparing, somewhere along the way, they lost sight of the end game. They became so focused on the details of preparation that they forgot that all of this working was unto the Lord. They weren't taking time to look up from their workbench to see if the Lord was pleased with the results. This is an enormous temptation in homeschooling. We wander around trying to get the best textbooks and use the latest educational theories, but in the end, the Lord is the one who teaches and trains our children in godliness. 

Giving it away 

We are to continue to be diligent in our teaching of Ancient Greece and the Pythagorean Theorem to our children. But let us not forget that we have to surrender their little hearts to the Lord. Offer the time of studies to the Lord in prayer everyday with your children. Remind them that you don't have all the answers. Point them to the fact that they can have all the answers, but if their heart is cold to the Lord, it's all vanity. For as much as they can solve math facts quickly, they need to be just as fast to offer to help a friend in need. 


I want to be able to control my children's hearts. I want to make godly decisions for them. Just because I make all the right decisions for their homeschooling, I am no entitled to the results. But the reality is that as they get older, decision ownership becomes an important part of their education. As I look back on my journey with the Lord, it is in the wrestling, the pain, the doubt, and the confusion that the Lord has reminded me that his hand extends out to my rescue. I need to afford my children the opportunity to grasp his hand too. And if I'm going to trust that his reach is long enough, I have to give up trying to rescue them myself through a solid education alone. This is an amazing post about things to pray for our children. 

Our trust and faith needs to be grounded in the Lord, and not simply in the educational choices we make for our children. We can't control their hearts, that is the Lord's territory. But we can bring their hearts into rooms of grace, truth, Scriptural curiosity, and humble question asking.

Why I love Chinese water parks

 

On Friday, the family packed up and we headed to a new water park in town. Water parks are a relatively new deal in China. As a matter of fact, most of our Chinese friends don't know how to swim. With their growing popularity, I thought I put together several things that I love about Chinese water parks. 

1. They have amazing play areas for the smaller kids. This area had a huge pirate ships, twisty slides, water guns, and tons of things to climb on. I love this because they are too short to ride the bigger slides, but they don't feel like they are missing out because there are some legit slides in the kid area. This one above was three levels, with big slides running down both sides.

  

2. Most of the women have real bathing suits on. They are modest, cute, and comfortable. I love Chinese swim suits. They look like you would actually be able to swim and go down a water slide without flashing your goods to the lifeguards.

 3. The kids on the other hand are wearing a different type of bathing suit. For being a modest culture, it cracks me up how naked kids get. Just last weekend, we saw a group of 8-9 year old boys changing their suits out by the pool. Nobody cares, nobody panics.

 

 5. There are very few lines for these big slides. People will climb the 85 sets of stairs to get to the top, but just watch others go down because it looks so frightening to them. This afforded our kids to get to go down each slide dozens of times. 

 6. In the background, you can see a large covered area. This is the smaller kids' area. It's totally covered. Chinese are deathly afraid of tanning. With this area covered, it kept us fresh and relatively not sunburned by the end of the day.

7. The snack bars include things like: rice and cabbage bowls, beef noodles, and sticks of grilled lamb. 

 

8. If you've known me for 2.3 seconds, you will know about this. I fear the water.  Take that back, I fear my children and their relationship with the water. This place had life vests for the public to use! I almost kissed their feet.

9. Rules are simply suggestions. Charis was too short for the big rides, but when we first got there, the lifeguards didn't care and let her go anyway. They let me bring in tons of snacks. 

10. It was small enough that we could all hang out together, but the older ones could go off from time to time without me feeling like I was letting them loose. 

We had such a great time together. With the kids getting older, these types of outings are getting more and more fun. We all commented that this was one of our best family outings so far. Blessed.

Homeschool Woes Part 2-This is the Redemption Part

Homeschooling has revealed so many weaknesses in me (which I vomited in this post) that sometimes I feel too fragile to teach my own children. But I'm beginning to understand that this type of fragility is what God wants to use to landscape my soul into something not just useful, but holy. God doesn't just want to use me as a vessel, but he wants to make my colors undescribable with human words. He wants my patience and joy and kindness to be so refined that the reflection from them seems to bounce like a chiseled prism held to the sun.These types of things don't happen by things being easy.

The kids and I were reading Isaiah 41 this week and my mind has fixated on verse 10 and 13:

"Fear not, for I am with you; be not dismayed, for I am your God; I will strengthen you, I will help you, I will uphold you with my righteous right hand."

And,

"For I, the Lord your God, hold your right hand; it is I who say to you, 'Fear not, I am the one who helps you."

I don't have to carry this load myself. It seems so simple when I type those words, but actually burying my face in surrender and not just giving up is quite another feat. Several times I have envisioned the Lord sitting by my bed while I'm angry, frustrated, tired, or pouting and he brushes back my hair to look at my face. In his mercy, he bends. He speaks directly into my eyes, his words slowing my rapidly beating heart. He whispers promises to a weary mom's soul:

"I am here.

You don't have to fear. I'm ultimately in charge of the well-being and education of your children.

I will be the one to breathe strength into your days, stop trying so hard to do this by yourself.

I got this.

This is going to be hard. You are on the struggling, incomplete side of eternity. Remember that and find comfort in the fact that one day, I'm going to make all things new. That's hope. 


Take my hand, stand up, dust yourself off, get out there, and saturate yourself in this gift I'm giving you. This homeschooling deal...it's a gift I'm giving you. Don't forget that.

You don't have to be a perfect teacher, you just have to be a mom who's vulnerable and forgiven. Being that for your kids will be more than teaching them why Rome fell. 

Stop looking at what other people are doing and look at me to remember why you are doing this. It's not for them, it's for me."

In both of those Isaiah verses, the Lord refers to using his right hand. This was the hand used to make contracts and promises. It's a promise of faithfulness and strength. As adults, we forget that we are also his children. We try to keep it together when sometimes we just need to curl up in God's words and listen to him tell us that things are going to be OK.

I'm holding on to these things this week. You see, God never promises this to be easy, he simply promises to be faithful. In these hard things, our eyes regain their focus on Jesus and off of ourselves.

That is a grace and I'm choosing to hold onto that today. 

Homeschooling Woes, I Need More Coffee

I slammed my knee into an exhausted, impenetrable homeschooling hurdle today.  The race always starts off with my spandex wedged into the appropriate places and glittering stars of academic bliss awaiting me at the finish line. I start running and clear the first few hurdles with relative ease. I clip my heals on a few; I straight up avoid some by running around them rather than jumping over them. But all in all, the race has gone as planned.

photo credit

And then we round the corner to summer.

As I'm running, I look up and this stretch of track seems to bleed into the horizon, never ending. It's the War and Peace section of the homeschooling year. You know you have to push through and finish, but man this is going to get painful.

I find myself muttering:

  "If you want to do the craft yourself it's on page 336. I'm tired."

 "If you aren't going to learn, I'm not going to teach." 

And, 

"If I hear you cry one more time, I'm gonna stick Jell-O in my eye." 

You see, we homeschool year round. With different people coming to visit, visa runs, and various things we have to leave town for, year round schooling just works better. But, it's about this time in the summer that I haven't just run out of steam, I've surrenedered to hitchhiking my way to the finish line. I don't even care if it's a drunk Pink Floyd groupie, I just need a ride to the end. The funny thing is that we don't have an end. I'm not organized enough to keep us on a good formal schedule, so we simply finish 2nd grade math on Monday and start 3rd grade on Tuesday. No bells, whistles, or graduations. I give them 5 kuai and tell them to get an ice cream-by themselves. It's all very grand and I'm sure they feel so deeply nurtured by this.

There is it.

All those lessons I've learned about training up my children in godliness and the benefits of tailoring my children's educations seem to be lost under the screaming dark angel saying, "Put them all in school and you'll get to actually finish a cup of coffee and a sentence involving a comma."

--I should spend more time praying over this. I try. Really I do. But I quickly find myself praying that I'd get mono so that I can take a nap.

--I should take a day off. If I do, it's fabulous and I feel so refreshed...until I wake up the next day. You see, resting has an eventual end which makes rest feel like a bad guaze-wrapped solution and when I have to get back to our routine, there are bits of bleeding flesh that have been ripped off after said rest.

--I try to remind myself of why I'm homeschooling and for that brief moment, I'm swept away in a Bette Midler song of homeschool nirvana. After those three melodious minutes are up, I shake the sentiment from my hair and remind myself that those platitudes have to be executed by me and me alone.

This is where I'm at today. I can sense the Lord tapping me on the shoulder. He's telling me to stop yelling my complaints so loudly, I'm disturbing all the other lovely families smiling their way through homeschool. There's redemption in this, I know it. I'm processing all of this with Jesus. He's teaching me things. But for today, this is all I've got.

Am I alone in this sentiment?

Makaria's 5th Birthday

 

 

 Well, Makaria is officially 5. This now brings me to an awkward 2 1/2 months were I have two 5-year olds in my home who are not twins. Explaining this to my community always brings a look of utter confusion and the assumption that we Americans don't know how to count. 

 

We had a little singing and cookie eating time at Makaria's school.With both a milk and egg allergy, we settled on non-cake things for our celebrations. We called them "Birthday, cookies cakes," at the school while pulling the "We foreigners do weird things" card with the Chinese kids. For them, birthdays ALWAYS mean cake, so we had to make up an explanation on the spot.

She decided that she wanted to go to McDonald's for her birthday meal. So we loaded onto the bus and headed into town for some fine dining.

 

We celebrated a little early because we had a dear friend that was moving back the States before Makaria's actual birthday and we wanted her there to celebrate with us. 

 

When you are a 5-year old girl, receiving wands and princess stamps is about the best thing to ever happen to you.

The fact that this sweet smile and joyful heart has been with us for 4 years makes me shake my head in disbelief. She still hasn't been able to figure out the adoption thing yet. We talk about it openly in our family and her most recent conclusions have been, "Mommy, you remember when I was a baby and you left me in the airport and then had to come back and get me?" And, "Mommy, remember how you went and got me in Ethiopia and then brought me back and put me in your stomach and then I came out?!" As a sidenote, I love that 5-year olds speak in commas and not periods.

 

As we went around and encouraged her with all the things we love about her, here are a few:

Loves to serve

Joyful

Such a curious student

Hard worker

Great little sister

Compassionate

 

The next day, we had friends over and had apple pie. I will say that making a desert for a child allergic to both milk and eggs is quite a feat. But we did it and had a wonderful time. Hubs' birthday is right around the corner, so we threw him into the birthday mix too. 

We love you sweet girl! Happy Birthday!