Home Tour

By popular demand, the home tour has finally come. At the end are also some pictures of some kids that hang out around our house from when I went out of our walls to take pictures. They begged me to take their pictures. I tried to put them in order, but it's kind of hard on the blog. The pictures are from outside our place, then walking in that big front gate towards our veranda, then a couple in the veranda, some from the living room, kitchen, our bedroom and the backyard. (Dad, this is for you!)

Celebrity Status

Have you seen my new movie? I haven’t either, but apparently the people of Cameroon have, and I’m the leading role! Every missionary has had to cope with not exactly “fitting in” in their new culture, and we are no strangers. We have white skin, weird clothes, a funny language and “lots of money”. At times the pointing and staring and hollering and laughing gets on my nerves. But last week I started thinking of it a bit differently. I looked at the faces of the little kids chasing after our truck as we drove by, hands waving wildly, bright smiling faces, and thought, they don’t mean any harm. Somehow they are filled with extreme joy every time we cross their path. It doesn’t matter if we walk or drive by 50 times in one day. As soon as they see us, they call out to us, “Nassara, nassara” (white man, white man) and laugh and wave, and they won’t stop until you wave back or at least throw a smile their way. For a while, I couldn’t understand how we could possibly be so interesting every single time. Won’t we eventually get boring? So then everything changed.

Now I think of myself as a celebrity. I am your favorite movie star walking down Hollywood Boulevard. Rob is your heartthrob of the silver screen. Hey, what the heck, our team is the whole cast of Friends! And you just saw us walking past you on the street! Aren’t you going to say hi? Think about it, we are different, we are seen as having tons of money (at least in comparison to them), we are a novelty, they wonder what our lives are like behind those “mansion” doors. No one actually knows our real name, so instead they yell out, “Nassara!” just like we might yellow out “Rachel!” instead of “Jennifer Aniston”. It makes the walks and rides oh so much more pleasurable. Now, instead of being annoyed by the constant attention from the onlookers, being annoyed at looking different and not fitting in, having to wave to every person we pass on the street; now I think, I am a celebrity, and I owe it to my fans! I wave with pride (they love me!), give the biggest smiles to the shyest and littlest ones on the side of the road, just to see their big grin appear. I stop in front of my gate, before opening the door to greet each one of the fans who have been anxiously waiting outside the door just waiting for the “Nassara” to come home. I gladly wear my head covering and clothes that they can respect so that I don’t lose favor in the eyes of my loyal fans. You have to be a good influence for the youngsters, you know?
This comparison gets even funnier as the days go by and I find new ways to identify myself as a celebrity (so much nicer than being annoyed all the time by the “lack of privacy”. On Friday night, Rob took me on a date to “Porte Mayo”. Porte Mayo is a nice little hotel here in town that is made up of several little bungalows, with a giant courtyard, beautifully decorated in “African Jungle” style with grass huts, hanging lanterns, African print tablecloths and bamboo furniture. It would certainly fly as an upscale romantic restaurant in the states if they would throw in a little AC! Owned by a Frenchman, the food is delicious (and no doubt imported, since I had pork on my pizza!). We were amazed as we sat there at this great little find in the middle of a small African town, eating delicious food and enjoying the stars (and Norah Jones playing over the speakers), that almost every patron at the restaurant was white! Maybe not that amazing to you, but when you are the minority the whole day long every day, it is a bizarre sight to be sitting at a restaurant with all white people. Now, any one of you who saw this restaurant would call it “cute” “quaint” “authenticly African”, but let me tell you, sitting there that night, I felt my “celebrity status” more than ever. This must be what it is like to be a star: dining at the finest restaurants, owning the nicest cars, being adored by your fans. Lovely! Who said it’s so bad being a missionary! …Now if only we could speak their language…

Week 2

It’s a nice Saturday morning here in Meskine. The sun is covered at the moment by a cloud cover. Very nice as it’s nearing the hot part of the day. We are extremely excited because, thanks I’m sure to many prayers, the electricity came back on after 4 days of hot, powerless days and nights, and it came on earlier than expected! That is somewhat unheard of around here. People had been saying to not expect it back on for possibly weeks. While we did end up having to throw out a lot of rotting food from the refrigerator, we were also able to salvage a lot.

Yesterday afternoon, after Arabic tutoring, the Carters and we decided that we needed something fun to look forward to at night, since we knew there’d still be no electricity, it would be hot and we weren’t sure what we’d eat for dinner. So, I suggested that I try and make a yummy dessert and we’d watch a movie on one of computers whose battery was still fully charged. It definitely worked out great. Despite the lack of electricity and refrigeration, I was able to come home and re-heat some leftovers that I’d been storing in the hospital’s freezer (shredded beef tacos), make tortillas (actually rob made them this time and they were fabulous!), and I found a recipe for pineapple upside down cake in the Wycliffe cookbook, and I had all the ingredients! All of it turned out deliciously…of course, we had to go through about 5 eggs before we found 2 that were not rotten, but in the end the cake was delicious. I thought it was funny as we sat with our measly little solar bulb, in the middle of West Africa munching down on tacos and pineapple upside down cake, and watching “We are Marshall”. It’s amazing what you can accomplish (and how God provides good things for us) It got even better when suddenly in the middle of the movie all the lights came on in the whole house and the fans started whirring and fridge light came on! We were all cheering! We couldn’t believe that it had come on. We turned some lights on just for the sake of having the light again, shut the fridge and freezer doors to start trapping some cool, put the leftovers from that dinner, which were going to be thrown out, into the freezer. It was great! We finished watching our movie with nice air blowing all around us from the fans.

We also had a fun afternoon at Madeleine’s house. Our house helper had asked me the other day when we were going to come visit her and I said, “How about Friday?” So, after we left the hospital from tutoring, we started on the 30 minute walk back towards our house. Being 2:30 in the afternoon, you can imagine it was quite toasty out, and there is a large portion of the walk that cuts through a dried up field, thus there are no trees and you walk through direct sun for about 10 minutes. Luckily, I had my white head covering on, and had remembered to soak it in water before we left, so it kept me pretty cool. Well, despite the detailed directions she had given us (“about half-way through the field, when you see the big tree that is buy a big burn pile, then turn right, you will see a metal corrugated steel door, go in there and that is our house…right!), we were unable to locate her house. We stopped and asked people if they knew her and where she lived, but they didn’t, in fact they didn’t really even know what we were asking because they didn’t really speak French. We greeted them in Fulfulde first and then they would just keep answering us in Fulfulde as well, even though we were speaking French, it was great fun. In the end, the answer was that they didn’t know who she was. Finally, I found some shade to wait in while Rob retraced our steps to see if he could find her. Eventually, she found him, they came and got me, and we made it to her house, about 45 minutes late. But that’s Africa time, right? We had a great time sitting and talking with Madeleine and Musa (her husband) in their house. Musa is a nurse at the Meskine hospital here. It was actually a very nice house for African standards. It was built out of mud bricks, with curtains in the windows and doorways. It was very clean with big plastic woven mats on the floor and plastic patio chairs to sit in. One of the rooms in the house was full to the ceiling with onions. The women stockpile them during the hot season, and then sell them for a lot during the rainy season when they aren’t as prevalent. So they store them in their homes. We met their four children; three girls and one boy…they said they are still hoping for 8 more and thought it extremely hilarious and unbelievable that Rob and I both came from a family of “only one other child!” I’d never seen them laugh so hard. It was a nice time and it was actually cooler in their house than it was in ours once we got home. I guess they’re better at planning out their homes for the best breezes.

I had asked another missionary who has worked here for a long time, how we should properly take our leave when we were ready to go. We found out that we needed to say that we needed to go, and then sit and talk for about 20 more minutes. I was glad that we asked, and it worked like a charm. We said we needed to go and nobody budged. In fact, we started a brand new topic of conversation. After a while, we announced that we were leaving. I gave them a giant ripe avocado as a gift, and I think they really liked it (she told me avocados are her favorite “fruit”, but to buy just one avocado, would be about 1 days wages for her, as she would have to take a taxi into the town, and then the avocado itself is what she gets paid for about 2 hours of work). Musa and Madeleine then proceeded to walk us out of their yard and they kept walking with us. Apparently, they told us that it is polite to walk your guests halfway home, and that they did. It was kind of nice because they knew everyone that we passed on the way and stopped and said hi, and introduced us to some. For the first time walking down the road, people (children) weren’t yelling (white man, white man!) at us, we finally fit in a little, because we were walking with some insiders. It was a nice feeling (see, we’re normal, we have friends just like you!).

Time to go prepare some lunch. We’re meeting up with Carters in a bit to go refill our fridges with some mangos and bananas for the weekend, to go search for an alleged ice cream shop in Maroua, and to check some email at the hospital. They’re going on a date tonight, so we are going to have fun playing with Ben (and seeing if we can find the French National Soccer Championship game on the short-wave radio!!)

(the pictures are [top to bottom]: homemade vanilla ice cream that was a welcome success!, a picture outside our window of the sandstorm last week, Karen washing veggies the first week we were here.)

Official First Week

It’s officially one week today that we have been in Meskine. It seems amazingly longer than that! Right now I’m sitting at my dining table. All the curtains in the house are closed right now, because although it is only 88 this morning (a new low!), it feels like it’s 100 because of the humidity today. Cameroon is different than where we will be in Chad, because it’s a bit more tropical. The sun was pouring in when we woke up, meaning the alarm that was still to wake us up, was a bit useless. We rushed around the house closing up the curtains to block out the blazing sun, and started a pot of oatmeal. We haven’t yet found a good cold alternative to our normal breakfast choice. I suggested frozen oat pops, but Rob didn’t go for that. My house helper, Madeleine knocked on the front gate around 8:10am. We scurried around the house trying to find our clothes (to them, wearing shorts and a tank top is like walking around in our underwear.). We greeted each other, and she started on all the dishes from yesterday. A big help here, where we basically have to wash all of the dishes three times in order to sterilize them. Today she will also wash our laundry for me an cut up all the veggies for dinner. Usually people have the house helpers cook all their meals, but for now, I love cooking so much, I am just letting her prepare all the food and then I will cook it.

I’m sure it seems very weird to hear about having a helper in the house, but it’s actually very necessary here. The days before I had her, I spent the entire day either cooking, cleaning, sterilizing, disinfecting, etc. This left no time to actually do the work that we are here to do. This way, we are able to study our Arabic books, go to tutoring lessons and meet people in the village with whom we can speak Arabic. We are so thankful to have this help. It is also nice just to have someone around to talk to in the mornings and to teach us a few Fulfulde phrases that we can use with the village children and people we pass on the streets. “Jam Jam” is the new phrase that we learned today. It basically means both “how are you doing?” and “I’m doing fine”. (Similar to the French “ca va?”.).

So now, after giving all the instructions to Madeleine, we are preparing for the 30 minute walk over to the hospital compound. There we will send some email (and post this blog!), and meet Habiba, the Arabic language tutor. Then we will try to bum a ride home from someone so we can eat lunch before the heat of the day. We’re having shredded beef tacos! I made them last night, even the tortillas! Forget store bought, these things were yummy! We also made some great guacamole from the avocado that Jane bought us on Saturday. Well, off to work! Enjoy the AC for us!

My Afternoon in Meskine

After several hours at a hotel pool in nearby Maroua, with friends from the hospital, a great meal of beef kebabs and french fries for me and Tilapia kebabs and plantains for Rob, a nice cold orange Fanta (soda), and a bit of a break from the sweltering heat, the afternoon changed pace. Sheltered from our normal daily routine and the busy crowded streets of Maroua, we reluctantly pulled ourselves from the cool blue pool, changed out of our would be “revealing” bathing suits and into skirts that sweep the top of our dusty sandals, a t-shirt, hot from the sun, and wrap up our hair and heads to be properly covered. It’s amazing how quickly the coolness of the pool faded away. We gathered our things, payed for our stay, and opened the doors to the outside world. Motorbikes rushed by, all sorts of sounds and languages that I didn’t understand whisked around me. We got into the steamy truck and bounced along down the street. We had a few stops to make before we headed home. No big deal, I thought, it has been such a nice cool and relaxing day. The first stop left us on the side of a very loud and crowded market. Rob negotiated the prices of three trash bins with people who knew only broken French (they speak the local language, Fulfulde, in the markets). After about 20 minutes. Success, three dusty trash cans with lids (important!) got placed next to me in the back of the truck. While waiting for Rob, Rachael and I had hopped out and gone into a bakery (boulangerie) to look for some bread so we wouldn’t have to bake any that night. After surveying the large mass of flies that had taken up residents on the baguettes we decided that we weren’t really craving bread anymore. So our journey continued. Bouncing along, honking at passing goats, zooming around motorbikes. Stop! Rachael spotted a food store, the kind that might sell flour. I had purchased flour the day before only to find out that even after sifting it, it still had some mysterious brown specs all throughout. So, we entered the store, which was probably nearing 100 degrees inside. Some great finds! We got two kilos (4lbs.) of flour (I tried to peek in and check for the mysterious brown specs, but wasn’t given the privilege), a small notebook, tomato paste, a bottle of imported vanilla (from France), and a bottle of very dusty shampoo. As we stood to pay, not realizing that Rachael understood Arabic, the lady next to us commented to her friend that we were very rich (we were paying with the equivalent of a $10 bill).
Back in the truck and off to drop off some mail at a friend’s house in town. Not being on the main paved road, we bounced along a bit slower and a bit bouncier to get to their place. At the end, they weren’t there, but we left the mail with the guards. By the time we waited in the hot car to see if our friends were there, said goodbye to the guards, and got back to the paved road, I thought about how nice it would be to have been magically transported from the cool pool to my couch…Maybe next century! We stopped at the hospital compound (yeah, still driving, this is now back in Meskine, the suburb where we live, no paved roads here…lots of bouncing). We were stopping here to pick up a bag of beef that Roy and Jane, a British doctor and his wife, had picked up for me at the market that morning. You have to buy the meat in the morning so that it hasn’t sat out in the sun all day long. The meat market in Meskine is only open once a week and I had come in after it, so this meat delivery was very much appreciated. We bounced along home and unloaded all our goods. Memories from the cool clean pool had long faded. Children gathered all around as the “nasara” (the white people) unloaded their strange goods from the car. They attempted to talk to us, but we don’t their language. I just shrugged my shoulders, said “How are you?” in French and we entered our gates. Ah, home.
I opened the bag of meat, which turned out to be meat, veggies and fruit! I was ecstatic. I hadn’t bought any fresh produce since I’d been here, so I’d been rationing our canned green beans and corn until market day in Meskine. But here in my hands I had things I didn’t even know you could buy here: Green Peppers, Leaks, Carrots, Green Beans, Potatoes, Bananas, tomatoes, cabbage and what…an avocado!!! I was jumping around the house! Rob, I’m going to make us a real meal tonight! Not just bread and jam with canned green beans! Then the real fun began. Oh yes, I need to wash the produce before I put it away. The process: Fill a bin with well water and dish soap, scrub each veggie to get of dirt and any critters (I didn’t find any this time!). Then transfer the produce to a clean bucket that I filled with 1 gallon of filtered water and a capful of bleach. These need to soak for at least 20 minutes. The cabbage didn’t fit, so I had to put it in its own bucket. Sadly, though, we ran out of filtered water after filling up the cabbage bucket about half way…hmmm, this isn’t good. Well, I’ll just flip it over and soak it for 40 minutes…that’s okay, right? Oh, and is it okay that the peppers are floating and not actually submerged? Like I know!?
Well, it’s getting late, so I need to start dinner. Rob goes outside to see if the well tank has dried up but the ladder is missing. Eventually he finds out that there is still water, it’s just the filter that has dried up and we have to wait for it to refill until tomorrow. Dinner was going to be Tuna Casserole. Although I had decided I wouldn’t bake it because it was 95 degrees in the kitchen and the thought of raising the temp via the oven to 350 was not appealing. I open the can of tuna, Rob chops the onions. Oh, there’s no pan left for me to use, we haven’t washed them from breakfast…That’s a process to (washing, filtered water, boiling, I won’t go into details). Okay, a clean pot! Now, I need some milk for the recipe. Oh, no milk. But here’s milk powder! Three spoonfuls to one glass? Okay…alright, now what? Finally, the recipe is finished. I planned to have leftover green beans for dinner, but they were in the fridge. With no microwave, I needed to heat them on the stove, but I had no will left. So we sat down with sort-of tuna casserole and cold green beans. We washed it down with our malaria medicine that we had forgotten to take at lunch. We sat looking at each other at dinner…I guess we still have to rinse the bleached veggies, but there’s no filtered water. We decided to use our drinking water from the fridge, because the veggies couldn’t sit out all night, and hoped the filter would refill by morning.
At 10 o’clock, after all the cleaning, spraying the ants that had surrounded the food trash bin, watching an episode of Cosby on the computer, turned off all the fans, killed a roach, 2 crickets and a centipede, the thermometer said 92, and I crawled underneath the mosquito net of our bed, and closed my eyes…dreaming of that far away time when I was laying in the pool…ah!

Did I Get in the Wrong Line?

Sometimes I sit and wonder why I was chosen for this job. The other night I was overwhelmed with the chaos that is my life. I thought back over the last two years. I moved to a new country, into a "quaint" little 15th century apartment with no sun in which we were trapped for 8 hours one frightful night, three weeks after arriving, when someone threw a rock through our second-story window in an attempt to break in. Without a phone or internet or any way to call for help, Rob and I sat huddled together, barricaded in our room in the dark, me trembling for hours, him praying for our safety. Shortly thereafter we moved into a new apartment, much better than the first. About 1 month after that move, we found out we were expecting a new little baby. Yeah! We celebrated our 2 year anniversary in Geneva and joyfully followed the growth of our little girl. 7 months later, on our vacation, we lost our little girl, and were flown back to France where for the first time, and on the same day, I went through labor and delivery of a child, and for the first time, laid my child to rest. I saw for the first time my last name on a gravestone. For the first time, I felt the most grief, pain and sadness of my entire life thus far. I spent the next months of my life trying to keep my head above the mire of depression and continue on with normal life.

In January of this year, Rob and I decided that God had said "no" to another baby for this time, and that we should plan our move to Chad for April. We took a short vacation to the US to visit family and have some time to rest. With us, we took all of our clothes and belongings that we wouldn't be taking to Chad, we purchased the final necessary items for a move to Africa...and then we found out that the rebel army had invaded N'Djamena, the capital and our team was being evacuated. We came back to France to sit through week after week of meetings during which we try to determine our plan of action. Do we wait in France, can we move to Chad, do we go to another country, do we go home? We make decisions and the next day find out that all the information has changed. We make new plans and find out the next day that the same thing has happened. And in the midst of all this, I continue to watch almost every woman that I know get pregnant, while God still apparently shakes His head to me. In the midst of the uncertainty, I still have to deal with the reality of my own pain, that few can imagine or know is still so vivid and real to me as it was on this day 9 months ago.

I was thinking the other day, God, I didn't ask for this. I got in the wrong line. This is not what I want. When I was 16 years old, twelve years ago, I told God that I wanted to have my life work be full time ministry, to thank Him for what He had done in my life; for saving me. But when I said that I wanted to be a missionary, I didn't say that I wanted to do the "hard work." I didn't say that I wanted to be fighting my way to the village through a war zone. I didn't say that I wanted to be sitting at my kitchen table reading the US Army Ranger's Field Manual for Outdoor Survival and making an "Evacuation Bag Packing List". All I wanted to do was tell the T people about Jesus. That's it! I'm tired of being stressed out, having to make life and death decisions. I literally do not know what each new day holds.

Rob and I were on a hike the other day, and during this one part of the hike, you turn around the corner, and ahead of you is this very long stretch of path; you can hardly see the end. When I rounded that corner, I looked up at Rob and said, "I don't think I can do this anymore." We'd already been hiking for about 5 hours, my feet were blistered, it was getting windy and cold, the sun had been behind the clouds for quite a while, and we were low enough in the trees now that we couldn't see the valley anymore to know how close to the bottow that we were. He promised me that after this long stretch we would be ten minutes from the bottom. Now, this stretch of the path wasn't any more draining than any other part, but the fact that I could see so much of it, made it extremely daunting and left me wanting to give up. It made me think about our life journey. If God had shown me at any point in the last 12 years how long this strech of the path was going to be, I would have chosen a different hike. Hands down. And I've thought, when I beg Him to let me know what is going to happen in the future with our lives, I think He is wise not to show me, because I would most likely pick a different hike. He is good. Is my life chaotic? Yes. But I praise the Lord that He is kind enough to show me nothing of what will happen in the future.

These difficult times, feelings of uselessness, hopelessness, fear and pain have begun to teach me a difficult lesson. That is that although God is pleased to use me in His plans, I am not central to them, and they are so much bigger than me and my little world that I cannot make sense of them. Our friends told us the other day how they were trying to give their 17mo. son some homemade bread for breakfast instead of his normal cereal and yogurt, because the homemade bread is what he would have to start eating in Chad. They said that he screamed and cried when they gave him the bread, because it wasn't His normal breakfast. I asked why he didn't like the bread, and they said, "Oh, he likes it fine, He just doesn't want to eat it for breakfast because that's not what He's used to. But it's better that we start giving it to Him now, because then it will be much easier for Him to adapt when we are finally in Chad." It really is true how much my relationship with God is like that of a parent and a child. Children know nothing of the things of life, of the "Big Picture". There's just no way they can comprehend it, and neither can I comprehend the things of God. When people tell me things like "This is all in God's plan" I used to think, what a rude thing to say...and how could allowing me to hurt really be in God's plan? But the thing is, there are things in life that hurt because they have to (immunization injections for example) but the child doesn't understand the necessity of the pain, and there are things that God allows because it is preparing us for some future event (even if that be simply drawing us closer to Him, which He knows will really bring us more happiness). It's just so hard to see, isn't it, being that we are children. Only God knows why Ella had to die so early, but He allowed it for a reason, and He has it under control, and I choose to believe that my Father knows exactly what He's doing with our chaotic lives right now, and that this is ultimately for a greater good.

And Now For Christmas!

Rob and Dutch friend Maarten playing the song "Layla" (Eric Clapton) and "Moondance" (Van Morrison/Michael Buble) at the year-end Christmas party at IFALPES. Our teachers performing a hilarious song which made fun of things that happen daily at IFALPES (teachers are l-r: Pascaline, Pascale, Sandra, Nathalie, Bernadette, Corrine).

Making my mom's (really my grandma's) famous delicious Christmas cookies. There were 70 to frost, and I have to admit that Rob was the fastest froster the Erickson family has ever seen! We frosted while watching "It's a Wonderful Life" for me, the first time in its entirety. I'm now a fan!

Then, Christmas Dinner and Christmas Eve (below) at our house. In the picture at the table (l-r): Rob, Julie, Sue, Margit, Annemarie (Margit's sister), Rivers and Becky Camp (with Team, going to Chad), David and Rachael Carter; the babies, Ethan Camp and Benjamin Carter were out of the picture. We dined on avocado salad with a honey vinaigrette (by Becky), pulled pork tacos (me), sauteed apples with Thyme (margit), sweet corn tomalito (Rachael, thanks for being brave and trying it out, it was perfect!) like the kind they have at Chevy's in America, and some delicious appetizers of crab dip, spinach artichoke dip and homemade salsa. For desert we ate Black Forest pie (Charla) and Pear Cranberry Crisp (made by ROB!!!). Fun had by all.

We missed our little girl on Christmas, but Rob and I enjoyed our first Christmas alone as a couple on Christmas morning. We were also thankful for all our families and supporters who sent us gifts, and for our great friends and team who made it a really special time of year!

Thanksgiving Festivities (Belated)

Well, here they are, pictures of our Thanksgiving and Christmas times. Thanksgiving was spent with other missionaries, and one other American from school at David and Rachael Carter's house. Rachael did a beautiful job of decorating the table and organizing the day. We watched Elf afterwards and had lots of fun! We at yummy Turkey, mashed potatoes and gravy, and every other traditional food you can imagine. I even made cranberry sauce for the first time (and even kind of liked it!...thanks to Margit for finding the elusive cranberries after they disappeared from the stores two days before Thanksgiving!)



Step 1: Wash the Cranberries and pull out the shriveled ones. Step 2: Peel and grate the fresh ginger and prepare other ingredients. Step 3: Add all the ingredients to the pot and cook the cranberries until they start to pop (they really do pop!). Sorry, no finished product picture, it wasn't that interesting!


I also made homemade buttermilk biscuits, and my new (for the last three years) Thanksgiving tradition: Carrot Cake!

We had lots of fun together, even though the world around us had no idea it was a holiday (our fellow classmates were in class at the time).

Can't wait til next year! Mmm! I'm getting hungry. Do you think it will be like this in Chad?

Musings

Last night was a particularly difficult night for me. I found myself once again crying for hours in the later hours of the evening, triggered by who knows what; some little thing that I didn't see coming, inconsequential, really, but just enough to remind me of the underlying sadness; which, at times, I can wishfully think has really left for good, but then arises and explodes like a volcano.

What is my sadness from, I pondered as my tears began to dry up and my body relaxed. What is it really? Why am I always so sad, so hopelessly and helplessly sad? Am I sad still for my lost daughter, or is it something else? Is it still okay to be sad, now, six months later? I don't really know. But as I sat and thought, and later as I reflected, I realized something. I am sad over losing my daughter. I feel the loss of what could of been deeply often. When I sit at the physical therapist's office with electrodes pulsating on my still damaged knee, I'm reminded twice weekly, of the whole horrible incident. Plenty of time to sit and think and to be reminded of all the pain. Even today I received a certified letter from Spain; what was it? A bill; for the appointment at which I was told that my daughter had died. Unjust? Cold? No, just life that goes on despite me. So yes, everything that happened still seems much more fresh and tender than I ever thought it would be at this point. That is definitely a contributing factor. But what else?

I read an old email today from a friend of mine in California; much older and wiser than me, that told me to give thanks for all the hurts and hardship in my life. Give thanks!? No! Okay, I know that the Bible says to give thanks in everything "for this is God's will in our lives." But come on! I realized today that in my sadness, in my depression, while much of it is well-founded, normal, expected, there is some depression and sadness that is there because I am choosing to stand up tall and proud before God, rather than bowed down and humble. I have felt like, when you lose a child, it is something that is not supposed to happen, so of course, God now owes me. You know, to make up for what He took away...right? I have somehow allowed myself to think that even though I know we are supposed to be content in all situations, that it does not apply to me in this situation. No one is supposed to be content that they lost a child, right? Am I supposed to be content, even if this is God's will in my life, am I supposed to be content that His will was to take away my daughter, leave me in this foreign country, away from my family who I miss immensely, cause the country I'm going to come to the brink of war, leave me with no real direction in life, and not allow me to yet become pregnant again. I am supposed to be content with that? No, obviously not (I've been saying to myself). He owes it to me to make my life better. Not in a mean way, you know, just like, God, how can you be doing this to me? Today I started to accept the fact (or at least acknowledge) the fact that this whole life and world is not about me, it's about Him. It is not to say that in acknowledging this that I relinquish my unquenched, heart-wrenching desire to have a child, that has not diminished one bit. I will still pray for a child until I hear His answer. But it has just adjusted my perspective the tiniest of bits to see that deciding that I am exempt from contentedness in Him, even in my circumstances is not right. And that while He grieves with me, and in His perfect world there would be no death or crying, and so I know that He doesn't desire to see me in pain or to have allowed Ella to die, but at the same time, I must acknowledge that I must obey him despite the sorrow. His desires for my life have not changed. His desires for me to be a godly woman, to content only in Him (even more than my child), and to allow Him to fill the very large void I feel in my soul is still there. This is a hard word for me. I know the tears will continue, but I hope they will be just out of sadness in missing my little baby girl during what would have been her first Christmas with us, and not because I am angry at God for "ruining my life." Well, back to the mundane.

He Really Answers Prayers

Praise God! That's really all I have to say right now. I decided to blog about this rather than sending it in an email because I think the story merits longevity.

On Sunday, I was really worn out from having guests visiting for the whole week, so I decided to stay home from church and listen to a sermon online from my home church (COD), and have my own time of prayer. I really enjoy doing this, because it hits so much closer to home than French church, even when I understand everything that they're saying. Anyway, I remember distinctly praying on Sunday, "God, we have been here for over a year now, and we have been given so many opportunities to share the gospel with people, but never any fruit that we know of. Why?" I prayed that he would use our team mightily and that He would use me and show me that He was present and working through us. I prayed this prayer earnestly, and I am very, very happy to tell you that He answered. I'm sorry if I sound surprised, but I just was surprised by His answer. I was also encouraged, in the midst of still working through the loss of our daughter and dealing often with emotions of anger and feelings of abandonment by God, that He answered so obviously, reminding me in a way so like Him, that He is here with me; He has not left, and He is using me; even though I don't understand all that He has allowed in my life. At least I know that He's still there, and He still thinks I'm worth using! Yeah!

Today, I was to give a presentation of 15-20 minutes on any topic of my choice in French. Our teacher gives us this opportunity once you are in the highest class. I really haven't ever done one before, and so a few weeks ago, I decided to sign up. I had thought that I would tell the story of Hosea and Gomer. But I as I began to work on it last week, I realized that I couldn't really talk about that for 15 minutes. So I began to think of other things. I rememberd at a story-telling conference a few weeks ago, they had told us that it is important to tell real and personal stories so that it will help people open up to your message. So, I thought about talking about Ella. But, as I thought about that, I realized that I wasn't ready yet to talk about that in public. So, of course, as the days passed, I got kind of worried. I prayed that God would show me what to do. Well, Tuesday, one day before my presentation, I still didn't know what He wanted me to do. I said to Rob, "I've been given this open platform to say anything I want, why isn't God showing me what He wants me to talk about?" I waited, and waited, and still I had nothing, come Tuesday night. Of course, I was getting desperate. Well, that day, another student had done a presentation on their country's Christmas-like holiday. So I thought, I guess I could just talk about Christmas...But that's kind of boring, I thought, and not really personal.

By Wednesday morning, you can imagine I was a bit stressed, and finally decided that God wasn't going to show me what to do, and that I was just going to talk about Christmas, because it was the easiest thing to throw together in the few free hours I had. I begrudgingly worked on the presentation, struggling through every step. "Why won't God just show me what He wants me to talk about, that would be so much better than this?!" Well, it wasn't until about midnight last night, while Margit and I were practicing all that I would say, that I started to realize, this was what He wanted me to talk about! "Somehow", based on the transitions I needed in my presentations, it had turned out that I would share also about the death of Christ on the cross at the end of my presentation. Now, I had never planned on this being a gospel presentation...but apparently Someone else had! I looked at Margit and said, "Oh! Now I know that this is what God had wanted me to talk about, because I would not have otherwise talked so blatently about the gospel, but I guess that's what He wanted!"

Anyway, Margit and Rob helped me prepare, even translating the story "The Gift of the Magi" by O. Henry, into French for me! (Read the English Version). I stayed up very late preparing everything and baking cookies for the end of the presentation. I got up early and reviewed and then went to class. I was so nervous. My stomach was aching throughout the whole first two hours of class. During the break, Margit prayed with me. We prayed that God would make the class' hearts open and soft. I prayed that God would use me to say whatever He wanted to these people, especially Corrine, our teacher, for whom I have the greatest desire to see her saved. Then it was my turn.

I stood in front of the class, and as soon as I started talking, my stomach stopped hurting. I began, "I want everyone to think of the best gift they've ever received." We talked for a minute about that and then I said, "Well, I'm going to tell you about the best gift that I ever received, but to start off, I'm going to read this Christmas story about gift-giving." I read the Gift of the Magi with a facility that I knew was not my own. I could hear my own voice pronouncing the words like I'd never done it before. I read with enthusiasm and expression so that almost every eye in the room looked at me in wonderment like little children listening to a story. At times I would wonder if they were understanding, and then when I got to the climax, I heard some gasps, "No, Really?" they murmured, following the plot of the story. I guess they were understanding!

After reading the story which has to do with sacrificial gift-giving, I said how the best gift that I ever received was like that story. The person who gave it to me, had to pay a lot in order to be able to give it. I said, "But it wasn't money that He had to give, He had to give up something very precious in order to pay for the gift." Not yet revealing the gift, I continued by saying that the story of this present had actually began centuries before I was born. I then recounted the story of Jesus' birth, from the prophecy of Isaiah to the stable in Bethlehem. I tried to tell it like a real story that had happened, and I think they were able to identify with that.

I ended with the line, "And it was in that stable that Jesus was born..." I paused and my teacher looked up and said, "But, Karen, how was that the best gift that you ever received?" I said, "That is a good question" (I was actually hoping for this question), and I said, "You see, there is one little part of the story that I haven't told you yet, and it is that 32 years after Jesus' birth, He actually died for me. Yes, He was killed to pay for my sins so that I could live with Him forever. So for me, the greatest gift that I ever received was that God came to earth and died for me to pay for my sins." I stopped there. I told them that in order to help them remember the story, I had brought them each little gifts. I handed out individually wrapped little chocolate chip cookies that I had made.

But it doesn't really end there! My teacher asked if anyone had questions, and I figured no one would really ask anything, because no one usually does, especially for a topic like this. But, actually before allowing anyone else to ask me anything, my teacher said, "And why did you decide to talk about this gift?" For a few seconds I just looked at her like she was crazy. She knows that we are Christians and that we aren't afraid to share our beliefs, and yet she is asking me such a question? She knew what I would say, why was she asking me this? I asked a clarifying question to make sure I understood her and she said, yes, you understood me right. So I thought, how else to answer except to say that the fact that Jesus died for my sins and for the sins of the world is what drives my whole life and that I think that it's very important for everyone to hear about it. I was still kind of in shock, like, "you're going to really let me just stand up here and say this in front of the whole class?" But it was not her who was "letting me", was it? I got asked questions about Chad, and if I believed God had told me to go there, and questions about how I could possibly spend 20 or more years of my life translating the Bible for these people, and why it was necessary to go to Chad.

Through the entire time of questioning that continued open and unhindered like that, I just felt like God had chosen this day for these people to sit and hear from Him; to hear from the God of the universe; what a privelege! If I've ever felt before like I was simply the body that God used to make His voice be heard among those people, it was today. What a privilege for me. I guess He did have a plan in mind all along. Do you know who God chose to speake to today: 2 Chinese girls, 1 American, 2 Russians, 1 girl from the Chech Republic, 2 Canadians, a Ukranian, a Dutch, a Spaniard, and a French teacher who is oft prayed for. Wow.

All I can say, is praise God, and thank you for praying with us today. He really does answer prayers.

Our Life in Pictures

Our Friends Part Ways: The McKenzies boarded their plane to Chad on October 14th. We already miss them so much! Who could resist that smile? (Jocelyn, 2 1/2 yrs with Karen; and Annelise, 5 with Margit). After living together with Margit in her tiny apartment for 2 weeks, they may have been ready to go, but we were really sad to see them leave. As they walked into the security area, we got up on the chairs and looked through the glass, waving all the time. As they passed the metal detectors, the kids could see us anymore, so Stephen lifted each one up to wave a last goodbye. They're in Chad now, and facing a lot of difficulties, but we know the Lord has led them there at this time, and He sees everything and is taking good care of them.

After we dropped off the McKenzie's at the airport in Lyon, we decided to go an have lunch together downtown at Subway! Yes, there is a real live Subway in Lyon, very exciting! And it was even open despite being Sunday. We had a yummy lunch, and afterwards, Rob and I went to a big park there where we took a nap in the sunshine, walked around, and rented a little row boat to go out on the lake. In the midst of all our recent life changes, and then saying goodbye to our good friends and leaders, there was for a little while, memories of calmer more peaceful times, floating silently on that lake. Here's my cutie of a husband rowing our boat for us. (He's a keeper!). I like this picture because it captures Rob how I usually see him: face to face, with a smile so radiant it always brings me joy, eyes that are laughing and saying 'I love you', steering our boat through the waters, at times calm, and many times not, with God's light shining down on him, guiding him through. I love you Rob!

The Cinema Museum in Torino, Italy: We took a day trip with our school to Torino. It was very chilly, but a beautiful day. This museum was our favorite part, especially when we got on the glass elevator suspended in the middle of the museum, all the way to the top! (Below: Michiko, Japanese friend; Rob; Emma, SIL missionary to Chad; Karen; Margit). We enjoyed walking around a morning market, eating real Italian pizza and pasta, and we even managed some gelatto, even though it was nearly freezing out!

Pumpkin Carving Party! On Halloween, we got together and reveled in the fact that Chambery decided to carry real pumpkins this year (I got mine for just 1 Euro!) Two of our classmates that came (Michiko from Japan on the left and Martin from the Netherlands, with the black t-shirt on the far right) had never before carved pumpkins and had a lot fun, especially on the part where you pull out all of the guts! As you can see, there were a lot of creative and interesting designs!

Cupcakes anyone! Yum, pumpkin spice!

Autumn in Chambery

Well fall is in almost full swing here in Chambery. It's actually been quite temperate here, but some days have been a little crisp. I thought I'd include a little picture journal of our last few months here. Enjoy!

September: This picture is of me, Margit and Judith in Valence. Valence is a pretty little town about two hours south west of Chambery, by car. After Judith left IFALPES, she went to work at a camp just outside of Valence run by other Dutch people. When Rob was in the states in September, Margit and I went to visit her in Valence. We're pictured here eating at a little cafe. She's back in Holland now, and I really wish she were still here. She is a great friend and really fun to be with.

October: The picture to the right is of Brian and Becky Schrader, and their 4 month old son, Seth. Brian and Becky visited our team for a week for a sort of two-way interview. They have applied to join our team going to Chad! How Pioneers works is that, after applying to the organization, you can apply to join a specific team. They have applied to ours and now it is up to us to discern if they are a good fit with the team. Brian and Becky currently live in Illinois where Brian is a P.A. (Physician's Assistant) and Becky is a Veterinarian. Their newest addition, Seth, is pictured here, and they also have a 2 year old daughter, named Eden. They have a big heart for missions and for Chad. We had a lot of fun with them while they were here, and are really excited about the possibility of them joining our team in the near future. If they are accepted, they are planning on moving to Chambery for language school in about a year.

October: Our camera was a little fuzzy this day, but you can still see some of the beauty surrounding us on this hike. Yes! I said hike! Some of you know that I haven't been able to do a lot of physical activity in the last few months because of my knee injury in London. Weight bearing exercise (like climbing and descending) are difficult. I really wanted to be able to go on this hike, and so we found a way to drive nearly to the top of the mountain and do a fairly flat hike to the peak. With the help of my wonderful husband and two giant walking sticks I managed my way to the top. Don't mind the fact the Jocelyn, the McKenzie's 2-year old daughter beat me there! Anyway, in this picture (right) you see the "Dent du Chad" (Tooth of the Cat), as it is called. You can actually continue on the hike to get to that "dent" behind me, but it requires a lot more work, steep cliffs on either side of you, and at times, pulling yourself up by ropes...I didn't think I was quite up for that yet....Maybe next week! You can see some of the beautiful changing leaves from the picture on the left above; it was really beautiful. Click on the link to the left to see Stephen McKenzie's pictures of the hike, too.

Okay, it's a little out of focus, but the platform that I'm standing on, is at the top of a ramp where the people stand to go paragliding (jumping off the side of the mountain with a parachute on). At the end of that ramp is nothing, just the open air. Rob wanted me to stand closer to the edge for a better picture, but I said no way! Paragliding is really popular around here, on any clear day, you are bound to see little colored dots all throughout the sky next to all the mountains. Being at the top of this ramp confirmed my decision to never do it!

Until Next Time!

Nothing Can Separate Us

From the love of God. Over the past long, arduous three months, I have longed to feel the love of God on a minute by minute basis. Sometimes my pain is so great that I think I am uncapable of any other feeling. I have rarely in my life felt emotional pain that hurt so badly that you actually feel it in your body. The death of my "auntie Lil" when I was thirteen years old gave me my first taste of that kind of sadness. But since then it has been rare. In some of my times of sadness over the last few months, I would cry out to God to take this pain away from me, being too much for me to handle in any given moment. And I'll tell you, it scares me that we are capable of such feelings. People have asked me if God has been a comfort to me during this time. I have replied that without God, I could not have survived, and that is true. I have testified to non-believers at school that without the hope that I have in God who is in control of all and promises eternal life with Him, that I couldn't go on. But to my Christian friends, I have said that the comfort from God is still in my head, not my heart. I have still felt very jealous of those all around me who have been blessed with healthy children, or are carrying to term their healthy babies. I continue to ask God how He could allow this to happen to me and what good any of this will do. I continue to feel deep pain. Don't get me wrong, the head part of me knows that God has been by me every step of the way, guiding my path, keeping me alive, and giving me everything that I need. But sometimes it is hard to let any other feelings into the heart.

This morning I was struck by a verse I have read even in the past month, but hadn't noticed this. Try to read it like you are reading it for the first time (Romans 8:35,37-39):

"Who shall separate us from the love of Christ? Shall trouble or hardship or danger or sword?...No, in all these things we are more than conquerors through Him who loved us. For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord."

Nothing will be able to separate us. Nothing. That is what struck me. I have always read this verse as related somewhat to salvation. Once saved, always saved, right? Yeah, but I think there is more. It's talking about the love of God. When Paul talks about "death" we usually think of our own death. Death will not separate us from God if we are His children. But I thought of it in a different way this time. Even the death of my daughter, unforeseen by me, more painful than imagineable, even that, cannot separate me from receiving God's love. Even that pain which can seem to take up all the available space in my soul cannot push the love of God out. Why does Paul say that "in all these things we are more than conquerors?" It is a battle. The sin that entered the world through Adam has permeated human life and has allowed pain to exist. But through the death of Jesus on the cross, He has made it possible to overcome sin, and He has made us conquerors over the darkness. I know that He is fighting for my heart, and I know that even this death will not separate my soul from His love.

Our team leader, Stephen, sent us a blog post from John Piper last night. If you don't know John Piper, he is a pastor and author, a great man of God who's vision and writings have greatly affected this generation in godliness and missions. His son and daughter-in-law were due with a little girl this past Sunday (the 23rd). Like me, she went in for a check-up on Saturday after not feeling the baby move, and found out the same horrible news that we did three months ago. I appreciated Piper's words at the end of his post; while not profound, I found them to be poignant and somehow comforting:

"Noel and I lay in bed at about 3 AM after coming home from the delivery thinking: This seems so preventable. By God and by man. Yes. So easy. But neither man nor God prevented this. Man, because he did not know it was happening. God, because he has his wise and loving reasons that we wait to learn with tears and trust."
(to read his whole post, visit: http://www.desiringgod.org/Blog/829_felicity_margaret_piper/)

Trapped in a "Beautiful Alpine Village"

An adventure, yes. I just re-read my previous post and thought, wow, I guess I was in a good mood that day! There is something about culture that is ingrained into our very being, and there are those of us who have it even more tightly woven. How can I explain this? American culture as I have experienced it, excites me. Maybe it was growing up in LA, maybe it was just having a good childhood and a positive outlook on life, but in this small quiet "village" in France, I find myself longing for home. Really longing. It's not a longing that misses family and friends, although that is of course there as well. It's a longing that misses my culture. Do you know what I mean? It's a longing that misses being understood when you talk, not being thought of as uneducated becuase of your level of communication ability. It's a longing for familiarity. You know how the 10 freeway will always be backed up, regardless of if it is 3 in the morning? And you know how you know that if you have a craving for a Frappacino, there are at least 5 Starbucks within a mile of your house that would happy to provide you with one. Ever had those nights when you had a hard day and your husband or roommate is gone, and you curl up on your couch and flip on Nick at Night and watch old reruns of Full House and the Cosby Show? Have you ever gone to Pottery Barn or Crate and Barrell and just walked around for an hour pretending it was actually your house?

Yeah, well, that stuff, that's the stuff I miss. It's not something that I can explain. Are there daily traffic jams that I know about here in Chambery? Sure. Are there a million little coffee shops to get your caffine fix for the day? Of course! Do we have nearly 200 channels available on our TV because of our internet deal? Yes! Are there lots of fun stores to visit (okay, not really, but just pretend)? Sure. But it's not the same...Why not? It's a different culture. Yeah, the people are white and black and they do western sort of things, the food isn't all that weird, and manners are often similar. But it's not home. The things that are different are unplaceable. But for example, when I received a package from my mom this morning, aside from lots of other fun stuff, there were three things in there that actually made me cry. The first was a set of Turkey-shaped salt and pepper shakers (really cute, thanks mom!). Yeah, you know, the kind they start putting out in the beginning of August when Thanksgiving is still three months away? The second thing was a stuffed hedgehog (I like hedgehogs) that you squeeze and it makes little kissing noises. The third, a can of Campbell's Cream of Mushroom soup. Yes, these things actually made me shed tears! See, despite the fact that we mock the array of fall clothing and merchandise in the store windows in July, you miss it when it's gone! It's a commonality that we all share as Americans. And the hedgehog? I love that we make stupid stuffed animals that say "squeeze me" on them that fill up our shelves and make us laugh. Yes, it's consumerism at it's worst, but you know what, you'd miss it! And the soup, yeah, we can't get that here. I grew up cooking with it, I mean it doesn't get more down home than that. And that's the one that really made me lose it...My culture, mailed to me in boxes so that I can have some semblance of my old life with me here. So sad...Okay, it's not the end of the world, and yes, people do adapt, but I believe I may just be one of those people who has my culture woven into my very being and will always be longing for the familiarity of home. I'm not, like, the kind of person who you would really call "open to change," if you know what I mean, making my life here and in Chad even more of an adventure! Well, don't forget to really take in the beauty of those traffic jams on your evening commute tonight; just for me!