On Flies and Facing Forward (Mental Latergram from Tanzania)

I can't believe a month has come and gone since we came back from Africa, and at the same time, it feels like a dreamy century ago. I have been holding a tab open in my brain for the moments that are seared in my memory from our days in Tanzania. Images, sights, sounds that I do not want to forget. As I sit in the early hours of sabbath rest tonight and think of tomorrow's plans, of getting little men ready for Mass and the timing of lunch in accordance and whether or not I will do laundry, I am reminded of one moment seared in my memory.

It was Sunday morning and we dressed and walked from the rectory where we were staying over to Church for Mass. We were early, yet the Church was filling quickly. We stood looking around trying to decide where we would sit, when the catechist grabbed Greg and I both by elbows and Led us to the front benches where hundreds of children squeezed in close. She sat us right in the middle of them all and then stepped back and smiled proudly. We scrunched in, knees close to chests, and I felt oddly like Buddy the Elf.

Little heads turned shyly in our direction. Then quickly back, not wanting to risk the embarrassment of being spotted by adults who pride themselves on insuring that these little ones know how to behave in church. So we all awkwardly faced forward and pretended not to notice one another.

Admittedly, I was a much worse player at this game than the children. They gathered their composure rather quickly, obediently knelt and fingered the colorful crystal beads of the rosaries we had gifted them the day before, and proudly recited their prayers loudly and clearly. I, on the other hand, had to be vigilant to keep my twitching hand from reaching out and patting their dark heads. When am I forced to control such urges, the twitch tends to transfer itself to my eye and I end up winking maniacally at everyone in sight with an overly wide smile plastered across my face. Poor children, left to keep from making eye contact with the crazy smiling, winking lady with the hand twitch.

 So they sat facing forward and I sat looking at intently down the row, trying to drink them all, their beauty and potential and childish wonder. I imagined their stories, what their houses looked like, which ones were their siblings, their moms, if they had had breakfast that morning. I smiled at how they had been freshly scrubbed and dressed in their best for Sunday morning Mass. Satin dresses and too small church shoes, head covering with sparkles and belts so long they wrapped around twice.

Then my eyes settled on the little head just in front of me. A small version of a future man, tiny and shuffling to find his comfort zone squeezed between so many girl moms who swished their hands as his curious head shifted from side to side.

He was dressed in his best. A white undershirt stained with the red of Tanzanian mud and shorts two sizes two big. They dipped below his knees and pointed to his sandals, also too big, their velcro straps fastened tightly to keep them from flopping off his little feet. And over the top of it all, a square-shouldered navy blue sports coat, the finest item of clothing he had ever owned I am quite sure.

It was so obvious that he had tried so hard that morning. To put his best foot forward and fit in with the church crowd. To polish himself up and make himself presentable. He fought the discomfort of it all so valiantly and wrangled his urges to slump and twist and turn with such tenacity. A valiant little soldier if there ever was one, trying to fit in to the ranks like the rest.

And yet, despite his very best efforts to get it right, I noticed that the all the flies still buzzed around his head. He tried not to swat at them, little brave one. But there they were, flitting in circles over him, flashing the truth to the world. The truth that despite his very best efforts, he had still arrived at church dirty. That even though he was the one who had tried the hardest, he still couldn't cover up what lay underneath his buttoned up propriety.

And my heart sank. As I sat there behind him and watched him try with all he had to get it right. Because all I could think was, "Oh my love, I know. I so know."

Me, in Africa, trying to get it all right. Me, in my life, trying to be worthy of this ministry and the calling the Lord has placed on my life. Me, trying to keep from squirming under the weight of other people's admiration. Me, feeling the sting of the dirt that still lies underneath it all no matter how hard I try to scrub it away and just.face.forward. Eyes on Him. Not on everyone else around me.

Yes, I often feel like the little man in the dirty clothes and the sports coat with the flies' buzz announcing my sin and dirt to the world.

And I wanted to grab him and scoop him up in arms and proclaim to him that Jesus loved him wildly, passionately and personally, more for the flies than for the sports coat. But I did not. Because I realized he was already doing the very best thing he could. Holding his head high, training his eyes forward, and ignoring the flies.

And in that moment, I realized it was he who was preaching to me.

So when if you make your way to church today and you feel a little bit like the flies are swarming over your best dressed self in spite of all your efforts, take a note from my little preacher friend. Stand up straight. Hold your head high. Fix your eyes on Jesus. And know that you are made clean and dressed in righteousness when you receive grace upon grace in the Bread of Life.

Back From Around the World

and my first post is over at CatholicMom.com.

When we pray the “Our Father”, taking the time to meditate upon the meaning of each of its phrases, we often have to remind ourselves what it means for the Lord to “give us this day our daily bread.”

For the large majority of us, it is a metaphor for trusting God to provide for our needs on a daily basis, maybe not with a lot stored up in advance but always what we need when we need it. For some of us, it is a reminder that the desperate car repair bill will somehow get paid. For others, that He will indeed find the perfect house for our growing family when the time is right. Maybe you or your spouse are waiting on a promotion that will provide a much needed income increase. Whatever it is, most of us, even though we sigh at the rising grocery bill, are not worried literally about bread, about whether or not our children will eat tomorrow.

But for my friend Esther, whom I met on my trip to Tanzania last month, this is exactly what praying for her daily bread means....read the rest here.

Donate to our Maize for Africa appeal here.

A Reading List For An Excessively Long Plane Ride

It is time to start seriously thinking through the minute logistics of our trip to Tanzania. You know what that means, right? Prioritize and attack from most important task on down. So, first things first. Time to make my picks for the books that will help me survive an excessively long plane ride, of course. We can figure out where the kids are going to stay tomorrow. (Just kidding. We know that. How exactly they are getting from place to place...well, that we can figure out tomorrow).

I am starting with a couple of books that have been hanging around on my Kindle half-read for too long now. Time to wrap it up.

Orphan Justice
Evangelical Catholicism

Then it'll be time to gain a little cultural knowledge about Tanzania and read some inspiring stories. There are a ton of great choices here, but I am going with these for this trip:

Tanzania: Culture Smart
Tanzanian Women in Their Own Words
Facing the Lion

I've got a running list of the stories of Jesus-loving world changers to read. This time the winner is

No Greater Love

I tend to keep a book about the issues of poverty, trafficking, or other global issues going at all times too. I read them rather slowly because, quite frankly, they usually break my heart. But it is important to dig in to the hard places if you are going to do the work of justice and loving the poor well, so I am committed to the discipline of learning. I am both excited and a little terrified to finally get to this one:

The Locust Effect

I was feeling a little guilty that I wasn't choosing a "harder" spiritual reading list since it is Lent. But then I realized three things:
1. I have no idea what that actually means.
2. It's part of my fear of not appearing knowledgeable and competent that Tanzania is helping me let go of.
3. I think facing my brothers and sisters in Tanzania will immerse me in Lent perfectly well.

So I am going with two books I have really been wanting to read:

Jesus Feminist
Girl at the End of the World

Of course, every traveler needs to load up on her favorite genre. I tend to vacillate a bit, but, generally speaking, I love a good memoir, so I am adding two of those to my list:

Bird By Bird
I Am Malala

And lately, I am have been devouring young adult fiction and not feeling the least bit guilty about it, so I am going with these two for my "fun", actual books in the hands reads:

Divergent
The Book Thief

And since I hate linking a thousand links, and I like pretty little visuals, I just made a pretty little Pinterest board with all these titles. I like the idea of changing it out as I read one and add another and keeping a current list going, since sometimes I honestly forget what I had in mind to read next and miss getting to something I really wanted to read. So here it is, my Current Reading List board:


Follow Colleen Mitchell's board Current Reading List on Pinterest.

So what should go on my list for after Africa? What's on your reading list these days?

A Letter Tanzania: On Not Knowing Anything

Dear Tanzania,
I am headed in your direction in less than two weeks, and I feel like I just want to write you ahead of time and set the record straight about something. I have no idea what I am doing.

Whew. I am so glad I can just say that. Because, you see, all these people keep asking me why. Why are you going to Africa again? What are you going to be doing there? And I feel this compulsion to have something good to say. A professional sounding answer that is certain and sure.

I talk about water wells and chapels and young priests with lots of new converts who need help. And I do hope to find out more about all those things. But I have no plans for you, Tanzania. You have been you for a very long time and I have had nothing to do with it. I hardly have the right to make a plan before I ever set foot on your soil, listen to your people, learn your ways and your wants and your hopes and your dreams.

And even then, it may turn out that I have nothing to do with it. And I am good with that.

So why I am coming? I am coming in obedience to the Spirit of the Holy One, who built a dream of you in my heart long ago, wove a contact, opened a window, blew through it and said, "Go."

I am coming because I need this time to drink in something new. Step away from my all my knowing and walk in knowing nothing for a while. Hold the hand of my beloved, cling to him, and be good with having nothing to offer.

You see, Tanzania, I think the Lord is sending me to you for something. I know He wants me to open my eyes to His glory that shines is in you, to the myriad ways He has been at work at you, to all you will have to teach me and show me about who He is.

I pray He has a little role for me to play in your story. I hope there are faces and places for me to love and feel forever linked with there in your wide open plains.

And yes, there is a little part of me that dreams of a community of faces having fresh water again and a zealous young missionary priest stepping into a newly constructed chapel for the first time.

But I have no guarantees. And I am coming anyway. And I don't want to have an answer yet.

Because God is teaching me something and using you to do it, dear Tanzania. You see, I fear not knowing. I fear feeling like God is calling me to something and then finding out that, well, no, not so much. I fear that maybe He is calling me and what He is calling me to is having no answers, no way to help, to just sit in the hard place.

I like being capable, having visions, seeing solutions, knowing who to plug in where to get things done. I like knowing. And I fear not knowing.

But you, Tanzania, you are worth stepping into my fear for. I have waited long for you and I will not mess this up with my presumption, my need to have a good answer, to appear professionally competent.

I'm coming on a dream and wind of the Spirit, Tanzania. You will be part of my story. Perhaps I will be a tiny dot in yours. Only our God knows. And I am good with that.

And I'm trusting you Tanzania. Because every time I step on a plane with my whole family, I am comforted by the thought that if we all go now, at least we were all together and we were going somewhere. But when I have to do that same thing without my children? Gripped. By. Fear. Anxiety. Barely breathing in the take off moments. Wondering what on earth I was thinking.

But I am going to fight through Tanzania, because God said go. And you. You are going to make it worth it, right? I know you are.

Linking up at The Grove at Velvet Ashes today.
Join us as we talk about fear.

When Life Seems Too Big For You

I remember well a scenario I experienced a few times in my life. A significant moment as our family faced an important change and transition. In the last weeks of a pregnancy, as I faced the reality that a new baby would soon be here and that our family would forever be changed by his presence, I would get a little scared.

Each time we grew, it worked out well ;-)

I would look at my youngest and ask what the heck I was thinking forcing him out of his position when he was still just a baby. I would look at our home and wonder how we were possibly going to maintain any kind of order with another little person to care for. I would think about the daunting task of birth and recovery ahead of me, and, quite frankly, I would freak out a little.

Suddenly, what I had waited for and hoped for and prayed for was so close. And it loomed too large. It became scary in its significance.

My little tucked away mountain place

I find myself in a similar emotional state these days for a totally different reason. In the next six days, we will pack up the house we have called home for the last year and a half here in Costa Rica. We will bid our neighbors goodbye as we move on to a new phase in our lives and ministry here. We will, the seven us, step on to a plane here and a few short hours later, set our feet down on the ground in the place I call home that is no longer home.

I will feel the embrace of mother and sister and brother and friend. I will watch my boys bask in the joy of reunion. I will eat King Cake and shrimp po-boys and yell "Throw Me Something Mister" with all my might. And I will feel strange doing it. Because a bigger part of me is not the girl from the Big Easy than the part of me who is. And that is hard to process.

Then I'll kiss those boys and hand in hand with my beloved cross the ocean to the continent long dreamed of in my heart. I'm going to Africa. For the first time. I know Africa in my mind the way I knew my babies before they were born. Details dreamed of, scents unknown yet already familiar. A soft halo of light surrounding a face I've longed to know.

And just as my babies have done, I am sure Africa will break me with its cries and its need and its utter longing to be loved.

And then it will be time to gather up the merry band of brothers and return to this place, this land, that is home but not home too. To a new house, in a new city. With a growing ministry and an expanding vision and a shift in responsibilities.

And, friends, what one month ago or even a week ago, seemed just a move to a nearby house and a trip home and with a surreal hint at Africa sandwiched in the middle, now seems so big. So significant.

And every day, my chest hurts a little more because I know God is on the move here. I know this is bigger than the logistics make it seem. Every moment in His Word, every minute in my prayers, every deep conversation with someone I love makes my bones rattle just a little, because I feel the vibration of His movement.

And I find myself grieving just a little in the final days of my little hidden life in a little mountain village where all is familiar and yet quiet and small. And comfortable.

And that is the answer right there. Change comes to us who love God and seek to serve Him so we do not get too comfortable, so that we forever feel the ache and the need and the dependence on Him. So we always walk with the weight not knowing exactly where home is on the earth because we know it is not here at all.

We run our race and we walk toward our purpose with hearts restless to rest in Him. And He moves us. And we get a little scared. Because we cannot imagine how we could be significant to His story. And this, this is good.

Because just like the nearing of the coming of a new little one feels significant and draws us to our littlest ones and draws them to cling mightily to the safety and security of us, so this moment of life feeling a little too big for me draws me to God, clinging and crying out for Him to hold me. And Him? He runs to me, grateful for the chance to hold me.

The earth is pregnant with His plan for its salvation. The time draws near. His children cry out to be held and know that they are loved. It feels big because it is big. But nothing is too big for His love.

It's so simple in the moment. Just love. This one. Right here. Right now. That is His grand purpose for us.

So I will bid goodbye to the geographical place I have found myself hidden and comfortable in the next week. But I will not say goodbye to my hidden life, the life I have in His arms. Because it is my only chance to walk in the bigness and the realness and the significance of life with the Most High God and not be paralyzed by the reality.

I will labor well, I hope, because I will rest in Him. And I can rest easy, because I am known and in His arms, I am home.

Linking up at The Grove at Velvet Ashes today.

Week(Ends) and Such

I wanted to get a Weekends With Chesterton post up this weekend and have time to keep my new Pinterest planning trend going, but a bum ipad charger and a lot of other stuff didn't let me get that far.

So, I'm all off kilter, but I did get the ipad going again, so I am going to pretend it's still the weekend and share these quotes I read this week in Chesterton essay entitled The Advantages of Having One Leg. I loved it and had a ton of highlights, but here a couple of my very favorites:

"But I am afraid that the maxim that the smallest worries are the worst is sometimes used or abused by people, because they have nothing but the smallest worries...We need not deny that the grasshopper on man's shoulder is a burden; but we need not pay much respect to the gentleman who is always calling out that he would rather have an elephant when he knows there are no elephants in the country."

"This world and our powers in it are far more awful and beautiful than even we know until some accident reminds us. If you wish to perceive that limitless felicity, limit yourself if only for a moment. If you wish to realize how fearfully and wonderfully God's image is made, stand on one leg. If you want to realize the splendid vision of all visible things--wink the other eye."

As far as plans for the week ahead, we are pushing through core subjects, reading a bit of Robin Hood and a lot of Percy Jackson, and the boys are hanging with Dad for some jungle survival lessons while I ask IF with an amazing group of ladies, so that is pretty much it. No pinning that. Just living it.

Oh, and tomorrow, a trip to the Embassy in San Jose to replace my stolen passport. Because in case you haven't heard, I"M GOING TO AFRICA!!!!!!! My husband and I will be making an assessment visit to the communities in Tanzania that St. Bryce Missions will be advocating for in 2014. Take a minute to watch this video that outlines our hopes and dreams for these communities:



So, my life requires a lot of planning right now, but it's not really the blog worthy kind. But I can keep counting thanks, claiming all things as eucharisteo...so that I will do. Here are some of the ways He reached down and out and in last week:

#1755...a new home for our mission
#1757...plane tickets to "home"
#1759...some rhythm to school work
#1764...people willing to give us tangible help
#1765...little boy drawings of the Pope
#1766...reading multiple perspectives on this story of a miraculous Haitian birth...love these midwives and their people and their work

Don't forget to spread the word about the new Pope Francis link up happening here this Friday and come back and link up yourself!

Have a blessed week, friends!