Letter Twelve

Dear Vera -


We've passed the one year mark. ONE YEAR!!! 
And oh what a year it has been. These past 12 months have been the darkest and the most painful I've had to endure, both physically, emotionally, and spiritually. Yet through it all, He has been with me.


I couldn't help go over the details of every high and every low. The lows have been my lowest, but the mountain tops; well, they have been the highest I have expereinced. 


I remember sitting in church a few weeks ago, thinking of Sister #2. I never really understood what all her journey meant, until the day that mine started. The longer I have walked this road, the more I have learned and the more that I have understood. A few twists and turns and I walk on. 


My journey isn't ended... I've turned a corner and started down a new road. 

Letter Eleven

Happy 11 Months dearest! 
If only there were enough words that could adequately express the full impact of my journey. If only I could remember all of the moments at which God stepped in and did the miraculous. So, let me remember the ones that walked the long harrowing path right alongside me. 
Sisters: 
All 5 of them - C, K, T, AE & AM 
To the original 3: Sisters by blood, but friends by choice. You were the ones that drove the miles to and from MBMC. You were the ones that climbed on the hospital bed and cried right along side me. You were the ones that held the pieces together, while I was falling apart. 'Thank you' seems so cheesy in this moment... but that's all I know to say. Thank you. You hold my heart; all three of you. 
To the additional 2: You two crossed the lines of friendship and joined the family, knowing how crazy we are. You were the home away from and the ones that stayed weekends on the couch, because of this thing we call 'The Sisterhood'. All my love. 
Parents: 
I know you both felt guilty that you could not be with me during the majority of this. Listen to me when I tell you that you have no reason to. You were there when it mattered most. You taught the four of us to rely on God and rely on each other... and we did. You were doing what you were called to do, and that matters oh so much more. I knew there was a nation awaiting your arrival, so how could I be selfish and demand your presence? I knew then, and know even still, you both are doing the right thing. Follow your heart; but most of all, follow HIS heart. 
Doctors: 
MD, SO, JB, JS
The world is a better place because of the four of you. I can't help but believe that God allowed our paths to cross years before, in preparation for  that specific day in September 2010. So here's to a team of compassionate, caring and competent doctors that believe in 'a healing Power'. 
To the countless others:
You were the ones that prayed not only for myself, but for my family. For that, I am truly thankful. 
May you celebrate the victories, remember the heartache, and rejoice in your healing. 

My Renewal: A Journey To Faith

The past several months have been a long and harrowing journey, but God has been faithful. Last September I was diagnosed with a degenerative disease. Because of my illness, I have been on monthly injections as part of my treatment. These injections are very expensive, and even with my fabulous insurance from my job, (Thank You, Lord for Starbucks!) they are about $300 each.

         Two months ago, I made a call to my doctor’s office a few days before my appointment, to confirm that they had received my injections. To my dismay, they informed me that the pharmacy would not be releasing my treatment due to an outstanding bill. I called my parents and told them what was going on and that I had no clue what I was going to do.

     My body was starting to respond negatively to the lack of treatment. My ‘ever wise’ Father informed me “You need to pray!” Of course! I was praying, but was happy that he and my Mom began interceding on my behalf. I spent multiple nights worrying about this, trying to figure out a way that I could get my medication on time.

     A week passed and still no answer.

     The day for my treatment was quickly approaching, and yet there I was, standing at the crossroads of desperation and faith. My feelings were leaning towards desperation but my heart was tugging me towards faith. Phrases like 'Be anxious for nothing...' and, 'They that wait upon the Lord' kept fluttering through my mind like a song stuck on repeat.

     Dad called me on Thursday night and asked what I was going to do. My response was short and to the point as I replied, “Dad, I don't know. All I know is that I need a miracle. And I need it NOW.”

     My nights were filled with sleepless concern, but my heart was still whispering “Just wait on God. Keep believing.” Then, on Friday before my appointment the doctor's office called me at work. “Kandra, the pharmacy has released your medication. We have it here at the office, so we're good to go for Monday. See you then!” With tears flowing I had a ‘Jesus moment’ there in the break room of my store. I didn't know why the pharmacy had released the medication, nor did I care. What I did know was that God had come through right on time!

     A few weeks later I had called my Mom. She told me something very startling that I shall not soon forget. As they were deputizing on the West Coast they were visiting some friends and the conversation eventually turned towards my sisters and I. This friend began to share an incredible story. It seems she was at work one day and over-heard a conversation about a girl in St. Louis, named Kandra that was extremely sick and needed some medication. Here is a snippet from that experience.

     “I heard my co-worker and my supervisor talking about your account and heard your name. I immediately put two and two together and knew they were talking about the Kandra I knew! I typed your name into the system and there you were! I went to my supervisor and told her that I knew you…that you had been very sick…that you had been in and out of the hospital for several months. I explained that you are the daughter of missionaries, and I was sure you had medical bills coming out of your ears, due to the hospital stays. I was able to tell her that if you didn't get your meds you would probably end up back in the hospital. The end result was she went to her manager and got approval to release the medication order.”

     This was a perfect reminder that this battle isn't mine alone. God is fighting this for me. My healing may not have been instantaneous; but healing has come, just the same. He has given me strength to look beyond my own situation and see His hand at work in and through the lives of others around me.

     Up until a few months ago, I had not been able to see past the pain, the days of bed rest, the nights spent in the hospital, the countless drugs, and the monthly injections. Had it not been for these past months of my own struggles, I wouldn't have had the opportunity to witness and befriend a co-worker of mine. I wouldn't have the privilege of teaching a Bible study to one of the new converts in the youth group. What once was thought the greatest trial is now viewed as one of my greatest testimonies. Now I see a bigger picture…one involving the weaving of people's lives, of paths crossing, and so- called unexplainable events happening in the lives of those around me. These moments are more than just coincidence; they are the product of the Master's plan. A piece of seemingly random artwork has become something beautiful. What once was viewed as ugliness is now seen as beautiful testimonies of God’s greatness.

     No, the past few months have not gone according to my plans...but I have been reminded that Isaiah 40:31 is absolutely correct: “But they that wait upon the LORD shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings as eagles; they shall run, and not be weary; and they shall walk, and not faint.”

Letter Ten

Dear Vera - 


Hello dearest, 
This is a happy letter! We got some good news on my birthday! We got another LU shot (bleh) and had a lovely heart to heart with Dr. dV and she was a gem as always. So a few new things are different in the treatment plan. We're up from 0.05 to 0.1 on V-elle, which will help with all the hot flashes. Although, we have to wait and see how my body deals with the increase of the dosage, we (being Dr. dV and I) are very optimistic. Another update: I have been cleared to start exercising again! As long as I don't 'go crazy' and start doing weights and my previously 'normal' 5 miles a day routine, I should be absolutely fine! 

I've experienced God's hand at work so many times as I walk this path, it's hard to keep count, yet I remember each one with vibrancy. Let me just say that my God is a God of compassion, and He knows exactly what we have need of before we know what we want.
He's the one that holds, molds, and scolds. I've been through a lot with all of this, but one thing that has remained: He's still faithful. Happy 10 months!!

Letter Nine

Dear Vera,


Where to begin? I guess from the start... or wherever we left of would be OK. So much has happened since the last time I wrote to you. Let's start with the serious stuff so we can move on to the exciting things that are happening. First of all, about two weeks ago, I had a relapse. It was not a pleasant time for me; I was an emotional  wreak. We had a hard time getting my LU shot, so I was several weeks late getting my treatment. I was slowly getting worse as each day slipped by without treatment. I went to work, went home rested for awhile and headed out the door to church. During church, it all started. My pain went from manageable to unbearable in about one hour. So we did what we do best: we prayed, and then we called Dr dV. She was on call and said, 'Let's party; get to MBMC.' So that's what we did. K & T were with me that Wednesday night, but had to leave town the next morning to take our Junior Bible Quizzers to the NCBQE. 


Unfortunately, I was back at MBMC that Friday night, without the people that knew how to hold me and my world together. The time had come for me to stand without the support of the nearest and dearest. I had to learn to let new people into the inner circle, and share details of my life that were, and still are, very personal. I soon found out that I had to emerge from the shell that I had created during the first several months of this journey. It was time to redefine me and re-examine my world. I opened up for the first time in a very long time and let those people become support posts of my world. Those people might not know how they fit in, or what exactly it means to be in my world; but they are apart of all of this. They too, are a part of the support group. 

My world has changed so much in the past few months. My world is no longer a play by play of the awful moments that were consumed with hospital stays. It's now all about looking at the bigger picture and fighting this battle, one day at a time. The battle in which there is no victory, only moments in which I can make a stand and pray that someone makes that stand with me. It wasn't always easy to stand with a smile, pushing past the pain. Smiling doesn't always mean you are happy. Sometimes, smiling is necessary to convince yourself and the rest of the world that you are strong. The times that my eyes didn't cry and my did smile, were the times when my heart cried the loudest. My world is a place where it's OK for me to be weak; because I have people holding me up, believing that I am strong. I'm strong, because I know what it's like to be weak. Slightly scarred, with a strength that runs deep, I am slowly emerging from the quiet dark pools of unshed tears and moments of extreme pain. From every wound there is a scar, and each scar tells a story. A story that says, 'I survived.' I am me. And I will be am OK. 

Heaven Looks A Little Brighter

What a heavy day this is. The sisters and I went to church, as per our custom on Sundays. God moved in such a special way. How do I know this? Because I had a migraine from all the tears I had shed. "The Mc" came over for lunch and we all spent the evening together. I went to my room, took a few pain killers and rested. I got up for a glass of water, when Sisters #3 came into my room with her phone on speaker. Sister #2 quickly followed. I was still groggy from the mix of pain killers and sleep, but I knew something had happened.

Something terrible had just happened; for the facial expressions that walked in, told me so. The heaviness was palpable, as my father's voice began to fill the silence of my darkened room. These words will forever be apart of me, 'Kanj, I'm sorry to wake you up, but I thought you should know that GM passed away today from kidney failure.'

And with that sentence, my heart was ripped out of my chest; the breath knocked out of my body. A torrent of tears fell, as I tried to sort out what Dad has just told me. He said she was gone and that MM and 'Q'M were now facing a journey through the darkest of valleys. I couldn't even hug them, or tell them that I loved them; so I cried for them. My heart broke for them. For the little six year old girl that now has to grow up without her mom, for the man that stood taller when she was in the room, who smiled bigger and brighter when he spoke about her. What could I do BUT cry? She was a daughter, sister, wife, mother, prayer warrior, and one of my closest friends while I was over there. She was beautiful; inside and out. And now, I'm told she's gone.

Sister #3 and I stood in the middle of my room and let the grief wash down our faces. Sister #2, ever so supportive and sympathetic, knew that we were close, and yet still she couldn't grasp the depth of our loss. She held us, as we held each other, questioning the sudden departure of a 'sister'. Sister #1 called from Florida and said, 'Kanj, I'm so sorry for your loss. I know she meant a lot to you.' She was part of my family. We went everywhere together and did everything together. She laughed at me and I laughed at her, most of all, we laughed together.

I wear a khanga for her today. My eyes have been flooded and rivers surge down my face, as I remember every single detail about her. Today, MM told Dad that he and 'Q'M were now alone and my heart broke all over again. I cried at work, as I remember MM telling me as we drove away, 'Don't forget us.' Well I've kept that promise. She's gone, but never, ever forgotten. This old world became a little darker, and heaven, heaven became a little brighter upon her arrival.

GM - Save a spot for me. I'm on my way, perhaps I'll be a little delayed, but as MM says so eloquently, 'I'm coming'.

Letter Eight

1. to walk with regular and measured tread

2. to walk in a stately, deliberate manner

3. to go forward; advance; proceed

4. the third month of the year

March is a special month in my family. This month brings a little bit of heaviness mixed with a little bit of acceptance, as we remember we're not alone in this journey. In March, we stand on the promise that He would never leave us nor forsake us. In March, we're reminded by those around us that God is our Healer.  It is the month, in which we stand proud and strong.  

In March, around the world we unite and support each other. Those that know, those that are learning, and those that need to know more. We're an organized body; smiling through the pain. In March, we fight like girls; going forward in the knowledge that He never gives us more than we can bear. March is our month.

Support the cause. Support her.

Letter Six

Dear Vera,

You should know that I'm a little emotional as I write this letter. I've spent the weekend on bedrest and I just found out that I have an infection that has crawled up into my kidneys. I've been put on yet ANOTHER medication. I have tears rolling down my face and I'm laying in a dark room, to broken to do anything else. Yes, I said broken. Broken, because I thought I was getting better. At this moment, I'm just ready to be well again. MB asked when I was going to be better, and I looked at her and said that was the million dollar question.

I've questioned and searched myself for any secret thing, some deep secret sin or mistake, something that that I could say, 'Oh... this is why this is happening to me.' Yet, I find nothing. I'm not ready to be like Paul and say, 'Im thankful for this thorn in my flesh, because it keeps me close to God.' Oh no. Not ready at all. In fact, I'm just getting to the place where I can look myself in the mirror and say, 'You know what? Those scars aren't so bad after all.'

I'll be transparent and admit that I go through moments of anger. How can that be? Me being a child of God, having so much anger at times that I just want to yell? Well, I'm not excatly sure, but that's just how it is. Yes, there really are days when all I want to do is yell at the world, 'WHY ME?!... When does 'enough' REALLY become ENOUGH?!' And today just happens to be one of those days. It won't last long, of this I'm sure; right now all I can do is take more medication and ride the waves of pain as they wash over my body.

Vera, the day I look into your sweet face and introduce myself, I'm sure it will be all worth it; but, I must be honest, for both our sakes, that in this moment it's hard to imagine that day. I am anxiously awaiting that day, because on that day I'll tell the world, "I won and you lost. I am a survivor, not a victim."

So, here's to the person that I will be: a survivor. And to the person that I am now: a fighter.

-Kr

Letter Five

Dear Vera,

Guess what?! I had another party at MBMC. This time, Dr. SO was the guest of honor. That was on Sunday, 11-28-10, just in case you were wondering. That makes it every 3 weeks now, since the beginning of this journey. Nurses, and doctors alike saw Sister #1 and myself as we walked in, and greeted us. It was nice to know that they remembered us, and disconcerting to know that we have been there that often.

So Dr SO gave me another perscription and told me to follow up with Dr dV the next day.
Dr. dv is incredible, as I'm sure I'm told you a thousand times already. Dr. dV said I'm right where I should be, regarding treatments and such, so she put me on yet ANOTHER medication that is supposed to help my bones.  A few of the side affects of LU is loosing bone density and severe bruising... which I have already experienced. I must say it's quite disturbing to look down at my body and see several bruises, and not have a clue as to how I got them. She also gave me a horse pill... she called it a 'vitamin'. It's MONSTEROUS! Never the less, I am diligent in taking all my meds. The top of my microwave looks like a mini-pharmacy.

This game of back and forth is tough; I'm not even going to try to deny it. The back and forth between home and the hospital is almost as exhausting as the sickness itself. I will make it. Anxiously awaiting the day that I will understand all of this; I will endure until the end. Quitting is not an option.

Ps - I bought you something today.

Letter Four

Dear Vera,

My oh my.

These last few days have been quite interesting. I called off work a few days ago because of a special trip to MBMC. Doctors JS, BG, and JO are so compassionate and caring; simply put, they make the ER barable. I must admit, I think they are fabulous. Altho, it's quite frustrating to be in and out of the hospital; in because of the pain, and out because they really can't do anything for this crazy disease. I'm in the middle of a roller-coaster ride, and I can't get off... even if I tried!!

Today my dosage went up on my LU shots. So instead of going to the doctors office every 3 weeks, I'm now going once every 3 months! I'm finally showing some improvment! YAY!! I'm still learning how to take care of myself, what and what not to do, what medications work the best, and which ones I'm allergic to. Those would be moriphine and dilaudid. The last time I graced the ER with my prescence, we quickly discovered my allergy to moriphine as hives started to break out on my wrist and continue to go up my arm.

To say that I was concerned would be a gross understatment. When I asked what pain meds they had decided to give me, Chvana quickly came to the side of the bed and informed the nurse that my mom and sister both were extremely allergic to this drug. Nurse No-Name (he wasn't very friendly!) quickly replied that, 'I'm just doing what the doctor ordered.' Well, he quickly felt very concerned, as he watched the drug wreak havoc in my body. Right then I learned no matter what, I'm going to ask questions, no matter what the hospital staff thinks of me.

ASK QUESTIONS; big or small. If you don't know what's going on, how then can you take care of yourself?

With the many visits to the ER at MBMC, I've learned which arm is able to take the stress of handling a IV port. My poor viens have been through a thorough work-out over the past 3 months, due to the countless IV ports and many blood tests. So it was no surprise to me, on one of the many visits to MBMC, that somebody 'chose' the wrong vein. Much to their dismay and my exceeding discomfort, my viens in my left arm were not giving a blood return strong enough to support the port.

So Nurse T tried again... thus giving me two ports to deal with during that particular visit. Thankfully that has only happened once! I do believe once is enough in my life time. I do not thoroughly enjoy being poked at, making pin cushions out of my upper appendages. As the hot silent tears rolled down my face, the stress, pain, and frustration of the whole ordeal finally sinking in, Sister #3 climbs up on the bed, and wraps her arms around me. Sisters #1 and 2 look on as we all held hands and shared 'a moment'.

They have been incredible throughout this journey. Hours upon hours spent beside my bed, feet become many miles as Sister #1 drives me back and forth each time, and the feeble attempts to make me smile through the pain; these are my sisters.



Support the ones fighting and cheer for the ones supporting,

Ktr

Happy Anniversary to Me!!

To the ones that held my heart and forever changed me,

My last road trip on the African continent was to the city of Nairobi, Kenya. It brought a torrent of emotions that I will never be able to adequately express. After countless pulled muscles, and roughly 3 weeks of malaria; boxes were finally taped up, suitcases were zipped and farewells were bid. Eyes were bright with unshed tears, hearts were heavy with what would become a crushing weight, and smiles were pasted on as masks.

When I slowly got into the truck on that memorable Sunday morning I'll never forget MM as he looked through the window with tears in his eyes and said, 'Don't forget us.' I smiled and with tears rolling down my face, I gave my promise, 'Never.' With that he turned, walked down the driveway and opened the gate to all of our futures.

I began the long mental journey down memory lane. Memories and moments flashed through my mind like a song stuck on repeat. Moments that include, but are not limited to, hearing the prayers of EM, laughing with TM, crying with the MM family at the loss of their unborn child, eating the amazing food of Mama RM, and worshiping with NM are just a few of the countless memories that are the remnants of 3 incredible years of my life.

As I boarded the 777 headed west, my heart began to crack and by the time I had landed at Lambert International Airport, my heart was shattered to bits. With an array of emotions flooding through me, I threw on the first smile that I could grab and hugged the sisters close. My heart was torn in two; one part hurt, and one part joy.

One year ago, I left you all and began writing the continuing story of my life. I told you all when I left, 'Don't cry because my time here is over. Smile because of the time we shared.' Little did I know that those words would be hard to live by. If you must know, I have cried terribly... but I have also laughed hysterically, when remembering the moments that changed the course of my life.

MM, I wish you could know that I have kept my promise. Never forgetting, always remembering; I carry you all in my heart.

Letter Three

Dear Vera,

Where do I begin? It's November 3, 2010 and this journey started on September 14, so I have a bit of catching up to do. I'm going to warn you that this letter is going to be lengthy; perhaps you should know who I am. You could say that I'm an informant for people like you, meaning those that wonder what's going on and are to shy or polite to ask questions. I'm 19 and new to this path. This is my story.

The beginning of this journey was quite a shocker, although we had some suspisions. I have a sister that is in her third year of this journey, and we are very much alike. It was just a twinge, and could be ignored. Then came the 15th, and it was an ache. By the time Thursday rolled around, it was an incredible pain that could no longer be ignored. I called off work, went to the infamous Dr. D, and was put on bed rest. That was great, for all of 24 hours.


It was Friday, around 2pm that we decided to make the drive to MBMC. This place is legendary in our family because of Sister Two's journey. Doctors, nurses, technicians, and orderlies alike recognized Sisters One and Two. The people were incredible. After a few questions I was quickly ushered into a triage room where I was to spend the next seven hours. IVs, ultrasounds, and numerous pain meds later; they decide it was best that I stay the night to continue with tests in the morning. Saturday passed in a blur of pain. Sunday I was moved to a private room and it was Monday that I received the life changing, world crashing news that I was diagnosed with Stage Two Yellow.

The next morning,Tuesday, I had an operation to clean out my abdomen cavity from all the blood that was just hanging out in there. Friends and family alike gathered in the waiting room; visitors were a constant throughout the day. Dr. D said I cried through the whole operation; I don't remember a thing. I woke up and knew that I felt a thousand times better. My mom flew in Monday night, so she was there for the surgery and stayed with me for about a week. She was incredible, as were Sisters 1,2 & 3.

Call me crazy, but one week after surgery, I was on a plane headed to Houston. It was crazy and exhausting, but very much worth it! I saw a ton of my friends; old and new alike. I hadn't yet dealing with the side affects of all the medications, nor the emotional and mental battles that would later come. I think I'll leave that for another day.

Praying you won't have to deal with this,
Ktr

Letter Two

I've decided to start a new segment on this blog called 'Letters to Vera'.

They are to a girl, who will be known on this blog as, Vera. This new segment will be an upclose view into my journey of fighting the illness that changed my life on September 20, 2010.

Why, you might ask? Because every girl should know what this disease is like. Every girl, of every color, creed, race, and age needs to know that they aren't the only ones fighting this disease. In these letters, the disease in question will be known as Yellow. Yellow is a nasty disease that few know about; but those that do know about it, know the journey isn't a pleasant one. It's one filled with countless medications, hospital visitations, and it leaves a life long impression.

Every girl should have the opportunity and the means to fight. And fight I will.

Fight for those girls that don't have the strength to do it themselves. I will stand my ground. I'm fighting not only for my own battle against this, but for those that are writhing in pain; for the young one that had to make a decision, yes or no. For those who know, and for those who need to know more.

Letter One

It has been a quick but painful journey to this day. One month ago I was diagnosed with a degenerative disease that caused my world to crash. It's been a battle between the good days and the bad days, and to be honest, I'm not sure which side is winning right now. I'd like to think that the good days are, tho.

Do I understand all of this? No. Do I know how this is fitting into God's will for my life? No. Have I asked God what He is doing in all of this? Oh yes; right after I told Him I was angry at Him. Yes, I've been angry at God. but in the midst of it all, I still trust God. 
He knows how it is going to end, and He knows exactly how much I can handle this. He knew that I would need an incredible support system, so He gave me three amazing sisters. One of whom has already conquered this mountain. He knew that my parents wouldn't be able to be with me during all of this, so He gave me Papa and Mama H. He knew I would need wise medical staff to help diagnose and treat this disease, so He gave me the incredible Dr. DV & CO.

Each day brings a new set of situations that have to be dealt with and processed. It has become the Mt. Everest of my life. Each day I'm learning that this mountain must be climbed one step at a time, and I'm determined to conquer it. One day at a time.

OH! Hello again...

I'm sorry, I didn't notice you sitting there. I was too busy gathering the dust bunnies and removing the cobwebs from this page. It's been quite awhile since the last time I've posted on here.


I was re-reading some of my older posts, and a flood of memories washed over me. Memories of life changing moments,  memories I'm trying to shoo out the door of my mind, and memories that I long to hold onto forever, but with each passing day, slip from my grasp.

United States, to Canada, fast forward 10 years, and there we were traveling back in the states, went to Tanzania, which is not only a different country, it's on a different continent. Moved yet again to the US of A..... And now The Nomadic Parents have been transferred to....


POLAND!!


Yes, you read correctly. Po-land. You know, Land of Poles??? No? Ok, how about pollocks? Yeah? Yes!! So the path of my ever so interesting journey takes another mysterious twist. Did I mention we are Nomads?  So here we go again; packing up our lives' favorite memories, and starting a new journey. I can't wait to turn future memorable moments into incredible memories!

My Sacrifice of Praise

I was recently asked how it felt to be back in the States, knowing that I wouldn't be going back to Tanzania with my parents. Ever since then, I have asked myself over and over, What is it like to be back? What are all these emotions that I find myself facing from one moment to the next? And where did they come from?! So... to be completely honest, I don't know how I feel.

What I DO know is that the hole in my heart has slightly decreased in size, and I know that I still fight moments of feeling like a fish out of water. (Although I don't know what a fish feels when it gets out of water, I'm sure it would feel like I have felt in the past few months.) For those of you who have never experienced this, let me explain: It's like walking in the fog, and gasping for air, yet knowing you are breathing just fine.

Seriously, how does one stand in a church with keyboards, cushioned pews, choirs and all the 'normal' things that can be found in an American church and worship, when all I can hear in is the sound of a African drum? I think that has been one of the hardest things I've faced so far. To stand in such a 'normal' place, yet every part of my being is longing to be in a mud hut, to listen to the sound of bucket being beaten, to balance on a rickety bench, and just to be back in MY 'normal'.
Instead, I find that I'm going through the motions of 'church'. I stand with the congregation, I raise my hands, fumble my way through the latest 7-11 worship chorus and have a migraine headache due to the stench of perfume, that some dear soul decided to bathe in that morning. Going through the motions?! Yes - I admit there are times when going through the motions is all I can do, because going through the motions is alot easier to deal with than falling apart. Sometimes going through the motions is all I have to give. Sometimes I fail to find the words to pray, so I just close my eyes, and let my heart do the praying. Sometimes it is just easier to sit in the closet (Thank you Lord for a walk in closet) and let everything just fade away, rather than offer my sacrifice of praise.
During a recent church service, somebody told me, 'You are so African', and I wanted to fall apart and bawl my eyes out. Of course I'm African; Africa still makes my heart beat, it still brings a smile to my face, and still causes my eyes to flood; Africa is still the home of my heart. So I pulled out my 'This-Is-My-Happy-Face-Mask', dusted it off, tied it on with a pretty little bow and politely nodded, all the while falling apart on the inside. I quickly closed my eyes and continued fumbling my way through yet another song that I didn't know, and made the decision to offer my sacrifice of praise. My sacrifice of 'Lord I showed up today, so YOU need to do the same'. Yes, it hurt to smile, to stand and to sing, to offer this new normal as my sacrifice of praise.
Through the tears, and through the hurt, and as I try to figure out this new 'normal'...I praise.

Hello America

Wow - what a journey it has been. Physically, emotionally, and mentally. I will probably write a more in-depth post about what it's like to be back, but for now.... here are a few of my favorite moments thus far, in no particular order.

Talking on skype with Sister #3 in London.
Walking off the plane in Chicago... and was suddenly infused with a rush of adrenaline, knowing that all the pieces of this puzzle would finally be in place.
Seeing my sisters through the glass door at Lambert International Airport.
Watching Sister #3 run towards me, as I ran to her to give her the biggest hug since January.
The group hug that I shared with ALL my sisters.
Being the first one to see the girls. (Mom and Dad were getting the rental.)
Laughing hysterically in Taco Bell with my Mom and sisters, as Dad just sat there and shook his head.
The talking over, interrupting, loud and extremely chaotic conversations that we shared sitting in the living room... as a entire family.
Singing Christmas songs, just for the pure enjoyment that it brings me... knowing that it annoys the other 3/4.

Stay tuned for many more moments of R happenings.

Well folks... it's official.

The time has come when I must pack my bags, and bid farewell to this beautiful place. I will be leaving Tanzania in exactly 2 weeks.

As Mks, we've all said many goodbyes. Some were happy, some were tearful. Some were easy, and some were not. Let me assure you that this particular goodbye found it's home in the 'NOT' category.

Reality has yet to sink in but the hole in my heart is already huge. How does one so casually say good-bye to a country and people who have so aptly grown to be part of who you are? I don't think that it can be done.

So for now, I'm going to be packing my bags, shedding my tears, and humming 'Happy Christmas' as I count down the days. Why? Because right now it is too painful to digest the fact that I have to leave my 'home', so that I can go 'home'. It's too scary to think about starting college and getting a job when I'm so confused about the future. Because I know there will come a day when excitement will be replaced with dread, and the joy of seeing my sisters will be replaced with the pain of leaving Mom and Dad.


So now - just let me stay here singing my Christmas songs, and just let the excitement build. Because reality comes to quick, and goodbyes take to long.

Tansparancy = Thankfulness in Trial

A couple of days ago, I found myself wishing for something OTHER than sickness. Discouragement. Frustration. Pain. Memories.

I wanted just ONE day filled with yellow tulips and butterscotch Werthers, the sound of my sisters arguing, and a dinning room that was not silent, but rather, filled with the laughter and chatter of my family together again. That was what I wanted.

And then... reality showed up. Reality reminded me that I won't always have days like that. Reality reminded that life is gonna deal some hard knocks. Sure, there will be a few days of yellow tulips, but mostly it is a process of creation. In this creation is a molding, pushing, prodding, and ever evolving process. God made it that way so we would be ever progressing into the person He wants us to be. But then comes a flash of hope. A breath of something new. A whisper of a promise.

What promise, I asked myself. And then I remembered.
It is the promise of His grace being sufficient for me... the one of His strength being perfect in my weakness.

In our moments of frustration and discouragement that Jesus shows up. In the middle of our mess, He shines on us and BECAUSE of our situation, He shows Himself strong. He didn't say FOR everything give thanks... He said IN everything give thanks.

Since March I have been dealing with something that was NOT filled with Werthers. Begging, pleading, praying... it seemed that whatever I said, my words just reached the roof and fell back down into my lap. But it wasn't until recently, in my prayer time, that I had a little breeze of hope come floating by. I was starting my litany of 'Now God... you know.... so HURRY UP AND DO SOMETHNG'.... when I felt His presence enter the room where I was kneeling. Ever so softly, I felt Him whisper to my soul, 'Why don't you THANK Me for this situation, instead of begging Me to fix it every time you begin to talk to Me? Don't YOU know that I alread know about it? That I knew before it ever came to you, that you would go through this?'

To say the least; I quickly shut up. This wasn't a mere suggestion, this was a gentle rebuke that showed me I had never thanked Him. Right there, my attitude changed and the litany came to a screeching halt. In the midst of my mess, I can STILL thank God! I still have reason to praise Him. He knows the way I take - Every frustration. Every moment of discouragement and every weakness. But here comes the promise - He also knows my moments of victory.

So YES - I'm still going through a mess, but I now have a new song to sing. A new battle cry. A new song is being written. It keeps going over and over in my mind like a track stuck on repeat: 'IN EVERYTHING GIVE THANKS'.

Don't kid yourself - there are still moments when I want to scream 'I QUIT!' to the world; but just when I think of opening my heart to let those words out, I hear a soft, ever so quiet voice say to me, 'My grace is sufficient. My strength is perfect for you. Right now. In this moment. You CAN do all things with My help!' It's that whispered promise that lets me know I can make it through. If only for one day.

So it begins. Pushing up from a deep quiet place, and beyond the brokenness. Despite the pain and tears; it starts as a whisper just trying out it's new found freedom. With a boldness it begins to grow and build; until it reaches it's fullness. A song breaks forth from a soul bowed down with frustration.

Thank you Jesus.

Once again...

... I am overwhelmed.
I was sitting in the car waiting for mom to finish buying the produce. As I was sitting there I saw a young man walk up and immediately I felt such an overwhelming compassion and such a deep love for the people of 'my' great nation! This young man was mentally and physically handicap. Three of his fingers were crooked, his left lip, cheek, and eyebrow were constantly twitching, and I doubt there was a straight tooth in his mouth; and yet, I couldn't help but feeling such a love for him! I thought about him all they way home. I wondered, 'Jesus, is this a little of what you felt when you walked on this earth so many years ago? Filled with such compassion and love?'


I pray that I will continue loving these people with the deep love that I felt today!! Give a hug, share a smile... let someone know you care today!!