Transitioning

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On April 12, 2017

In Other

It took less than 24 hours in America for me to feel like a complete idiot.

We arrived in California on Monday afternoon, and on Tuesday morning we headed to Target.  Because isn’t Target the reason we visit America?

The checker took my items and I swiped my credit card, proud of myself for remembering how to swipe a credit card.

“Oh, that’s a chip card,” the checker said.  “You need to put it in the bottom of the machine.”

I looked frantically for another place to stick my card.  I jammed it into the slot at the bottom of the machine and pulled it out.

“No,” the checker persisted.  “You have to leave it in there.”

Now I was totally flustered.  I stuck the card back in and accidentally pressed “cancel.”

Patiently, the checker (who was by now most certainly questioning my intelligence level), asked me to start over.

As I grabbed my things, I muttered, “So sorry….I’ve been living overseas for a long time…..”

Later that day, we went to the grocery store, and as I expertly stuck my chip card into the machine, signed it, and smiled confidently, I heard imaginary applause in my ears.  I had conquered.

Okay, people.  What else have I missed in the last three years?  Help a girl out here.

I always marvel during these transitions.  It just doesn’t seem possible that I can get on a plane for 24 hours and end up on a different planet as a different person in a different dimension.  That’s what it feels like.  And not only does my body think it’s still in Tanzania (as evidenced by intense jetlag), but my brain can’t keep up either.  I can’t remember what side of the car to get into.  I can’t remember where the bathroom light switch is, since it’s supposed to be outside the door–right?.  And if someone turns the lights out, I assume it’s a power cut.

My first-week thoughts are always convoluted and strange.  It doesn’t take long for me to adapt again to America and everything becomes routine.  But those few days at the beginning are particularly amusing.  So here you go:

The air feels awesome.  I noticed this immediately as we exited the airport.  Awesome, I tell you.  It’s like I had been living under a wet blanket for three years, and someone just pulled it off my head.  I have not sweat once since leaving Dar es Salaam.  My children, however, are shivering uncontrollably in the freezing 70 degree cold.  And skin and hair and lips look like we’re in the dead of winter in Minnesota.

Costco is still awesome.  Almost as awesome as the air.  And really, just as important, right?

Everything is so quiet.  Like, really, really quiet.  Even when I’m outside with the kids, I keep telling them to keep their voices down, like they are breaking a sacred silence.  Night is so quiet.  No screeching bats and birds and insects.  No wedding party music.  Rarely even any car sounds.  It’s eerie.

There are no people to be seen.  I go for a walk with my girls, and we marvel at the lack of life.  No people, anywhere.  Does anyone even live here?  they ask.  If you go into a store, there you see people.  But not on the street.  No food being sold on the street.  No goats on the street.  Where are all the people?  And the goats?  Don’t they want to enjoy this amazing air?

Everything is so easy.  I don’t have to navigate between languages.  I can read every street sign.  The roads are straight and flat and organized and drivers don’t drive on the shoulder.  Gil said with wonder, I’m going to see how many days I can go without using my horn.  All the food in the store is at least half-prepared.  The lawns water themselves.  The garage doors open themselves.  The dishes wash themselves.

Meal times are the most exciting part of the day.  Yes, it’s lunch!  I can eat again!  And I just went to Costco!

My children are obsessed with the ice dispenser on their uncle’s fridge.  By 10 am every day, that thing has been cleaned out.  However, they are paranoid about tap water and drinking fountains.  Yes, you can drink the water.  Are you sure, Mommy?  Yes, you can drink the water!

I need a sign around my neck, Bear with me; I haven’t lived in America for a while. I’m not sure how to handle you, America.  But I sure do love your air.  And Costco.

Johnny with his grandpa and cousin

The Medinas in Tanzania: A Primer

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On April 6, 2017

In Other

Whenever we visit the States, there’s always that awkward moment in the church foyer when someone we know runs into us and says, “Hey, welcome back!  So….how’s it going…..over there?”

And it’s pretty obvious that they really don’t remember where we live or what we are doing.  

If this is you, first of all, don’t worry.  While you are frantically trying to remember the details about us, we are frantically trying to remember the details about you.  After all, you might have sent us your Christmas letter, but we didn’t memorize it.  We don’t expect you memorize everything we write about either.

So since we’ll be seeing many of you soon, here’s a summary to bring you up to speed.  If you want to send one to me as well, I would love to read it!

Where are you living?

source

We’ve lived in Dar es Salaam, Tanzania for 13 of the last 16 years.  Dar es Salaam is coastal and near the equator, which means that it is hot and very humid most of the year.  It never gets cold.  (My kids start shivering at about 80 degrees.)  Lots of palm trees.  Just minutes from the ocean.  

Dar es Salaam is the largest city in Tanzania.  It has about 6 million residents and is rapidly growing.  We live in the northern part of the city, about five minutes from Haven of Peace Academy.


What is your life like?

We rent a three bedroom house which has electricity and plumbing (though using totally different systems than what you would be used to).  We have air conditioning in our bedroom.  I have a gas stove.  We own a generator.  We have one car.  

During the years we have been here, our standard of living has continued to improve.  We have a supermarket ten minutes away and we even have Pizza Hut.  Internet has continued to massively speed up, and this year, we’ve even been able to stream American TV shows.  We lack a lot of the conveniences of the States, but we are not suffering.  But maybe living thirteen years in a developing country has changed our perspective on what suffering is.


Are there lions?

Yes!  Tanzania has some of the world’s most amazing and beautiful game parks, including the Serengeti. (Gil took that picture!)  The closest reserve is about 5 hours drive away from us, so no, we don’t see wildlife on a regular basis, unless you include goats, chickens, and large lizards.  Oh, and hedgehogs.  And that snake that appeared in Lily’s bed.  But that was only once.

What is your ministry?

During the last three years, we have been partnering with Mark and Alyssa Dunker to establish Reach Tanzania Bible School, a theological training program for Tanzanian pastors and church leaders.  Students take 10 classes during one year, with each class lasting one week.  Students go back to their churches and ministries in between classes and apply what they have learned.

Gil also does a variety of training sessions in different churches and ministry programs.

Where do your kids go to school?

Just the best school in the entire world.  But I guess I’m biased, considering Gil and I served there for 10 years before we joined Reach Tanzania, and in August I’ll be going back on staff as Elementary Principal.

By the way, HOPAC is still recruiting teachers for next year, so if you know a teacher looking for the best job in the entire world, point him or her in my direction.

What are your kids’ names again?

Grace is eleven and in fifth grade.  She loves playing soccer and basketball, crafting and creating, and reading (her current favorites are the Percy Jackson series).  She is a total social butterfly and makes friends quickly.

Josiah is nine and in third grade.  He is a sports maniac.  His favorite is soccer and he can talk for hours about British Premier League soccer, but he is pretty much interested in any kind of competitive sport.

Lily is eight and in second grade.  She loves dolls and drawing and nurturing small children.

Johnny is five and will be starting kindergarten in August.  He is fascinated by vehicles of any kind but also loves puzzles and anything his siblings are doing.

How long will you be in the States?

Four months, until the beginning of August.  We will be all over California.  

Anything else you want to know? Ask away!  


In Defense of Second-Class Missionaries

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On April 5, 2017

In Other

I posted at A Life Overseas today, and this time I revised an essay I wrote on this blog two years ago.  It’s a topic that is near and dear to my heart, and I wanted it to reach a broader audience.

It must have hit a nerve, because six hours later, it’s already been shared 150 times.  

Many of your missionary friends are aching for you to read and understand this.  Even if you read my original post two years ago, please read this new one today.  It’s that important.

As I write today, a thought that is forefront on my mind is Haven of Peace Academy’s need for teachers for next school year.  We are at the point of feeling desperate (yet knowing–and remembering to believe–that this is God’s school and we can trust Him.)  I am deeply passionate about the important and very strategic ministry at HOPAC, and I want to shout, “Why is it so hard for us to find teachers?  And once we find them, why is it so hard for them to find support?”  How can I help churches back at home get this?

Maybe reading this today will help give you a different perspective.  I hope so.

In Defense of Second-Class Missionaries

Imagine what it would look like if western churches
hired their staff with the same priorities that they choose overseas missionaries
to financially support.

First of all, a Children’s Pastor would
definitely be out.  Not strategic enough; he’s only supporting the
children of believers.  Youth Pastor?  Also out, unless he
targets neighborhood kids.

How about a Music Pastor?  Or Pastoral
Counselor?  Nope.  Those are just support roles.  Not enough
front-line ministry.

Administrative Pastor?  Receptionist?  Good heavens.
 We could never dream of paying someone for those kind of inconsequential jobs. 

How about a Preaching Pastor?
 Well…..that’s if-y, but he probably doesn’t make the cut either.
 After all, he’s only feeding the Body.  Most of the time, he’s not
actually reaching the lost. 

So that pretty much leaves only the positions of Community
Outreach Pastor or Evangelist.  Yet how many churches
even have those paid positions? 

I’m not suggesting that churches go about firing
two-thirds of their staff.  I just want to talk about a double-standard I
often see.

Let me introduce you
to the class system among missionaries. 

Who is on the A-List?  Well, that would be
the Church Planters.  Among unreached people groups gives you A+ status.
 Pastoral Trainers and Bible Translators might be able to
squeak by with an A.

The B-List?  Doctors and other health workers,
community development and poverty alleviation workers, ESL teachers.

The C-List?  Administrators, missionary
member care, MK teachers, or anyone else considered “support.”

Whatever tends to be the current hot-topic
in “justice ministry” also often ends up on the A-List.  These days, that’s fighting human
trafficking.  It used to be orphan
ministry, but that’s pretty much been relegated to B-status now.  It’s cool, but not that cool. 

Granted, this class system doesn’t usually
originate with the missionaries themselves, but it’s come out of the culture of
missions in their home countries.  How
many missionaries have sat before missions committees back home who examined if
they fit into their “grid” of priorities? 
And often that grid looks exactly like the hierarchy I just outlined.

My husband and I worked for eight years in TCK
ministry at an international school. 
When trying to raise support, we called and sent information packets to
over 200 churches in California.  We heard back from two.  Churches
told us, over and over again, Sorry, but that ministry doesn’t fit into
our strategy.  

That all changed when we transitioned to theological
training of East African pastors.  Finally, we had churches calling us.
 It was nice.  But frankly, kind of frustrating.  We didn’t change
ministries so that we would become more popular with churches.  We
switched because that’s where God was leading us.  But the truth is, we
don’t consider theological training to be any more strategic, or any more exciting,
than what we were doing at that international school. 

Unfortunately, the missionaries themselves are often acutely aware of this
hierarchy, and it makes many feel like they are second-class. 



Read the rest here.  (And then share it!)

Medina Life, January through March, 2017

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On April 1, 2017

In Other

Carley has been my friend since forever (pretty much).  I even went to her wedding a few years ago.  And seven months ago, she gave birth to quadruplets. So now she and her babies are celebrities.  Our entire community is celebrating the miracle of these very healthy, very precious babies.
Grace had Roman Day in fifth grade, and so of course her Daddy made her an amazing Athena goddess costume.  Of course.  
Our church’s small group visited an orphanage one Sunday, to play with the kids and bring a whole load of supplies.  I’m not usually a big fan of these kind of one-off events, but when the local church steps up to help take care of orphans, that’s certainly heading in the right direction.  

Pretty cool to see the men from our church get down and play with the kids.
My girls with some of the stuff our group brought.  Visiting an orphanage is hard, but good, for my kids.  For me, it’s just hard.  
Lucy and I have been meeting for almost three years now to work on Kiswahili.  That’s ending because when we come back, I’ll be working full time.  She had matching dresses made for us.  And I am so thankful for her friendship.
Josiah as Aragorn for Book Week at HOPAC
Service Emphasis Week:  When all HOPAC kids go out and serve each day.  Lily’s class went to a local school.
One of my very favorite aspects of Service Emphasis Week is that the older HOPAC students lead and set the example for the younger ones.  So not only do my kids get to interact with kids from a different school, but they get to be influenced by the wonderful “big” kids at HOPAC.

Grace’s U11 basketball team (coached by her awesome Dad!) had an undefeated season, and got silver medals in their tournament.  
Celebrating their great season.
Reach Tanzania’s new cohort of students for 2017!
In assembly yesterday, Grace’s teacher presented her with her fifth grade promotion certificate, since she will miss the ceremony in June.  

Four years ago, I was one of the people whispering in Karen’s ear that she needed to apply to be primary (elementary) principal.  Four years later, she was encouraging me to apply.  I’ve spent much of the last month with her, as she has passed on to me everything she knows about the job.  She leaves me big shoes to fill.  She has been a wonderful principal and a great friend.  Here we are standing in front of the office that will be mine in August.  

That’s a Whole Lot of Thoughts

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On March 25, 2017

In Other

Johnny’s recent airplane picture.  I am the pilot (so he tells me).

These are the days my mind is in many places and many times.

Thinking about here:  How do I prepare my house to be empty for four months?  Buying lots of dog food, going through piles of papers I had put off.  How do I make sure our workers get paid?  What does the landlord need to know?  What clothes can we give away before we leave?  Making sure the kids are caught up on vaccinations and doctor’s appointments.  How can I use up everything in my pantry?

Kids:  Mom, the ketchup is finished!

Me:  Too bad.  We’re leaving in a week and I am not buying any more ketchup.  Eat your eggs plain.

Thinking about life when we return:  I will hit the ground running when I come back on August 4th.  What can I learn from the current principal before I go?  I’ve been shadowing her, asking hundreds of questions, talking to all the current teachers.  I am stuffing my brain with schedules and facts and feelings that others are giving me.

Everything will change when we come back.  Johnny will be in kindergarten.  I will be a working mom.  What can I teach my houseworker before I go?  What new responsibilities will I ask of her?  We cleaned out the kids’ toy room and easily boxed up half of their things to give away.  They don’t play with many toys any more, and Johnny will no longer be home.  For the first time in 10 years, I won’t have a pre-schooler with me all day.  I gave away Candyland and the alphabet practice books.  I once yearned for the end of those days, and now that they are here, I am sad.

Thinking about preparations to leave:  Getting school materials from all the kids’ teachers so that I can homeschool them for their third term.  Writing to churches and scheduling visits for when we are in the States.  Working through our home assignment budget with our business manager.  Communicating with a friend back at home who will make us a video of our ministry to show to everyone.  Buying gifts to take back to friends.  Renewing the car insurance.  Making an appointment to get the girls’ hair done.

Josiah:  I’m really excited about going to America, but I’m also really sad.  I’m going to miss my friends.

Welcome to the world of bittersweet emotions, kid.  You’re learning it young.

Grace is sad she will miss Joseph and the Technicolor Dreamcoat and her 5th Grade Graduation at HOPAC.  Josiah is sad he’ll miss Sports Day and the 5K run.  But simultaneously, they both are counting down the days and announce it every evening.  They are educating Johnny about Chuck E. Cheese and garage door openers.  Last week, we received a package with the Christmas cards from our home church.  We reminded the kids, See?  You know this person!  Do you remember playing with her?

Last week I told the kids to put their shoes on at dinner time because a lightbulb had shattered in the dining room.  They all commented on how weird it was to wear shoes at dinner.

Me:  In America, a lot of people keep their shoes on in the house.  If you visit someone else’s house, you keep on your shoes.

Josiah:  REALLY?  Like, what if your shoes are all muddy?

Grace:  They have these things called sidewalks in America.  Your shoes don’t get muddy.

Dad:  There is no dirt in America.

Me:  There are no cats in America.

*cue family singing while Johnny looks on blankly*  I guess we need to show him “An American Tale.”  

Thinking about the journey:  Of course, this part should have been routine, and then last week America decided that it didn’t want people who are flying through the Middle East to carry their electronics on the plane.  So where are we flying through?  The Middle East.  Thanks, America.  My brain didn’t have enough to think about already.  Yeah, going back to the Dark Ages of Children-Before-Ipads is one thing, but honestly, making sure our valuable electronics get to the States unbroken and unstolen is a much bigger worry.

Thinking about there:  Dreaming about salami and sourdough bread and good yogurt and nectarines.  Planning vacations with our families.  Emailing with friends who want to see us (one who will travel all the way from Wisconsin!).  Anticipating hugs and conversations and nostalgia.  Daily adding to my list of things I will need to buy in America.

We are so excited to see all those we love deeply, yet I know acutely that the joy will also be a poignant reminder of the loss.  My six-month old niece is now three years old.  My own 5-year-old is now eight.  There will be the three nephews we have not yet met.  Joy, but sorrow, because we can’t get those years back.

It’s funny though, that in spite of all the looming change and mixed emotions and scattered thoughts, there is now something new in my brain:  Familiarity.  I have done this so many times now that even the craziness seems routine.  I can fit my emotions into predictable categories:  Yes, I feel this now, but I know it won’t last.  I know I will even out.  I know it will be okay.  I know there will be stress and culture shock and joy and sorrow and frustration, but I know it.  None of it surprises me anymore.   And there is something deeply comforting about that.

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