Tag: Grace Page 12 of 19

Reflections on America

Through the eyes of a three-year-old:
“Mommy, at the airport, the doors just open by themselves and people walk through!”

When I brushed her teeth using tap water, she said in great horror, “Mommy, you are using DIRTY water!”

Fascination with: drinking fountains, automatic flushing toilets, the buttons on her airplane seat (how many times did we “accidentally” page the flight attendant?) and escalators. In fact, I don’t know why we spent the money to take her to Disneyland when we could have just spent 5 hours at the airport going up and down the escalators and she would have been just as happy. Oh wait, we did that too.

Speaking of Disneyland: Taking Grace to Disneyland for the first time was somewhat of a sublime experience for me. Disneyland is the quintessential experience for children (in theory, anyway). The Happiest Place on Earth, right? Okay, okay, I’m not looking for a debate here. But when I saw my little girl at Disneyland, having the time of her life, I was struck quite forcefully with the thought of the life she might have lived had God not brought her into our lives. I do realize that there are much more important experiences in a child’s life than Disneyland, but to see her experiencing the blissful delightedness of unabashed childhood joy almost brought me to tears a few times that day.

Speaking of unabashed: What is it about America that makes a woman dreadfully insecure? After just a few days of a bit of television, bill boards, and magazine covers, I suddenly had the thought that I really, really needed some wrinkle cream. The thought had never occurred to me before. Hmmm. This is one aspect of American life that is entirely absent from life in Tanzania, and I don’t miss it at all. (Don’t worry, I didn’t actually buy it.)

Speaking of missing: As much as I loved my time in the States, and took so much joy in seeing Grace + Grandparents love on each other, it just wasn’t the same without my boys. I had lost some sleep about leaving Josiah, but thankfully he did great and has readjusted quickly to having his mom back on the scene. I’m certain this is because Gil did such a great job with him.

Speaking of Gil: How many husbands would not only allow, but encourage their wives to leave for two weeks to go have fun in the States and leave him with their 17-month-old? What a wonderful husband I have. He dealt with stinky diapers, tears at night, meals, and entertainment of our little guy all by himself for two weeks so that Grace and I could do this. He even encouraged us to go to Disneyland, knowing he would miss out on seeing Grace experience it for the first time. I am ashamed to admit that my attitude hasn’t always been as great when he has left on trips. He did a fantastic job being Mr. Mom and it is a joy to call him mine.

Speaking of joy: You know one thing I absolutely love about being in the States? Going to church. Of course, we are part of a church here. But there is nothing like being with so many friends, all in one place, who have known me for so many years; who have loved me, served with me, prayed for me, encouraged me, mentored me, and helped to make me who I am today. Hillside and FCC, you have no idea how much you mean to me.

Happy Memories: Bibi and Babu and Grandma and Grandpa, cousins, Paul and Kimmie, meeting my new sister-in-law Shannon, Carothers (plus FOUR!), Anne, Feather family, Hillside, Easter eggs, Grace’s Easter dress, FCC’s new sanctuary, Lisa’s Tea Treasures, lunch at Google (for free!), long phone conversations with dear friends, seeing Grace meet Dora at Great America, seeing Grace meet Mickey Mouse at Disneyland, Walmart, new clothes, pizza, Taco Bell, Fresh Choice, grapes, Cheerios, strawberries, flank steak, Cold Stone, water pressure, carpet…and of course, escalators.

When I arrived back home on Sunday, there hadn’t been electricity for 24 hours. I found two large swarms of very large ants (1/2 inch each, no joke) in the house.

I pulled the completely defrosted pork fillet out of the freezer and forced my way through my foggy jetlagged brain to figure out what to cook with it. I lit candles. I sprayed the swarms of ants and swept their little carcasses out of the door. The power came back on during dinner.

Home, sweet home.

My Only Chance to Post Videos….

…since the connection in Tanzania is too slow to download much of anything.

1. Grace swimming and diving
2. Josiah dancing (this took place at youth group, hence the choices of music)
3. Josiah’s favorite thing to do
4. Grace and Daddy on the waterslide

Salon Surrender

In every way this little girl is mine. But the hair is beyond me. Sigh. I’m trying, really I am. I’ve been working and working at getting the braids right. I’m constantly asking my Tanzanian friends about the hair care products they use.

But I wanted her hair to be special for our trip to the States. I also didn’t want to have to worry about it while we are there. So I talked to a HOPAC mom whose little girl always has the cutest hair styles, and asked her where she takes her daughter to get her hair done. So she gave me the directions, and Grace and I went yesterday.

I chose the picture in the book that I liked the most, and the stylist got to work. After about thirty seconds she said, “Has her hair been washed?”

“Ndiyo. Jana usiku.” Last night.

Oh. Thirty more seconds.

She looked over at the stylist next to her. “Siyo safi,” she said. Not clean.

She parted Grace’s hair and showed me. I blushed. I was ashamed. Terrible mother I am. Can’t even get her daughter’s hair clean.

Sigh. Can you wash it for her?

So she did. And then she braided it. And it looks totally adorable. And Grace didn’t make a single peep during the entire two hours. Interesting, considering she screams bloody murder when I do her hair, claiming that I am hurting her. Ha. Caught you in your bluff, child. They were pulling much harder than I do.

And now I’ve determined that we will make regular visits to the salon. I think I thought I had to prove something by being able to style her hair myself. But if Tanzanian moms take their daughters to the salon, then so can I!

And the price? About $12. For washing, blow drying, extensions, and beading–two hours of work. Those of you who live in America and have African hair will appreciate that!

Little Man

16 months old. Finally fits into his 12 month clothes.

He has stolen my heart.


He really is obsessed with balls. All day long, he hits them, throws them, and kicks them, and he’s happy.

I really think it fulfills a lifetime dream of mine to dress my little boy in OshKosh overalls. I mean, really. Is there anything cuter?

He’s often pretty solemn, but many times during the day, he’ll look over at me. I’ll smile at him, and this is what I get in return.

My other little sweetie.

“How Beautiful Are the Feet of Those Who Bring Good News…”

Every other year, our mission organization holds a All-Africa conference. Usually it has been held in Kenya, but this year it was in Tanzania–just about a mile away from our house! Even though it was so close, last week we still packed up and drove down to stay at the hotel with everyone else. It was a wonderful five days.


There were about 100 people there: half either missionaries or national leaders from Africa, and half from the States, including a large team from a church in Tenessee, who ministered to us in music, prayer, and child care.

I was blessed by the African national pastors…godly, strong men, all from countries recently devastated by war–yet planting dozens of churches a year. And for the first time in about 18 years, I got to hear real Liberian English…what a joy to my heart!

I was blessed by the missionaries from the other African countries. The vast majority of missionaries there used to serve in Zaire–now known as Congo–and have now been dispersed to other countries because of the war. But the movement of churches in Congo is the second largest in the entire world for our denomiation, second only to the U.S. This group has been serving God in Africa for decades…they all speak multiple languages…they are such an example of faithfulness and sacrifice.


One day, out of curiousity, I counted the career missionaries in the room: 27.
Number of those who are in their 50’s or 60’s: 20
Number of those who are under 40 years old: 7, counting Gil and I. And all of us are in our 30’s.

Where is the next generation? Who will replace them? “The harvest is plentiful but the workers are few. Ask the Lord of the harvest, therefore, to send out workers into his harvest field.”

The best part of the conference was getting to spend time with friends that I rarely get to see. Emily and her husband live a couple hours away from us, but they have two adopted kids that are the same age as our kids, so we have a lot in common.

Grace’s two best friends: McKayla and Caleb.
Caleb says to his Mommy: “Isn’t Grace beautiful?”
Grace says to her Mommy: “I’m going to marry my friend Caleb.”
We think it’s a great match!

Josiah is a little fish, just like his sister. Whenever he is in the pool, all he wants to do is repeatedly throw himself in, face first. Guess he trusts us to pick him up every time!

Grace and McKayla entertained each other by coming up with as many ways as possible to go down the water slides.

Gil got up for the sunrise a couple mornings and this was his reward.

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