…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
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!
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.
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.
This morning I went into Grace’s room and she was sitting on her bed “reading” this:
It’s a fabulous little catechism that is recommended by John Piper. Grace has been memorizing it and she loves it. So this morning when I walked in, she started asking me the questions. “Mommy, Who is God? Who wrote the Bible? Why did God make you?” And then, “Good girl, Mommy!” when I answered correctly.
Then she asked, “Where is God?”
“God is everywhere,” I said.
She looked up at me. “Why is God everywhere?” (This is not a question from her book. And she’s really not that philosophical. She’s just three and likes to ask ‘why.’)
“Well,” I said. “Because He is God. He can do anything. He has all the power.”
She gave me a knowing look. “No, Mommy. Tanesco has all the power.”
Ah. Tanesco. That would be the power company. Obviously a common topic of conversation in our house.
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