Tag: Lessons and Musings Page 20 of 21

Reflections on a Bad Attitude

On December 10, 2008

Here I am. In my house. On the internet.

That means we have power again.

It really is a miracle. Yesterday we talked to someone we know who is high up with the power company, and he said that the power company is so completely in debt that it could be days….weeks….before we got power again.

So we contacted a friend who is in the States for this month, and they said we could stay in their house. Yesterday afternoon we collected up a week’s worth of clothes, food, and toys and moved it all over to the friend’s house. So, of course, we were shocked when this morning we received a text message from our night guard that the power was back on.

I have concluded that the last four days were just plain rotten. No power=suffocating heat, spoiling food, little sleep, dark house. Add on top of that, Josiah getting a fever and throwing up, me getting a fever and not feeling great, Gil’s jetlag, and Gil working like a dog for the last 3 days to get his report cards done by today, since he had spent the last two weeks in the States. Gil was sleeping at school because the house was too hot and I was sleeping at home, which I accomplished by sticking my head under the shower every few hours and dripping back to bed.

Just plain rotten days. In fact, for the first time in four years, I told Gil, “I’ve had it! I want to go back to the States.”

Ha. Ha. HA.

As if people in the States never have bad days. I can hear you chuckling at me right now.

So. How did God speak to me these four days?

1. I taught Grace Philippians 2:14 a couple weeks ago, and that silly girl just keeps bringing it up. “Do everything without complaining or arguing.” Yeah, yeah, okay. Do you have to keep reminding me?

2. A couple weeks ago, Gil preached a great sermon–as always–on Philippians 1:21. “To live is Christ; to die is gain.” Am I living for comfort? Is that really the purpose of my life? Is that why I am here in Tanzania? If I am truly living for Christ, nothing else in life should matter much.

3. A song from the “Sovereign Grace” kids’ album:
When I don’t get to have my own way
I will trust in you
For you know what is best
When tears begin to run down my face
I will trust in you
For you are good, you are good

Fantastic album, by the way. Buy it even if you don’t have kids.

4. An article by John Piper in WORLD Magazine–which you should also buy.

His article was about the election, but applicable to all aspects of life.
“Let those who mourn do so as though they were not mourning. Our losses do not incapacitate us. They do not blind us to the truth that for Christians the best is always yet to come. Always. The Lord gives and takes away. But He remains. Let those who rejoice do so as though they were not rejoicing. Christians rejoice in a thousand created things. But none of them satisfies the soul. Even the surest sights of glory now are in a mirror dimly. Such delights will soon be as though they were not. They will be replaced by a vastly better joy.”

I need to hold much more loosely to the things of this world. None of this matters–not comfort, not water or electricity, not Christmas, not even husband or children–in light of the surpassing greatness of Christ.

So I am thankful. I wish I could say that I know I will handle it better ‘next time’–since I know there will be one–but I look forward to what He will teach me then too.

And now I am feeling very humbled by our electricity. I definitely don’t deserve it.

Oh! I also have a very clean, sparkly, shiny refrigerator that hasn’t looked this good in two years. Nothing like no power for 4 days for a great opportunity to clean the fridge. Mmmm….makes me happy when I look at it.

1 Thessalonians 5:16-18

By Amy Medina

On December 8, 2008

In Other

“Be joyful always; pray continually; give thanks in all circumstances, for this is God’s will for you in Christ Jesus.”

I’m struggling with this one today.

Saturday Gil came home after two weeks in the States for his brother’s wedding. Joy!

Saturday night the power went out. Sigh. Long night. Gil can barely sleep with no power; I do better but not by much. Imagine trying to sleep in your car on a hot day with all the windows up. That’s what it feels like.

No power all day Sunday.

No power all Sunday night. Gil came to school and slept in his classroom.

No power all day today. Broke a record for us–previously, the longest we had gone without power was 36 hours.

Called the power company–again–this afternoon.

They finally admitted that the transformer for our neighborhood blew up because someone stole the oil out of it–a common occurance.

And they don’t have a replacement. And they don’t know when they will.

Last night I took all the meat out of my freezer to a friend’s house who has a deep freezer. In a couple days our house will run out of water, since every few days it has to be pumped in by electric pump.

I am not feeling thankful. I am not feeling joyful. I am actually feeling quite grumpy.

And bitter.

I am very, very mad at the thieves who took the oil. People like that are tearing their country down instead of building it up.

And now what will we do? We can’t realistically stay in our house with no power and no water. Our house is quite dark during the day, without lights. And totally miserable without fans. Without a fridge. Or a computer to do our work on.

And I am pouting. Because we had plans to decorate for Christmas this week. And instead we’re looking into guest houses or hotels or house sitting for someone. For who knows how long. Really, it could be weeks. The thought of not being in our house for Christmas–and the big celebration I am already planning–is almost more than I can bear.

But what does Scripture say? Be joyful always….give thanks in all circumstances.

And I am mad at myself, at my own reaction, knowing full well that billions of people all over the world…less than a mile away from me…never have electricity or running water. Never have Christmas decorations. Never have health and daily bread and all the other things that I have been blessed with.

So I am thankful for this situation because it does reveal attitudes….motives….idols in my heart that need to be dealt with. Pray that God roots them out and disposes of them.

Not the Path I Chose…

By Amy Medina

On November 22, 2008

In Other

….but I must submit to His will regardless.

Those of you who read our newsletters might have caught on to the fact that we were planning our next Home Assignment from March to May of next year. For the past six months, it’s what we’ve been planning. Our lease is up in February, and our landlord plans to totally renovate our house (remember the cracks in the walls?) during the months we would be gone. God graciously provided us with two men who have been rapidly moving foward with plans to come out here and take over Gil’s Bible classes while we were gone.

But we found out yesterday that God didn’t provide us with permission to take Josiah to the States with us. And obviously, that means none of us are going.

I don’t know if I have mentioned that Josiah is not adopted yet. Tanzanian law requires that you foster the child for three months, and then apply for adoption. All of it is really a formality, but a lengthy one. Josiah probably won’t be officially adopted for another 8 months or so.

So, in order to travel to the States with him in March, we needed special permission from social welfare. With Grace, we got that permission twice with no problem. Lots of families we know have gotten that permission with no problem. So we assumed it would be the same for Josiah. I never once thought there would be a problem.

Then our lawyer told us the bad news. The last family who applied for permission to travel with their foster child totally blew it. They used entirely culturally inappropriate methods of manipulation to procure their letter of permission from the commissioner. They got their letter, but the commissioner was then so ticked off (he was never Prince Charming to begin with), that he declared that no more permission would be granted for families to travel with foster children.

We tried anyway. And yesterday, we found out that he meant what he said. Our permission to travel with Josiah in March was denied.

This means we have to wait until he is officially adopted before we can take our Home Assignment. But the hard part about that is that we can’t totally predict when that will happen. Our lawyer told us that we can safely assume it will be completed a year from now.

Yesterday was a hard day as the realization hit me that we won’t be going home in March. I’ve been looking foward to it for a long time. The coming of Thanksgiving and Christmas always makes me think of home and family, and I was telling myself that “it would only be three more months!” Plus, Gil leaves tomorrow for the States for two weeks to attend his brother’s wedding. I would have loved to be there and am so bummed that I am missing it. So you could say that I’ve been a little homesick lately. Not a great time to find out that it will be another year before we can go home.

I should clarify. Tanzania is home now. I do love living here and I love what we do here. But the pain of being so far from family never completely goes away. Especially now that we have kids. My kids have such wonderful grandparents, and it breaks my heart that they are separated from each other most of the time. That’s the hardest part about being a missionary, and the hardest part about getting the bad news yesterday.

But of course, now we have to deal with logistics too. Rearranging dates, contacting our landlord, contacting the two wonderful men who are set to come out here, figuring out how we can reschedule everything.

It’s not the path I would have chosen. I don’t understand why God answered some prayers about this Home Assignment but not others. But I do know that He was capable. And thus, I know that His will is perfect, He has His reasons, and I will do best by submitting to His plan as greater than mine.

I think I am just about done throwing myself a pity-party, which is why I chose not to write yesterday. I know that there are far greater disappointments or sufferings in life, and that I have no reason to doubt His will.

I am thankful that we serve a God whose ways are greater than ours.

Living With (But Not In) Poverty

By Amy Medina

On September 18, 2008

In Other

What would it be like if your next door neighbor lived in a tin shack with no running water or electricity, and rarely had enough food to go around?

This is my tension.

Dar es Salaam is a city of 4 million people. It is growing economically in leaps and bounds. The fancy hotels are overflowing with visitors here on business. New banks seem to be opening every week, with lines that go out the door. Our school, HOPAC, which costs $4000 per year for tuition, is bursting at the seams with a waiting list a mile long. The only other high quality international school in the city, IST, which costs more than $12,000 per year, is also bursting at the seams. There are many wealthy people in this city.

However, the vast majority are not. Thankfully, we don’t see starving people in Dar es Salaam the way we did when I lived in Ethiopia as a teenager. There are people starving in Tanzania, and I’m sure even in the city, but it’s not the norm. But that doesn’t mean that the majority are very far above it.

Earlier this week, my house worker, Esta, asked me for an advance on her monthly pay. I asked her what she needed it for and she said that her husband still hasn’t found work and they are out of food. Since she had received her salary less than two weeks ago, the fact that she is asking for an advance for food is not a good thing.

I gave her the advance, and some food, but inside I felt sick. Esta has worked for us for two years and is such a dear woman. She is about my age, been married for two years, and has a baby girl who she brings to work with her. She is a believer and is full of joy. But her life is hard. She and her husband rent two small rooms. Not a two bedroom house—two rooms. One for sitting and one for sleeping. She cooks outside and uses an outhouse. They have electricity but rarely use it. They do not have running water. Esta’s husband has been out of work now for over a year. There is a 40% unemployment rate in this city.

We pay Esta about $80 per month, and this is her only job. In addition, we pay for almost all of their rent and cover all of the medical expenses for her and her baby. If she is still working for us when her daughter goes to school, we will help with school fees too. We pay over the going rate. Yet….we’re talking only $80 a month to live on, folks.

Then there’s our life. We live in a four bedroom house that is (sort of) similar to an American house, though rent is about 4 times cheaper here. We have all the amenities, except for a dryer or dish washer, but I have Esta. We own one ten-year-old car. My pantry is always full of food.

We are not living extravagantly by American standards. When we moved here, we carefully thought through our standard of living. We have been purposeful about the location and size of our house—we chose all the details for very specific ministry-related reasons. We live at or below the standard of living compared to the other HOPAC families. In fact, most of the Tanzanian kids at HOPAC live far above us.

Yet I live with constant tension between our lifestyle and that of so many of the people around us—even those about 100 yards from our house. The truth is, even if we lived at a lower standard, as some of the missionaries in the villages do, we would still have more than most Tanzanians. We never have to worry about having enough to eat. We never have to worry about money for a sick child. We are allowed plane trips to the States every couple of years. Our children are guaranteed an excellent education and all the opportunity they will ever desire.

When Gil and I go out to dinner, I think about how that one dinner was a week’s wage for many people in the city. If we go to a hotel for our anniversary for a night, we could easily spend a month’s wage of an average Tanzanian. I think about it when I buy dog food. Or Pringles. Or books. Or anything that goes beyond basic living expenses.

Sometimes I just want to run away from it all. It’s just too hard. When Esta asked me for the advance for food, I just wanted to leave Tanzania and go back to America. I often just want to pretend that poverty isn’t really there. Of course, living in the States doesn’t make poverty go away. But in America, surrounded by people who live in luxury, it’s easier to live in denial.

Of course, not everyone is rich in America. But even the poorest have electricity, running water (that won’t make you sick if you drink it), shoes, free education for their children, food stamps, presents at Christmas, a TV, and often even a car and a computer. More importantly, people in America have opportunity to get ahead. Most of the rest of the world does not.

But there are no easy answers. How do we remain generous while staying within economic and cultural norms in Africa? What is the balance between generosity and fostering unhealthy dependence? How many “creature comforts” of western life can still glorify God? How do we really distinguish between “needs” and “wants” (which are very much defined by our culture)? Why do my kids get to experience Disneyland, bubble baths, dress-up clothes, swimming pools, and university, and the kids around the corner do not? Why has God allowed us to have so much and so many to have so little? And what is our responsibility in the midst of that?

Think on poverty, my friends. Though I want to run away from it, God never desires us to put our heads in the sand. When not confronted with it head-on, it’s easy to pretend it doesn’t exist. In the end, I’m thankful I live with this tension. Heaven forbid I start pretending that this life really is heaven, and that I “deserve” comfort—as I am often so tempted.

When my struggle ceases, I will be either in sin, or in Heaven.

The Elephant in the Room

By Amy Medina

On August 27, 2008

In Other

“Can’t you have ‘your own’ children?”

I heard this today. Gil heard it last week. Others have been brave enough to ask us. But I’m quite confident that pretty much everybody wonders about it and doesn’t think it’s polite to ask.

The truth is, I really don’t mind being asked this question. Now….having it phrased like that isn’t exactly the best way to ask, since it implies that something is wrong with us or that somehow biological children would be more significant in some way.

But I certainly don’t mind talking about it. So. To answer the question on everybody’s mind, here goes:

I don’t know if we will ever have biological children. We haven’t been preventing it for over 4 years now, and when we lived in the States we were tested. There is nothing medically wrong that would prevent us from getting pregnant. I did get pregnant, once, about 3 years ago, and we lost the baby after only 8 weeks. We’ve never tried any method of treatment, mostly because we live in Africa and that’s not an option. But even if we were in the States, I’m not sure how far we would go down that route. Just getting tested was emotionally draining enough. And though the adoption process is long and difficult—as fertility treatments are—at least we have the guarantee of getting a baby at the end—which isn’t a guarantee during treatment.

HOWEVER, adoption has never been a “Plan B” for us. Both of us have been interested in adoption since high school. Both of us talked about it with certainty since before we were married. There was never a question of whether we would want to adopt.

We love adoption with a passion. It’s an incredible, beautiful illustration of God’s pursuit and love for us. Remember, none of us were born into God’s family! All of us were orphans. We were purchased from Satan at an enormous price—despite our own wickedness—and those of us who have accepted His incredible Gift of Grace have been adopted into God’s family. This is why we named our first child Grace.

Adoption is a picture of redemption. Orphans were never a part of God’s original plan. Yet adoption is a way of reversing the effects of the Fall. It is a high privilege. And it is definitely addicting.

Of course, there are “issues.” My children will never be entirely Tanzanian nor entirely American. (Though that would be the case even for biological children that we raised here!) They may struggle with their identity. They may struggle with wanting to know their birth families. But even biological children have “issues”—don’t we all? God never promised that parenting—or life in general–would be easy.

My prayer is that my adopted children grow up loving that they are adopted. That they would see God’s hand in their lives since their birth. That they would relish the uniqueness of their family. That they would have a deep and profound understanding of the gospel because of their adoption. I know this is no guarantee—no matter how “good” we are as parents. That is why it is my prayer.

Do I want to get pregnant? It was pretty important to me a few years ago. And even now, I would love to experience a pregnancy and birth and breast feeding. And if God wills that I never get to experience those things? Thanks to the grace of God, I can live with that. Because the enormous blessings I am experiencing through adoption are greater than I could have ever imagined.

And our next? Maybe from India! 🙂 For some strange reason, the Tanzanian government doesn’t usually allow permission for a third Tanzanian child (but we will try). But we love the idea of a multi-national family anyway.