Scraping Raisins

October 1, 2016

Monthly Mentionables {September}

I had a baby this month!

Not just worth mentioning, but worth celebrating, I’d say.

While rocking our already unstable world, he is a precious gift whose only demands seem to be to be held, fed and held some more. Though life is a bit of a blur right now, I’m trying to see through the fog to capture these mental pictures and special moments that are so fleeting.

So because of this new life that is shifting mine, this month may be a bit light (mainly because the time is ticking…my husband agreed to strap him on in our Moby wrap while he roasts coffee so I could sneak downstairs and write baby-less for a couple hours).

Here’s what I’ve been into this month:

Books:

Art & Fear: Observations On the Perils (and Rewards) of Artmaking, by David Bayles and Ted Orland
As a trained actor, my husband has an entire shelf designated for books on faith and art. I plucked this one off the shelf one night in hopes of inspiration as a writer. Written by two different people, I definitely preferred one of the writers over the other, though the writers themselves were never identified. That said, it was a quick read and offered many good thoughts for those in creative fields as they confront their fears of insignificance and inferiority and combat perfectionism in themselves. This book is an optimistic cheerleader on the sidelines for those who are in need of a bit of a pep rally for themselves.

The Cloister Walk, by Kathleen Norris
My husband actually picked this one up from the library and thought I’d like it. It has been my companion through the night vigils of nursing (at least after the initial first week of binge-watching the last season of Downton Abbey). As we have been attending a liturgical church recently, I found this book about Ms. Norris spending many months at a monastery to be fascinating. The format was a bit convoluted for me (which could be because I was reading it in a slightly hallucinatory state) and confusing to follow since it was a composite of essays she had published in various other publications. It also seemed to be about 50 pages too long, but it was enjoyable enough that I stuck it out to the end. My husband and I especially enjoyed her thoughts on celibacy and marriage and found a lot to discuss in those chapters. I would recommend it if you are at all interested in the monastic life or are a life-long evangelical dipping your toes in liturgical life.

Podcasts

God Centered Mom
Connecting with Your Kids in Any Circumstance:: Jim & Lynn Jackson

Stay in Your Hoop:: Vela Tomba

The Art of Nurturing Boys:: David Thomas

The Boob Group
(seriously!) This was new to me, but has a lot of different great episodes on breastfeeding for the nursing mama!

Tongue Ties and Lip Ties: Symptoms, Treatment and Aftercare

Ann Kroeker, Writing Coach

What to do When You’re Unsure How to Begin

Your Writing Can Change the World

Pass the Mic
Current Events: Keith Lamont Scott, Terence Crutcher, and NMAAHC

A Pastoral Perspective on the 2016 Election

Pandora Stations I’m Enjoying:

Fernando Ortega

Josh Garrels

The Weepies

T.V.
(Now that I’m nursing around the clock, I seem to have more time to watch T.V. in the wee hours of the night.)

This is Us
(tailor-made to fill the void left behind by Parenthood)

Thought-Provoking Articles from the Web:

Getting Hurt by the Church Doesn’t Mean You Should Abandon God, by Elizabeth Trotter for Relevant

I Am Not Labeled, I am Named, by Alia Joy for SheLoves Magazine

The Sugar-Coated Language of White Fragility, by Anna Kegler for Huffington Post

Stop the Revolution, Join the Plodders, by Kevin DeYoung for Ligonier Ministries

That Is Not My Jesus, by Travis Eades for Huffington Post

Yes, We’re Going to Talk about IT {The Grove: Sexuality}, for Velvet Ashes (this includes lots of links to great resources for those in all walks of life!)

For Fun:

Sleeping Baby Has No Idea She Becomes the Star of Cosplay During Her Naps

Hilarious Parenting Comics, for Scary Mommy

Find Me Elsewhere:

The Best Years of Our Lives for the Mudroom

Falling Off the Missionary Pedestal for SheLoves Magazine

In Case You Missed it on Scraping Raisins:

The New Normal

39 Weeks: These Strange Days

~~~

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Linking up with Leigh Kramer: What I’m Into

**This post includes affiliate links

October 1, 2016

Having three kids looks like…

Many friends have texted me over the past few weeks asking how the transition to three kids is going. The fact that I haven’t had a chance to write a blog post (and am now typing this standing up while my infant is strapped to my body) should tell you something. But for what it’s worth, here is a quick list of what having three kids looks like up to this point.

So far, having three kids looks like…

going to the grocery store at the end of your “date night” (in which you held the baby the entire sushi dinner, ignoring the looks the server gave you as you drank a glass of wine WHILE nursing.)

always saying yes to the coffee.

nursing your baby in the Moby wrap at the pumpkin patch (that’s a 301 skill, people).

feeling guilty for sending goldfish as your son’s birthday treat at school.

accepting ALL the help anyone is willing to offer.

doing three loads of laundry a day.

not sweeping the floor.

wiping three tiny bums all day long.

nursing with or without a nursing cover in public.

lowering the standards for personal hygiene for everyone in the family.

adding 15 minutes per kid to get out of the house.

being told every.single.time you leave the house with all three children, “You have your hands full, don’t you?” Yes, yes I do.

wondering how to answer when your mom asks if you got any sleep last night.

praying that the screaming in the other room while you’re nursing doesn’t mean your other two kids are murdering each other (there have been bite marks…).

someone is always, always touching you.

congratulating yourself on brushing your own teeth and hair (bonus points for make-up).

feeling lousy for not spending time with your other children or husband.

not feeling sexy. Ever.

thanking God that someone invented a way for you to wear your baby so you could cook dinner, eat, write, give your son a haircut, and go anywhere “hands free” (ahem, holding the hands of your other two tinies, that is).

wanting to high-five everyone in the preschool drop-off line because not only were you on time, but you managed to get everyone inside without injuring themselves.

asking for three extra weeks of meals on your meal plan so that your mom says, “You’re STILL getting meals?” Yes, mom.

accepting that showering is a luxury.

someone is always, always crying (and sometimes it’s you).

your husband majorly picks up your slack and though you mostly want to yell at him for no good reason (hello, hormones), you know he is the one holding the house together and you love him for it.

eating the proverbial crumbs under God’s table because you are just too tired to be a spiritual “success.”

LOVING my minivan. Seriously.

wanting to kiss the friend who spontaneously stops by to take your two-year-old for the morning.

letting go of all illusion of control.

loving my mother even more than I already did.

marveling that you operate on so little sleep.

trusting that this is a short season in the scheme of things and that one day you will actually miss this.

***

Some have told me that three is the hardest transition, though I hoped it wouldn’t be true. I’ll let you know what I really think when I emerge from the fog! For now, I wouldn’t say we are thriving, though we are surviving, so keep the meals coming!

~~~

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Next Post: In this Season (of Motherhood)

Previous Post: Monthly Mentionables {September}

September 26, 2016

The Best Years of Our Lives {for The Mudroom}

I had the privilege of writing over at The Mudroom a week (or two) ago and with all the life shifts, I am just now getting around to sharing it here (quickly…all three children are sleeping!).

Legs curled under my body, I stole a few minutes from studying to sit on the floral couch in the chapel hidden in the attic of Williston Hall, scribbling in my journal. I’d sometimes sneak in here for an hour of quiet between classes since it was in the middle of campus and my dorm was a much farther walk away. Suddenly, the door burst open and a woman in her early 40’s entered with her two school-aged daughters. She peered around the room, eyes wide. “I spent so much time here,” she whispered. “And it hasn’t changed at all…”

In her, I saw my future self.
What will life be like when I’m 40? Where will I have gone? What will I have done? I thought.
Later in the day as I crossed Blanchard lawn on my way to class, I passed some alumni visiting for their twenty year reunion and one of them stopped me to ask for directions. Before turning away, though, he said, “Enjoy this. These are the best years of your life.”
The “best”? So it’s all downhill after college? I thought. Sad.
Now that I am nearing 40, I understand more of what that man meant. From his life of mortgages, insurance, bills, retirement savings, car payments and parenting, what my dad’s description of college as “living with your friends and studying a bit on the side” sounds pretty amazing.

****

I now have two teeny children who I avoid taking to the grocery store at all costs. But when I do, I catch some grandmother fondly admiring my two blondies and I know what she is about to say. “It goes so fast. These are just the best years!” she’ll call over from the other aisle. And if she’s especially anointed that day, she’ll add, “Enjoy them!”
Another woman left much the same message on one of my blog posts about motherhood recently. In fact, I think she actually used the words, “Those years with little ones were the best years of my life.”

…continue reading at The Mudroom.

~~~

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Previous Post: Falling Off the Missionary Pedestal {for SheLoves}

September 26, 2016

Falling Off the Missionary Pedestal {for SheLoves}

I was privileged to share this at SheLoves last week! Things have been a bit, eh, busy around here since we had our baby on September 10th, so I’m just now getting around to sharing it on Scraping Raisins.

As a twenty-something single missionary home for the summer, I sat quietly judging the other girls in the room who were laughing and talking about which color Kitchen Aid Mixer they had registered for at their bridal showers. I thought about my own home—a 300 square foot cinderblock apartment in China with one sink in the kitchen that looked like it belonged to an auto mechanic and a “shoilet”—a toilet that got wet when you showered because the shower was in the same tiny space.

As I listened to those girls, rather than feeling envy, I felt smug. I was doing the Hard Thing: purposely living a life of discomfort for the sake of the gospel. I had climbed the evangelical Christian ladder right up to the top, perching on the pedestal the church reserves for missionaries. I wasn’t going to waste my life like these other girls who could guiltlessly own a $300 appliance that would collect dust on their kitchen counters.

I had this “living for Jesus” thing all figured out. Hard always equaled holy, I believed. Discomfort was always best. And poverty was external and had nothing to do with the poverty of my own soul.
But have you ever strode confidently into what you wholeheartedly believed was the direction you were meant to go when out of nowhere a giant shepherd’s rod slips around your waist and yanks you backward … hard?

That was how my five-year missionary tale ended—abruptly and with little explanation from that “still small voice.” Before I knew it, I was back in America with the Kitchen Aid Girls, drinking La Croix and chatting about recipes we found on Pinterest.

And I was miserable.

***

That was six years ago.

Since living in China, life has gone from multiple roads, all wide open with glorious possibility, to an ever-narrowing path where I can only see enough of the way ahead to put one foot in front of the other. Getting married “late,” we were on the fast track and had three kids in four years. Sometimes I wake up stunned, wondering what happened to my life.

As a missionary, I had been a superstar, both in China and back home...continue reading at SheLoves.

~~~

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Previous Post: The New Normal

Next Post: The Best Years of Our Lives {for The Mudroom}

September 18, 2016

The New Normal

He’s finally here!

Our sweet son was born last Saturday, 9/10/16, at 11:52 am, just an hour and a half after we arrived at the hospital (though after many more hours of labor at home). The midwife nearly missed the affair, arriving at the second push.

My parents took the other two kids for the week, so my husband and I have been home alone with this new one. We have been drinking in his soft soft newskin, curled leg cuddles and succession of suspicious looks he directs at us. I am relieved to have him out of my body and in my arms.

The house has been quiet. I never noticed how peaceful our neighborhood is before.

Like childbirth, this homecoming and postpartum week has been surreal. I remember feeling this way when we brought my other two home–like you are living outside of time, in an alternate reality. You gaze in wonder at those around you doing normal things like having garage sales and mowing their lawn and marvel at their ignorance. Have they not felt the cosmic shift of a new soul breaking into our atmosphere?

Life will never be the same.

Our windows have been open all week, early fall breezes sashaying into the living room as my husband and I share the responsibility of feeding for the first time. Our son hasn’t figured this breastfeeding thing out yet, so this particular dance of life looks like nursing a short time, then pumping as my husband bottle feeds our little one.

I’m trying to not let it break my heart. I nurse, then watch him greedily feast on the bottle. My offering feels inadequate. My pride in not being his sole provider is pricked.

But my husband gently reminded me that this dance is not about me. It’s about our son. And he is growing and thriving under this rhythm my husband and I are waltzing together.

Our son wakes every two and a half to three hours, rolling and gnawing his fists. For the night vigil, I groggily scoop him up and head downstairs. When it’s time for the bottle, I call my husband and he takes our babe to feed him while I pump. We’ve already binge-watched the entire last season of Downtown Abbey, laughing and crying together in the wee hours of the morning.

Though this is not what I hoped for, there is goodness in it. Unexpected gifts and new connections with this man I am privileged to love first. We are bonding in and through our exhaustion, new solidarity rising up between us. “We” are tired, now. “We” need to feed the baby. “We” are his primary caregivers. Not just me.

My other children arrive home in just an hour and our new normal will begin.

I miss them as if a piece of myself has been absent all week, not quite knowing who I am apart from them. But I’m also bracing myself for the challenges, noise and stress. Yet I’m thrilled for them to fall in love with their brother as we have.

I’m trusting that though God does not promise rest right now, He does guarantee strength measured out in its perfect portion. Just as my son looks to us on an hourly basis, so we are looking to our Father to fill us, only to be emptied again…and again…and again.

He gives strength to the weary, and to him who lacks might He increases power. Though youths grow weary and tired, and vigorous young men stumble badly, yet those who wait for the Lord will gain new strength…”

Isaiah 40:29-31a

***

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Previous Post: 39 Weeks~These Strange Days

September 6, 2016

39 Weeks ~ These Strange Days

Sitting here typing, the weight of my belly now rests on my thighs even without leaning forward. My two and four-year-old get wedged between my girth and the wooden arms of the glider chair and so they now prefer to stand, or have us sit on the bed to read books before naps. My son, waist-high, often gets belly-bumped in his forehead as I can no longer see his curly head when he’s right below me. When he hugs me, his spine curls backward to accommodate the contour of my convex body.

Simple tasks have become comical as I can no longer bend over to pick up toys or tie shoe laces. Hands immersed in sudsy water, I jump backward as I realize my belly has crept up against the wet sink, absorbing the water run-off. I usually have a stain of some sort on the belly shelf and catch a draft in shirts that no longer stretch over the entirety of my new mass. I have to do acrobatics just to get out of public bathroom stalls.

To some women, I am a good luck charm, a picture of miraculous life. To others, I am a curse; a physical reminder of their loss or disappointment. And to others I am a sign of their fear and dread, as they long for children, but fear having their bodies transform and never return to the thin, fit bodies they fight so hard to maintain. Wherever I go, I am noticed.

***

And so I am trying to see and be grateful for the beauty and mystery of this experience. It could be my last chance for my body to provide shelter, food and home to a new life; this soul that is being knit together.

The heel of my son pushes against my insides and I reach out to feel the curve of it. It’s his way of communicating with me here on the outside. He wakes me in the night with his turning, shifting and stretching. Sometimes my insides pulse with the rhythm of his hiccups.

We are attached to one another. Soon we will become two, divided and growing farther and farther apart as he learns to be a man.

I wonder what he will look like; what his personality will be.

Will he have curly hair and green eyes like his brother or straight hair and blue eyes like his sister? How will he fit into our family and which parent will he be more like?

***

As I wait for labor, it is like waiting in the basement for the immanent tornado of intense pain, loss of control, joy, hope and love all swirling together in a powerful tunnel. I both fear it and long for it at once.

I am acting strangely these days. One moment I am laughing with my children, the next I am crying on the bathroom floor, explaining to my son, “Mommy is praying.” I am exhausted, but wake up five times a night and often can’t go back to sleep. I go from wanting to lie on the couch for hours to painting the coffee table, sorting all the teeny clothes again and cleaning out every junk area in the house.

It is these mood swings that remind me that I am in good company even with wild animals who search for a safe place to have their young. I am both special and ordinary at the same time.

I’m not sure what the next few days or weeks will look like, but I am trying to maintain a stance of surrender, attempting to trust that the One who is forming this little one’s bones, muscles, heart and soul within me knows what He is doing. It is a minute-by-minute struggle to remember that peace is mine for the taking in these strange days of waiting.

I cling to this promise of Jesus even as I know He is holding me now, giving me life and knitting me together day by day in an on-going act of creativity:

“Peace I leave with you; my peace I give to you. Not as the world gives do I give to you. Let not your hearts be troubled, neither let them be afraid” (Jn. 14:27 ESV).

~~~

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Previous Post: Monthly Mentionables {August}

Next Post: The New Normal

" It is a minute-by-minute struggle to remember that peace is mine for the taking in these strange days of waiting."

September 1, 2016

Monthly Mentionables {August}

I’m a little over 38 weeks preggers, so that is much on my mind these days. Yesterday it took me 20 minutes to walk a little under one mile, going at a steady pace. I now outweigh my husband and my children can’t sit on my lap. I’m ready to have a baby instead of a belly.

But in the midst of trying to keep cool and stay sane as I chase around two other little ones, I’ve enjoyed some really great books, have written out my angsty thoughts and listened to some new podcasts in the midst of sorting baby clothes and starting projects I usually don’t have the energy to finish.

I’d love to hear what you’re learning and being entertained by this month, so be sure to drop a note in the comments!

Next month’s mentionables post should include funny looking newborn baby pics…;-)

Books

Assimilate or Go Home: Notes from a Failed Missionary on Rediscovering Faith by D.L. Mayfield

Check out my review of this book here. If you are involved in cross-cultural work of any kind, then this book is a must-read!

Breath for the Bones: Art, Imagination and Spirit: A Reflection on Creativity and Faith, by Luci Shaw

This was the first book I have read by Luci Shaw and I couldn’t put it down. Along the lines of one of my favorite books of all time, Walking on Water: Reflections on Faith and Art (Wheaton Literary Series), by Madeline L’Engle, Shaw reflects on the dissection of faith and art in such a beautiful and logical way. It will be one of my new yearly reads, I am sure. Very inspirational to those of us attempting to write or create.

Ina May’s Guide to Childbirth, by Ina May Gaskin

Okay, though I admit I definitely read more than one line aloud to my husband saying, “Listen to this–this is hilarious!” (usually about the “ecstasy of childbirth” or the woman’s “parts” being referred to as “the gates of life”) this is still my favorite book about natural childbirth. This was a re-read for me in preparation for baby #3 coming in a few weeks. What I love most is the way she discusses the mind-body connection and the way childbirth is considered as a natural, beautiful occurrence instead of a medical and scary one.

Podcasts

Beautiful Writers

I have binge-listened to this podcast all month. Two women interview writers and others involved with the publishing business about how they work, what works for them and what they’ve learned over the years in the business. My favorites were with Marianne Williamson and Seth Godin (though I seriously listened to more than half of them and enjoyed many!).

The Liturgists

#37 The Enneagram
(Just took the test for the Enneagram and I think I’m a 3. Hard to be an “Achiever” AND a pregnant mom of littles.) This show, though probably the longest podcast I’ve ever listened to at two hours, is a great overview of what the Enneagram is if you have never heard of it before!

Global Mom Show

If I could host my own podcast, this would be it. Love this idea and have gotten some great tips about books to read, fair trade clothing to buy and just a general outlook on life as a mom who hopes to raise kids who look past their own backyard.

Back to the Basics and Blog Posts (This gives a good overview of what this show is about!)

Fair Trade, Fashion and Global Girlfriends with Stacey Edgar

Books for Global Moms with Anne Bogel

Living Barefoot with Nancy Traversy

God Centered Mom

This podcast was also new to me this month and I LOVED it. Though I listened to at least six of these, these were my favorites:

Calmly Parenting the Strong-Willed Child with Kirk Martin

Debunking Spiritual Leadership Myths with Jen Wilkin

Relief Journal

#3 D.L. Mayfield (author of the book I mentioned above, Assimilate or Go Home)

#1 Marilyn Chandler McEntyre

Recipes

Slow Cooker Carnitas (All Recipes)
This was so good and incredibly easy. I copied some of the comments and put the meat in the oven for 15 minutes at 400 just to brown the meat a bit more after it had cooked. I also threw together a salsa made of chopped purple onion, garlic, cilantro, lime and tomatoes. Add some shredded cheese and put in warm tortillas and you have an amazing meal. LOVE easy food.

Zucchini Rice Gratin (Smitten Kitchen)
Our neighbor gave us a GIANT zucchini, so I was excited to find this recipe to put it to use (we only used about 1/6 of it!). This could have used a bit more salt, but other than that it was really good. We ate it with some Italian sausages and that really made it, I think.

Crock Pot Chicken and Wild Rice Soup (Pinch of Yum)
I made the mistake of doubling this recipe, thinking I would be smart and save some soup for when the baby comes, but now I have about 4 extra containers in my freezer! It was good, though a bit richer than I would have liked. Next time I think I’ll use less butter and try it out with 1% milk instead of whole milk. This will be a great soup for cold weather.

Thought-Provoking Articles from the Web

An Open Letter to the Parents of Well-Behaved Children, by Jillian Lauren for Huffington Post

Children’s Books to Help Talk about Race with Kids

Don’t Carpe Diem, by Glennon Doyle Melton for Huffington Post

How to Make Your Voice Sound Better So People Will Actually Listen to You, by Laura Vanderkam for Fast Company (My hubby was interviewed for this article!)

My Lack of World-Changing Extracurriculars, by Megan Gahan for SheLoves

Pregnant with God, by Danielle Strickland for SheLoves

So you’re thinking of voting for a pro-choice candidate… by Rachel Held Evans at her blog

Ultimate Guide to Keeping Young Children with You at Church, at Living and Learning at Home

5 Actions White Educators Can Take to Help Make Schools Anti-Racist, by Jamie Utt for Everyday Feminism

Published Articles

I once was (color) blind, but now… for Altarwork

How Our Muslim Student Became Auntie Boo for SheLoves

In Case You Missed it at Scraping Raisins:
(Lots about pregnancy this month now that I’m in the final stretch–no pun intended…)

What My Pregnant Body is Teaching Me

When You Can’t Quit Your Job (a reflection on my time at the Simply Jesus conference I went to at the end of July)

The 37 Week Pep Talk for the (Scared) Waiting Mama

What have you been into this month?

***

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Previous Post: A Fellow Failed Missionary {A Review of Assimilate or Go Home}

Next Post: 39 Weeks ~ These Strange Days

Linking up with Leigh Kramer

Note: This post contains affiliate links. If you click on a book and buy it through Amazon, you will not be charged extra, but I will receive a very tiny commission.

Books, podcasts, recipes and articles I've loved this month!

August 28, 2016

A Fellow Failed Missionary {a review of ‘Assimilate or Go Home’}

Missionaries are the elite. Sometimes assumed to have the “highest calling” a Christian can have, they are asked to speak at the pulpit, gather small groups in crowded living rooms, share color-saturated slides of exotic peoples and lands, put out glossy monthly newsletters and receive money from well-wishers. They are the darlings of the church—proof that those sitting in the pews on Sunday mornings do, in fact, care about the lost. And at the very least, the pew-sitters go themselves for a week or two to sidle up to and admire the work these long-term warriors are doing on the front lines.

I should know.

I’m a recovering missionary myself.

So when I came across the work of D.L. Mayfield recently, I felt an instant bond and got my hands on her new book Assimilate or Go Home: Notes from a Failed Missionary on Rediscovering Faith as quickly as I could. I was not disappointed.

Having written for McSweeney’s, Christianity Today, Relevant, Geez, The Toast, and Conspire!, among others, Mayfield is an experienced story-teller. This, her first book, is a collection of candid, wry essays that illustrate her lofty aspirations to save communities of refugees she entrenched herself among in America. Though she does not berate herself per se, she humbly concludes each snapshot of her do-gooder attempts by admitting that the results were rarely as she hoped. As a white woman reaching out to refugees and those in the low income housing where her family lived, Mayfield illustrates a slow coming to terms with her own savior complex, privilege and ignorance. Instead of making converts, she was reminded of the impoverishment of her own soul.

Through heart-breaking, sometimes hilarious, stories, she begins to internalize the truth that Henri Nouwen proclaimed, that “When we are not afraid to confess our own poverty, we will be able to be with other people in theirs.”[1] Ministry as she knows it is turned on its head as she discovers that the person who most needs saving is herself.

***

As a person who was also “called to missions,” I lived six months in Uganda, taught in an inner city school in Chicago and served five years in China. I can relate to many of the struggles Danielle wrestles with in her book. Like her, as a teenager I drank from a steady stream of missionary biographies, impassioned sermons and pleas to be “sold out and radical” for Jesus (which always meant selling everything, rejecting white picket fences and secretly judging anyone else who didn’t feel similarly called). I did the Christian college thing, went to the hard places and tried to live the radical life. But then I was called somewhere I never intended to be: right back where I started.

It wasn’t until I returned to the “normal” life of the “uncalled” that I began to understand the extent of my own poverty as I no longer embodied the shiny Christian label of “missionary.” I was just me.

***

In a recent interview on the podcast, Relief, put out by The Englewood Review of Books, Mayfield states that her new goal in life is no longer to save the world, but is now “to save her own people, the evangelical do-gooders.” While the book spotlights her own misplaced motives, she indirectly points out the deficiencies in white evangelical Christianity that seek to be generous without the commitment of long-term relationship, hospitable without being willing to live among the poor or bold in evangelism without regard for the culture, language or background of those they are trying to serve.

Assimilate or Go Home is a necessary read for any and all who aspire to be the “do-gooders” and world changers. Similar to Barbara Kingsolver’s fictional work about a bumbling missionary family in Africa, The Poisonwood Bible, I would venture to say that this should be in every do-gooder’s library as a study in humility and even, at times, a study in what NOT to do.

So in Mayfield, I’ve found a kindred spirit. She is another bent, broken, humbled and slowly maturing follower of Jesus who is realizing that the way up is the way down, the way forward is the way backward, and the way to life is through death–to herself, her dreams and her propensity to make herself the hero of her story.

***

“The Way of Jesus is radically different.

It is the way not of upward mobility but of downward mobility.

It is going to the bottom, staying behind the sets, and choosing the last place.”[2]

~Henri Nouwen

***

[1] Nouwen, Henri. “August 19.” Bread for the Journey. New York: Harper Collins, 1997. Print.

[2] Nouwen, Henri. “June 28.” Bread for the Journey. New York: Harper Collins. Print.

~~~

Buy the book Assimilate or Go Home: Notes from a Failed Missionary on Rediscovering Faith and check out Danielle’s blog!

~~~

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Previous Post: How Our Muslim Student Became Auntie Boo {for SheLoves}

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August 26, 2016

How Our Muslim Student Became Auntie Boo {for SheLoves}

I’m over at SheLoves today, sharing about how a Muslim girl came to live with us and became a part of our family…

My three-year-old son tightly twisted the long strand of strong black hair round and round his fingers as he emerged from the guest room yesterday. I peeked through the bedroom door and found my one-year-old daughter squatting on the floor, peering into a fish tank at the “fiffy”—a silky black Betta fish that fluttered to the surface of the bowl. Next to her, Shirin, a 26-year-old Saudi Arabian girl, sat cross-legged taking videos of my daughter that will no doubt make her famous on Snapchat in Saudi Arabia. I smiled silently at the scene, reflecting on the treasure of an unexpected relationship.

***

Three years ago, living back in Chicago after spending several years abroad, I was hungry for relationships with anyone who wasn’t a white American. Though I felt limited by my new mommy status, I volunteered to help ESL students at a nearby university practice their English on the condition that I could bring my eight-month-old son. Desperate for native speakers for students to practice with, the teacher agreed and invited me to her class of Saudi Arabians.

The class was made up of six women and four men who were forced to practice English together despite the fact that in conservative Islamic Saudi Arabia, men and women aren’t even allowed to attend mixed-gender classes. Most of the women wore traditional Saudi clothing—headscarves called hijabs and black, lightweight cloaks called abayas. They were painfully shy, though the presence of a baby magically cracked their solemn demeanor. After the third week volunteering, the teacher of the class whispered that there was something she needed to talk to me about after class.

Scooping up my son who had spent the class crawling under feet, skirts and chair legs, I handed him my keys to play with as I curiously sat down with the teacher.

“So,” she started. “Do you know Shirin from class?” I nodded. “Well,” she continued, “she wanted me to ask you if she could live with you for three months. She’ll pay you rent,” she added.
Surprised, I told her that I wasn’t sure, but I’d talk to my husband.

Though this was something that excited me, I was pretty sure my more level-headed husband would simply shake his head with that smirk on his face that says, “I love you for being so different, honey—but you’re kind of crazy.”

Instead, he leaned back against the kitchen counter, smiled, and shocked me by saying, “There’s really no reason we shouldn’t have her.”
Shirin moved in with us at the end of the summer and three months turned into ten…

…continue reading at SheLoves.

~~~

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~~~

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August 22, 2016

The 37 Week Pep Talk for the (Scared) Waiting Mama

I know you reached this point in your other two pregnancies and struggled with fear and worry, so I thought I’d ward that off with a few reminders.

Hey lady, here we go again. You’re 37 weeks and feeling like this pregnancy has gone fast, but in slow motion. I know you reached this point in your other two pregnancies and struggled with fear and worry, so I thought I’d ward that off with a few reminders.

1. Trust your body.

The first time around, you weren’t so sure if you could really trust your body. You wondered how your labor story would play out and if your body would betray you. You let others dictate how you should labor and push out your baby. Though you had an unmedicated birth like you hoped, it was long, harder than you expected and you had some regrets. The second time around, you were better prepared and trusted that the pain was purposeful. You knew that slow is not bad, it is just the way God programmed you. So the next time, you surrendered to your body and allowed it to guide you. You sang, swayed, slept, soaked in the tub and relaxed. You did what it took to allow your mind to get in tune with your body. And after two days of laboring at home, you delivered a healthy baby girl 30 minutes after arriving at the hospital. I know you can do this again—trust your body. It knows what it’s doing.

2. Trust (and enjoy) your baby.

This little pink wriggly that they’ll place on your chest is more intuitive than you will ever know. He already knows you, loves you and respects you. Listen to him and find ways to be in tune with him—even when your gut goes against “the books.” God has made YOU his mama—no one else. He has gifted you with the ability to meet his needs in ways that no one else on earth right now can.

Instead of “getting through” those first few weeks and months with your new one, focus on enjoying him. Cuddle him longer than you “should,” tickle your nose with his baby fuzz hair, breathe in his newborn scent, strap him to your body to feel his warmth, nurse him in the middle of the night while you catch up on T.V. shows (without guilt) and cup his frog legs in your hands as his body still wants to be in a ball. Blink, and he will be running circles in the living room with your other two, so enjoy these precious, fleeting days of infancy while they last.

3. You will be given what you need.

Now that you have other children, you wonder how you will have space in the inner rooms of your heart for more. Will there be enough love, patience, wisdom, strength and time to stretch around and envelop this new one? Will you feel the same toward him that you do toward your other lovelies? This is where Jesus will step in, making His miracles. Like the widow who hesitated to give up the last of her oil and flour when the prophet Elijah asked for it, you, too, wonder if you will be required to give more than you have. But you will be shocked to find that “the bowl of flour shall not be exhausted, nor shall the jar of oil be empty” (1 Kgs. 17:14).

You will be given what you need exactly when you need it, so give freely. Err on the side of generosity. This time of adding a needy soul to an already chaotic and overflowing life will extend you beyond your ability so that you will see your needs and your new one’s needs met in miraculous ways. Your lack will lead to a demonstration of God’s provision. Your scarcity is an opportunity for Jesus to lavish His excessive love on you. Wait and see. God will make a feast out of your simple offering of flour and oil.

4. This baby does not belong to you.

He has never belonged to you and never really will. He has been knit, formed, made and molded in your body—but not by you. The Holy Spirit has been at work for a long time on this little one—you have always carried a part of him inside of your body, just waiting for this egg to be picked for such a time as this. God knew his name before he even existed and has always known the number of days he ordained for this little one. Open your clenched hands and place him back on the altar. This baby is not yours. The sooner you accept that, the better you all will be.

5. Do not fear.

Before you conceived, you feared it wouldn’t happen. You were afraid that pink line on your dollar store pregnancy test would never have a partner. But then throughout this entire pregnancy, you have feared that you would lose the baby. Now, you fear complications in these final weeks, in labor or that your baby will be born with birth defects that will alter his life and yours. Fear has stubbornly clutched your skirt hem all along this road. But here are some words of life that you wrote out for yourself on note cards the first time around. Let these words empower you as you prepare to give birth. Submerse yourself in them like the muscle-soothing soak of the weary who takes a bath after training for a marathon.

Soak in these Truths:

“The Lord is my strength and my shield; my heart trusts in Him and I am helped; Therefore my heart exults, and with my song I shall thank Him”
(Ps. 28:7).

“For God has not given us a spirit of fear and timidity, but of power, love and self-discipline”
(2 Tim. 1:7).

“When I am afraid, I will put my trust in you. In God, whose word I praise, in God have I put my trust; I shall not be afraid. What can mere man do to me?”
(Ps. 56:3-4).

“For God is not a God of confusion, but of peace”
(1 Cor. 14:33).

“I can do all things through Him who strengthens me”
(Phil. 4:13).

“You will keep in perfect peace him whose mind is steadfast, because he trusts in you. Trust in the Lord forever, for the Lord, the Lord is the rock eternal”
(Is. 26:3-4).

“Do not fear, for I have redeemed you; I have called you by name; you are Mine! When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and through the rivers, they will not overflow you. When you walk through the fire you will not be scorched, nor will the flame burn you”
(Is. 43:1-2).

“Be strong and courageous! Do not trouble or be dismayed, for the Lord your God is with you wherever you go”
(Joshua 1:9).

“Be strong, and let your heart take courage, all you who hope in the Lord”
(Ps. 31:24).

“The Lord is my light and my salvation; Whom shall I fear? The Lord is the defense of my life; Whom shall I dread?”
(Ps. 27: 1).

“Peace, I leave with you; My peace I give to you; not as the world gives, do I give to you. Let not your heart be troubled, nor let it be fearful”
(Jn. 14:27).

***

You can do this, lady. Trust God, yourself and your baby. This is not the first time a woman has given birth and it is certainly not the last. You are not walking alone, but are held. Embrace this incredible experience for all its rawness, intensity and mystery. You’ve got this!

~~~

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