New Address

My wonderful, computer guru husband has been hard at work again. He surprised me with my very own website. I now have a new blog address, and it's oh so easy to remember: annjanel.com! Come check it out.

Call Me Blessed

I was twenty-one years old, working at the Baptist Bible College mailroom and life was good. I was spending a lot of time with one of my Dad's cute seminary students (later to become my husband). I was happy. Things in my life were going smoothly. It was one of those moments when everything was great just like it was. Then the phone rang. As I lifted the phone off the receiver I had no idea that it was one of those phone calls that you never forget. Usually those phone calls come in the middle of the night and make your heart stop as you are jarred out of sleep to figure out what in the world awakened you. This was in the middle of the day and the ringing phone had no special significance. It was the words I heard after I had identified myself that shook my world a little. Words so unexpected. Words that left me with completely mixed emotions. Words that left me with a decision to make that would affect the rest of my life. "We have found your birth mother." Wow! Those six words made my heart stop and my head spin. Mainly because at that moment in my life I wasn't looking for her. At least I didn't know I was.

I knew I was adopted from as early as I can remember. It was something my parents never kept from me. Adoption was perfectly normal to us. Out of the five members of my family three were adopted. So if you weren't adopted in my family you were in the minority. I grew up knowing that my birthmom was a young unmarried girl that wasn't able to care for me. My parents explained that she gave me to a family where I would have a mom and a dad, to grow up in a home where I would be loved and cared for. My parents prayed for my birth mom. They thanked God for her. I grew up knowing that I was an answer to my parents' prayers. I was special. I was chosen. My parents made it clear that God had great plans for me and knew exactly what He was doing when He placed me in their arms and home.

Did I ever doubt that plan? I can't say that I ever doubted that God had placed me in the home He did. I can say that I didn't always understand why. I was never angry though. I never had hard feelings toward my birth mom. To be honest the only time I brought up my adoption was when I was rebelling against my parents and thought that just maybe my birth mom would have been more lenient.

One other time I remember thinking a lot about my birth mom was after I had watched An American Tale. When little Fievel was separated from his parents and desperately searching for them I was struck with the thought that there was indeed a person out there with my flesh and blood. Maybe that person thought about me. The song "Somewhere Out There" would make me cry and wonder if truly there was someone out there underneath the same blue sky thinking of me and loving me.

Then I began to wonder what it would be like to find her. My crooked fingers have always set me a part from the crowd. It's one of those things that people might not notice right off, but the moment I point at something--BAM! Their eyes stare at my crooked finger and not at the direction to which I am pointing. It's the way God made me. I wondered if maybe her fingers were crooked. Maybe I could find her by her crooked fingers. Silly childhood thoughts.

When I was 18 years old my older adopted brother found his birth mom. At that time, as I remember it, I casually said that I thought that was interesting and something I would like to do some day. What I didn't know was that my Mom called the adoption agency and conveyed my desires. They informed her that I was too young and had to wait until I was twenty-one. I thought that was the end of the story. Unbeknownst to me the agency began the search.

That is how I found myself at twenty-one holding a phone and desperately trying to find words to respond to this life-changing news. Honestly I don't remember what I said. I do remember doing a lot of thinking. This was big. I wanted to know her, and yet I was hesitant. A million thoughts went through my head and took me in a million different directions. "What will my parents think?" "What if I don't like her?" "What if she is a bad person?" "Wouldn't it be better to just not know?" "You don't have to do this." "Why did they find her now?" and a million other thoughts. The one that nailed if for me was when I began to ponder that she, too, had one day received a call letting her know that I wanted to get to know her. She had gone through a million of her own thoughts and fears. Yet, in the end she had said yes. That's why they were contacting me. According to law in the state where I was adopted we both had to agree before the records could be opened. I definitely didn't want to be the one to say no. I didn't want to reject her. She had said yes, so I, too, would say yes. I was happy with my decision. If for no other reason I would meet her to say thank you and let her know that she had indeed made a good decision.

The next step was to have our records opened and for each of us to receive information about the other. I remember well the day I reached into the mailbox and found a fat envelope with the adoption agency's name on the return corner of the envelope. My heart did another flip-flop. I'm pretty sure my hands were trembling a little as I opened up the envelope and scanned the papers. I read the name of my birth mom for the first time in my life: Deanna Vanessa. I kept scanning and was quite amazed to discover that she lived in the same state where I lived. I later learned that she had left home to go to the state where I was born. I had lived in 5 different states after that and yet in the end we were living only a couple of hours from each other in the same state. That was pretty amazing to me.

We exchanged letters at first and soon switched to e-mails. I remember sending her pictures of me at different stages of my childhood as well as a recent picture at that time. Her response letter informed me that sadly we didn't look alike. I don't know why that was a bit disappointing, but it was. We wrote for a while and then decided we did want to meet face to face.

Since there are no "proper rules for meeting ones birth parents" and all I knew was the emotional reunions I had seen on talk shows I had to decide how exactly I wanted this first meeting to happen. I didn't know if a restaurant or shopping center would be best, but I finally decided to invite her to my house. I did know that I wanted to be alone the first time we met. My Mom was more excited about me having met Deanna than I was, and I knew I had to come up with a way to get her out of the house for a while so I could do this alone. I arranged with my Dad to take my Mom out. Mom being a mom knew something was up because she was being whisked away from the house for no apparent reason. She quickly figured out why and proceeded to take a very long time getting ready. Since we shared a bathroom I was left taking a shower at the last minute. Deanna, being the prompt person she is, showed up early. So when the doorbell rang (and my heart jumped again) I was thankfully showered and dressed, but I had a towel on my head and my parents were still around. I had no choice but to go to the door with a towel wrapped around my hair and greet my birth mom. It was definitely a way to break the ice and a very memorable moment.

One of the first things we discovered is that we do indeed look alike. Looking back at her childhood pictures was incredible as so many of her pictures looked like pictures of me as a kid. There are times that we have to look hard at a picture to figure out which one of us it is. Recently hair styles and color changes have made that a little easier.

Deanna quickly became a good friend. We enjoyed getting to know each other traveling back and forth across the state as our relationship grew. I was delighted for her to participate in my wedding. It was an emotional moment for everyone as she lit the candle that my Mom carried down the aisle representing my life that she gave to me and my parents.

There was one more moment that I remember quite well. It was when I realized just how special Deanna was. That was the moment when I held my first born child. Before that I always appreciated her decision to give me life and knew she could have made other choices. Yet, after experiencing a pregnancy and the movement of a child inside of me, after experiencing the pain of child birth, and after experiencing the amazing love that fills your heart when you finally hold your child in your arms I realized that my birth mom had made the hardest decision. For the first time I realized the sacrifice she gave. I was born after Roe v. Wade and it would have been very easy for her to just walk into a clinic and be done with her problem. Instead she left high school, her friends and family, and moved a couple of states away to live with strangers and wait out her pregnancy. She felt every kick and movement knowing that this child would belong to someone else. She went through labor knowing that in the end the baby wasn't hers to keep. Yet, she made the BEST choice. She sacrificed of her life to give me life. She prayed and asked for her baby to be placed in a godly home. Then she let go and God took care of the rest.

Getting to know my birth mom has been an amazing journey. She entered my life at just the right time and has been around for a lot of the ups and downs in the past years. We've laughed and cried together. We've talked and she has done a lot of listening. She is an amazing listener. My children love their Grandma Dee-Dee and she is a wonderful baby-sitter.

Not every person is blessed enough to have two very special moms. I think both of them are amazing, and I always say, "one mom gave me life and the other taught me to live." Today I want to say thank you, Deanna, for making the choices you made: choice to have me, choice to get to know me, choice to be a part of my life.

Happy Birthday, to a very special lady.

A Life Not Wasted

"And people who do not know the Lord ask why in the world we waste our lives as missionaries. They forget that they too are expending their lives... and when the bubble has burst they will have nothing of eternal significance to show for the years they have wasted." - Nate Saint

Our church hosted a missions conference the past two Sundays. This was a new experience for me. As a missionary I have attended my share of conferences but this time I sat in the pew (chair, really) and watched. I watched as an American missionary in Brazil. I watched as Brazilian missionaries stood and shared what they are doing for Christ in Brazil. It was an incredible experience. My mind started going in a hundred different directions from the moment the first person started sharing and hasn't stopped. Five very different ministries were presented. Four of them actually started in the United States and had names and ministries of which I was familiar. Yet, I had never seen it from this perspective. It was exhilarating, overwhelming, and convicting.

We watched videos and traveled by boat, plane, car, and foot to remote places where people have never heard the name of Jesus. We heard stories of great needs both here in Brazil and around the world. Every time I watch a missionary video I'm ready to drop everything and get involved with that ministry, and this was no exception.

I guess the thing that touched my heart the most was the history behind the ministries. With four of the ministries coming from the United States I was curious as to what kind of people were behind these great ministries. So I started digging. What I found both encouraged and convicted me. They were ordinary people trying to serve God with the little they had. They might have had dreams of "maybe one day," but I honestly think they were just serving God in the moment.

This is quite a long blog but I had trouble cutting it short. The stories, simple as they were, inspired me. I've included the web addresses as these are not my words and those interested can go to the sites to learn more about these ministries.

-APEC (Child Evangelism Fellowship)

CEF was founded by Jesse Irvin Overholtzer in 1937. Growing up in a religious family, Jesse at the age of 12 was convicted of his own sin and sought counsel from his mother. He was told, "Son, you are too young." It wasn't until Overholtzer was in college that he heard the Gospel and trusted Christ as his Savior. Later as a pastor Mr. Overholtzer read one of Charles Spurgeon's sermons which stated, "A child of five, if properly instructed can as truly believe and be regenerated as an adult." The Lord used this statement in Mr. O's life to lead him to begin the ministry of Child Evangelism Fellowship when he was 60 years old. The ministry has grown into the largest evangelistic outreach to children in the world. CEF is currently ministering in 170 countries and in every state in the U.S. (http://www.cefonline.com/index.php?option=com_content&view=category&id=31&Itemid=100189)

Brazil was the second country to which CEF entered in 1941. For 70 years Brazilians have received excellent training to reach children with the Gospel of Jesus Christ and good materials have been produced to aid in this process. Only the Lord knows how many children have accepted Christ through this ministry.

-Missão Novas Tribos do Brasil (New Tribes Mission)

New Tribes Mission is steadfast in its goal of reaching people who have no access to the Gospel. That was the vision for our ministry when we were founded in 1942, and it is our vision today. Paul Fleming and five others had no funds or organization behind them when they dared to trust God to establish NTM. "It seemed that the Lord had pushed us into something, and we were confident that no man started New Tribes Mission; the Lord brought it into existence in spite of us," Paul wrote. New Tribes Mission continues to trust God, and God continues to be glorified. Today more than 3,000 missionaries serve throughout the world, and training programs in more than a dozen countries prepare missionaries for service among the thousands of tribes who have yet to hear. (http://www.ntm.org/about/heritage.php?page=heritage&io=1)

In 1947, the first missionaries from New Tribes Mission began the process of locating and evangelizing tribes in Brazil. Within two years, the seed was planted for a facility to allow Brazilians to get the same kind of missions training those overseas missionaries received, and in 1953 a new missionary organization, Missão Novas Tribos do Brasil (MNTB), was established. MNTB works in partnership with other NTM entities, and now operates two Bible schools and a missionary training and linguistics institute to prepare Brazilian missionaries for the ministry. The fact that multiple families have a third generation involved in the work is a powerful testament to God's faithfulness. 
 Eighty-three NTM missionaries work in partnership with MNTB and under its leadership. MNTB is working with 48 indigenous groups. Some missionaries are in the beginning stages of learning the indigenous language and culture to properly teach the Bible; in others Bible translation is on going; and in a few, an indigenous church has been planted. Our goal for those who accept the Gospel of Christ, is to help them establish their own indigenous church, which is governed and supported by their own indigenous people, who in turn will teach and reach other indigenous groups.
More than 90 indigenous groups in Brazil are still without the Gospel of Jesus Christ. (http://www.ntm.org/brazil/ministry_info.php)

-Asas de Socorro (Mission Aviation Fellowship)

Though I had grown up hearing the name of this ministry I had never looked into its history. I really enjoyed hearing how military pilots after World War 11 realized that they could use their pilot skills and planes to take missionaries to remote areas. Just a few good men willing to give of their time and lives revolutionized missions. "Some 60 years after 1 field pilot and 1 plane served 1 mission field in 1 country there are now 200 families with a fleet of 54 planes serving 600 organizations in 23 countries." (http://www.mafgiftshop.org/videos/beginnings.html)

This ministry started in Brazil when two young Americans came down and got a hold of a World War 11 plane that they rebuilt in their backyard. Today 50 years later there are 12 planes that reach out to tribes and villages in the most remote areas of Brazil.

-OM (Operation Mobilization)

Operation Mobilisation traces its roots to the prayers of an American housewife. In the 1950s, Dorothea Clapp began to pray faithfully for the students in her local High School. She asked God to touch the world through the lives of those young people. And God answered her prayers!

Mrs. Clapp gave the Gospel of John to one of the students, who later gave his life to the Lord at a Billy Graham meeting. That young man was George Verwer, the founder and international director of Operation Mobilisation.

At college, George and two friends met regularly to pray. They became burdened by the spiritual needs of Mexico. In 1957 the three friends sold some of their own possessions to raise money and gave up their summer holiday to distribute Gospels and other Christian literature in Mexico. The friends returned to Mexico the following summer and the next...

When they graduated in 1960, George and his friends traveled to Europe. They began work in Spain, sharing the Gospel and distributing literature. But the task of reaching the whole of Europe seemed overwhelming.

George and his small team realised that God’s plan was to mobilise His church to reach the nations. As they began to share their vision, hundreds of Christians responded. So Operation Mobilisation was born.

By 1963, 2,000 Christians had joined summer outreach teams in Europe. At the same time, the first year teams moved into the Indian sub-continent and the Muslim world. Their commitment was to reach those who had never heard the Gospel.

Such simple beginnings have shaped OM ever since. Today over 5500 OMers are working in over 110 countries bringing God's unchanging truth to literally millions every year. (http://www.om.org/en/about/history)

The culmination of 22 years of ministry, OM Brazil’s Training Centre both equips those wanting to serve in missions overseas and engenders ministries that reach marginalized people groups within the country.

Our culture is people-oriented, and Brazilians are thus well-suited to work in places like Central Asia, Middle East, North Africa and Eastern Europe. Churches are often young, dynamic and ready to take on their role in world mission. OM serves the Church through mobilizing, recruiting, training and sending workers overseas.

At home, 85% of Brazilians are still not followers of Christ. We work to reach street kids, homosexuals, prostitutes, the homeless and drug addicts in urban centres as well as fishermen villages in remote areas. (http://www.om.org/en/country-profile/brazil)

-Missão Evangélica de Assistência aos Pescadores (Mission to Fisherman)

This ministry caught our attention, and I'm pretty sure Patrick signed up to visit one of the fishing villages and see this work in action. This ministry was started by Brazilians who saw a great need among the remote fishing villages along the coast of Brazil. One story they shared made quite an impact on me. After hearing about all of these ministries and the things going on in Brazil it's easy to think that this country has been reached with the Gospel. Yet through this little story it's obvious there's much work yet to be done. As these missionaries entered one remote village they begin to talk with the people. During the conversation they asked if they knew who John the Baptist was. The villagers shook their heads. The missionaries thought they would help clarify by telling them that he was a cousin of Jesus. When the villagers still responded with blank stares the missionaries asked, "You do know who Jesus is, right?" As the villagers shook their heads one man responded, "He doesn't live in this village, but he might live in the next village over." Wow! There truly are people right here in our "backyard" who have yet to hear the name of Christ.

Five different ministries working hard to reach people with the Gospel of Jesus Christ. All started in unique ways by differing people with varying talents, perspectives and goals. What excited me as I read these stories is that God uses all types of people. A man in his 60s, young men, military pilots, housewives, etc. . .They were people just like you and me that were willing to serve God. Some left home, family, and creature comforts. Some just prayed. Yet what they did is still having an impact 25, 50, 70 years later. People are coming to know Christ. Yet there are so many more that need to hear. The job is clearly not done. There's much more to do.

These people truly did not waste their lives as they gave them to the Lord in service. What are we doing for the name of Christ? Will the fruit still remain and continue 50 years from now? Let us remember that "Only one life, 'twill soon be past, Only what's done for Christ will last." -CT Studd

He Calls Me Mommy

For as long as I can remember I have wanted to be a mommy. Oh, I had little girl dreams of being other things like a secretary, teacher or even the President (who wouldn't want to be in charge and run the country?), but I never lost the overwhelming desire to have babies. I will never forget the morning that I held that little white stick with the pink line which indicated that my dreams were going to come true. The home pregnancy test had said to take it first thing in the morning so I woke up REALLY early because I couldn't wait another second to find out. I remember Patrick stumbling into the bathroom to see why I was up, and there he found me with my white stick. It wasn't exactly how I had pictured telling him that he was going to be a father, but oh well, I couldn't contain my excitement. He acted pleased and then made his way back to bed. I followed him and crawled under the covers, but there was no way I could sleep. We were going to have a BABY. I was beyond thrilled.

After enduring extreme morning sickness, 9 months of pregnancy, and 40 hours of labor I'll never forget the moment I heard, "It's a boy!" When they placed that precious bundle in my arms I couldn't believe the amazing love that filled my heart. I was a Mommy! We had a child. It was truly incredible.

We gave him a name that Patrick had chosen before we even met. He loved the stories of Jim Elliot and Nate Saint, missionaries to Ecuador in the 1950s who gave their lives for Christ and motivated many to go into missions through their example. We named our precious first born son Nathanael Elliot and prayed that he would live up to his name and serve the Lord with his life.

It's hard to believe that was 9 years ago. Our precious boy has grown so quickly. He became a big brother before he was two years old and has always had a friend in his little sister. Our quiet little obedient boy grew up to demonstrate that he has a very stubborn determined side. He's a good kid though. He's helpful and polite. He's probably the quietest of the three (though none of them are really quiet), but if you get him going on one of his favorite topics, watch out. He can talk your ear off. He loves technology and can do things on the computer that amaze me. He's all about time and his watch keeps us all in line. He is definitely a mix of Brazilian and American culture. He'd be happy to eat beans and rice everyday, but heaven forbid something doesn't start at the hour it was scheduled. :) He knows a lot about the Bible and our hearts were full to overflowing this year when he accepted Christ as his personal Savior. I'm so thankful that God has placed this amazing boy in our home and lives. What a privilege I have to be his mother.

Happy Birthday to the special boy that gave me the name Mommy!

Holding On Tightly

Ever find yourself on a roller coaster with your eyes tightly shut, your knuckles white from gripping the safety bar, and your lips silently moving because you are praying for the ride to just come to an end and that you are still alive when it does? I really liked roller coasters when I was younger, but ever since I became a mom something changed. I don't know if realizing my kids would be motherless if something happened to me made me lose the desire to be suspended upside down high in the air or maybe some hormonal change (we can always blame things on hormones), but something has totally changed for me. I really don't want to go on roller coasters anymore. The last couple of ones that I did ride I did literally pray that God would just keep me alive and let the ride be over quickly. Those were the longest 45 seconds of my life. :)

I feel like I'm on one of those roller coasters right now. Only this time my feet are firmly planted on the ground, and my eyes are wide open. It's the roller coaster of life; to be more specific my life, and if I had to really narrow it down it would be the homeschooling aspect of my life. We hit the ground running after our vacation, jumping right back into school. I wanted to get a good schedule underway and be well into school before the other activities of our lives started piling up. It hasn't been the easiest transition back into the whole school routine, for sure. I won't go into details to protect the innocent (maybe "innocent" isn't the best word choice). Just suffice to say that this teacher is a sinner and the students are little sinners, and that has become quite obvious in the past few days.

I love to read good child training books. Recently I felt led to pick up one of my all time favorites, Don't Make Me Count to Three by Ginger Plowman and do a re-read. This is one of those "recommend to every parent, read again" type books. I think I'm reading it for the third or fourth time, and as always I'm convicted of my responsibility to try to get to root/heart issues with my kids instead of just correcting erring behavior. It's amazing to me how I can find myself nodding along and getting that euphoric sense of a peaceful home as I read in the quiet of an early morning or the peacefulness of a late night. I'm all pumped up to be the best mom I can be. I'm armed and ready to talk kindly and sweetly to the precious gifts God has given me, teaching them the correct way to treat each other and honor us as their parents. I can even envision the funny conversations and cute interactions as we go through the day. I might even get excited enough to plan something fun to eat or do together in our journey toward obedience. THEN the precious little sinners wake up. Before I can even come down from my euphoria the complaining and demanding begins. At first I'm usually able to breathe and answer with a calm, sweet voice. It doesn't take long before my dreams of peace are shattered when no one is happy with each other, no one wants to obey anything, and my name is yelled loudly and continuously: "Mooooooooommmmmm. . . . ." The breaking point usually comes when I'm dealing with one child and trying my best to do it Biblically, and the other two start into something that requires my attention. At this point I feel like I'm being pulled in a hundred directions, and I want to throw up my hands and say, "okay, Ginger Plowman, you come and show me how it's done." :) I'm so tired. It's only 30 minutes into the day, and we haven't even begun the tough part. . .

Enter homeschooling. I was homeschooled and have desired to homeschool my children for as long as I can remember. I even homeschooled other children before I had my own which was great practice. It's just a wee bit different when they are YOUR kids that you are with 24/7 and responsible for not only their food, shelter, and spiritual training but also their education. That's a whole lot to do in one day. I don't want to go into the pros and cons of homeschooling and why we do what we do (thank you Veggie Tales for that line). That's not what this is about. Suffice to say that at this time in our lives homeschooling is our best option. I really do like it. I love teaching. I love my kids. What could be a better combination than being able to teach them (maybe if someone else cooked, cleaned and did the laundry)? Yet, the past couple of weeks I've found homeschooling really tough. We're fighting some HUGE battles, and the school days are dragging on for hours. By the time we close the books I'm too tired to do anything else (even read my good ol' child training books). I know that this isn't the way it should be. I'm praying that it's just a testing ground for all of us. I'm really praying that we are doing the right thing as we trudge our way through and try to teach diligence, perseverance, respect, and obedience. I'm holding on to the safety bar of this roller coaster ride and praying that's it's over soon. Weeping endures for a night, but joy comes in the morning, right? Maybe we can check out the carousel or get some cotton candy when this roller coaster comes to an end.

Summer Vacation

Summer Vacation. For me those words conjure up mental images of green grass, blue sky, golden sun, shorts, flip-flops, watermelon, lemonade, cook-outs, lightning bugs, picnics, pools, sprinklers, and kids having fun enjoying their freedom from school. I’ve lived south of the Equator for 4 years now and have adjusted to the idea of summer being in December. What I haven’t adjusted to is that summer break here isn’t the same as my mental pictures.

I looked so forward to finishing school in December. I’m pretty sure that homeschool moms just like teachers are more excited about breaks than the kids. Finally some time to do a few things I would like to do and maybe get a couple more hours of sleep. So we worked hard and finally closed our school books a couple of weeks into December. I don’t know what I thought would happen but what did happen was not it.

First we had the whole Christmas fiasco with our delayed trip. It suddenly dawned on me that while we were waiting around to leave on our Christmas trip we were living our summer vacation. There was no golden sun, no blue skies, no running around outside enjoying the freedom from school. What we did have was rain, rain, RAIN. It rained every single day and rained hard. When it wasn’t pouring the air was heavy and muggy. We soon discovered leaks all over our house. Every time the rain started we ran around from room to room looking for where water might be coming in. It was very difficult to dry clothes (since we don’t have a dryer), and laundry became a huge chore. We spent so much time opening and closing windows. With no air conditioning a house can get pretty hot all closed up against a summer storm. Then things start molding, and we were constantly on the hunt for where it is creeping up in the house.

I kept thinking that this was so not the way I had thought our summer vacation would be. This is our first summer in this city so I learned that rain is a part of life here during this time of year (guess we should really look into buying a clothes dryer). Yet, we had an over abundance of rain that resulted in a national disaster in both our state of São Paulo and the neighboring state of Rio. People lost their lives, their homes, everything, and I quickly learned that rain day in and day out can get a bit depressing after a while.

Just when it looked like summer vacation would be spent in the rain things completely changed. Our car was finally out of the shop, and we could finally take our longed awaited trip to Brasilia to be with Patrick’s parents and celebrate Christmas (who cared that it was January 14th). It was just what we all needed, and it turned out to be everything my summer vacationing mind was dreaming.

We spent two glorious weeks in the beautiful city of Brasilia. I really like Brasilia. It’s GREEN! There are tons of trees, plants and grass. The sky seems so big and wide. It’s blue, blue, blue with big puffy white clouds. Patrick’s parents have a lovely home that invites you to sit awhile and RELAX, and that is precisely what we did.

We slept in every morning and my mother-in-law always had a yummy breakfast ready when we decided to make our appearance. Then the kids would play outside while I helped Deloris fix lunch. I loved being her sous chef, and that lady can COOK. We ate some amazing meals.

Patrick’s parents rest after lunch, and I loved me some rest time. My kids are finally old enough to play quietly, read books, play Gameboys, or watch a DVD which left me time to myself. I chose to read. Deloris has a great “library,” and I’d been looking forward to reading her books all year. I actually read 8 books while we were there. Loved it!

I quickly learned to wait until late afternoon to let the kids get in the pool. By then the sun had warmed the water, and we didn’t have to go through the chore of putting on sunscreen. The kids swam almost every day and swam for a couple of hours. They loved it! Once again, they were old enough to play on their own and have fun without needing to be held or helped. Elena actually learned to swim while we were there and surprised us by swimming the length of the pool by herself one day

After baths we’d eat dinner, and the kids were ready for bed by nine-ish. Gotta love how swimming wears them out. That gave me plenty of time to do some more reading before my eyes closed, and closed they did. I wanted to read and stay awake, but I hardly ever made it past 11:30. That’s early for me, but I was wiped out. It was the best, most restful sleep, too. Ahhh, it was so nice.

We also found time to celebrate Christmas, bake cakes, pick fruit from their fruit trees, go shopping, attend an art class, take a trip to the zoo, have manicures and pedicures (the girls), and of course do some ministry.

Patrick preached at his Dad’s church every service we were there. We always love returning to the church (where we first worked when we came to Brazil) and visiting with those precious people.

So it was a great trip. We had a wonderful time. I think we appreciated it more after waiting and experiencing the struggles of a wet, wet summer. God knew that this poor missionary lady needed just a little break, and He sure gave me a marvelous one.

Heard that Before

As I was picking up my children from their classes Sunday night one of their teachers tapped my arm and whispered that she would like to talk to me about one of my children. Of course my heart dropped, and I quickly glanced around to see. . . I don't know what I glanced around to see. I guess I wanted to see that all of my children were on their feet and blood free. As I glanced I didn't see any noticeable problems, and the teacher seeing my distress quickly reassured me it wasn't a big deal. While getting the kids from their classrooms the child in question zoomed past with a quick "Here's my Bible, Mom." Hoping to gain some knowledge on the problem I asked if everything went okay in class and was given the chipper "I obeyed and there were no problems" answer. Now I was really curious about the forth coming conversation because this child seemed oblivious to any issue.

After sending the kids to find their Dad I returned with trepidation to the teacher to find out what was going on. As the story began to unfold I found myself both saddened and trying not to smile at the same time. Saddened to hear that my child was rude to their teacher and prideful in expressing their unhappiness in hearing a Bible story they already knew. Yet, I had to hold back as smile as I couldn't believe my ears. My child was repeating something I had done when I was a child. I vividly remember sitting in a Sunday School class and the teacher announcing the story would be Daniel in the Lion's Den. I think I was in the fourth grade, and I had definitely heard that story many times. I think in my heart I truly wanted to know if there was more to the Bible than Adam and Eve, Noah's Ark, Daniel, Jonah, and Baby Jesus. My problem came in how I expressed this desire. I don't remember exactly what I said, but I'm pretty sure it came across self-righteous and rude. I can recall to this day the teacher's direct rebuke though. She pointed to the door and informed me that I could leave the class if I didn't want to participate. That shut me up really quickly, and I don't think I ever spoke up in class again.

So there I stood twenty some odd years later on a different continent speaking a different language and yet still dealing with the same issue. Thankfully this teacher didn't angrily rebuke my child but encouraged this child to participate in the class. Then she wisely informed me of the problem so I could address my child at home. After clearly understanding the attitudes, words, and situation I apologized and reassured the teacher that I would definitely be talking with my child about this.

As I walked away I had to check my own heart and decide how to best handle this conversation with my child. I really wanted to grab them and say "what in the world were you thinking?" and yet, somehow I knew what they were thinking. I had walked this path before myself. I had heard this lesson before.

I decided not to confront the issue head on but to let the conversation naturally develop as we ate our after church snack and discussed what we had learned that night at church. As the frustration was expressed and the eyes rolled about hearing "a lesson we already knew" I was able to address how important it is to honor our teachers with our attitudes and words. I reminded my children that although they might already know the story other children in the class might not. Their attitudes and actions affects others and the atmosphere in the classroom. Most importantly I wanted them to also understand that we can always learn something new from the Bible. I showed them how just that morning I had read a verse in Job that I don't ever remember reading. Their eyes got big as I explained that though I had read Job "a thousand times" I don't ever remember reading, "All his brothers and sisters and everyone who had known him before came and ate with him in his house. They comforted and consoled him over all the trouble the LORD had brought upon him, and each one gave him a piece of silver and a gold ring. (Job 42:11)" Wow, where did that verse come from? If I had to re-tell the story of Job I would have gone straight from verse ten where Job prayed for his friends and God blessed him with double to verse twelve where it describes how God blessed him. I don't ever remember reading about comforters and people giving him gifts, and it was like verse eleven jumped off the page as I was reading. It was neat to watch my children's reaction as I told them that I had learned something new. I was able to teach them the great thing about God's Word: It is living and powerful. No matter how many times we've heard the story we can always learn something new as we come to it with fresh problems, thoughts, ideas, and issues.

Whether this important life lesson was learned around our kitchen table Sunday night only time will tell, but I sure learned that life lessons sometimes have a funny way of repeating themselves.

Christmas Light

This had to be our most unique family Christmas. It was completely different than we ever planned or imagined.

We have gone to Patrick’s parents’ house for the past 4 years. It took a while but we adjusted to hot, sunny Christmas days in Brasilia. We love it. It's our summer vacation spot. What could be better than a beautiful, comfortable apartment next to a lovely pool with home cooked meals and Grandma's love? Seriously, does it get any better than that?

We've been planning, dreaming, and talking about this for the past couple of months. The kids can't stop talking about what they want to do with Grandma. Elena has planned her cake pattern for their traditional Grandma/granddaughter Christmas cake. Nathanael knows what video games he and Grandma will be playing. How cool is it to have a Grandma that plays video games with you? And Joel, well, he's mainly thinking about the presents; that's what 4 year olds do. Patrick and I have discussed the places we would like to go in Brasilia. I've gone so far as to suggest that we make a list and schedule out the days making sure we have time to do every thing we want. Yep, that’s me: planning and scheduling the fun. :)

Anyway, we were so ready to go. We planned school up to the day. We worked hard to finish 1st grade with Elena and get half way through 3rd with Nathanael. We even did school into December after the Brazilian kids were already out. Every Christmas party had been attended, every project at church completed, the house was cleaned, the laundry done, the fridge cleaned out, the presents wrapped, and all that we lacked was putting things in the suitcases.

Then everything changed with the blink of a light. We were driving home the day before our trip when the fuel injection light came on in the car. We couldn’t believe it. Hoping it was a fluke and would go off Patrick and I stared at it all the way home. When we got home Patrick immediately checked the owners’ manual, and we were totally bummed when he read that we should take the car to a mechanic. No problem. We’d call in the morning.

Bigger disappointment hit when the mechanics we called told us they couldn’t get us in before the next week. The next week? But that was after Christmas. How were we going to drive 13 hours to Grandma’s house? We discussed renting a car but the cost was just too much. We knew it would be wiser to use that money to fix our own car. With sad hearts we called Patrick’s parents and asked if we could wait to go until after the car was fixed. They were very understanding, and we felt better. Then we had to face the kids and tell them. It was amazing how understanding they were.

Everyone was okay with our new plans, but my mind of course began to start thinking of the details. We lacked any kind of Christmas preparations in our own house. We had celebrated our family Christmas time already thinking we would be leaving. There were no more presents to open. There was no special Christmas food. We couldn’t drive our car. It was definitely not the way we had planned.

Yet, God was in control and pretty soon details fell into place. We began receiving invites for Christmas Eve dinners and Christmas day get-togethers. A friend offered us her car so we could get to the events.

The fact we didn’t have any more presents really bothered me. We don’t want our kids to think that Christmas is all about the gifts, but it is nice to have something to open that day.

The day before Christmas Eve Patrick went to the Post Office, and I stayed home and prayed that God would allow at least one of the packages we were still waiting on to come in. I could have cried when he walked in the door with not one, but four packages! I happily wrapped the presents that we had ordered weeks before and that others had sent for Christmas. As I write this it is two weeks since Christmas, and we have not received a single package since that day. I truly believe that God delivered those boxes on just the day we “needed” them.

So we had a unique, simple Christmas. We celebrated with friends. We ate some amazing food. We rested and enjoyed our home. We read Christmas stories and made gingerbread houses (after walking to the corner store to buy an assortment of packaged cookies and raiding the kids candy bags). We watched Christmas movies and sang carols. Instead of being caught up in the hustle and bustle we were snug in our home together celebrating the birth of our Savior and thinking that any day we would leave for Grandma’s house.

Yet, here we are two weeks after Christmas still waiting on our car to be repaired. We still have plans to go to Brasilia and celebrate Christmas. The empty suitcases are still sitting in our room waiting to be filled. The wrapped presents waiting to be put into the car. I have cleaned out the fridge twice and the house numerous times thinking we would be leaving, but we’re still here.

It’s funny how a little light can change all of your plans. On a night over two thousand years ago a little light (from our perspective) signaled the birth of our Savior, the Light of the World. It prompted the start of the wise men’s journey from the east. It would come to trouble Herod. But for us, it pointed down on One for whom all history and humanity was waiting. His Light makes all those other Christmas lights--whether they shine in the sky, from your Christmas tree, or from the dash of your car--fade into the background.

A Blog in Progress

It's done! It's beautiful! It's more than I ever dreamed. It's my very own unique blog site. I absolutely love it, and the best part is that my incredibly talented husband, Patrick, created it for me. The fact that no one else in the whole world has a page like it and that every little detail demonstrates Patrick's amazing creative workmanship makes it that much more special. So let the blogging begin:

Poeima: what in the world is that?

I soon discovered that coming up with a blog name isn't easy. I tossed around several ideas but nothing struck me as that interesting. Patrick was actually the one to come up with the idea of using the word poeima. Him and his creative thinking. Once he explained to me that poeima was the Greek word for workmanship in Ephesians 2:10 I was sold. As a young teenager I chose this as my life verse: For we are his workmanship created in Christ Jesus for good works which God hath before ordained that we should walk in them. I love that I'm His workmanship and that God is doing a work in my life. He's the potter; I'm the clay. It reminds me of a song we sang when I was a child:

He's still working on me

to make me what I ought to be

It took Him just a week to make the moon and the stars

the sun and the Earth and Jupiter and Mars

How loving and patient He must be

He's still working on me

There really ought to be a sign upon my heart

Don't judge me yet there's an unfinished part

but I'll be perfect just according to His plan

fashioned by the Master's loving hand

He is definitely still working on me and as He does I would like to share it here. I'd like this blog to be about Him and what He is doing in my life. I want to write about what I'm learning in all the different facets of my life as a wife, mother, missionary, homeschool mom, teacher, or friend (to name a few of the hats I wear). My desire is for this workmanship of my hands to demonstrate the workmanship of His.