10 lame things I'm excited about

Leaving Mexico is complicated. Quite literally, it's complicated with only taking 10 suitcases back to the states and nothing more. We are sifting through our stuff, deciding what stays and what goes. It's getting down to the nitty-gritty and we are running out of space, pulling things out of bags that were once on our "take list." It's a little overwhelming thinking of how little we have to our name. Stuff provides some sense of security, I suppose, and to live with the bare minimum is a little scary. I might even say adventurous, and I strongly dislike most adventures.

But it's also complicated because while we are sad to leave this crazy adventure, we are super excited for what is next. So as we say good-bye, it's a little strange trying to convey that we are sad and happy at the same time. And being excited to go back does not imply that we do not like Mexico or we think our country is better. Just as we were excited to come to Mexico because of the possibilities and the conviction that we knew this was right for our family, it's the same sentiment as we return to the States.

We are just 5 days away from stepping on the airplane bound for the U.S., and here are 10 really lame things I'm so excited about:

1. Clipping Coupons. Alan has done all the errands--paying bills, grocery shopping, filling the car with gas, taking the girls places that require driving, etc.--for the last 15 months, and I miss it. A lot. I can't wait to look for coupons, pay some bills, and take my girls places all by myself. But let's not kid ourselves. I probably still won't fill the car with gas--it's just not my style. And not only running errands, but doing so on whatever day I'd like is going to be amazing! Here, if it's a Sunday, and you happen to need something at the grocery store, forget it. Just live without it. One time I sent Alan to the store for an eggplant and maybe some cheese so I could make lunch. He called and asked if I wanted him to wait the 45 minutes in line to buy the two items. Um, no thanks. We'll have PB&J.

2. Arguing. Not really, but kind of. Learning and speaking spanish has proven to be more difficult than I anticipated. For many reasons, it's not as good as I'd like it to be. For example, we have so many English-speaking friends in our life, so we are never truly "immersed" in the language and can always fall back on English. I love talking and writing and story-telling and discussing things I'm passionate about, which sometimes leads to a healthy argument (does that even exist?). It has been maddening to just have to sit silently while inside I have so many amazing opinions that I'm sure everyone would love to hear.  I have missed being able to do these things well--it's like a part of me had gone dormant and now it's coming back to life.

3. Driving. I do drive in Mexico City but only to a few places. I never just hop in the car and head out somewhere. It's always calculated and planned, based on time of day, day of the week, and if it's an easy place to go. Most times, Alan is with me, and I've never driven alone with the girls in the 15 months we've lived here. In fact, I've gone only a few places by myself with the girls. I laugh in the face of "heavy traffic" in Pennsylvania and can't wait to drive on a road with 3 other cars on it. It will be amazing to know that people stop at stop signs and will, in most circumstances, stay more than 6 inches from my bumper.

4. Eating meals at 7am, 12pm, and 5pm. We've been here for more than a year and I'm still not a fan of the eating schedule. Breakfast at 9am, lunch at 3pm, and "dinner" at 8 or 9pm--I just can't. I don't know if it's a metabolism thing or if I've got a worm, but I seriously am hungry every 2 to 3 hours and need to eat. And not just an apple or something ridiculous like that. No, no. I need a substantial amount of food every few hours. I can't tell you how many times we've called a restaurant or gone there around 12 or 12:30pm for lunch only to find out it's not open yet. Then we get hangry,

and that's not cool. While I will miss the tacos, I will not miss the withholding of food that happens between meals.

5. Health food. I have really loosened up in the department of eating over the last 15 months. Mostly because I just don't have the energy to figure out where to buy all the things I'm familiar with, and also because I don't have access to much of it. My kids have eaten foods I never thought I'd let them taste, and I've waved the white flag because I just can't get stressed about something I don't have a lot of control over. But soon, I will be in a land where I know how to find Raw Apple Cider Vinegar, Aluminum-free Baking soda, Organic whole-wheat flour, [legit] Probiotics, Nitrate-free bacon, Raw Milk, Cage-Free eggs, and Grass-fed Beef!!!! I can hardly contain my excitement as I type this!

6. Eating Sushi without Cheese. This is very specific, I know, but man it's important. Sushi with cream cheese is not ideal. Sushi with some sort of hard cheese just shouldn't exist. Also not ideal? A live baby cockroach in the bag of sushi you ordered. Cheese and roach free sushi for all!

7. Going to the gym. Jillian Michaels in my living room has been lovely. It really has. But there's nothing like going to classes at the gym. I work about 20 times as hard. There's just no way I'm going to give up if I'm surrounded by a group of people. Some call it synergy, I call it pride. This is also the one instance I enjoy someone telling me what to do, especially if it's ridiculously difficult and painful. I know, Mom, where was this quality when I was growing up, right?!

8. Snow. Just a few months ago, I thought anyone who chose to live in a location where winter exists was ridiculous. If you could have sunshine everyday, why not?! But lately, I've been missing the changing seasons and all that is associated with them. I miss the changing color of the leaves, the warm drinks, coming into a warm house from the cold, snow, fires in the fireplace, etc. Maybe it's because it's what I grew up with, or maybe it's because I apparently enjoy difficult and painful things. Whatever the reason, I'm excited for snow, snow days, drinking hot chocolate, watching my kids play in the snow, and hopefully having a fireplace.

9. Consignment and Thrift shops. We have probably gone shopping less than 5 times the entire time we've lived here. Mainly because everything is so expensive and I know I could get it for 1/10 of the price in the States at a consignment or thrift store. But also because we didn't know how long we'd be here and we didn't want to accumulate a ton of stuff we couldn't take back. Even though I can't wait to find a pair of shoes for my kids for $6 instead of $40, I do hope that we won't forget that we can survive with very little and that shopping as a hobby is unfulfilling.

10. Any-day-of-the-week hang-outs with friends. It's hard to understand just how difficult this city is to live in unless you've done it, and done it for more than 6 weeks. Anyone can survive anything for 6 weeks, if there's the promise of returning to "normal." Alan and I like being with people. In fact, as our 10th anniversary approaches, we would rather travel with some friends or go visit friends than go to some secluded resort and be by ourselves for a week. It's how we're wired and we love it, but I realize some people might read that and think we are weird. Well, we are weird, but we also just really like living in community. We have missed getting together with people during the week, on a regular basis; we have missed impromptu gatherings; we have missed having our house full of people who we can share our life with. We have l.o.v.e.d housing short term visitors while living here and always enjoy the times we do get together with people. We are looking forward to having a more flexible schedule and seeing people at 5pm on a Tuesday if we want!

I realize I am romanticizing living in the United States, but nobody needs to poop in my cereal and remind me of that. We will be reminded soon enough of all the things there that drive us crazy and we'll have a list of things we miss about living in Mexico. It's just how this whole process works.

Hashtag, this is real life.

Good-bye Mexico

Life has been a whirlwind these last few weeks, hence the silence on here and Facebook. In just 2 weeks our time in Mexico will come to an end and we will be moving back to the States! It's definitely not the timing we had originally thought, but we've sort of had to embrace being flexible over the last few years!

Alan will begin a new job as the Pastor of Worship and Arts at a church in Wisconsin, in January. The plan is to leave Mexico at the end of the month, hang out in Pennsylvania for a month for the holidays, then head out to Wisconsin and begin our life in the midwest. Then in June, we'll become a family of 5!*

I realize I'm leaving out SO many details. It's mainly because my brain sort of goes into a fog when there are too many details to process. Trying to figure out how to pack up our house in two weeks is pretty crazy, but on top of that, we are only taking back 10 pieces of luggage. So whatever doesn't fit in that, doesn't go. This is not a task for pack-rats or the overly sentimental type. Emotions.of.steel.

Even though we are leaving with approximately 70% less stuff than what we came with, we are content. When we showed up here, we didn't have a lot and people were quite generous with us and donated many items, from furniture to dishes. While living here, people from the states supported us financially which allowed us to furnish our house and live a modest life. Now, we get to pay it forward and give almost all of it away! If you've never given away something that cost you hundreds or thousands of dollars, or something that you absolutely love, you should totally do it! Not because it will make you feel amazing (but it might!) but because it breaks the hold, it breaks the power, that things and money can have over your life. It makes people become the focus and not stuff; it makes LOVE come to life and kills greed. Like my mom always says, "It's just money."

So, THANK YOU to every single person who supported us, whether it was financially**, or through posting funny cat pictures, or through prayer, or by sending fun packages. It's been quite the 15 months and we wouldn't trade the experience for the world. With that said, we are super excited to start this new adventure!!

-M

*Yep, I'm pregnant! Poor baby #3 gets such a lame announcement :(

**Anything you give in December will go towards our moving expenses.

Please *don't* hold your applause

"Nothing is more important than to learn how to maintain a life of purpose in the midst of painful adversity." -Timothy Keller

Before we moved to Mexico, Alan and I read My Utmost for His Highest everyday. And every.single.day the words challenged us, moved us, and mostly freaked us out. The one in particular that hit me the hardest wasn't about being radical and selling everything you owned (which we mostly did), or moving to a foreign land (which we definitely did). No, it was that one that said, and I'm paraphrasing, what if the work you are called to do never gets recognized? What if you go unnoticed your entire life? Would you still do the work? My chest is getting tight just thinking about this.

I didn't read that one and shrug it off because affirmation is like oxygen to me. My survival without it is debatable.

There is a personality profile out there that uses animals as the different types: Dog, Beaver, Otter, Lion. I am a straight up Otter. I am direct, open, I love making people laugh; if it's not fun I don't understand why we're doing it; when I feel stressed I will attack and be sarcastic; and I really like recognition and applause. In fact, I've asked if Alan could please applaud me more around the house. I mean, it's my love language, after all.

Recognition and applause are not bad things. They indeed are beneficial to encouraging others and affirming their work. However, they can't be the only things that drive us to do good in the world. Because if that's all we've got going for us, if applause is our oxygen, we will slowly die inside when we are in seasons of receiving little to no affirmation or recognition. In the seasons where it seems like no one is rooting for you, it will be almost impossible to maintain a life of purpose.

This has been a tough "season" for us. Multiple times a week we are talked down to or laughed at because of our lack of spanish skills, even though we are trying so hard. Our spanish skills also limit us in how we can serve, thus our ideas, gifts, talents are sort of dormant in this season. Oh, we try to use them, but trust me when I say that no one is applauding.

I don't say all this out of feeling sorry for myself. No, I've moved past that. I don't feel sorry for myself because I know this is a season of character growth. And as painful as it can be sometimes, I really am grateful for it. And the truth is, the greatest challenge has been this: even when no one around me is applauding or doling out affirmation, am I still willing to serve the God who called me here? Am I still willing to be present and faithfully serve as I said I would? Am I okay with doing work that goes unnoticed?

We were reminded a few times this week to keep Jesus the focus. No matter what else is going on around us, no matter how much our pride is being painfully chiseled away day by day, no matter how unnoticed we feel, we can still choose to keep Jesus as our focus.

Keeping Jesus as the focus looks like praying for our enemies (those who "rub us the wrong way").
Keeping Jesus as the focus looks like doing the dirty work, especially the unnoticed dirty work.
Keeping Jesus as the focus looks like daily expressing gratitude.
Keeping Jesus as the focus looks like blessing those who hurt us.
Keeping Jesus as the focus looks like finding our value in who we are and not what we do.

And if we can do that, if we can keep our focus on the One who formed us and knows us and loves us, then in the face of adversity, in seasons that are so hard and feel like they will never end, we can maintain our sense of purpose, stay present, and faithfully serve the God who called us here.

-M

Ps. If you're in a similar season, I would like to affirm your awesomeness. And for the record, as I'm affirming your awesomeness, I'm applauding you. Because sometimes we all just need a good round of applause.

What I hope for my kids

Moving to Mexico 13 months ago was not a quick decision, nor was it easy. It was 18 months from the time we thought about moving until we actually moved and it included several trips to Mexico to check things out, selling our house, quitting our jobs, and 6 months of fundraising.  Our kids were just 1 and 3 years old when it all began. Now they are almost 4 and 6. Time goes fast. So fast.

And yet at times, it goes s...o...o...o... s....l...o...w. Like when we first arrived, those first 5 days seemed like forever. Now that we've been here for almost 400 days, 5 days seems like a drop in the bucket, like who can't survive for 5 days?! But during that time, it truly felt more like 5 months, not days. Our stove didn't work, we didn't have a washer or dryer, the Internet wasn't hooked up yet, and oh yeah, we found out that we really sucked at Spanish and didn't know where anything was. We also only had received 30% of our support that first month which barely covered rent and the ingredients to make quesadillas 3 times a day.

The hardest part of adjusting wasn't eating quesadillas for every meal, believe it or not. It was watching my kids transition. I can say now, 13 months out, that they are CHAMPS, but at the time, in those first few months, I didn't know. I didn't know if they would ever be my sweet kids who laughed and loved life, again. They cried about everything, they were angry about everything, they were frustrated by everything, they were hitting their classmates, and they hated Spanish--speaking it and hearing it. They wouldn't go to their class at church, they cried every morning before school, they came home with incomplete work everyday, and Olive spent more time in the principal's office and the infirmary than she did in her classroom.

I was sure we made a really big mistake moving here. I was sure we screwed up our kids for good.

I cried almost everyday because I missed my kids. I missed their smiles, their free spirits, their ability to be a good friend. I felt so unprepared and so inadequate to deal with this transition and I just knew that my kids would resent me for it. I wanted to pack up and go home and tell our kids that we don't have to do this. That it's not worth it. But it turns out that the fighting spirit I always got in trouble for as a kid comes in handy as an adult and apparently my kids inherited the same trait. Having a fighting spirit doesn't mean it was easy--it means that we just kept showing up, even when it was really hard, and eventually we all learned how to live here, 2500 miles away from all things familiar.

Many people have told us that this experience, if nothing else, would be amazing for our kids. Man, I hope that's true. I hope my kids look back at the time spent living here with fond memories and appreciation for exposure to another culture. There's a chance they won't ever do that or that they won't have those feelings for another 20 years. But whatever happens, here is what I hope for my kids:

I hope they remember the unusual amount of time we spent together as a family everyday. Someday this won't be our normal. We'll go back to the working world, they'll have extracurricular activities and want to spend time with their friends and they will grow out of wanting to play with Mom and Dad. I hope they remember all the times we spent playing hair salon and restaurant, the dance parties, and the hundreds of times we played school immediately after they returned from real school, which they allegedly did not like. I hope this instills in them that they were seen, heard, valued, and loved.

I hope they remember that not only is it possible to live with less, it's better. I hope they will have learned to be content in any situation. I hope they continue to use their creativity, not just to entertain themselves, but to add their small piece to this world. I hope they remember that most of the world lives on very little and yet is exponentially happier; I hope they remember that things are just things and they should never trump our relationships; I hope they remember that it's not just our broken and unused things that we give away, but true generosity involves a level of sacrifice, and sometimes that means our favorite toy or clothes. I hope they remember how exciting a cardboard box can be.

I hope they realize that they can do hard things because not only did they watch their mom and dad do hard things, like learn a new language in their 30s or try to order a dumb pizza in Spanish, but they did them too. They went to school even when they were left out because the kids didn't understand them. They began speaking spanish even when they made lots of mistakes. They went into their class at church without Mommy even when they felt nervous because the teacher didn't speak English. I hope they will have learned that being brave doesn't mean they won't feel the butterflies in their tummies or they won't want to throw up in their mouth right before doing something new or hard--but that being brave means they will do it anyway.

I hope they remember that loving God means loving people. And loving people doesn't look like talking about it, but it looks like doing something about it. I hope they remember that "serving God" isn't at the expense of serving their family. I hope they remember Love never looks glamorous, but that it looks more like building something really amazing, really slowly, with a lot of dirt involved. I hope they will have learned that loving people means offering grace, even when we are not privileged to know their story. I hope they will have learned that they are being passionately pursued by a loving God who doesn't care if they ever move across the world to "serve" him but that he cares about them, as is, no strings attached.

Most of all, I hope they realize that we are just two people who are doing the best we can not to screw them up completely, and that we didn't have to apply for any type of clearance to become parents--that more paperwork and scrutiny is required to become a member at Costco than it it is to have a baby and then to raise that baby. And if they forget all of the above, I hope they remember this: seriously, stop eating your scabs. Nothing good can come of that.

Boundaries are our friends!

One of my favorite things to do is to sit for hours and hours with a friend and have a meaningful conversation about any and all aspects of life. Usually, my kids end up tattooing their entire bodies with markers or they decide to put their bathing suits on and play "beach" in the shower where they subsequently use every last drop of the shampoo, while I'm having these meaningful conversations in my livingroom. To me, it's a win-win. They get to have fun while I get to have fun.

I have a handful of friends who I talk to about all the deep things in life, like my dreams for the future, my struggles as a mom and wife, my shortcomings, my fears. Then I have several handfuls where I talk about my life more generally, including things like birthing stories and parenting challenges and cool things on Pinterest. Then I have several handfuls where I talk about The Kardashians and the weather.

This is called boundaries.

I really like people; I really like to talk; I really like to listen and ask questions; I really, really like honesty. This can be awesome, but it can also be a formula for disastrous relationships. I used to consider any person I ever hung out with a "close friend". They were on my invite list to parties and I thought I should be on their invite list to major life events, like weddings and baby showers. Turns out, that's sort of weird of me to operate that way, and it's not healthy. Friendships take time to develop, and they should do so slowly. And there should really be only a handful of the really close ones.

Now, I work on deepening my closest friendships by being vulnerable, loyal, and on their team. I deepen my other close friendships using the same values, but I just put the boundary at a different place. And it's the same for casual friends--I'm still honest and loyal, but the limit of what I share is different. Not because I'm trying to be deceptive, but because I'm protecting myself in the process. The verse in the Bible where it talks about casting pearls before swine being unwise never made sense to me until like 3 years ago, mainly because I didn't understand that not everyone was my BFF. Now that I know about limits and boundaries, I totally get the point of not casting my pearls before swine. My innermost thoughts, dreams, and fears are precious and fragile, just like pearls, and there are only some who can care for them properly, and those are the people who are safe.

Since the general public was invited to join Facebook a few years ago, it's been a love/hate relationship for most people. I hear it all the time, and have even felt it myself--Facebook creates discontentment, comparison, depression, etc, and it's NOT real. I understand all these sentiments, and I agree it can cause these feelings, but I would argue that it's not Facebook's fault--it's User Error.

Since most of us using Facebook grew up without the Internet, we didn't grow up learning how to navigate a social network. I first learned of the Internet in 10th grade in high school and was so confused about what it actually was. For 2 years I thought the Internet was Dogpile, a search engine that was the only one approved for use in our school. This might be why I still have a hard time Googling effectively...

It's no surprise that those of us near/over 30 years old find Facebook repulsive and alluring at the same time. It's no surprise that we want it to be real life--we've lived through high school and maybe college and we're done with the game of comparison. But I would argue that Facebook can be beneficial and not a source of depression or comparison, but it's up to you and me to create boundaries. Or in Facebook terms, it's up to us to know how to use our Privacy Settings. This isn't a catchy metaphor--I'm seriously talking about the real privacy settings. Use them.

Facebook is always, always, always going to be everyone's best moments. At least, I hope that's what it is. There's nothing worse than getting on and reading a bunch of Debbie Downer status updates. I don't want to know that you hate your husband, via Facebook. I don't want to know that you think this world is going to Hell in a hand-basket because someone said Happy Holidays to you at Target. I don't want to see photos of your emergency appendectomy healing process.

I can't control you, or what you post. But I can control what I read and how often I read it.

I have pretty rigid guidelines of who is in my newsfeed--if you're mean, you're out. If you're over 75 and posting provocative selfies--you're out. If you only post controversial issues--you're out. If you are a Debbie Downer, you're out. And if God forbid you ever mention that you lost your baby weight without even trying and how funny is that, lol, omg--you.are.for.sure.out.

This might seem harsh, but it's not much different than setting boundaries in real life. I choose who I spend time with in my real life, thus I will do it in my Facebook life. But with Facebook, I am more strict because it's a one-sided conversation. You and I can post whatever we want and we never have to see the other person's face, we never have to experience their reaction in person, and therefore we don't have to exercise empathy. So because I can't really know your motive behind what you're posting, I do what I do and create boundaries.

Look--life is hard for all us whether you know about it or not. Chances are, you're not going to know if someone's marriage is falling apart or if someone is financially in trouble or if someone loathes her body and would rather die than be fat, via Facebook. And you shouldn't know that. Those are pearls and they are not meant for sharing with the world. So consider it a good thing, a healthy thing that you don't know this information about most people on your Friend list. Because if they are taking it to Facebook, they are in worse shape than it appears.

I want to see the cute pictures of kids, the funny pictures of cats. I want to hear your thoughts and opinions (in a non-bully sort of way). I want to ask for advice and give advice when it's summoned. I want to see pictures of your growing baby bump, your new dog, and the Pinterest projects you're doing. Okay, really, I'd like to see the Pinterest fails, but whatever. I'll take both.

I have come to mostly love Facebook. It has been a source of sanity while living 2500 miles away from those I love the most, other than my sweet little family that I actually live with. I don't want any of you to stop using it because I love seeing all your amazing moments. I want to celebrate with you! Life is hard and if you get to experience something amazing and you want to share it, I want to cheer you on! And if I can't cheer you on, it's my issue to deal with, and one way to deal with it, is to set up boundaries. Say it with me, "Boundaries are our friends."

Three cheers for more cat pictures and Pinterest fails!!!

-M

Thugs & Pimps & Bros & (S)Hoes

**Since writing this, a friend brought up a really good point. She was saying how she doesn't like this shirt because the word Hoe is derogatory and offensive and no one would want to be referred to as such. I agree and I'm sorry if this post was offensive. So we added an "S" to Alan's shirt and it now reads "thugs & pimps & bros & shoes." Much better.**

Guys, I'm not super gangsta. Oh wait, you knew that? I see. Well, a lot times people assume all missionaries are gangsta. That's actually not true. No one thinks that. But what they might think is that missionaries know how to love people really well. I'd like to go ahead and unpack that myth for you.

I'm learning how to love others, even while they're in their darkest moment, but it's definitely not my strength. And by learning, I mean that if love were on a scale of 1-100, I'm at like a 7.5. I have a really, really long way to go. I want to run and go find someone else who is a lot kinder than me, a lot braver than me, to go and love people. Let me find someone to whom it comes naturally, because for me, it's hard work. It's so much easier to draw a line in the sand and stay on the safe side. It's easier just to shout "truth" at others, to form all my opinions about right and wrong, rather than walk across the line and be quiet with them and love them in their darkest moment.

But here's the problem: I love Jesus. It seriously is problematic, especially when I want to live a cozy, Pinterest-inspired life. Based on the fact that Jesus was homeless, I'm pretty sure he doesn't give a frick if my house is decorated well. Bummer. I love the way Jesus loved people! I want to give him a high-five for it and tell him how inspiring it is and then let other people try to love like He did. Because I know me. I know how impatient, selfish, and judgmental I am. And I know how much it hurts to love. How there are no guarantees--that just because I show someone love, they'll show me love in return or they'll make better choices. There's just no guarantee and that sucks.

"They are precious in His sight"

A few weeks ago we threw another Block Party of Love, this time right in the middle of the redlight district. We were legit in the middle of the buying and selling of sex; in the middle of injustice. Our goal for that night was to share God's love with everyone--pimps, johns, prostitutes, and anyone else who happened to be on the street that night. We set up right in front of a super shady hotel, which was a hole-in-the-wall kind of place. There was a bright light in the entry way and that's pretty much it. No sign. No door. And all night long, there was a group of men standing in front of the hotel, just watching. They couldn't afford to buy a prostitute, so they just got jollies from watching them come and go. My heart hurt. Ached. And then, I got angry. Any talk of showing love was gone--I couldn't. I was so mad, so frustrated, so sad, so desperate for something to change. I couldn't stop watching that hotel door either. I watched for over an hour, as men took prostitutes in, one after the other. The men were all smiles, and the girls were covered in shame. I saw it over and over and over. And my heart couldn't stand it. I simply checked out of our Party of Love and felt hopeless.

When I got home, Alan asked me how it went and I just cried. And the next morning, I cried more. And then during church, I cried again. I wish I was a lot cooler about this kind of stuff. Like I could show up, love people, leave, and feel awesome. But apparently I'm not that cool. I showed up, I was highly disturbed, I couldn't engage in the manicures because I was mad about the fact that once the manicure was over--once their 15 minutes of being served and loved through an act of kindness was over--they were going to be bought for sex, most likely using those very hands we just washed, and I definitely wasn't feeling any love towards the pimps or johns. See? This is why I have a really really long way to go in loving others in their darkest moments. But it's a twisted Gospel to believe that love is only for certain people, that love is only for those who love us in return, and that we show love when it's convenient for us.

I don't know. I just keep thinking about how Jesus came to me, loved me, and continues to love me, in my ugliest, darkest moments. I keep thinking about how I love Jesus and how I want others to experience this love, too. And so I keep showing up, even when it's inconvenient, especially when it's uncomfortable, and trying my best to channel my inner-Jesus-love. And the more I do that, the more I realize it's not about me at all--I will never save the world. In fact, I will never change one person. Love--the unconditional Jesus kind of love-- is what brings hope to the hopeless, freedom to the enslaved, peace to the anxious, and change to the most hardened of hearts. I am choosing love.

-M

Seasons

I've been thinking a lot about how life is one long strand of different seasons. And this can be a refreshing thought, if you're in a rough season, or a scary thought, if you're smooth sailing right now. It always makes me laugh to think how resistant we are to the changing of seasons instead of accepting that this is what life is. Life is change.

Pretend these are the horses I'm wrangling.

As we begin the second year of our 2-year commitment to be in Mexico, of course we are thinking about what's next for our family. After experiencing so much transition for the last 2 1/2 years since we started the process of moving to Mexico, all I want to do is move to Idaho and live on a farm, drink coffee on the front porch with Alan, homeschool my kids, and live off the land. I am 99% sure this might be a knee-jerk reaction to living in a slightly crowded, busy, farm-less city, but there's a chance I'll be wrangling horses and saying farmer things like 'Yee-haw' and 'Woah Nellie' in the near future.

Moving to Mexico was a dream of both Alan and I. We both felt peace about coming, we both felt a passion to fight human-trafficking, and both had a desire to come and serve in whatever way was needed. What I'm not sure we were prepared for was that reality of me being the one working while Alan took care of things at home. We pretty much had an entire role reversal and with that, small identity crises. And in the last few weeks, I've been having a hard time with these roles, because in the deepest part of me, not only do I want to be home with my kids, baking muffins, breaking up squabbles, talking about school, and occasionally giving them a bath, in the near future, we want to adopt children. And that's when Alan reminded me that it's a season. And then I reminded myself of that one post about being content. Whatever.

We are in a season of serving, learning, depending, learning, trusting, and lastly, i don't want to leave this one out--learning. It is strange because it is simultaneously so good and so hard. Similar to parenting or marriage--it's not easy breezy but with hard work, it's so rewarding and fulfilling.

And the real gift is being able to remain present in the current season while planning and dreaming for the next. When I'm single and long to be married, I relish in my independence and seemingly endless opportunities. When I'm married and longing for children, I enjoy the every-night-date-nights, sleeping in, and rational conversations with adults that don't include things like "please don't eat your poop." When I have young children and long for them to grow independent, I cherish the endless cuddles and I-love-yous, the innocent questions, and the uninhibited, carefree fashion sense that includes things like helmets, bee antennae, and only one pig-tail.

And so it is now--I remain present in my current season of seeing the beauty that rises from ashes as rescued girls are experiencing healing and restoration and life; I enjoy this time of Alan running errands and doing the finances because truthfully, it's a nice break; and I cling to all the character growth that comes from living in a foreign country and trying to make sense of life everyday.

We talk almost everyday about what the future might hold. Obviously, we don't know and so much can change in one year. Our desire is to always remain open to possibilities and to continue asking God, through prayer, to guide our next step. And to remember that life is made up of ever-changing seasons that deserve our full attention and participation.