Alright, So Maybe I Have Anger Issues

Sons, daughters, children of God. We are called children of God.  We are the one thing in the world that can cause God the most joy, the most pain, the most anger.  Because that’s what children do, that what’s our children are capable of doing to us.  And not just them, but how other people treat them.  I know with every ounce of my being that I have never been as angry in my life as I have been when someone was ugly to my children or mistreated them.  In fact, I pretty much lose my mind and any court of law would grant me temporary insanity, because I swear to you, my brain shuts down and some kind of crazy primal impulses take over when someone hurts my child.  The funny thing is, that usually my kid is over the issue in 30 seconds (if they even notice it at all) whereas it takes me DAYS, WEEKS, or MONTHS to get over the mistreatment of my child.

Case in point:  many months ago in the Victoria mall (otherwise known as a sad place where people go to look at sad people and be sad about their sad lives….) Hudson and Graham were playing in the (sad) play area for (sad) children.  (Ok I’ll stop now.)  They were just being themselves and running around having a good time when Hudson stepped backward and accidentally knocked over an, oh, I don’t know, maybe like 11-month-old that was toddling around.  The baby’s mom swooped in from where she was sitting on the side of the play area and SCREAMED in Hudson’s face.  SCREAMED.  At this little 5-year-old boy whom she did not know, whom accidentally knocked over her baby (who was FINE by the way) in a play area full of KIDS.  Y’all, she was like inches from his face.  

This unholy rage just started violently rising up inside of me.  First of all, I have NEVER screamed in my child’s face.  Ever.  HOW DARE someone else come scream in my poor, little, baby-child’s face for an accident???  (I just think back to little Huddy’s face with tears streaming down and I just have the urge to hire someone from the mafia  to hunt this miscreant down.)

I really don’t even know what happened next because I kind of blacked out from the rage, but I know I told that woman to never speak to my child again, but what I wanted to do was fight her like one of those horrid videos that people upload to YouTube where some chick is beating down some other chick?  Well I hate those videos and they make me sick to my stomach, but OH. MAN.  I feel like if anyone in the world ever deserved it, it was this lady.  And perhaps Hitler.  But whatev.

I am not kidding you when I say that this was probably six months ago, and I am still not over it.  (As you can tell because I am still considering having the mafia find her.)  Just the fact that I care for my children so much, I try to protect them and do the best for them, and then some random person in a mall could come up and cause them pain--it makes me crazy.  Maybe because I feel so helpless.  Maybe because the fact becomes clear that no matter how much I try to do right for them, the world is still going to wound their little hearts and it causes me despair to realize this.

Or, maybe because I am emotionally unhinged and chemically unbalanced. ( ← true story)

I was reading C.S. Lewis this morning, a passage where he was talking about the Lord’s Prayer.  He was talking about how the Lord’s Prayer shows our relationship to God, and that he has made us his children, even though we are SO unworthy to be called this.  (He calls it “an outrageous piece of cheek” which I love.)  ( I think I am going to start calling people that.)  But anyway, he says that God has ordered us to do this.  He has ordered us in the Lord’s prayer to call him Father.  Because we have put on the righteousness of Christ, and we get to be his kids now.  

And this just makes me think...what does he feel like when he sees people wound us?  We know that he is jealous for us.  I wonder if it is at all like the way I felt when that woman screamed at Hudson?  (Minus all the sinful impulses and injurious thoughts.)  

I betcha it is.  I betcha it is a feeling that I don’t even know anything about.  Because, this is where God and I part ways in our feelings toward our kids:  He sent his SON to die for us.  I would do anything in this world to protect my sons from dying.  I think all the time how God the Father had it worse than Jesus during the crucifixion. Jesus endured the agony in his body, but can you imagine the way God felt it, knowing what he had asked his son to do? What he was refusing to rescue his son from?

So if God loves me that much--so much that he would ask his perfect son to die for me--I’m guessing he gets pretty upset when someone mistreats me.  I’m guessing he gets pretty upset when I mistreat someone else.  (I’m guessing he has a special punishment reserved for the lady that screamed at Hudson.)  

We get to be children of God, that he loves more than we understand, that is he jealous for, that he longs for us to realize the depth of his love for us.  My prayer for myself and my boys is that we will remember that and live like that.  Live like children of God, but also remember that others are children of God that he loves just as much as us.  Maybe some that we think are unlovely.  Maybe some that are really hard for us to love.  Children of God whom he loves fiercely.  Even more fiercely than a hormonal, unbalanced mama protecting her babes in a mall play area.

That’s love, my friends.

P.S.  I realize that my last few posts might be leading you to believe that I have some anger issues.  Talking to Cameron might also lead you to believe this.  I really don’t have any rebuttal for this, I am just acknowledging this so that you know that I know that you know, okay?  It’s my burden to bear.  Well, and Cam’s.  Hehe.  

Volcanic Adventures and People That Make Me Angry

We have been living in Mexico for 7 1/2 weeks.  We have been gone from our life in Katy for about 10 weeks.  Oh, how I miss it sometimes.  Sometimes I dream about our house in Katy, and remember the different things the boys learned to do there.  I think about how awesome it was to be able to annoy Deb Turner or Kristen Bradford at a moment's notice (I am a fan of popping in.)  Oh, I just pretend I am back at Houston's First Baptist sometimes, singing at the top of my lungs and seeing so many people in the world that I love. Getting to watch all the babies that I taught in Sunday school, all the babies that came through the MDO program while I directed, grow up. (I hate missing watching my friends' babies grow up!!!)

But then sometimes, I look around Mexico and I think, "I'm good. This is amazing.  Look at this world that God made that I am getting to experience right now, that the boys are getting to experience right now.  Look at all the need here, the people that have no idea that a mega-church in Houston that has thousands of members could even exist."

So far it has been difficult, but it has been good.  One thing that surprises me so far is that loving the PLACE has come so much easier than loving the people so far.  (Stay with me lest you think I just committed an irreversable error of missionary code.)  (Which I probably did, but whatevs.)

For example, the beauty of this part of Mexico is incredible.  We are in the middle of the most beautiful green mountains you have ever seen, we are in volcanic forests, tropical jungles, we are 40 minutes away from the most amazing beaches.  Seeing God revealed through this nature that we have never gotten to experience before has been amazing.  In fact, sometimes we just are completely irresponsible and decide to take time-paid-for-to-baby-sitter and instead of be productive with it, we decide to go do things like, oh, I don't know, find the top of the volcano.

(I feel like maybe our support is going drop steeply after hearing these truths)

Yes, the other day Cam and I decided like it would be a great idea to find the top of the volcano.  So off we went driving up roads in the general direction of the volcano that quickly declined to less and less functionality, just soaking in the creation around us and feeling free for the moment.  On our way up, we found an amazing lake that was all but deserted except for a few guys, who I could only surmise were some sort of grounds-keepers for the nonexistent campers.

These guys were hilarious.  Cam was asking them about what kind of animals lived around there as we were thinking of bringing the boys up to fish or camp, and this (except in Spanish) was one guy's answer:  "Oh, all kind of animals.  Mountain lions, pumas, black and white cat-dogs with weird hook-shaped noses.  Nothing harmful."  In my head I'm thinking, "Black and white cat-dog??? What the crap?  Oh, awesome, only animals that could be featured on Discovery Channel's Monster Quest show.  Oh, oh, and yes mountain lions and pumas are known for just wanting to cuddle all day...."  And then the guy goes, "Oh yeah, and then the six-foot rattle snake that I found yesterday."

Maybe we won't go camping there.

(We later figured out that the black and white cat-dog with the weird nose was an ant-eater.)

So we said goodbye to the lake's official Tourism Officer and continued heading up the road towards the top of the volcano.  The road got less and road-like and the little local indigenous looking people (whom I wanted to all smooch) got fewer and further between.  

 The tall pointy things are rock outcroppings

We passed incredible outcropping of volcanic rock and signs that said "Please take care of the pumas."  I am not freaking kidding you.  So at this point, this was my train of thought:

"Man, I hope a puma doesn't eat my face off."

"Man, I hope our car doesn't break down out here, without cell service nor a tow truck within 546 miles."

"Man, I hope we aren't accidentally wandering onto some narcos' land, never to be heard from again."

"Man, I hope the volcano doesn't erupt right now."

All good fun.  Eventually it became time to turn around because the babysitter would need to leave (or more likely we needed to quit paying a babysitter while we were off just doing shenanigans.)  So this time we didn't make it to the top of volcano, but I feel certain that a time will come when we feel the need to try again.  

A few more pics from the drive home

So, back to what I was saying about it being easier to love the place more than the people at the moment.  Like, I remember when we would go to Cuatro Cienegas with FBC Edna, I would think that I would rather have a non-anesthetized medical procedure than live there, but I LOVED the little people from the church.  They were the sweetest people, and they were so excited to have us there.  (And I was only there for like five days at a time.)  And here, that is definitely the same, I LOVE the people in the church that we are here to help, Pan de Vida.  The problem moreso lies with the clowns outside of the church (I say that in the nicest way possible.)

For instance, one day we were at Home Depot buying a few things and one of the items Cam wanted to buy was out of stock but he had the option to buy the display.  So halfway through the girl ringing him up he said, "Let me just run and make sure the display doesn't have any problems, I'll be right back."  So 45 seconds later Cameron returned to his line and the checkout girl was no where to be seen.  He looked around.  He waited.  He was confused. So he asked someone, "Do you know what happened to the girl who was checking me out?"  And the other employee said, "Yeah, she went to to go eat."  And Cameron said, "No, she was right in the middle of checking me out."  And the employee said, "Yeah, but she left to go eat."  Cameron got in the car like, "Who just LEAVES when I walk away for 45 seconds, and I say that I'll be right back, and in the middle of checkout she just DISAPPEARS???"  Well, apparently that girl.

And then yesterday, I was trying to park my whale of a vehicle in a little parking lot made for smart cars apparently and the parking lot attendant made me re-park FIVE TIMES.  FIVE TIMES.  While Graham was throwing a fit and Hudson was playing in traffic.  I was like, "Ma'am, no matter how many times you make me re-park my car, it will still be approximately 18,000 times bigger than the rest of these cars."  Finally, as she was telling me to move it again I said, "No.  Sorry.  We will be gone for 3 minutes, we are walking to that bakery, and will be right back, and then we will leave never to return."  I wanted to smack her. You know, with the love of Jesus and whatnot.  But I didn't, because I am a missionary you know.

There was also the taxi driver who parked his taxi, like, UP UNDER my monstrosity of a car and then yelled at me for not seeing it after I hit it.  (PS he was blind in one eye so....yeah....it wasn't my fault.)

So apparently lost people need Jesus or something.  I mean...I'm kinda shocked.  Not really, but kinda. So your mission, my sweet 12 friends that are reading this, is to pray for me to love people.  Because it's hard.  People got problems and sometimes I don't want to deal with them but I'm a missionary so apparently that's part of my job.  

Who knew?

Love and miss y'all and I will be back in Texas in like THREE WEEKS what what!!!!

                                                                                                        Sincerely,

                                                                                                   One-half of the c-minus missionary team

P.S. Please don't read this and decide that it's time to withdraw your support from us.  If anything, decide to support us more as we are spending lots of money paying people for hitting their cars/stuff/persons.  Cam is up to four collisions, people.

Things Learned on Moving to a Foreign Country from a C-Minus-Missionary

Ok...

Many of you have been asking for a blog post since I arrived here in Mexico.  There have been so many things to write about rolling around in my sweaty, dehydrated head that I didn't know where to start, so I'll just start here--with some things I've learned from moving to a foreign country thus far.

1.  Stop signs and traffic signs don't always mean what they say.  In fact, they rarely mean what they say. For instance, I've realized that stop signs actually mean: don't stop.  They actually mean:  keep right on driving through this intersection at whatever speed seems right to you without regard for whoever else might be coming through and for heaven's sake, if a silly mislead gringa stops at one of these tricky red octagons, lay on your horn and go around her because WHY in the world would she stop like that???

2.  Same goes for conversations, they don't always mean exactly what was said.  Sometimes they mean the opposite.  Like, if you are talking to someone and they said, "Sure, I can come Friday!"  Well, you may think that means that they can come Friday.  That would make you a poor, silly fool.  That means that only maybe they can come Friday.  It may only mean that yes, they have heard that Friday is an actual day of the week.  It could even mean, that no, under no circumstances will they come Friday because their sister's friends's dog is having surgery on Friday and they will most definitely not be coming on Friday.  It's just a wait-and-see kinda thing. Like, on Friday, you just sit there and wait and see......

3.  God's greatest gift to humankind, after Jesus, was most definitely air-conditioning.  I mean, I feel really sorry for my kids and husband right now....really sorry.   If they thought hormonal Amy was a force to be reckoned with, how about sweated-all-day-and-night-heat-rash-hormonal-Amy???  She's scary, man.  Real scary.  But there just isn't any way around it, sadly.  Being hot makes me angry.  Cameron keeps telling me I'll get used to it, but every time he says that, in my mind I'm hitting him in the face with a tire iron.

4.  I love me some spicy food...but apparently not as much as Mexicans.  Because in Mexico, chile comes on everything. Ev-er-y-thing.  Want chile flavored ice cream?  Check.  Chile flavored gum?  Yep.  Oh, you want chile on your lollipop?  Well, you're in luck because that's just about the only kind I've seen. And of course, it goes on all your fruits and veggies.  All the samples of pineapple and cucumber and what-have-you in Walmart?  Bright red from so much chile.  Tums are our new best friend.  Well, along with Maalox and Pepto.

5.  Feeling conspicuous is just our new normal.  I didn't anticipate how much this was going to bother me.  I knew that the boys would probably get a bit of attention for their bright blonde hair, but I didn't really think I was going to stick out that much.  But, I was wrong.  For instance, I was wondering around Walmart looking for something, and my friend Carlos asked why I didn't just ask someone that worked there.  I said, "Because every time I ask them something, they literally just stare at me and don't say a word."  He laughed and said, "Yeah, that's because you are from another planet."

So, we are adjusting.  Slowly.  Actually, the boys haven't skipped a beat, I think probably I am the one adjusting the most slowly. But you know what, life is life no matter what country you are in.  The kids still fight.  You still have to wash dishes.  You still just want to go to Starbucks, alone.  But by the grace of God, we are learning to live down here, and I think despite all the ways that it's harder, falling in love with Mexico and her people a little more each day.

Missionary boys

Tonight is the last night my babies will sleep in this house.  Tomorrow morning will be the last time they wake up and come down these stairs, dragging their bubbies (favorite blankets) with sleepy faces and crazy hair.  It's been their home, our home, for all of Graham's life and most of Hudson's.  There are so many happy memories here and I have loved this house.  It is not new and not fancy and has had plenty of problems, but I have loved it and I have loved our time here.

This has been a difficult journey already, and I have blasted worship music while I packed the house and cried  and told Jesus that every task I was doing and every movement of my hands was a love sacrifice to him.

But this seems to be the most difficult milestone of the journey thus far, because now it is really getting down to affecting my babies.  And I guess that is the way that it must be for all mamas.  Someone, I can't remember who, said to remember that God not only called Cameron and I, but also Hudson and Graham.  So I am praying, and asking you to pray, that God would show me how to lead them and love them through this transition.  To show them that God has called them to something incredible and exciting and worthy of our effort and sacrifice.  To remember that material things are worthless and people and souls precious.  To live lives worthy of Gospel and of our Jesus.

So, if you see me tomorrow dropping the boys off for their last day of school and I am stumbling around the halls crying like the sentimental, basket-case that I am--don't be alarmed.  Nothing is wrong. I will just be dying to self a little bit in my silly, melodramatic way--just avoid eye contact with me and say a prayer for my sweet baby boys :)  XO

A Memory, Bottled Up...

So, since I have begun writing this blog a group of friends and I have gotten together and formed a 'writing group.'  Because, we are that awesome.  Actually, we are all really quirky mixes of nerdy and awesome and Jesus-loving.  (With maybe a touch of prissy in there?? Shannon Owen, I'm looking at you ;)  So we get together and talk about our writing, and what we want to accomplish with it and how we want to write and what are the important things that merit being written about??

One of the things we have decided to do to stretch our writing has been to write using prompts, and then get together and critique/discuss each other's responses.  So I have been mulling over these prompts for a month now, feeling like I had nothing of interest to write in response to any of them.  When God lead me to start this blog, I told Him from the beginning that it would be a mouthpiece for Him, or nothing at all.  I would write about things He wanted me to write about, say the things He wanted me to say, and shut up the rest the time.  For those of you who know me, you know how very hard that is for me...

One of the writing prompts included a quote from my ALL-TIME favorite fiction book.  Or, at least, my favorite book from adolescence, Rebecca by Daphne Du Maurier.  I must have read it 20 times alone in the 7th grade.  Here it is: 

"'If only there could be an invention,' I said impulsively, 'that bottled up a memory like a scent.  And it never faded, never got stale.  And then, when one wanted it, the bottle could be uncorked and it would be like living the moment all over again.'"

The prompt then guides you to discuss which memory you would bottle up and why, and to describe the memory in vivid detail.  

I turned this concept over and over again in my mind for a month.  Nothing stood out to me; of course there are the typical memories that most people would think of:  babies being born, your wedding day, the first time you met your spouse, etc.  But God wasn't speaking to me through any of those memories, so I thought, "Well, if God doesn't give me anything to say, then the deal was I wouldn't say anything at all!"  

Fast forward to this morning.  I was at the YMCA for my kiddos swim lessons, and these were the first lessons ever for my 2-year-old.  The instructor wasn't ready yet, so I told my 2- and 4-year-old that they could sit on the steps of the pool until she came over.  I pulled a chair up to the edge of the pool and sat there watching them splash around with adorable, infectious, small-child enthusiasm.  

After a couple of minutes my littler boy, Graham, stood up on the second step with the water up to his tummy and I guess he lost his balance...he began to float backwards out to the deep water...

He bobbed underneath the water, little arms flailing and little legs kicking.  Little chubby fists desperately grasping for something that would hold, that he could use to pull himself up to air.  So completely helpless.

This probably went on for a flat 2 seconds, but in my mind, this image is burned.  And in my mind, it goes on for an eternity.  If you have seen your child struggle to break the surface of the water, you understand what I mean.

I promptly jumped in, fully clothed, with my shoes on, and scooped him up.

He was completely unfazed, which is an endearing characteristic of his, and the swim teacher came over just after that, so I recovered fairly quickly and we went on to the next task.  

Then this afternoon, the prompt resurfaced in my mind.  But this time, the memory that was fresh on my mind was the memory from this morning.  "Lord, why would I want to bottle that memory up??  That's a terrible memory.  Why would I want to relive that?"  And as I dwelt on those questions, God began to speak.  

"Amy, do you remember how you felt when you watched Graham this morning?"

"Yes, Lord, it was horrible.  I was desperate, I would have done anything to save him."

"Amy, I watch my children drown every day.  I watch them struggle, and flail, and reach out for anything that will save them...and I watch them go under.  I watch my own beloved children drown every single day, helplessly, hopelessly."

Heart-broken.  That feeling that I had to deal with for a sheer couple of seconds, He deals with every day, all the time, as He watches another of His children spend their lives struggling in pain, only to end up eternally separated from Him.

"Bottle it up, Amy.  Relive it.  Remember it.  When you see those around you, my beloved children, when you see them struggling, jump in.  Go all in.  Go in with your clothes, your jewelry, your shoes on.  Don't hesitate for even a second.  Go all in.  Just like you did for Graham.  That is what I have called you to do as Christians.  I will do the saving, you just jump in."

This is the reality of life; they are drowning in a much more consequential way that Graham was.  They are drowning in the currents of a life without Jesus.  A life without hope, meaning, love, comfort.  An unbearable life that will lead to unfathomable pain in the end...

Okay, Lord.  When I need to be reminded of how much you love us, and what our mission is here on Earth, I will uncork that bottle.  I will relive that memory and remember what you said:

Go all in.

How Can They Believe in the One of Whom They Have Not Heard?

Since my last post many things have happened.  Ben, whom I wrote about here, went to heaven.  His widow, Lisa, carries on his legacy and is utterly inspiring.  (Read more about them here.)  I've had some dear friends miscarry since then.  One almost identical to what happened to me.  I was praying so much for them, so much.  I ache for them and grieve with them.

And you know what all these things make me wonder?  

How do people make it through life without Christ?

Because you know what all those events I spoke of are?  Common.  They are all common.  Families grieve over loved ones who lose the battle with cancer every day.  Mamas' and daddies' hearts are broken over never getting to hold their baby every day.  Infertility sears red and  painful wounds in hearts every day.  Sometimes I don't know how people do it with the love of Christ holding them up, but the ones who don't even know it exists?  How do they do it?  It makes me sad.

Which brings me to my next point:  Cam and I are moving to Mexico.

So this was my anything.  Leaving the life I know and love, the friends I love, the family I love, to tell those who don't know Jesus about Him.  So they don't have to suffer in vain anymore.  So they don't have to live a life, that is to the best of their knowledge, cruel and meaningless.

Cam is skyping with a missionary down there right this moment.  

All the things I want to say about this....this process....this sacrifice....this privilege, I can't seem to formulate right now.  I don't know how we'll do it. I'm not sure when.  

But I do know why.  

When those people that we will encounter in Mexico hurt, I want to tell them who the true Comforter is.  When those people wander, I want to tell them who the only Compass is.  When those people struggle, and suffer, and feel pain and realize that this life in ends in Death, and I want to tell them that I have the Cure.

"How, then, can they call on the one they have not believed in? And how can they believe in the one of whom they have not heard? And how can they hear without someone preaching to them?  And how can anyone preach unless they are sent? As it is written: “How beautiful are the feet of those who bring good news!”

                                         --Romans 10:14-15

I want to bring the good news.  I want them to know Christ.  I want to have beautiful feet.

And For When the Answer Is No

"Naked I came from my mother's womb, and naked I will depart. 

The LORD gave and the LORD has taken away; 

may the name of the LORD be praised."

Job 1:21

Sometimes, in this life, the answer is 'No.'

In the same way that I struggle to teach this to my 2- and 4-year-olds, I believe that God struggles to teach this to us.

I read an amazing book, one of my all-time favorites, last year called 1,000 Gifts by Ann Voskamp.  It was an incredible, life changing book.  The biggest challenge of this book is to look for the goodness of God's hand in all circumstances.  Every single one.  And not in some each-cloud-has-a-silver-lining kind of way.  Not in a trite, generic "Well, at least we aren't as bad off as those people," kind of way.  In a genuine, real, "Wow I can see God's beautiful hand in this and he is wise and he is love," kind of way.

Like seeing the redemption of her own family's story when she was 4 years old and watched her baby sister die.  Like seeing the redemption when her own little boy's hand was mangled in a farming accident.  Seeing the love of God even in situations like this.

I begged God for faith to see things like her.  I wanted to have that gut-level conviction that no matter what may come in this life my love for God and trust in Him would not waver.  And He is granting that request.  Because, that's His will for me.  And that's His will for you.

He is teaching me this in lots of ways, but most recently it was in the loss of a baby.  We prayed and believed and trusted and waited.  He held us in His hand the whole time.  He chose to keep that baby in heaven with Him.  I will bless the name of the Lord.

I will not look for silver linings.  I will look for God.  I will look for the love of Christ holding all things together.  I will receive His answer to our prayers, and trust His plan.  That doesn't mean it's without pain or grief or longing, and it doesn't mean that there haven't been tears shed.  But it does mean there is not despair--there is hope.  There is not only mourning, but there is comfort.  And most of all, there is Him.

Here is  a quote from a funeral I attended a while back when my friend lost her full-term baby:

"The amount of time on earth matters very little: a man can live in greed and pride 90 years and never find God, know Him or accomplish His Plan. A stillborn baby on the other hand, teaches people to love, brings people to the Lord, teaches us the tenuous nature of life and teaches us a faith that those who have not suffered loss can never know. A child not even breathing for an hour, can have an impact greater than a famous preacher. The purpose of a life is not ours to decide nor in our hands: it is brought about by God" 

                                                                                     --author unknown

Even though our baby was not full-term or stillborn, I am asking God to let our little one have that same kind of impact.  Let others who are mourning know where to find comfort through our story. Let those who are doubting see in our story that God's love pursues, no matter where we are, no matter what we are going through, and no matter how angry we are at Him...

Lord, that our loss would point others to You.  That our suffering would make us more like You.  And that we would see the redemption of this story in this life and the next.

Blessed be the name of the Lord.