Tagibati, Days 5 &6

Evil is real, certain locations are dark, and mission work doesn't always feel good. 

That's a statement of truth.  How we deal with it makes all the difference in the world.

 I've had the opportunity to hear Buddy Berry, the superintendent of Eminence Independent Schools, speak twice.  He has made amazing things happen for students and teachers in his district.  He does not accept defeat.  When presented with a problem, or a statement like the one above, Buddy's response is, "Yes, and what will we do?"

Yes, evil is real, Tagibati is a dark village, and our mission work there did not feel good.  I have heard missionaries speak of "dark" locations before and didn't understand, until we arrived in Tagibati.  The air was heavy and close feeling, the heat was oppressive, we weren't greeted with a lot of smiles. 

In the first location we shared the gospel, a woman responded by asking why we did not bring gifts.  She told us she wanted gifts, not Jesus.  The children seemed to enjoy listening to our bible stories, so we continued sharing.  All of a sudden, two little boys in the front started rolling on the ground punching each other.  They were going at it like prize fighters.  The woman who told us she didn't want Jesus broke up the fight with the Tagibati version of a "switch."  It was a branch from a thorn bush. Those kiddos scattered and it was heartbreaking to see them get smacked with that branch.

With heavy hearts, we left that compound.  The feeling intensified when Jody (one of the local missionaries) told us he wasn't comfortable with us eating in the village--too many people would be angry that we were eating during the day during Ramadan.  We piled in the bush taxi and found a lovely, big tree above the village.



 

After lunch, I didn't want to go back to the village.  Jody had lined up women for us to talk to.  He walked us to each compound and no one was home.  We decided to prayer-walk.  We asked God for just one opening.  At the next compound, Biba asked if we could talk with the women and they invited us in to try our hands at pounding millet.

 We were willing to make fools of ourselves, in Jesus' name.  This was the opening we'd prayed for.  As we provided lots of laughs for the women of this compound, another woman came in with a huge load of basil.  When the women sat to strip the basil leaves from the stalk, we asked if we could help.  This was a job I knew I could do. We spend a precious hour or so with these women.  We shared the gospel, they told us what a nice story it was (sigh), and then we just shared our lives as women.  One woman told us how lucky we are that our husbands can only have one wife.  It was a sweet time, but none of us wanted to return to Tagibati the next day.  We couldn't see that there was anyone else to try to talk with.

Of course we followed the plan and returned the next morning.  Again we were greeted with requests for "Cado, Cado" (gift, gift).  Parker (another local missionary) accompanied us that morning.  We did find a compound where the women were willing to let us share and strip basil leaves.  After hearing a few bible stories, they told us we were not loving if we did not bring gifts.  Parker, the trained missionary, instructed the women that we were bringing the greatest gift, the gift of Jesus and eternal life.  While Parker was speaking about Jesus, all of the goats in the compound started bleating.  The babies all began to cry, the Call to Prayer sounded over the loud speakers mounted on the side of the Mosque, and an old man burst into the compound and yelled at the women for listening to us.  Whoa!  The name of Jesus has power and light can be painful in the dark. 

I won't lie--I wanted out of Tagibati.  At lunchtime we left and headed back to Boubon.  We ladies were treated to Henna on our feet--a Boubon spa treatment!


 
 By the end of that afternoon, after 5 days in the villages, I had gotten what I'd asked God for.  I was broken...physically, emotionally, spiritually. 

After sitting on mats on the hard ground for hours, with no back support, and wearing a backpack full of food, bible, and water bottles, my back screamed at me.  I slipped and slid down a bank on our first day in Yourizey Koira and the top of my left foot was skinned and sore.  I had tried so hard to keep it clean and dry.  After the henna dried, the sweet girls rinsed off our feet with river water.  My bandage was soaked with brown filthy water.  I wanted to cry, but decided starting my anti-biotic that night would do more good.  I felt dirty in a way I never have before.  Despite showering every day, I felt like my pores were clogged with red dirt.  I was tired of peanut butter Cliff bars (may never eat one again), tired of Gatorade, and tired of lukewarm water.  I was so tired of squatting behind bushes and walls.

Emotionally, I found myself becoming impatient with the dirty, half-naked, children hanging on me.  I know that sounds horrible and mean, but I couldn't stand anymore suffering that I was powerless to soothe.  I WANTED TO GIVE A GIFT!!  If I couldn't make it all better, I wanted to at least make today, this hour, this minute, a little better. And if I couldn't, I wanted to stop seeing it and hurting.

Spiritually, I was broken from rejection.  I so easily became discouraged and gave up hope.  Even the women and children who did understand, receive, and believe the love of Christ that we shared, could not acknowledge this gift.  The questions, the smiles, the eyes, the whispered words that assured us that "His sheep hear His voice," could not be publicly declared.  The only way a woman can identify as a believer is after her husband has publicly acknowledged his belief.  Guess what happens then?  They are shunned, mocked, disowned, and persecuted.

 The believers we met and taught are the bravest people I have ever met.  I was so broken to realize that my faith is so easy.  How do I "suffer for Jesus"?  I squirm  when some members of my family mock born again Christians and gleefully point out examples of hypocrisy.  I can't join in discussion about Fifty Shades of Grey and get snickered at for not reading it.  And if these little inconveniences get me down, I can read my bible, call a believing friend, or go to church and be reassured and uplifted.

These brave believers reminded me of this description of Abraham in Romans 4:20 "Yet he did not waver through unbelief regarding the promise of God, but was strengthened in his faith and gave glory to God, being fully persuaded that God had power to do what he had promised."  When Nigerian believers accept Christ and are baptized,  there are not rows of families seated near the baptismal pool taking pictures, nobody has a luncheon with a pretty cake, very few people celebrate with them, there's no big community praying for them.  They make my faith look so small.

So, at the end of our time in Niger, here we are, back to Buddy Berry's response.  "Yes, and what will we do?"  We'll debrief.  We'll ride camels for a bit of fun. We'll say tearful good-byes to new friends.  We'll make the long (long, long, long) flight home.  We'll joyfully greet our families, take long hot showers, and sleep in our own beds.  I'll go back to work and try not to cry.  I'll be surprised by the anger I feel.  I'll pray and cry and pray and cry and pray.  I'll spend long hours processing.  I'll realize some changes have to be made.  I'll pray and talk with my husband and talk with my friends and pray.  I'll make the painful choice to cut some things from my life; things that I thought were good things.  I'll add some beautiful things.  I'll be so thankful for those who understand and sad about those who don't.

To be continued......

When We All Get to Heaven...

Sing the wondrous love of Jesus,

Sing His mercy and His grace;

In the mansions bright and blessed

He'll prepare for us a place.

 

When we all get to heaven, 

What a day of rejoicing that will be!

When we all see Jesus, 

We'll sing and shout the victory!

 

While we walk the pilgrim pathway,

Clouds will overspread the sky;

But when traveling days are over,

Not a shadow, not a sigh.

 

When we all get to heaven, 

What a day of rejoicing that will be!

When we all see Jesus, 

We'll sing and shout the victory!

 

Let us then be true and faithful,

Trusting, serving every day;

Just one glimpse of Him in glory

Will the toils of life repay.

When we all get to heaven, 

What a day of rejoicing that will be!

When we all see Jesus, 

We'll sing and shout the victory!

 

Onward to the prize before us!

Soon His beauty we'll behold;

Soon the pearly gates will open'

We shall tread the streets of gold.

 

When we all get to heaven, 

What a day of rejoicing that will be!

When we all see Jesus, 

We'll sing and shout the victory!

 

 

My friend Kris ministers to homeless individuals in our community.  Someday I'll find the words to write about Kris and what an inspiration she is to me.  Kris's husband Keith first met Greg in our downtown park.  He told Keith that homeless folks have interesting stories to tell and asked if Keith knew anyone who could write his story.  Kris had been praying about an opportunity to write the stories of the homeless.  Kris and Greg became friends.  Kris listens and Kris prays.  I believe those are the two most important ingredients in a friend!  Kris had the joy of leading Greg to Christ almost a year ago.  You can read about it here: Ponderings, Kris's blog.  

Greg knew joy and love in the last year, but he still continued to know pain.  Greg gave Jesus his heart one year ago tomorrow.  This past Monday, Greg met Jesus face to face.  He's treading streets of gold.  He's won the victory.  Greg's pain is over.  

Last night, I sat around a table with Kris and 22 other folks, and we made plans to reach out, share food, share hygiene products, share clothes, share music, share encouraging words, and get to know some homeless folks in our community.  We know we can't "fix" everything, but we can DO something.  I will do something, with the memory of a beautiful, dignified man in my heart.

Rest in Peace, Greg.

 

 

 

 

Yourizey Koira, Days 3 & 4 (Thursday 7/26 & Friday 7/27)

 Sometimes you just know you're standing on Holy Ground.  This village is Holy Ground.  This village wasn't originally "on the radar" of our church.  It's not one of the villages on the road we committed to evangelize and serve.  Men from this village went looking for truth and they found it being taught in a village right across the river, one of "our" villages.  These men heard the truth, believed, were obedient in baptism, and obedient in the Great Commission.  They took the truth back to their village and shared with their wives, families, and friends.  This village has a growing body of brave believers.  They are facing persecution and some downright scary things have happened in their village, but they are not deterred.  Ten new believing women will be baptized this weekend.

 On our first day in this village, we took "the long way."  We drove to the compound of our brave, toothless, first believer.  The men spent the day teaching believers more of God's word. These men can't read, so they listen to God's word again and again.  They memorize, internalize, repeat, and soak in the truth, so they can share and teach.  Before the day was over, a friend our believers had invited to visit for the day, was on his way to the river to be faithful in his new commitment.

 We women started, as always, with groups of curious children.  Soon their mothers came near, with their farming tools in hand, to listen to stories from the bible.  They stayed, and stayed, and stayed, and listened as we desperately scrambled for more applicable and understandable stories.  They didn't talk much, but they listened politely.  Women in this culture can't make a public proclamation of faith unless their husband allows it.  As a teacher, I looked at the eyes of our "students" and recognized the eyes of confusion, defensiveness, kindness, curiosity, and that look we teachers live for--the "I GET IT!" look.  HIS word does not return void.

The children in this village were shy, until Morgan decided it was time to sing and dance.  We played and played and sad little faces started to smile and giggles filled the air. 

 The next morning, we took the short-cut.  We crossed the river in boats--more similar to canoes.  The water is a lovely shade of brown and the current moves quickly, but it was a cool, relaxing ride.  This day, we met at the farm of our first believer's father.  This day was, hands down, my favorite day of our visit.  We got to fellowship with, disciple, and encourage believing men and their wives.  Mid-day, we began preparations for a shared meal.  Our trip was scheduled during Ramadan, when Muslims fast from sun-up to sun-down.  This is the first year that our believers in this village have not participated in the fast.  This is huge!  They stand out like sore thumbs.  It was an honor to share a meal with our brothers and sisters in Christ.

 We spent at least an hour picking through the rice to remove bugs and pieces of chaff.

 The rice, black-eyed peas, onions, oil, and water were boiled in these pots.  The rice mixture was served in large communal bowls topped with Tonka.  Tonka is a hot spice blend made and used by the Songhai. ( As soon as I tasted it, I knew I had to bring Tonka back to my husband.) This was one of the best meals I have ever eaten.  I still tear up remembering working and eating together.  It was a blessed day. 

On the way home, the rain came.  Yes, the rain, after a couple of years of drought and failing crops in this area.  The rain came on the very day faithful friends of the Songhai, who were participating in a 30 Day Songhai Ramadan Prayer Guide, were praying for rain. This village is Holy Ground and this was one of those days when you can almost feel the veil tear and God's presence and blessing surround you.

Boubon, Day 2 in Niger (Wednesday 7/25)

We bravely loaded into the Bush taxi Wednesday morning.  This sweet buggy (an original swaggerwagon) was to be our chariot for the week.  We never had more than 12 people in our bush taxi, but frequently saw similar bush taxis with 15ish people, a few goats, some chickens, and boxes & bags piled 3 feet high on the luggage rack.  Our driver, Hama, took good care of us.  I chuckled at the irony of this admittedly spoiled American wife of a paramedic, daughter of a fire-fighter father who MADE car seats for us as children (they hadn't been invented back then), lover of air-conditioning (hater of hair blowing in my face) riding facing backwards, on an unsecured bench, with no seatbelt, right next to the open window.  Some unexpected blessings I discovered:  bandana secured hair does not blow in your face, balancing on an unsecured bench seat strengthens your CORE (my abs were sore!), and facing backwards is sometimes preferable to seeing what's in front of you!!

It was Market Day in Boubon.  The population of the town swells.  Everywhere you look, there are "vendors" selling livestock, food, spices, cooking pots, fabric, medicine.  Picture a flea market on steroids, in half the usual space.  There were lots of goats and cows. I'm not a goat expert, but the goats looked pretty normal to me.  The cows were the scrawniest heifers (ha-ha...get it?  scrawny heifer, as opposed to fat heifer--never mind) I had ever seen.  They had horns like Texas Longhorns, but their ribs were visible.

When we piled out of the bush taxi, we were swarmed by children. Little Madjeeto grabbed ahold of my right hand and he didn't let go.  As we walked through the village, I had two or three kiddos holding the fingers of my left hand, but nobody fought Madjeeto for his place on my right side.  The Foxes, who live in Boubon with their 3 precious little girls, directed us to homes where women had expressed interest in hearing more about the gospel. Mamu is a beautiful woman whose Christian brother-in-law has been witnessing to her.  She graciously offered us chairs (we didn't realize what a treat that was) and my little buddy laid across my lap.  As we took turns sharing the truth of the Gospel with Mamu, I rubbed Madjeeto's back.  That little punkin' stayed there for a good hour.  My mind wandered back to days of my boys laying across my lap while I rubbed their backs.  As I prayed for that sweet little fella, I scolded myself for ever hurrying through that precious time with my boys.  In the end, Mamu told us that she believed the words we said, but she could not go any further with a decision or baptism unless she had her husband's permission.  We prayed for her, for the very same things moms in this country ask for: health for the family, food for their family, safety.  We also prayed that her brother-in-law will continue to be bold in his witness to her husband and that her husband's heart will be opened to God.

After lunch we played the Market Game.  We were sent out, in teams of 3-4, with a shopping list and 2000 CFA.  Can I confess that it was NOT fun?  It was overwhelming!  Morgan (that youngster) loved it.  She found a young boy who led us through the market to find many of the things on the list. We did not win the game.  We collected more items, from the list, than other teams, but were disqualified because our baby gift was not acceptable.  Honestly, who doesn't need teething biscuits?  In the end, all of the goodies were divided up and we took gifts to two homes with new babies.

My group visited a woman with a 2 day old baby girl.  This precious little thing was so beautiful and was so the handiwork of God.  We took turns holding her and telling her mother how much Jesus loved her and that baby girl.  Mama listened politely, as she dribbled dirty river water into the mouth of that sweet little thing, but told us she was not interested.  This little shack was where I saw the most disturbing sight of week.  This sweet, beautiful, perfect little child had flies gathering around her nose and little puckered mouth.  Her cord stump appeared to be infected and was covered with flies.  Bless her Lord, bless her.

Exhausted, hot, sweaty, and dirty, we piled back into the bush taxi and headed back to Niamey for the night.

Day 1 in Niger (Tuesday 7/24)

Our flights to Niger were great.  All connections were made, all luggage made the whole trip, the food was even decent, but no one really slept (except Morgan--I guess when you're young, you can sleep anywhere).  The ride to the Baptist Missionary compound was our first bit of culture shock.  Some of the roads were paved, some not, none in what we would consider good condition.  Nobody pays much attention to staying in their lane.  Horns are used a lot, to signal you are going to pass another car, motorcycle, donkey cart, etc....  Shacks by the sides of the road sell all variety of goods--fruits and vegetables, freshly slaughtered goat, phone cards, prayer beads, etc... At every stop-light, our vehicle was approached by beggars or vendors.  A polite, "Non, Merci" usually sent them on their way.  The compound is located on Embassy Row.  Embassy Row in Niger looks quite different than Embassy Row in Washington DC.  Everywhere is red, dry dirt.  The walls of the compounds looked like stucco (reddish) with concertina wire on top.  All embassy gates are guarded by armed soldiers--with Coleman tents as guard houses. Traffic is bad, especially when cows and goats get into the road!  Exactly 24 hrs. after we left Living Hope, on Sunday, we stepped into the Guest House in Niamey.

Tuesday morning, we had our orientation with Mark.  He gave us some history of the Songhai people.  The Songhai are 99.5% Muslim, but they have retained many of the animistic beliefs of their ancestors. They believe in the power of their ancestors, magic, sorcery, and very much fear the spirit world.  Most Songhai are subsistence farmers, growing millet, sorghum, and rice.  We also saw plots of Moringa--that's the active ingredient in some popular (and expensive) nutritional supplements.  The climate is harsh and there has been very little rain in the last couple of years.  The Songhai do not rotate crops, so their soil is depleted of the nutrients necessary for abundant crops. 

When the Songhai are sick, they visit their village's witch doctor.  He looks their symptoms up in his "notebook" which directs him to the appropriate verse in the Quaran.  The witch doctor then writes that verse, the required number of times, on a wide paddle-looking board.  He rinses the board with water and catches the ink/water in a container.  The "patient" is directed to drink the liquid and they will be healed.  The infant mortality rate is very high and is accepted as the will of Allah.

We met three very special people that morning:  Cephus, Biba, and Ibrahim.  When Mark and Parker bravely answered the call to share Christ with the Songhai people, they had to spend lots of time learning Zarma (and a little French), so they could communicate without translators.  Cephus was their language teacher.  When they moved from Niamey, the capital city, to the village of Ayarou, Cephus moved with them to help them with the adjustment.  As each Living Hope team returned from Niger, the name Cephus was mentioned with big smiles.  Two years ago, Cephus married a beautiful woman named Biba.  Cephus and Biba are Songhai, but were raised in Christian homes--their fathers are/were both pastors.  They are the primary translators for the visiting missionary teams.  Cephus also supervises the National Partners (Songhai believers who travel through the villages evangelizing and discipling). Cephus and Biba have been trying to get approved for Visas to visit the US, without success.  That morning, they had another appointment.  We were thrilled when Cephus danced into the room (we called it "the visa dance") with their good news.  Cephus and Biba were able to fly back to the US with us at the end of our visit, and will spend three weeks being "loved on" by supporting churches and sharing the desperate needs of the Songhai people.

The third person we met was Ibrahim.  Ibrahim was the first believer in Ayarou.  Folks who follow Mark and Parker's work in Ayarou and now Niamey know Ibrahim's story--from God speaking to him in dreams three nights in a row which led to his acceptance of Jesus, profession of faith, and baptism--to the death of Ibrahim's wife and his family and neighbors' refusal to help bury her unless he rejected Christianity.  It was so good to meet this strong, brave man and hear him tell his testimony of faith.

After orientation, we walked out into the RAIN, and headed to the American Embassy Recreational Area for lunch.  They make some good Mexican food!!

In the afternoon, Mark invited vendors he knows and trusts to come to the Guest House so we could do some souvenir shopping and practice our Zarma phrases. 

Each night we met for prayer and to share our "high/low" for the day.  Several of us stated that our frustration with trying to say simple greetings in Zarma was our "low" for the day.  It was scary to think that we would be heading out to a village the next morning.  We knew we had Cephus, Biba and Odette (Biba's younger sister) to translate, but there are certain greetings we'd need to use.
Fo Fo = Hello (and thank you)
Mate Gaham = How is your body? (yeah--seems weird until you realize it's just what they say)
Samay or Baney Samay = fine, well
Mate Zankey = How are your children?

Ready or not, rested or not, the village of Boubon was waiting for us.....

Warning...This one is raw.

Today was back to work day.  It was so good to see my co-workers.  They kindly welcomed me back and were happy to hear about our work in Niger. 

I sat in my cubicle drinking my diet coke (Oh, have I missed you dear diet coke!), pulled up my email (only about 100 needing immediate attention) and felt.....paralyzed.  My emotional and physical exhaustion was palpable.  I could feel the weight on my shoulders, my head, my heart....  I powered on through, but have been fighting the urge to cry, all day.

The feeling only got worse when I pulled up Facebook during my lunch break and read such un-Christian rhetoric written by Christians.  I'm not getting into the whole Chick Fil A thing. My beliefs are between me and God.  We've talked about it a lot.  We've talked about a lot of things that I don't understand this past week.  I'm still listening and trusting.  HE has been faithful to tell me what is required of me and what I must do to stay on the path of Obedience.  Remember Micah 6:8?  He has told you, O man, what is good; and what does the Lord require of you but to do justice, and to love kindness, and to walk humbly with your God?  Most of what I'm reading is neither kind nor humble.

The practical side of me knows that I'm experiencing jet lag and possibly some of the side effects of my anti-malarial meds.  My heart knows that I very specifically asked God to break my heart for others, to give me a heart of compassion, like Nehemiah had.  There's no telling where this is going to go.  We're still talking.  I'm still listening and trusting.

Home

We are home.....safe and sound.  It's a bit of reverse culture shock!

I intended to update during our trip, but the blessing of rain in Niamey also brought very spotty wifi.  Tonight I will post my musings on the plane ride home.  After a bit of rest tomorrow, I hope to add pictures and a little bit more of our daily activities.

Niger Reflections....  

I signed up for an "arts and crafts with women" trip to Niger. I'm totally comfortable with that. I ended up trave3ling to Niger to evangelize to women weighed down by the oppression of the Muslim faith.  That is completely outside of my zone of comfort.

I knew I would see poverty stricken children. I hate that, but I know that opportunity does not present itself equitably around the globe. I can accept that and not feel paralyzed with guilt at the excess that is present in my world. I saw 2 day old babies with infected umbilical cords. I saw runny noses and eyes swarmed with flies. I saw too many umbilical hernias to count. I saw children sharing a handful of rice for their mid-day meal. I saw distended bellies. I'm having a hard time with that; my heart hurts and I feel guilty about my overly stocked pantry and freezer.

I knew I would see children without the toys and new clothes my children grew up with. I'm ok with that. My sons didn't have designer clothes and they didn't have all of the latest toys and games. They don't judge people by their material goods, and I count that a parenting success. I was surprised to see toddler girls in headscarves playing with naked little boys and children wearing only a tattered pair of panties.  I did not expect to see children playing "jacks" with a pile of pebbles, rolling and chasing old tires, drawing with sticks in the dirt, hacking up rotting fruit with machetes (toddlers), or lovingly carrying a dead baby bird with no head. I'm happy that children the world over will turn unlikely items into a favorite toy. I was pleased to see that much of our American "throw away" clothing gets repurposed in Africa.

I knew I would experience sanitary conditions I was not comfortable with and experience new foods. I never expected I would become proficient at squatting behind a bush while a donkey cart drove by.  I never knew how much joy I would feel holding the filthy hand of my little Madjeeto, for hours. I admit I didn't spend enough time rubbing my boys' backs as they lay across my lap, like Madjeeto did that day. I'm so ashamed I didn't recognize what a blessed opportunity that is to deeply pray for that child's future. I never dreamed that after spending an hour picking bugs and chaff out of pounds of rice, that I would enjoy eating a meal of rice, beans, and onions (with flaming hot Tonka seasoning sprinkled on top), from a communal bowl.  Just remember--right hand only.

I knew that speaking the name of Jesus has power. I didn't know how threatening that is to Satan, in a village he has claimed. It's creepy how often, when we left the old testament stories and voiced the name of Jesus, the goats in the courtyards all started bleating, the babies began to fuss, little boys started knock-down-drag-out fights, and the Islamic call to prayer would blast from the loud speakers; sometimes all at once.

I knew that, in my USA/ Kentucky/Bowling Green world, encouraging other believers through their struggles and in their faith is easy for me, but sharing the gospel is hard. That's no different in Niger.  But I can now share the gospel from Creation to Christ from memory, with words from my heart, no script. My favorite days were the 2 days we spent in Yourizey Koira where we encouraged and discipled the believing wives of a group of brave believing men.

I knew that many people, in the states, complained about being persecuted for their faith. I learned that they have no idea what persecution really is. I doubt any of them have to find a new place to live before they can be baptized because they know they will no longer have a home after they are baptized. I doubt any of them have gone to bed hungry because store-keepers in the village refuse to sell to them after they have publicly professed their faith.

I knew that I could, by God's grace, push myself to do things I didn't think I would be able to do. I didn't know how hard it would be to sit on the ground for hours on end. My knees, my hips, my back, and my neck hurt, a lot!

I knew that "God's word does not return void." I never knew how desperately I would cling to that promise when women told us they believed what we said to be truth, but their husbands would never allow them to publicly declare that and be baptized.

I knew that folk Islam and social Christianity were both present in our world. I never knew that hearing, "I'm a Christian; I go to church on Sundays," and "I am Songhai; I am Muslim," would sound so similar.

I knew that some of the best conversations amongst women happened when they were sitting, working on household chores together. I didn't know this was a universal truth. I didn't know that our sweetest conversations would occur while sitting on a mat, under a shady tree, stripping basil leaves off the stems. I knew I loved the smell of basil, but I never dreamed how many unpleasant smells basil can cover.

I knew that I signed up for this trip as a step on my path to obedience. I didn't know I would need to be reminded that obedience doesn't mean I'm responsible for the salvation of the people to whom I present the gospel. The Great Commission means that I will speak the name of Jesus to those in darkness. I am obedient by planting the seed. As one wise team member said, "Our goal is not to move lost souls from -10 to 10. Our goal is to move them from -10 to -9." We have to trust that HIS sheep hear HIS voice. I didn't know how clearly you could see in listener's eyes that they are hearing HIS voice.

I knew I would be blessed. I didn't know how blessed and how humbled I would be.

What we have in common

It's been a long day, two days actually. We left Bowling Green at 11am Sunday morning. We were a bit nervous about our flight from Nashville leaving on time because we only had an hour and 5 minutes to make our connection in Detroit. In Nashville we were informed of a new policy for international flights requiring the credit card used to purchase the tickets be presented at check-in. We sat, with our luggage, at the check-in desk until 20 minutes prior to our flight time. Our missions pastor was on his way to the airport and the airline agreed to let us board. we were told we'd be detained in Detroit if Jeff didn't show up, in Nashville, with that card. We ran to security and the zipper on my pants made the x-ray machine go "ding, ding, ding." Yes, I had my first full body pat down with 15 minuted to catch our flight. I turned down the option of a private room and got patted down in front of about 1000 other people going through security. We were the last ones on the plane and got lots of dirty looks. All of the rest of our connections went perfectly and exactly 24 hours after leaving Bowling Green, we arrived at the Guest House, surrounded by embassies, in Niamey, Niger. After unpacking and enjoying a wonderful meal with The Phillips, we are ready for a good night's sleep. During our prayer time tonight, I was struck with the things we have in common with the people of Niger. Niger is in year two of a horrible drought. A few communities had a really good early rain, this year, and got a good start with their crops. It hasn't rained since and the villagers have no money to replant. Does that sound at all familiar? Parents are worried that they will not have food and water for their children. Does that sound familiar? The literacy rate for the country of Niger is less than 15%. Parents want their children to learn to read so they can have a better life. Does that sound familiar? A few months ago I listened to an interview with Bill Clinton. He said, "Intelligence and effort are equally distributed around the world, opportunity is not." I believe this to be true. I look forward to meeting, this week, bright shining little children and the parents who love them. I look forward to telling them about God's love for them.

Final Prep Day

8.  I am so thankful for friends who know me so well that when I text, "Please pray," they know just what to pray.
7.  I am thankful this week is over.  I'm not one to wish away my life, but it was a pretty stressful week.  Our Teacher Leader meeting went well and several of the teachers had an opportunity to shine. 
6.  I started the process of being trained in Cognitive Coaching and discovered a couple of important things about myself.  I am not a good or patient listener.  I'm an "autobiographical listener."  I listen for opportunities to tell you about MY experience with YOUR problem.  I like to think my motive is pure--I want to give you a solution so WE can solve your problem and move on quickly.  I'm pondering that my motive might not be quite so pure.  Might I be trying to make YOUR problem and YOUR solution about ME?  That will take some more thinking and some more practice in listening.
5.  I love ATM machines.  I forgot to visit the bank yesterday.  We will be taking cash.  Surprise, surprise....craftsmen in the villages, in Niger, don't take Debit/Credit cards.  So, there will be a visit to the ATM today.
4.  Re-Pack.  Yes, that's what happens when you pack early.  I've changed my mind about which duffle bag to take, and a few clothing changes. 
3.  Today I'll pack make-up.  I'm only taking lipgloss and an eye-liner pencil.  Eye-liner is my "thing."  Some people won't leave the house without lipstick; I won't leave without eye-liner.  I will attempt to fit my toiletries in a quart sized zip-top bag.  Yesterday I realized I hadn't purchased a travel sized bottle of shower gel.  Apparently, AXE is the only company that makes travel shower gel.  I'm afraid I'm going to smell like a middle-school boy.
2.  I started taking my anti-malarial meds last night.  I probably should not have GOOGLED "How do anti-malarial drugs work?"  They do not work like a vaccine that prevents you from getting the disease.  If you're bitten by a "malaria mosquito," you're going to get it.  The meds keep the disease contained in your liver.  YES, I am taking super-duper DEET insect repellant wipes with me.  I believe I will bathe in them.

DRUMROLL PLEASE.....
1. Can I ask you to pray for:  Travis, Trevor, Josh, Amanda, Brandi, Britney, Leann, Morgan, and me?  Please pray for traveling mercies, for our health, for our words to be inspired, for the ears who hear our words to be opened and hearts softened, for peace of mind for our families while we are gone, and for the Love, Mercy, and Saving Grace of our Lord to be shared.



This has been a 5 year journey to and of Obedience.  The decision to pursue Obedience has taught me several things.
1.  In the words of Pastor Jason, "You cannot know the WAY of God or the WILL of God unless you know the WORD of God."  My relationship with God changed when I began reading the Bible--the whole book.  Every other year I read through the entire Bible.  The alternate years, I read just the New Testament.  I have found life application in every single book.  I now see how the whole story fits together and can see Jesus in every book-- from Creation to Crucifixion to the Final Triumph.
2.  I know that God's promises are true.  I know that when I pray HIS promises back to him, it does not change God, but it reminds me that HIS promises were meant for me and HE keeps HIS promises.
3.  I have learned how to recognize God's messages to me.  Sometimes it is words in the Bible that I have never noticed before, sometimes it's the protective rise in anxiety that indicates I should proceed with caution, sometimes it is the outright conviction that causes me to think, "Yes, Lord, we've talked about this and Thank You for reminding me these words I'm tempted to say ARE NOT going to bring anyone closer to you."  Sometimes it is just a message that is imprinted on my heart.  That's so hard to describe, but the "sureness" and "rightness" I feel at those moments leave no room to doubt that the message is from God to me.
4.  Obedience brings blessings.  As I have focused on discerning HIS will for me, my family has been blessed and has blessed me, I have been blessed with good and Godly friends, my career has been blessed beyond measure.  And one of the greatest blessings has been the blessing of hindsight.  HE has allowed me to look back and actually trace the path from a simple decision to seek HIS will and be obedient in a relatively small situation, and watch it unfold to the large blessings I am now experiencing.
5.  Obedience can be relatively easy and the path recognizeable in some areas of our lives, but oh so hard and unclear in others.  I struggle mightily in those areas.  I am trying to apply my "lessons learned" to those areas of my life....keep reading HIS word, remind myself of HIS promises, listen for and thank HIM for convicting messages.

Meet My Guy

This fella here is My Guy!
My Guy saves lives for a living.
My Guy can build anything.
10 years ago My Guy married me and took on 2 boy children to raise.
My Guy loves rocks.
My Guy takes good care of his mother.
My Guy lost his father 19 months ago and still misses him terribly.
My Guy takes good care of my parents.
My Guy graciously accepted the title of Son-in-Law from my boys' grandparents, and he loves them as a Son-in-Law.
My Guy is messy.  He believes in picking up (maybe) when people are coming to visit.
My Guy loves to travel.  I say, "Honey, let's go _______," and he finds us a deal for a trip.
My Guy loves our dog. I tolerate him (the dog). Our dog loves My Guy, and tolerates me.
My Guy has learned to tolerate (and kind of even like) my cats.
My Guy doesn't get upset if I don't feel like cooking.   He takes me out.
My Guy knows EVERYONE.  I'm not kidding.  Everytime we travel, we run into someone he knows.
My Guy would talk to a fence post.
My Guy is an excellent teacher.  His EMT students pass their tests, get good jobs, and remember him forever.
My Guy couldn't live without his cell phone.
My Guy gets up in the middle of the night and goes back to work when they need him.
My Guy doubts himself sometimes.
My Guy does things like mow my BFF's daughter's yard just because it needs to be done.
My Guy can always fix my computer (even when I accidentally download malware).
My Guy has shown me how to use the tv remote a gazillion times and I still need help.
My Guy loves Jesus!
My Guy is far from perfect.
My Guy married a woman who is far, far from perfect.
I love My Guy!

Oh, Oh, Oh Sweet Child of Mine...

We interrupt this countdown to introduce my second son.

This child was born when I knew a little bit more about what I was doing...... I was not afraid to break this one.

This child was born one hour and 9 minutes after my first contraction and with no epidural.  This child love to be swaddled and "worn" by me.  This child only cried when he was hungry or wet.
This child was born with dimples and fat little legs.

This child loved high school.  He had good friends and they held each other accountable for living the words they professed to be true.  This child has faith. This child told me most of the things that made him happy, made him sad, made him mad, concerned him.  This child didn't tell me how much pressure he felt to get good grades and a scholarship, so he wouldn't disappoint me.

This child was determined, in some ways, to be different from his brother, but still went through high school as "Jacob Stevens' Little Brother."  This child knows himself well enough that he decided he needed to go "away" to college to become more independent.  This child made a wonderful decision to attend Northern Kentucky University.

This child loves college even more than he loved high school.  This child is conflicted right now.  He is HOME, but HOME is different once you've been away.  He misses his girlfriend, his fraternity brothers, and his independent life at NKU.  This child's mind is awakening to new people and new ideas.  This child is struggling with the hypocrisy and cruelty he sees in the world.  This child is right on schedule to experience these conflicts.  This child's parents are praying that he will never confuse the words and love of Jesus with the words and behaviors of some of Jesus' followers.

This child enabled me to say something special to someone yesterday.  While receiving training on "Cognitive Coaching," I noticed the nametag of the man sitting across from me said Alex Hall.  With an awestruck whisper, I asked, "Are you Mr. Hall?  from Greenwood?"  When he replied, "Yes," I said, "You changed my son's life!"  Mr. Hall is the teacher who inspired this child to desire to be a teacher--a highschool English teacher.  Mr. Hall made literature come alive and taught this child about writing for college.  Mr. Hall's face lit up and I remembered how much is means when a parent gives affirmation to their child's teacher.  He thanked me and assured me that this child will be a wonderful teacher.  THANK YOU, Mr. Hall!

This child will return to NKU in less than a month and this mother will miss him.  I'll miss the shoes on the floor in the family room, the empty cups and cans on the table next to the sofa, I'll miss the toilet set left up in the hall bathroom,  I'll miss the towels on the floor, I'll miss the discussions that take a little more cajoling than they used to, I'll miss the tap on the shoulder at 2:30am and the whisper, "I'm home Mom." 

I'll miss this sweet child of mine.  I'll send him off with our blessing and our prayers and be thankful that he is growing into an independent man.

What really matters today?

9. Shock.  Horror.  Disbelief. Why?  Why?  Why?  I have known people who were in such emotional pain that they considered taking their own lives.  I've never been there, but I can understand and sympathize.  I confess that I believe I could take a life if the life of one of my children or my husband was in danger.  I don't know if I could live with myself after, but I believe I could do that to protect them, and I understand those who might do likewise. What I cannot understand, fathom, wrap my mind around, is the well planned, intentional taking of innocent lives.  What kind of pain, abuse, disappointments, mental illness leads an individual to plan to massacre complete strangers?  Today, I join with our country, in prayers for recovery for the wounded and for family, friends, and loved to feel the very presence of God as he comforts them.

Continuing the countdown...

12.  Today I started packing.  We will pack our checked baggage full of our lunch & breakfast food and supplies for the missionaries will be visit.  Were you aware that canned chopped green chilies are not available in Niamey, Niger?  Mark and Parker love Mexican food so we will be taking plenty of green chilies.  There are many food, personal, and mission related items that are necessary to keep their family of four well and happy and keep their work effective.  We load up suitcases with those things.  All of our clothing and personal belongings for the trip go into our carry-on luggage.  My backpack and duffle will contain: 3 long skirts, 5 tshirts, 1 pair capris, 1 pair keen sandals, undergarments, head scarves, medicine, itty bitty containers of shampoo/toothpaste/deoderant/sunscreen, snacks, bible, journal, camera, charger, and ipad. Whoo!
11.  My hip hurts again.  I'm a little nervous about this.  A couple of months ago, my hip hurt so badly that I was convinced I would need a hip replacement.  Yes, I tend to be a little melodramatic.  I was eating ibuprofin and limping.  Surprisingly, it did not hurt when I ran; that helped.  It hurt a lot after sitting.  I mentioned this to my dear Chiropractor and he immediately found the muscle to blame.  It's not in my hip, it's a back-side muscle.  That explains the pain after sitting.  After some loosen-up-the-muscle-but-breathe-deeply-because-it-hurts-so-badly treatment, I bounced out of the office with no pain.  It's back and I have a lot of airplane sitting ahead.  Hope Dr. C can fit me in this week.
10.  This next week is one of the busiest of the year.  I will be busy setting up for and coordinating a 2 day training for 200 teachers, presenting at the conference, attending a 2 day in-depth training to learn how to coach teachers, and have commitments every night, as well.  My prayer is for focus, stamina, and gentleness (in word and deed) to all.

There will be no underwires in Africa

13.  I had some time to talk with two dear friends/colleagues today.  We usually pass in the kitchen or ladies room, but spend most of our time in our work building huddled over our laptops, in our cubicles, frantically researching new teaching strategies and adding animation to powerpoint presentations.  Today we got to sit at a table, in the back of a room, and observe.  That's like a little bit of heaven. 

We got to listen to and observe groups of teachers/administrators engaging in "Productive Struggle."  That's a hot new term in education in Kentucky.  The best analogy I've heard involves using your GPS.  I will confess right now that I don't do maps.  I'm one of those odd people who has to turn the map so I'm always headed "up," and everything in front of me is North. When MapQuest came out with driving directions that involved words & numbers, rather than pictures, I was one happy woman.  When I left the classroom last year, my dear husband (who LOVES maps) gave me a fancy GPS.  I plug in the address of schools in very remote locations, and simply follow that sweet lady's commands.  I don't get lost (well usually).  The downside of this amazing technology is that I have no idea how to get to these schools without the GPS.  I have followed directions well, but I have not learned how to find these places, myself.  I don't know the names of the roads, I don't know which county is west or east or north or south of my home.  If I had to get a map out, turn in this way and that, trace the path, write out those driving directions myself, and drive there a couple of times, I would learn my way around.  That's "Productive Struggle."  We have to struggle through things a few times to learn and to own that learning.  Back to our observations today.  Those teachers and administrators showed up with huge binders full of data and they will leave on Thursday with a few concrete goals for their schools and a plan to achieve those goals.  Today was day one of "Productive Struggle."

My colleagues and I are observing so we can help facilitate these sessions in the future.  While the groups are productively discussing/debating/struggling through their data, we have a bit of downtime to talk.  After talking about upcoming presentations and trainings for which we must prepare, my colleagues asked a few questions about my upcoming trip to Niger.  We talked about our purpose, geography, food, squatty potties, and clothing. I explained that I will have to wear a long skirt and a scarf on my head.  I explained that I will have access to laundry so I can get by with 3 skirts and a few tshirts.  I explained my undergarment travel trick--take the old panties with bad elastic and throw them away.  Then we discussed brassieres and the amazing wonder of ....THE SPORTS BRA.  I boldly declared, "There will be no underwires in Africa." That, of course, sent us into a fit of giggles, the kind of giggles that make your tummy hurt and your nose tickle when you try to keep them quiet.

I believe I'm getting used to this blog idea.  When we restored our decorum, my first thought was, "That will make a great title for a blog post!" (I believe that one deserves an exclamation point)

The Countdown Continues

15.  A professional colleague asked a question on Facebook this weekend about exclamation points.  Many very scholarly folks wrote scholarly answers about the very rare occasions when exclamation points should be used.  I left a cute little answer about the way those pesky little things keep sneaking into my writing because I write, rather than speak, to so many people.  When I write, you can't hear my inflection or see my eyes light up or see my head bob and weave.  I use exclamation points to try to give you that feeling.  The scholarly response following mine suggested that good writers use other means to give voice to their writing.  So, I'm currently uber-aware of my use of exclamation points....until I get to Africa.  Then, get ready.  Not only will I end every sentence with an exclamation point if I feel like it; I may do worse and use multiple exclamation points; I may even commit the ultimate crime and do the question mark/exclamation point combo. 
14.  We started a new Bible study this week:  Nehemiah-A Heart That Can Break.  Kelly Minter, the author, talks about reaching a really good "place" in her life, but... "The trouble was that despite all these blessings, I was battling a mounting discontentment:  I was that odd blend of utterly thankful while feeling as if a significant piece was missing from the scene that, if found, would give this remarkable landscape its fuller and truer meaning."  I have been so blessed and am so thankful.  It's wonderful to reach a point of contentment at this stage in life.  The contentment is also unsettling, though.  God has blessed me; now who am I supposed to bless?  Nehemiah had a heart of compassion and that is what I'm want.  I want to feel the responsibility that a heart of compassion dictates! (!!!!!)

A few more pre-travel insights...

18.  Traveling with only carry-on luggage is liberating.  I love it, except for the silly travel sizes of liquids.  Don't get me wrong.  I've got no complaints with TSA and appreciate that they are keeping us safer.  It's just a pain to have to cram several travel sized shampoos, travel sized sunscreen, travel sized moisturizer with 50spf sunscreen, lipgloss, etc... all in one zip top bag.  Ok, now that I've typed that, it seems pretty ridiculous.  I'm FLYING to a place where people don't have enough food and I'm worried about shampoo samples. Duh!!!
17.  One of the gals going on this trip is a darling girl I mentored through high school.  Morgan just amazes me.  She went through some tough stuff in high school.  Her parents divorced and our dear friend and mentor, Lynne, died quite unexpectedly.  Morgan has traveled to Honduras (twice) and China to share the love of Jesus. My Morgan raises her own money for these trips, as a full time college student.  I'm so proud of her!  I'm excited to be able to see her "in action," learn from her, and share this experience with her.
16.  I have two big fears about this trip.  One is that I will forget the C2C story.  I'm scared I will talk about the law and prophets before Noah or totally skip over Satan deceiving Adam and Eve.  Travis assures us that Cephas, our translator, will just fix it for us and laugh at us.  That's reassuring.  My second fear is a little more personal and practical.  Out in the villages we will have to use squatty potties.  My horror at this (I have the smallest bladder in the world, I don't want to fall in, I don't want to tinkle on myself or my clothes, I don't want to be all by myself in there-but I don't want to potty in front of someone else, and Oh No--what about bugs and animals????) has me tempted to limit my fluids so I won't "have to go."  Given that the temperature will be around 100 (or higher) and very dry, this is not a healthy option.  While you're praying for my safety and for the hearts of those to whom we will minister, would you mind a quick little prayer for me to successfully use the squatty potties???

Three weeks....

Three weeks from today, we will be in the air, somewhere between Detroit and Paris.  I am so excited, and this trip that has dangled out there in "the future" seems oh so real right now.  I have gotten all of my shots, will finish my oral typhoid vaccine tomorrow (that stuff causes the worst dry mouth I have every experienced), my food has been purchased (we take our own breakfast and lunch), and my clothes have been put aside.  What do I do now????  I continue to study the C2C (creation to Christ) story, continue to read the discipleship stories we will share, continue to pray for open ears and softened hearts, AND I begin a blog countdown.

Earlier this year I attempted to do the "Thousand Gifts" list of 1000 things I was thankful for.  I embraced the concept of Eucharisteo--"the celebration of grace and the recognition of the power of gratitude" (Ann Voskamp).  I have always been aware of the grace of God and, for years, have recognized and thanked God for the many blessings, large and small, that HE gives me.  I failed at the list. See, I'm a rule follower and a goal setter--it's that Wilkinson side of me.  So I did the logical thing and decided I would be thankful for 1000 things in one year and that means I would need to be thankful for 3.739 things each day.  I am flexible enough to round that up to 4, which gave me the flexibility of missing a day occasionally and the possibility of being an overachiever, reaching my goal early or exceeding 1000 gifts. (I know, I know, it's not attractive to be competitive with God!)  The problem was, there were days when I couldn't think of 4 authentic things to be thankful for, but I didn't want to mess up my system.  You'll be relieved to hear that I gave myself grace and I have settled into a "system" of recording my blessings, that works for me.

So, 21 insights about the trip in 21 days???  Nope...I'm going to surprise you... Who knows how many insights I will list each day and who knows if I will blog each day?  I'm going rogue!  I might just have to go into negative numbers...

21. I'm so thankful for my salvation.  If I were not a child of God, I would not understand the urgency of sharing HIS love and the hope we have in Christ Jesus, to lost souls.
20.  I'm thankful to be a member of a Missions Minded Church.
19.  I am thankful that my husband is supporting me in this trip, despite the fact that I hurt him deeply by saying I wanted to go on my own.  I'm thankful that he has forgiven me for hurting him!
18.  I am thankful that plans have changed.  What started out as a "crafts with the ladies" trip has, out of necessity, changed to a discipleship trip.  When the trip was planned, there were no female believers in the villages with whom we will work.  That has changed.  There are several brave women believers who are waiting to learn more of the bible, so they can share.

A bit of a detour....

We will leave for Africa exactly 3 weeks from tomorrow.  We met for our final planning meeting last Sunday.   I planned to write about it, but didn't sit down right away to get my overwhelming feelings on "paper."  I lost my muse and that post never happened.  I promise to write tomorrow about the many emotions I am experiencing as July 22nd approaches. 

Today's post is a bit of a detour, not a detour from Obedience, a detour from the usual content.  Today is the birthday of a friend and colleague.  "R" is doing very important work, at the state level, to ensure Kentucky's children are receiving the education they deserve.  She is brilliant, kind, dedicated, and is one of the hardest working people I know.  She's perfect for her job.  There's only one problem.  "R" misses the classroom.  She misses her students.  Here's what I told her this morning, "We absolutely need the best teachers to remain in classrooms teaching our precious children. But, don't we also want the best teachers helping negotiate and mediate all of the mandates and dictates that are being imposed on districts/schools/classrooms/teachers/students?"  I fully expect that "R" will return to the classroom and her future students will be so very lucky.


My transition out of the classroom happened so quickly that I had little time to ponder the change in my role.  I started last school year in early August with some of the sweetest students I have ever had, on my caseload.  It was going to be a great school year!  In early September, I told them goodbye and turned them over to a young, energetic, new teacher.  Kids are resilient.  They had a great year and I have no regrets concerning that bunch of kiddos. 


In the last 5ish years in my classroom, I did the best teaching of my life.  I learned so many ways to improve my practice, I committed to making life (not just reading) better for my students, I began branching out into curriculum, supervision, and leadership. I was in my grove! So, Why did I leave?
First and foremost, I desired to be obedient to the direction I felt God leading me.  Secondly, I couldn't continue to walk the tight rope between teaching and leading teachers.  When I observed instruction that was not up to par, I could gently and politely offer some suggestions and help, but I could not insist that those suggestions be implemented.  The time I spent preparing materials, studying curriculum, and helping other teachers left me less time to prepare quality lessons for my own students and zapped my energy to be fully present, engaged, and energetic for my students.  For years I have seen teachers who remained in the classroom past their expiration date, past their effectiveness.  I did not want that to be me!  I feel very fortunate that I had the opportunity to leave while I still loved what I did every single day.  No regrets about moving fully into a position of leading and teaching teachers.


I do have one regret.  I spent one period each day collaborating with a fun Language Arts Teacher while she had a group of students we secretly referred to as her APP class.  For those who don't know what those letters stand for, they usually mean Advanced Placement Preparation.  We used to call them Honors Classes.  With this class, those initials stood for Advanced Pre Prison.  Please understand that this was a secret joke between the two of us.  There were only 15 students in that group and it took both of us, on our "A game" every minute of every day to insure learning was occurring and fighting was not occurring.  We had turned a corner, and this group was "on our side" about the time I left.  This is the group I hated to leave.  These are the kind of kids who have always been "my kids".  These are the kids I most love to teach.  Their teacher reported to me that they spent  the rest of the year angry and resistant.  She said, "There's nothing I can do because I can't bring you back."  I am not vain enough to believe no one else could make a difference with those students  But I do know that it is difficult for those students to trust, and I broke that trust.  I abandoned them and all of my good reasons are for naught, as far as they're concerned. That's a regret I will always carry.


The position I've held this past year is a 3 year position, during which I'm "on loan" from my school district, to the state department of education.  At the end of the 3 years, my district would have a classroom waiting for me--no guarantees which school or grade, but a classroom full of children.  My resignation from the "on loan" position AND from my district (my employer for the last 17 years) is effective today.  Yes, I've got a new job.  Yes, I have traveled the road of Obedience to this position.  I have prayed, waited patiently, listened, heard "Yes" to some things, and heard "No" to some other things.  As of July 1, I will be a Special Ed Literacy Consultant for the Special Ed Division of our local education cooperative.  I will remain in the same building, actually in the same cubicle.  Some of my work will look very much like the work I've done this year.  With this change, I've pretty much closed the door on my classroom teaching career.  I was in the classroom 26 years.  I loved it; I loved my students; I loved my co-workers.  I believe I left at the right time. 

Random Musings on a Very Hot Sunday Afternoon...

I described, in an earlier post, the Sunday that I felt God telling me HE wanted me to go to Niger, on a mission trip.  About that time, I felt the increasing weight of passing time. That's a nice way of saying I realized I would be turning 50 in about 5 years.  I decided I needed to accomplish a few things before that big birthday, so I created a list.

Betsy's By Fifty Bucket List
1.  Become a National Board Certified Teacher
2.  Complete a 5K race
3.  Participate in a Mission Trip to Niger, Africa

These 3 items may seem totally unrelated, but they are strangely connected.  The National Boards process was rigorous and grueling.  It took lots of time, lots of study, lots of writing, lots of reflection on my practice as a teacher, and lots of prayer.  It's a 1-3 year process and I was able to earn the certification after one year.  Thank You Lord!!!  #1 check!

#1 led to #3.  Going through the National Boards process gave me new knowledge and new confidence, as a teacher.  I took on more responsibilities in my school and district and worked very hard to be a good teacher and a good leader.  I felt (sort of) ready to try something new and accepted a job working with Teacher Leaders from 35 school districts.  I've worked harder this year than I ever have before and I won't get a summer break.  Summer is a busy time of meetings and trainings for teachers who are on their Summer Break.  I do have the luxury of taking vacation days at other times of the year.  For example--schools were too busy to need me for any trainings in December.  My husband and I got to fulfill a dream and visit New York City during the Christmas season.  Schools around here begin very early in August, and during the last week of July, teachers are busy getting their classrooms ready or enjoying the end of their summer.  They are not attending trainings, so I can take some time off.  When our church's Mission's Calendar for 2012 was released, there was a trip to Niger, Africa listed for July 23-August 1.  I can go!!!  If I were still in the classroom, I would not be able to go on this trip.  Thank You Lord!!! #3 is almost ready to check.

#2 has a bit looser connection.  I was doing a pretty good job of getting to the gym before I got in the midst of the National Boards process.  When I started my new job, I completely stopped going.  Add to that the fact that I sit, a lot, in my new job (driving, office work), and there is amazing food available for lunch most days (lunches are catered for most trainings at my work place--there's always enough left for us to eat), and I was gaining a few pounds.  Since I have a treadmill in my basement and that deadline of 50 was creeping up, I started running on the treadmill.  On March 31st, my daughter and I ran in a 5K.  We completed it, running every single step.  Thank You Lord!!!         
#2 check!!

The big birthday is in September and, God willing, the bucket list will be complete.  Now it's time to start on:
Betsy's By 60  Bucket List.
#1 Skydiving (no, I'm not kidding)