In the waiting

In North American culture waiting is avoided at all costs. We don't want to wait. We shouldn't have to wait. We complain if our plans are altered because one of the myriad things we've planned takes a bit longer to get done. We run red lights so we don't have to wait for the next green, we pick up our coffee order from a drive-through or (better yet) order it delivered through an app. All this busyness makes us feel important and productive and keeps us from having to wait.

Waiting often feels like a burden, when it should feel like a gift. When I have to wait for something or someone, I am no longer in control. My quick-paced frenzy suddenly slows and there's nothing I can do about it. Depending on my attitude it can feel like a life sentence or a reprieve. In my better moments of waiting, I pull out a book or turn on some music and use the time to exhale. Other times I pace and fidget like a caged animal.

This period of waiting to move to Belize has stirred up both appreciation and angst. There are days where I revel in the fact that I don't have to commute to an 8 to 5, and days where I wonder how many daytime hours I can sleep without triggering insomnia. More frustrating than just the passage of time is waiting to feel useful again. My heart and head are full of plans, ideas and dreams for our new life in Belize. Some days it feels like those days will never come.

Proverbs 13: 12 says, "Hope deferred makes the heart sick, but a longing fulfilled is a tree of life."

Soon enough I will leave behind this season of waiting and embark on a dream I've waited 15 years to fulfill. In the meantime, my challenge is to focus on the gift that waiting can be and allow myself to cede control of the outcome.

Parenting on a Rollercoaster

We have been preparing our kids to live overseas since they were born. We have fostered Central American teens in our home, sent our kids to bilingual school and exposed them to other cultures through friendships and travel. We are now 5 weeks away from the big move and none of that preparation seems to matter. The skills and experiences they've garnered don't amount to a hill of beans right now. Our kids are kids. What matters to them is the sadness of leaving their friends and grandparents behind and the exhilaration of embarking on a new adventure.

We've been transitioning for 7 months so far. The highs and lows hit all of us at different times and at different intervals. For our oldest, who is 11, the lows feel like his friends have already moved on and he is untethered to a social group. That's a rough thing to feel when you're in middle school. For our 9 year old, it's the thought of leaving the friends she's always had and needing the bravery to forge new friendships. She is acutely aware of social dynamics and never wants to stand out or be the "new kid." Our shy girl, it has taken her 5 years in the same school to do Show & Tell without tears.

On top of preparing the practicalities of doctor visits, passports and luggage, we are acutely aware that our kids need us to be present and anchoring for them. Sometimes parenting on the rollercoaster means having a pajama day with family games, sometimes it's visiting favorite places that we'll miss when we're gone. It's planning playdates and sleepovers, praying together and voicing our fears. It's including them in decisions and letting them vent their frustrations. The rollercoaster won't last forever. Sooner than later we'll disembark and start our new life in Belize and all the newness with become comfortable. Until then, we are holding on for dear life and laughing between the tears.

Give Fear the Boot

A common reaction I get when I tell people we've sold everything, given up our jobs and are moving to Central America is one of fear. Look, I get it. We are choosing to let go of the things that our culture says make us safe and happy with no guarantee that our future life will be better than what we are leaving behind. That is counter culture. It's anti the American Dream.

Fear and I have a kind of unique relationship. While most people internalize Fear and view it as part of their inner thoughts and dialogue, since I was a young girl I've seen it as a malicious stranger. When I was young I would have terrifying nightmares; I never wanted to be left alone or in the dark at night. My parents taught me to recite 2 Timothy 1:7, which says, "God has not given us a spirit of fear, but of power and of love and of a sound mind."

Fear is not me. It's not my conscience or my rational thoughts. It's the voice of a stranger who is out to destroy me. Fear steals peace and replaces it with anxiety and doubt. It paralyzes, tells me that I'll fail and won't recover. It lies to me in my own voice, hoping I can't tell the difference.

Fear is a stranger. It isn't me and it isn't you. For years there's been a trend of warning children about "Stranger Danger;" the concept that people you don't know can be unsafe. Rather than apply it only to the people walking down the sidewalk or the grocery store aisle, I suggest applying it to the voice in your head that is Fear.

If I welcome Fear into my head, my heart, my life, what sort of things could I be relinquishing? The verse above says, "power, love and a sound mind." Imagine having a house guest that is so manipulative as to talk you out of exerting your power, acting in love and having peace of mind. That person would be out on the street pretty quickly in my house. I am not required to entertain their insidious remarks or play nice in order not to offend them. It's my home and I get to choose who has access and who has voice in it. That's exactly how I treat Fear when it comes knocking on my door.

Sometimes I can be caught off guard and let Fear in, thinking it's Reason or Concern, but once I see my power, love or peace of mind being affected, the eviction is underway. I suggest you do the same. Don't drag your feet or apologize, give Fear the boot! Life is too short and your unique gifts are too essential to this world for you to give Fear the time of day.