I Took Milk for Granted

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I’ve always disliked milk. In small part, I blame my Mom, who for the sake of frugality made us drink powdered milk. I remember plugging my nose and chugging down my obligatory glass at supper time so I wouldn’t have to taste it. Once on my own, of course I switched to “real” milk, but never did particularly like drinking a glass straight. Marc, on the other hand, grew up on whole milk and lots of it; he’s always been a milk drinker.

While still in America, as our family size grew and dairy prices increased, I tried to be conscious of our milk intake. Everyone had a glass of milk with supper, though, and we got plenty of dairy in other ways: cereal a couple times a week, sour cream with our Mexican or in a casserole, and plenty of cheese. During our last year or so we also enjoyed homemade ice cream every Saturday night.

Since we’ve been in Africa, things have changed. Lacking refrigeration, we boil milk for our morning tea but otherwise don’t drink plain milk. And in our village, more often than not, “milk is hard,” as our neighboring shop-owner, Silas, frequently reports. If we get a liter a day, that’s good. We rarely can get more than that, and sometimes we can only get a two cups. Shared between 10 of us, that’s not a lot of calcium intake. Milk is available in 1/2 liter pasteurized-and-homogenized bags at the village market, but it’s more expensive that way and also not convenient, as we try to shop only a couple times a week. Butter is also expensive (about 500 shillings per half-kilo, which is about $6 per pound!) And, because of the refrigeration issue, it’s also hard to keep fresh. Recently we’ve begun using Ghee (shelf-stable, clarified butter) which has a decent price point–more expensive than margarine but also much less expensive than butter.

We miss sour cream, cold milk over cereal, and definitely cheese and ice cream. For us, both yogurt and ice cream are an occasional treat (for practical as well as financial reasons; with no refrigerator/freezer, they must be consumed right away and we’re pretty far from town to get ice cream home without melting!) We try to eat more greens (a natural source of calcium), but I just can’t get everyone to eat them in the quantity that would be needed to have a positive impact on overall health.

So unfortunately, while we’ve never experienced problems with cavities, some of the children (and Marc as well) have been complaining of tooth sensitivities and possible cavities. Marc sees a direct link between that and our calcium deficiency, since our dental hygiene practices haven’t changed.

All of this to say, we were ecstatic the other day to have a traveling vendor introduce himself and show off four liters of fresh, strawberry yogurt. (Yogurt here is of the liquid variety and prices at about 200 KSH per 1/2 liter, which is…expensive.) The yogurt was fabulous and Marc bought all four liters for only 300 shillings! He talked to the man for a while and, as it turns out, he’s hoping to open a local dairy to sell milk, yogurt, ghee, and…cheese! I don’t know if it will actually happen, but I’m excited about the possibility of getting dairy products with greater ease–and at prices that seem affordable.

I confess: I took milk for granted. Funny how now I’m actually praying that this potential local dairy becomes a reality!

Amusing side note: as we consumed the four liters of yogurt (which didn’t take long!), we offered some to Silas, who happened to be over helping out with some work on our shamba (garden/farm). With a rather funny expression, he refused, saying, “I have never tried that and I will not,” or something to that effect. Later he told Marc that one should not buy food from persons that one does not know personally, as it is apparently not uncommon to be poisoned in Kenya. I had no doubt about the yogurt though, as after we emptied the man’s yogurt container, he immediately tipped it into his mouth to drink anything that might remain. I could be wrong, but if it were poisoned, I don’t think he would have done that.

Thanks to our Africa experience, I’ve become much more content to make more-with-less and I’ve learned to appreciate (and make do with) what is locally available. Sometimes it’s hard, particularly as we deal with potential health issues, but we’re trusting God with our health as with everything else. I’m not taking anything for granted.

 

A Two-Acre Wide World

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Before our move, I remember reflecting often on what our littles might miss in coming to Africa (see, for example, this post). Enoch came here at the tender age of nine months and will soon be two. Now that he is of an age to observe and understand more and communicate a bit, we are realizing how small his world really is here.

We aren’t far from the main road (which is still a dirt road, not pavement, so “main road” is a relative term). However, in front of our house is only a small dirt path, just about one person wide. Given that we are near the main road and not too far from a spring that many here frequent, we do see a lot of foot traffic. Enoch is happy to greet our many visitors, and lately he’s been going across the street to Silas’s shop in the morning to get milk with one of the big girls. He always gets a sweet of some kind from Mama Sharon, so he enjoys the trip. He also goes down our dirt path with some frequency to the house next door to visit “Auntie Jane” and Babu (Grandfather) and Nya Nya (Grandmother). He’s made it as far as Auntie Judy’s (several houses down) when one day Micah and the littles and I chased a tractor down to a nearby field to watch it work. That makes Enoch’s world about two acres wide, and that’s probably a generous figure.

Enoch and big sister Hannah

I don’t think about it too much, but after our recent trip to Eldoret (the big city) I realized how little experience Enoch really has with the world. He’s only been in a vehicle three times, and for the first two he was pretty oblivious. He was, however, amazed with all he could see flying by the windows on the way to Eldoret and tried his best to communicate his excitement. There were tons of “good boys.” (His word for dog, because I’m always telling our Simba he’s a “good boy!” Enoch generalizes “good boy” to include goats, cows, pigs, and other large animals as well. We saw plenty of those road-side on the trip.).

The restaurant was another new experience for him. Though normally happy to greet people, he was suddenly shy in this new environment and ducked his head each time the waitress came by. He also hid from the people in the booth across from us, who thought he was adorable and would have loved for him to wave at them. He did, however, enjoy looking out the window and pointing excitedly at all the “Mrrrmmmm” (his vroom-vroom sound for motorbike or car). He had never seen so many at once!

The funniest of all was putting him in a shopping cart at Nakumatt, the super store. Rather than being excited about this totally new mode of travel (and in spite of my exaggerated efforts to let him know this was a fun new type of “vroom!”), he leaned forward in the seat with a look of sheer terror in his eyes, just begging me to get him out of there. He even cried, but we insisted he should be enjoying the ride. Eventually he calmed down, but I don’t think he ever really felt comfortable with the whole shopping cart thing. This was just one more stark contrast between Enoch’s experience and that of our older children.

The fact that it’s a small world for Enoch doesn’t really bother me at this point–it’s just notable in comparison to what our other children (and we ourselves) have experienced in America. For now, Enoch is very comfortable on the two acres that are his to explore. Eventually, his world will widen–but there’s plenty of time for that.

The Sobering Numbers Behind a Very Blessed Day

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It is quite possible to live a Western style of life here in Kenya; many (particularly in the cities) do. They have lovely homes with electricity and running water, perhaps a car, and ample food. Their children attend quality schools. They wear nice clothes, get their hair done, and enjoy many modern conveniences and entertainments. I’m not just talking about foreigners living here, but native Africans. There are opportunities to earn a good wage, and many do. As a result, they also enjoy the corresponding standard of living.

Such is not the case, however, in most rural places, including the village in which we reside. Though not a recent article, a report in Jamhuri Magazine shows how Kenya compares on the per capita income scale, rating as a “very poor” country with an average annual income of $1,000 to $2,000 per person. In our area, I would say that the average person makes a few hundred shillings per day, which translates to 10800 KSH annually. That converts to $1278 USD, which corresponds well with the Jamhuri estimates.

As I said in a previous post about a very blessed day, in which our family enjoyed some time away and a good meal, Marc and I always carefully consider our financial decisions in light of these figures. Though we have a Western income (albeit now lower than it used to be), we hesitate to live a lifestyle that is vastly different from our neighbors. We feel guilty for spending as much on a one-day pleasure outing as our neighbors would use to feed themselves for…months? When some folks can’t afford basic medicine for emergency needs and we easily spend money on preventative vitamin supplements, we sense the unfairness of it. Granted, having more money than some isn’t a sin, and neither is it wrong to enjoy some things in life. But living here where poverty is quite in-your-face, the fine line that defines “too much,” isn’t actually so fine, and the delicate balance of needs versus wants tips quite a bit more easily in favor of very basic needs than it did when we lived in the States.

Our family went out to eat twice last year–once about a month after our arrival, and once just after Christmas when we visited Kisumu. Marc also occasionally treats one of the kids to a meal when they are chosen to go into town with him on errands. We eat meat much more frequently than our neighbors do (once or twice a week). Instead of ugali with every meal, we often eat spaghetti, rice, bread, or potatoes–all of which have a higher price tag than plain maize. While they typically have one or two outfits of “work” clothes and one “nice” outfit, we have a half-dozen changes of clothes each. Many here sleep on burlap sacks, mats, or thin foam mattresses. We were just blessed to be able to buy a pillow-top mattress to replace our compressed foam–a gift designed to assist Marc’s recovery from the motorbike accident. A Bible here is a treasured addition to the  home, as the possession of books is rare indeed. We brought a small library of books with us from the states, knowing how hard it would be to homeschool without them.

As you can see, there is a great financial and material chasm between “us” and “them,” no matter how much we feel we have sacrificed in comparison to our previous style of life in America (which was not extravagant by any stretch of the imagination). No matter how much food, medicine, clothing, or financial assistance we are able to give, it’s still just a drop in the bucket compared to the number of needs out there.

What does God desire? Is it “that there might be equality”? (See 2 Corinthians 8:13-14). That goes against our capitalist and independent American way of thinking, doesn’t it? At the same time, if we were to live a lavish lifestyle when others lack money to pay for malaria medicine, antibiotics, and nutritious food, how would God judge us?

Here is our standard–one that we continually examine ourselves in light of:

31 “But when the Son of Man comes in His glory, and all the angels with Him, then He will sit on His glorious throne. 32 All the nations will be gathered before Him; and He will separate them from one another, as the shepherd separates the sheep from the goats; 33 and He will put the sheep on His right, and the goats on the left.

34 “Then the King will say to those on His right, ‘Come, you who are blessed of My Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world. 35 For I was hungry, and you gave Me something to eat; I was thirsty, and you gave Me something to drink; I was a stranger, and you invited Me in; 36 naked, and you clothed Me; I was sick, and you visited Me; I was in prison, and you came to Me.’ 37 Then the righteous will answer Him, ‘Lord, when did we see You hungry, and feed You, or thirsty, and give You something to drink? 38 And when did we see You a stranger, and invite You in, or naked, and clothe You? 39 When did we see You sick, or in prison, and come to You?’ 40 The King will answer and say to them, ‘Truly I say to you, to the extent that you did it to one of these brothers of Mine, even the least of them, you did it to Me.’

41 “Then He will also say to those on His left, ‘Depart from Me, accursed ones, into the eternal fire which has been prepared for the devil and his angels; 42 for I was hungry, and you gave Me nothing to eat; I was thirsty, and you gave Me nothing to drink; 43 I was a stranger, and you did not invite Me in; naked, and you did not clothe Me; sick, and in prison, and you did not visit Me.’ 44 Then they themselves also will answer, ‘Lord, when did we see You hungry, or thirsty, or a stranger, or naked, or sick, or in prison, and did not take care of You?’ 45 Then He will answer them, ‘Truly I say to you, to the extent that you did not do it to one of the least of these, you did not do it to Me.’ 46 These will go away into eternal punishment, but the righteous into eternal life.”

Matthew 25:31-46

Living in a Kenyan village is hard, not because we’ve sacrificed to do so, but because we’re constantly faced with the realization that we could be doing more. Making moment-by-moment choices that used to be easy has become much more difficult. However, I think that living with this constant “tug” in regard to our finances and our expenditures is a good thing–it means that God is at work in us, showing us His ideal, and we’re doing our best to respond. It’s a journey…

A Very Blessed Day

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When Marc and I went to Eldoret for his follow up appointment at the hospital two weeks ago, we ate lunch at a local bistro near the Nakumatt super-store. The food was incredibly American–head and shoulders above what we can get at the mzungu-style restaurants in our next big town. Needless to say, it was a nice “date” for the two of us. I mentioned to Marc that I thought it would be nice to treat the family to a celebratory meal there at some point, to spend some thankful time together as a family.

Travel in Kenya can range from uncomfortable to treacherous. The stretch of road where Marc was forced off the road on his motorbike last month has been the location of many fatalities in recent history–including one later on the very same day as Marc’s. So I’m not lightly saying, “Praise God!” when I say that our family praises God for His protection of Marc the day of his accident. We know that it is entirely possible he could have left for that day’s mission and not come back home that night. And although his injury was serious, it could certainly have been more so. Most significantly, we are thankful that Marc drew near to the Lord in his suffering and experienced a sweet fellowship with Jesus that has carried him through his recovery period in a way that has glorified God and been a witness to many in our community. From the very moments of his injury, the Lord gave Marc confidence that he would be back on his motorbike and back on the mission in just three weeks.

And last week (three weeks to the day of the accident), we saw that happen. Although Marc is still not completely healed, he hopped on his motorbike and met for three days with about ten local church pastors and house church leaders. These two groups of men have historically been in conflict in their community, but by the end of the second day of teaching on the Kingdom of God and Kingdom Expansion, representatives from both groups shared words of reconciliation before the group and publicly exchanged hugs in show of their new feeling of unity. On the third day, teams went out to local homes doing Luke 10-style evangelism–institutional church pastors and house church leaders laboring together for the Kingdom, not for the growth of their own congregations. Two of the people that they visited that day were actually given dreams in advance of the teams’ arrival. One man knew to expect a group of three pastors. Another woman already had her home set up for hospitality and was waiting expectantly for their message. Marc was beyond blessed to see what God did and was so thankful to be back doing what God has brought him here to do.

So after the mission, the subject of a family celebration came up between Marc and me. It’s always hard to make judgment calls such as this and we always debate. It seems unnecessarily extravagant to spend so much money on a single “event” (and involving self-indulgence with food at that, since we know that The Kingdom of God is not About Eating and Drinking), when our neighbors struggle to put ugali on the table. Even so, we knew it would be a blessing to our family and decided to go for it. It seemed confirmed when we received an unexpected donation earmarked for our family, and Marc’s Dad sent some money for the children as well. Even from afar, he still wants to spoil his grand kids.

We arranged for a car for this Monday and, after a weekend full of expectation, were off–on African time, about an hour later than we wanted to. We decided to let the kids order what they want, presuming that it wasn’t over-the-top. We made several requests for items not on the menu. They offered a “beef burger with cheese,” which I can only assume is a steak-burger, but we asked if we could have it “minced,” (i.e., an American-style cheeseburger). I even asked for bacon on mine and although it wasn’t confirmed when I ordered, it came through! Jonah was interested in the fish filet, but it was plain and not breaded. They agreed to bread it for  him. We had a couple of small pizzas for everyone to share, including Hawaiian and four-meat. Jubilee, at age three, didn’t really know what she wanted, so I suggested something from the Chinese food menu called “Chicken lollipops.” The description was vague–something about breaded balls of chicken “that can only be described as ‘wonderful.'” It seemed like a fun meal for a three year-old and she agreed with my suggestion.

Everyone tried everyone else’s food and everything was absolutely spectacular. Most agreed, though, that the chicken lollipops were a favorite, and Jubilee beamed as she passed her chicken-on-a-stick around the table. Wish I had gotten a picture.

We window-shopped at Nakumatt, an experience we haven’t had since being in the States. It’s a real American-style store (with price tags to match!). You can think of it as Wal-Mart on steroids. I briefly looked at the covered garbage cans, thinking how nice one would be in place of the cardboard box we use for kitchen garbage, but nearly $25 USD wasn’t something I would be able to justify. We browsed leather furniture (yeah, right…) and the boys practically high-fived when they came around the corner of one aisle and discovered…BAMBOO SKEWERS!! When they had some pocket change in the US, they would often spend $1 at Wal-Mart on skewers to make kites, model cars or planes–anything a young boy can imagine. They’ve often lamented the lack of good “project materials” here in Africa, and skewers have certainly been mentioned by name. So no surprise, Isaiah dropped a pack in the cart: “I’ll pay you back when we get home!”

I paused at the pillow display and had a quickly-whispered conversation with Marc. When we moved to Kenya, we had many furnishings and household items purchased for us in advance of our coming. We were assured that pillows would be procured so we didn’t bother to bring ours. To our dismay, the highest-quality pillows available in town were pretty much rectangular pieces of 2-3″ compressed foam with some fabric sewn around it for looks. Certainly not the most comfortable, but better than nothing. When one of our short-term missionaries left behind what the children call “The Amero-pillow,” each child secretly (or not-so-secretly) hoped it could be theirs. But of course, Dad won. So we decided to suggest to the children American-style pillows of their very own, which they could consider a gift from Grandpa. I don’t think the Nakumatt has heard that much celebratory cheering in a while as the kids chose pillows and jammed them into the cart.

And even though sometimes when we try to do something special for the children, it gets tainted by arguments, selfishness, complaining, and so on (with eight children, they’re all rarely all happy!). But this day was remarkable in that there were no corrections, no bad tones…nothing negative at all. We were very blessed to enjoy such a special day as a family and are thankful to God for His faithfulness, His goodness, and His great love for us in allowing us this time together.

God-Opportunities

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Our first year here in Kenya went by rather quickly, much of it spent trying to acclimate ourselves to a totally new culture and way of life. There were many challenges for each of us individually and for us as a family, as well as trying to figure out what it meant to be on the mission field.

I entered our second year with some sense of victory, great thankfulness to God for His grace, and a deep desire to do more. Unfortunately, I am pretty limited by lack of transportation, responsibilities for home management and homeschooling, and Marc’s busy ministry schedule. So, both before and after writing this recent post, I began just praying, in earnest, for God to bring me opportunities to serve, to give, and to share the love of Christ with people in my community. I can’t do much, but I can do something. I’m willing, and God knows my limitations, so I just asked. And, as He is so faithful, He has been responding.

First, a neighbor brought a sick child to our house asking for assistance. She had persistent diarrhea and fever. I gave her some liquid amoebicide that we had on the shelf (water-borne amoeba being a common problem) but a couple days later the problem hadn’t cleared up so Isaiah offered to go to town on his motorbike and talk to the local chemist. He returned with a couple of medications, which a grateful Mom administered to her baby (who, coincidentally, was born the very day we arrived in Kenya!).

Not more than a few days later, another neighbor arrived in a rather disconcerted state, explaining that she’d gotten an emergency phone call from a relative in a neighboring town regarding her husband (who is currently working away from home). Unsure what the problem was and lacking money for transport, she came knowing that I would help. I was happy to give her some money for transport and promised to send food for her five children and look after them while she was away.

The next week, two brothers in the Lord came for malaria medicine. One stayed overnight for some rest and nutritious meals. It’s the season for malaria here, so we’re keeping a supply of anti-malarial on the shelf for just such visits.

The past couple of weeks I’ve been focusing on helping Marc get well from his motorbike accident, and we’ve all been encouraged by God’s faithfulness and Marc’s speedy healing. He’s been quite a trooper, and very patient with sometimes waiting for things he needs as other demands are met.

Just this morning, I was praying for God to send more opportunities, as Marc is needing much less of my time and attention. And I was so happy to see Mama Helen come to our back door! Not long after we arrived here, she was a somewhat regular visitor. She is very quiet and kind but our communication is of course somewhat limited by my little Swahili and her little English. I’ve tried to learn about her from others in the community. I think she has three young children and I’m not sure if she’s widowed or if her husband has abandoned her (that is unfortunately common here), but she has little means of providing for herself, from what I am told. A woman we know has shared the Gospel of the Kingdom with Helen using the Two Kingdoms tract, and she had been visiting us every few days for food. However, it has been quite some time since we have seen her and it was rumored that she had left the community. At the same time, our front gate (which was normally kept open so as to be welcoming) had to be closed to keep our new chicken and rabbits safely in the yard. We also got a dog, which we found deterred some visitors. So I’m not sure why she stopped coming, but she was just one thought on my mind as I prayed this morning.

Whatever the reason for her long absence, I was so pleased to greet her and try to find out how she has been doing. What brought her, unfortunately, was a foot injury. I couldn’t discern how it happened but there were a couple of deep cuts, which hadn’t been cleaned or cared for very well, plus signs of infection. I got our wash basin and first aid supplies and did my best clean and bandage the wound. I also gave her a pair of flip-flops for her bare feet. However, it was clear that she needed further care. Isaiah, who had already been planning on going into town, arranged for a piki piki to transport Helen to the local Catholic hospital, and he followed with Sam (a local Christ-follower who is a great help to Marc in the work of the ministry). They saw to her care, and Isaiah reported that they really went “above and beyond,” not only dressing the wound and providing antibiotics, but washing her legs and hands and trimming all her nails as well.

No sooner had Helen left than one of my neighbors arrived, explaining that they were hungry. I could tell that although it was early, she had already been hard at work on her shamba–and without something to eat! (She was one of the happy volunteers who assisted us with planting this weekend.) I filled up a bag for her and she was off for a quick breakfast before returning to her work.

Then Helen was back from the hospital, cheerful and thankful, and on her way again with a bag full of food.

I don’t have great giftings, just a desire to serve. And I’m thankful that God is aware of my limitations and is faithful to bring people right to my door who have needs that I can help fill. Join me in praying that God would likewise bring opportunities for all of us to serve, for His Kingdom and His glory!

“Ask, and it will be given to you; seek, and you will find; knock, and it will be opened to you. …If you then, being evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your Father who is in heaven give what is good to those who ask Him!”
Matthew 7:7, 11

Community Gardening

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Marc is recovering amazingly well from his motorcycle accident 2-1/2 weeks ago. We had a follow-up appointment at the hospital this week to check on his knee, and the doctor was very pleased with the healing progress. He’ll get stitches out in two more weeks. When I had malaria over last weekend, he started hobbling around on his own (first with crutches and then without) because he wanted to let me rest. So things are looking good–just in time for a training meeting this week!

However, it is planting season here and he was not quite up to that. And I have two brown thumbs, so I’ve always been on the weeding, harvesting, and preserving side of the garden. Earlier this year, Marc attended a Farming God’s Way seminar and wanted to pioneer a FGW garden on our property to show our neighbors that it’s possible to improve their yields and do better for their families. He trained our son, Jonah, on how to do the planting (it involves some precision measurement and he wanted it to be done right), but for us to do it ourselves would have taken quite a few days and a lot of labor.

We were pleasantly surprised and blessed to have several of our friends and neighbors volunteer to help with the planting. We coordinated for everyone to get together this past Saturday at 9:00 AM, and for once almost everyone was on time. We planted maize and beans–some hoeing, some fertilizing, and some planting and covering seeds. We enjoyed a lunch of kitheri (corn and beans) and finished the whole garden by about 4 pm. God is good! Rebekah took some photos while we worked (her primary role was keeping baby Enoch out of the garden and out of trouble–no small task these days).

 

“What you can’t do, God can”

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She wakes up early and comes to snuggle under my blanket while I read my Bible on the Kindle.

I lay down in her bed and tickle her; she giggles and tells me, “Mom, you’re my best girl!”

 

Now that so many of my children are getting older, I miss these times with them. I wish that connecting with them was still this easy. Sometimes I’m overwhelmed with maintaining relationships with all eight of them, and I wonder if what I’m doing is enough. Life is so busy, our house so loud, and private times with each one so hard to come by.

I suppose all of us mothers feel this way from time to time, regardless of how many children we have or what our life’s circumstances are. I keep reminding myself of a word of encouragement that I received at a church service one Sunday evening. I think we had five children at the time and I had bundled them all up and taken them to this special service (I don’t remember where Marc was at the time, but I think he was traveling for work). I was hesitant, as I wasn’t sure they would all behave–especially as the evening got into bed time. I did end up having to leave early, just as the prayer time was beginning. I tried to be unobtrusive as I made my way to the door, but I remember (to my embarrassment) that the speaker stopped in the middle of whatever he was saying to address me before I made my hasty exit. He blessed my family and spoke some words that I don’t remember, but here’s what stuck with me:

“You’re not Super Woman.

You’re not a super wife.

You’re not a super mother.

But what you can’t do, God can.”

And I trust in that…every day. I strive to please and glorify God, but I know that I fail in more ways than I realize. Maybe I’m not in “sin,” but I know I could do better…invest more…be less self-focused, sometimes. This is especially true in the important area of relationships. I wish there was more of me to go around. But I pray that as I do my part, God would do His. That He would fill in the gaps and do something more with my sometimes inadequate attempts at mothering.

Yesterday, I was reading First Timothy and pondered the qualifications for widows (1 Timothy 5:9-11). She must have a “reputation for good works,” the first among those being “if she has brought up children.” This work we are doing…it is a good work, and done faithfully, it brings great reward. So let us press on, even when we cannot do so with perfection. Let us trust in God that He will be faithful to bring our efforts to completion.

The Consequences of Cheating

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Do you remember doing SRA in grade school? You would select a numbered card from the box, read a story, and answer some questions. The stories and activities progressively increased in difficulty from 1 through 100.

I have such fond memories of SRA, I was excited to get a box when we were still young homeschoolers.

There is an answer booklet in the box. At first, I did all the correcting myself, but over time I’ve allowed the children to self-correct. They come to me if they have questions as they read or if they don’t understand the follow-up activities. I always check their work and go over anything they’ve gotten wrong. We do this not only with SRA but also with math textbooks, for which we also have answer books.

Today, for the first time in…how many years of homeschooling?…our first instance of “cheating” was brought to my attention. One of the children caught a sibling in the bedroom with the SRA answer book.

In deciding how to address this issue, I realized that I don’t think this child has ever been told that it’s wrong to copy answers out of the answer book. We’ve talked about lying and other forms of deception, but not directly about cheating as it pertains to schoolwork. So she got off with a very gentle rebuke and explanation about why her behavior was wrong. What did she do? She cried. But not because she felt bad for cheating. Instead, she was overwhelmed because…”it’s so hard!” That’s why she chose to copy answers in the first place–and it had been going on for some time before she actually got caught.

I consoled her with the fact that SRA isn’t about getting all the right answers–it’s about learning. And I would have been happy with her progressive learning, even if she got some wrong in the process. And in fact, by cheating she was making it harder for herself, not easier. Because now when she was on a certain number and difficulty level with her SRA, she really wasn’t equipped to do it on her own because she’d been cheating for so long. No wonder she was upset!

So I tried to determine how long this had been going on, and we went back. Back to a much simpler lesson, one that she and I worked through together. She did the next one on her own. And next time, she’ll continue from there. She’ll learn what she was supposed to learn the first time around.

It struck me that we sometimes do the same thing in our spiritual walk. How often do we try to get out of doing hard work, struggling through, and learning lessons that are, in the end, of great value to us? Sometimes we can claim ignorance, but other times we’re just lazy. Or it may be that the standard of perfection scares us. And yes, that is our standard (see Matthew 5:48), but God is infinitely gracious in getting us to that point. Our goal is to grow, not necessarily to get everything right the first time through. God expects us to make mistakes, He frequently gives us second chances, and sometimes we have to go back to a place we thought we’d never see again, just to learn lessons that we ignored the first time around.

I don’t ever want to presume upon God’s grace, or make excuses for my sin. Still, I am thankful for second chances and for a Father who is gentle in teaching me. I hope that as I resolved this issue with my daughter, and re-started those SRAs, she learned something–even if she didn’t get all the right answers.

 

“We were six, now we are four”

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Yesterday I had the pleasure of meeting with three women, who gave up many precious hours of their day and traveled many miles just to get to know me a little. Marc has been going to their fellowship gatherings frequently on Sunday mornings and always tells me how much I would enjoy going. They love Jesus and love each other.

Unfortunately, their meetings go long…many hours…and we don’t want to leave the children on their own at home for that long. And equally unfortunately, transporting the lot of us is not practical or financially possible. So yesterday, they came to me.

I appreciated their words of encouragement and their spiritual support, the promise of continued prayer.

I laughed at their enthusiasm about our family of eight children; they are convinced that Americans only have two children and that is “normal.” But I was sad as we asked each of the women, in turn, how many children they had.

We were six, now we are four.

We had six, now we are five.

We were nine, now we are eight.

We didn’t want to follow up with the question of what happened to the children who are now not with them. These weren’t miscarriages they were talking about (though that is a difficult enough loss), these were children held and fed and loved, for who knows how long a time before they succumbed to…what? Malnutrition? Disease? I can only guess. But the sad thing is, many women here share the same unfortunate reality: we were six, now we are four.

We have two cats and a dog and can buy Front Line for the dog, but there is no treatment for the cats. The best we can do is flea baths when we notice the little critters. Since the cats sit on the couches and sleep with some of us, we all endure a few days of itchy bites before the fleas meet their demise for another season. This week, about half our family has worked its way through malaria, in spite of there supposedly being few malaria-bearing mosquitoes at our elevation. And how did so many end up with it? Marc was both surprised and disturbed to find that fleas carry malaria, just like mosquitoes do. (Made us think of the Bubonic Plague, and shiver). So although we’d resisted chemical treatment for fleas, we sprayed down the carpet, the furniture, and the beds to get a little more aggressive against the disease-bearing intruders. And for us, though malaria has been a discomfort and an inconvenience, it’s highly treatable. With a visit to the local chemist, a few dollars, and a few days’ time, we’re working our way through it.

What do the visit with my sisters in Christ and our recent experience with malaria have to do with each other? Well, I would guess that one or more of those precious children might have suffered with malaria or something equally treatable. But their family didn’t have the money to get the medicine that is readily available. Such cases are all-too-common here.

This morning, I was reading Kisses from Katie by Katie Davis, who serves in Uganda. She gives tirelessly of herself to serve “the least of these.” She removes jiggers, gives baths, provides medicine, offers food, and loves.

I want to do more. I’m trusting that God will show us just what it is He wants us to do next.

Grumbling, Complaining, and Bad Attitudes

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I don’t know about you, but all three of these (grumbling, complaining, and bad attitudes) are an occasional reality at our house.

While in America, we dealt with these issues much less than we do now in Africa. I recall a conversation I had not too long ago with my oldest son, in which he confessed that he had been struggling with his attitude–something he said he didn’t feel he had a problem with in America because we had so many distractions. For example, if the overtone of our home was negative, we might put some praise music on a CD while we did our morning work. Our daily chores were a regular part of our routine, but they had a definite beginning and end and we could look forward to some free time when we were done. We had NetFlix on-tap for both education and entertainment. If we were having a rough day, we could jump in the big red van for a trip to the museum or library. Even if we were stuck at home (though we tried to be wise and reasonable about our possessions), the children never lacked something to do.  All of these “distractions” have been removed since our arrival in Africa. Couple that with a marked increase in daily labor, and certainly, grumbling, complaining, and bad attitudes should be expected.

In spite of taking advantage of as many “teachable moments” as possible in an effort to encourage the children in a more positive direction, I admit to feeling occasionally discouraged about the lack of progress in this area. It seems that while one child might show some improvement, another falls off the wagon and there are constantly one or two (or more) among our brood who just don’t like the way things are, don’t want to do what they’re told, or can’t get along with someone else in the family. So I hear grumbling and complaining and see those bad attitudes.

But I must confess, I have not been immune to the temptation. Perhaps that’s why we have all struggled so much. I realized in conversation with Isaiah the other day just why I fall prey to grumbling every once in a while–and just like any other character deficiency or sin issue, it’s interesting how that root cause analysis really leads you to repentance. It’s not that the work bothers me or that I’m particularly overwhelmed. Though that is sometimes the case, it’s more often that I fall victim to what I’ve heard called the “Mommy Martyr” syndrome. I feel that I work harder, serve more, and benefit less than most other people in the household. And it just wouldn’t be fair if they didn’t know it. So I sigh while I wash that second sink full of dishes. I mutter under my breath about how if the girls didn’t keep throwing clean clothes on their dusty concrete bedroom floor, I wouldn’t be forced to wash them a second time even though they hadn’t even been worn. I sit the children down for a  lecture about how it would be nice if they could notice how I’m doing jobs they normally do, just so they can enjoy a break–and wouldn’t it be nice if, just for once, someone offered to help?

Why? Because I want someone to notice my efforts. Occasionally, some unsolicited help would be nice. Even better, an encouraging word would be so appreciated, given how hard I labor on their behalf. I want that proverbial “pat on the back.” And while it is true that we should encourage and help one another, there is a not-so- fine line between appreciating a positive response to our service and trying to force it upon those around you by making them feel guilty. As I said to Isaiah, cheerful service (“as unto the Lord”) brings us a reward from God, but in seeking praise from men, we have already received our reward in full (see Matthew 6).

I don’t think that all of my grumbling, complaining, and bad attitudes can be attributed to selfish manipulation or a desire for attention. However, when it is, I want to to repent and learn to seek my rest and reward from God. Just one more issue where I’m thankful for God’s grace and in which I want to press on to perfection.