Let the re-entry begin...

I've realized more and more with every passing day that I have no idea what's going on inside of me... and since this place here, my little corner of the online world, usually involves me putting words to my thoughts, penning feelings and processing... I've been avoiding it... because this place that usually brings me such comfort is actually a scary place for me right now... so it's been put aside while I avoid all the confusion in my head and my heart...

The reality is that our family is so blessed!

The last month was supposed to be a month of settling in...
a month for us to get our feet underneath us,
for Gary to get ready and prepared for grad school,
for us visit our families,
for us to visit our supporters and churches,
and enjoy being back in the good 'ol US of A.

But instead it has been a time of survival. I can't lie and say that I'm not disappointed and frustrated that things didn't play out the way that we planned... but those thoughts form in my mind I know and am reminded how blessed we are.

Blessed that the need for surgery waited until we were stateside,
that it was just shy of my insurance policy expiring,
that it was able to be done by a neurosurgeon I know and trust.

I realize how incredibly blessed I am to have a family who can care for Joshua for a month, a husband who has taken care of my other two monkeys by himself at our new house and while I was able to recover knowing that my munchkins were all cared for. I'm struggling between mourning what was lost, mourning what didn't turn out like I would have liked, and realizing (through much much much self reminder) that things turned exactly like they should have, and in the best way possible... We have been blessed with furniture, funds to start over and so much more by friends and family and from people we've never even met... talk about blessed! We've been covered in prayer through the entire process and know that it's been by the grace of God that we've survived...

And we have survived, but surgery delayed the processing... the processing of re-entry, the feelings, the thoughts, the yuckies. There's so much that you have to put aside for the sake of survival... but now that the fog of surviving surgery has lifted a little, the wheels are starting to turn again...

We're not in Cochabamba anymore, and there's no flight booked to carry us back there to our apartment, to the boys' school, to our friends, to our teammates, to our church, and to our life.

Our life is here now.

I'm in a tug of war (TOW) with my heart to be at peace with that.

This new life is in a place...

where Wal-Mart runs are part of a weekly routine. (TOW... I'm so grateful that I have daily access to Children's Tylenol, Chili powder, new socks and milk in gallon jugs... but I miss knowing the people who check me out, looking people in the eye as we walk past each other and greeting whether we know each other or not).

where Sonic will still be just down the street (TOW... seriously? Sonic... right down the street? I'm happy as a clam for happy hour everyday... but the brain freeze I'm getting after coming from a no ice culture is causing me to lose brain cells with every swig of Cherry Limeade I take :)

where my parents will still be just a local cell phone call away (TOW... there's really not a tug of war here... I've been waiting for five years to have my parents just down the road from me, Gary and their grandkids... the only struggle is learning how to live alongside each other again :) thank goodness they're being very gracious with me as I figure it out!)

where there are a billion churches within a 5 mile radius of our house (TOW... Gary and I have never church shopped... we went from attending an inner city ministry church, to ministering there, to attending our supporting congregation, to attending the church we were working to plant... it's really hard to walk in the doors of a church as non-staff members... it's nice to leave the responsibility and pressure behind... but the automatic being "known" is going to be a hard thing to walk away from)

where it's seriously cold (TOW... I've complained for five years now that it's just not Christmasy feeling in Cochabamba because it's not cold enough... but now it's so cold and I'd kill to turn my kids lose outside to play in their flip flops!)

where we live in a "Christian" country (TOW... I'm so grateful to be back in a nation that was founded on faith and liberty, that for the most part is not corrupt (and if you have anything to say here, let's talk Bolivian history level corruption ok?!)... but why are we not living our faith outloud everyday? People in Bolivia knew why we were there. They knew what we stood for. They knew what our mission was. And I'm praying that we don't lose that overt way of living our faith being back here in the states).

That's all I've got for now :) it's a confusing, muddled place to be this mind of mine... thanks for reading (for the 2 of you who made it this far... and yes, I included my husband in that count :) This re-entry thing is an experience all its own. There is absolutely nothing like it in this world. I wouldn't trade it because that means that I would lose the life I've had, the experiences that have changed me, shaped me, and forever made me who I am today... I'm just praying I can figure out a way to live in peace with myself no matter what country my feet find themselves in... that's the goal...

Contributions and self worth...

Where exactly does my self-worth come from? My Sunday school answer would be "God"... "Jesus"... "being saved"... but the current situation that I find myself in (laid up in bed with back pain that is keeping me from walking, sitting, and basically doing anything other lying still) has shed some new light on my self-worth...

If I'm truly honest with myself, my self-worth comes from my ability to contribute, my ability to produce, my ability to take care of others and myself. Not the prettiest answer, nor the answer I wish that it was, but never the less... it's the honest answer.

And the past week in bed has taught me just how honest. It kills me to constantly ask for help... in taking care of my kids, in helping me move from one place to the other, in getting something to eat or drink, in running to the store to pick up things for Joshua, in doing laundry, in basically anything and everything that you can think of... and it has rocked me to the core to realize that so much of how I see myself and how I place value on who I am comes from just that, my ability to contribute or to produce. I'm trying (and I strongly emphasize the word trying) to use this time of rest and quiet to hear the voice of my Father, encouraging me to be reminded that my value does not lie in what I can do, but rather in who I am... it's a tough pill to swallow, a hard truth to understand, but I'm trying, and that's a start...

Where does the time go...

It seems like just yesterday I was boarding a plane with a little squirt of a baby strapped to me... he was just four months old... we had no idea who he would become, how he would be in constant motion, how he would truly love people, how he would thrive on affirmation of those he loves, how he would love music, singing, and dancing, how he would be a great big brother to two little Bulls to come... he changed our world on September 13, 2005 and continues to change us day in and day out as we learn how to love him, parent him and guide him in this journey he's on to becoming a man of God...

Nathan, this past year has been filled with more of your voice than I ever thought I would hear :) you have developed a need to always be around your Daddy or I, to be sharing something with us, showing us your newest novelty in life, and simply being in constant conversation with us. While at moments I long for a little peace and quiet :) I know that the day will come when I will long for you to share with me, talk with me, and open up in the way that you are doing now... so I'm cherishing these moments... the moments like tonight where you climbed up on the chair in the kitchen to help me cook, wanting to be by my side, wanting to know that you have a place with me always... tonight you put your arms around my neck and whispered in my ear... I'll miss you Mommy... I'm not sure if it came out of you hearing us say that to others during this time of transition, if you think you're going to stay here while we move back home :) or what... but it made me think deeply about the days when you are grown and out on your own, oh how I will miss you my sweet firstborn!... you are so like me in so many ways and I'm so thankful for all that you teach me about love, about my faith, and about who I am... you are a treasure to your daddy and I and we will love you always! I love you more than my next breath my sweet grown up five year old :)

Church Retreat 2010

Every year we take time out as a church family to get away... it's a day filled with teaching, worship, fellowship, and FUN :) This year was no exception... a little bittersweet as it was our last, but fun none the less... here are a few pictures of the festivities...

It's like ripping off a band-aid...

I was four going on five... then eleven going on twelve... then sixteen going on seventeen... then eighteen and starting college... then a newlywed of 22... then 25, a young career gal... and then a first time mommy being called to the mission field. They were all years of transition, years of moving from one place to another, years of saying good-bye to homes, friends, church families, favorite places and a life made... and here it is upon me again.

Most of the moves in my life have been because work took our family from one place to another, college and new chapters of life were starting, or God was calling to us different ministries abroad... either way, the moves all seemed (remember this is the hind-sight of a sleep deprived mommy of toddlers remembering moves now many years in the past :) fairly fast... like ripping off a band-aid. You grab a hold of one end... take a deep breath, hold it for a second and RIP... it hurts and it stings, but in the end, it's quick (definitely not painless, but quick).

I always thought that was the best way to handle moving from one place to the next... keep ties as loose as possible... making the heartache as minimal as possible. But I'm learning through the process of this move that's looming in the not so distant future, that the heartache remains and resurfaces no matter how far you sweep it under the rug.

When Gary and I shared our departure date with the church here in Cochabamba many people thought we were sharing that information way too early. It was January and we would be here until the first week in November... that was almost 10 months of good-byes. This past Sunday as I sat and cried through worship service, grieving all the things that we will be leaving behind, I realized that 10 months is just what we needed. Okay, I'll speak for myself, just what I needed.

I needed to know that the events of this year are the "lasts" for our family in Cochabamba... and I needed to process that through that with our church family and my dear friends here. Does it mean that it won't still hurt, still sting when we board that plane in November? Heavens no... but what I'm hoping and praying, is that it means I'll be a little more emotionally ready for that departure. That I will have spent time in thought and prayer coming to terms with the changes that are on the horizon for our family... as opposed to avoiding them (which is my usual M.O.)

I'm praying that this year of transition will afford me the opportunities to make sure I've said all that I need to say to those that I've grown to love and care for here, that I won't walk away feeling as if there wasn't true closure... because the truth is that for all its craziness, this place has become our home. It still annoys the peewaddle out of us at times, and the culture is still something that proves to us daily that we are foreigners here, not in our home culture... but for better or worse we became a family here. Two of my sons are Cochabambinos, and a part of my "family" will always be here in this country I've grown to appreciate and cherish for what it has given us and taught us.

The good-byes are so hard, they leave my heart aching, but with the time that we've allowed ourselves, I'm processing through it much better than I ever have. I'm leaving one home for another, each place has its beauties and its uglies, and I, Laurita, will be a better woman for having lived in, loved in, and given a part of myself to both places!