"...But Mommy, we are home."

Recently we celebrated our daughter Lydia’s third birthday. In an attempt to make the day one in which she knew she was cherished as a special part of our family, I prepared a variety of yummy treats and the lunch of her choice. The extra work and multitude of dishes are a small sacrifice that I don’t mind if it makes my sweet little girl feel special on her birthday.

As a mother of four little ones, I am devoted to making my home a place where they feel loved and valued for the person God has created them to be. Through the design of my home and the traditions that I build into our lives, I aspire to make our home a warm and welcoming place to all who enter. a place where cherished memories are made as my children grow in wisdom and favor with God and man.

Thinking about the fond memories I have from my own childhood, I remember my mom always working hard to make our lives enjoyable. During our growing up years, it didn’t matter what the day held, my mom seemed to approach life with a vibrant enthusiasm that was contagious.  She served her family with most (if not all) of her energy for years on end, desiring together with my father to lay a foundation of faith in the Lord Jesus Christ for their children.

Building a heritage of faith at home will look differently in every family that pursues this goal. As I meditate on what that might look like for my own family, I am motivated to explore this pursuit, though we live in a totally different context than where I grew up. Rustic houses with lots of spiders and Christmas Day with sweat and dirt covering your face don’t exactly scream “wonderful memories” to my heart.

Yet as we prepare for our home assignment in Minnesota, I explained to my daughter that we are preparing to go HOME to Minnesota! With a strange and confused look in her eyes, Alicia cocked her head and said, “…but Mommy, we are home.” I didn’t know what to say. All the memories I have of my childhood and the things I love about where I came from are not the reality for my children. They are growing up in a different world, and they love life here.

So, what now? How am I going to live in the context where Christ has called us to spend this season of our lives? What expressions of beauty can be displayed in my home without appearing excessive to those around us? I know that God created me with a longing for beauty, and it is my desire to display it graciously throughout our lives and in our home. So am I willing to trust him enough to fulfill that longing, even in the midst of a home filled with dirt and bugs? For now, I have more questions than answers, but I know that as I continue to seek the Lord he will continue to reveal himself to me and daily renew my strength.

Grace for my Haphazard Helpers

Recently I was listening to a radio broadcast on ridding your home of youth entitlement. I was greatly challenged by a mother's experiment in changing the way she parented in order to help her children thrive first at home and then eventually as the enter the world of adulthood.

With my children being 5, 4, 2, and 2 months, it can be extremely overwhelming for me to even think about letting my kids "help me" in the kitchen or around the house. Most of the time, it means, more time and more mess---neither of which I have time for. However, this broadcast and a recent observation left me attentive to the needs of my children for encouragement as they grow and grace in allowing them to learn through mistakes.

While staying at our mission guesthouse, I was working in the kitchen with another mom who was baking peanut butter bars. Living in Paraguay makes treats like this extra special, particularly when the peanut butter was brought all the way from the USA. As she worked with her nine-year-old daughter, she stepped away to melt some chocolate, leaving her daughter to spread the bars in the baking dish. While pushing the bars down, the glass dish slowly approached the edge of the counter without her noticing. Then with a terrible crash, the dish fell off the counter shattering into a thousand pieces across the kitchen floor. Without a word of disdain or raising of her voice in anger, her mother quickly rushed to her daughter's side to make sure she was alright. She then assured her that it was an accident and that she was not angry about the broken dish or lost peanut butter bars that were now filled with shards of glass.

Her daughter, feeling completely miserable at her failure, sat in the other room while the glass was cleaned up. However, once the kitchen was swept and mopped, her mother approached her with the proposition of trying again. Her daughter agreed so they went to the store, bought new ingredients and began again.

While they worked, this mother asked me in front of her daughter, "How many times have you broken a dish when cooking, Rebekah?" At that moment, I laughed at the realization that my many mistakes and recipes gone drastically wrong, have played a huge part in my learning how to cook. After killing the yeast in my Cardamon bread one year, I delivered the flat braided loaves as Christmas gifts for my college professors anyway. Needless to say, I am a lot more careful about the temperature of my liquid now when working with yeast. Or the time when I cooked egg bake with the plastic wrap still on top...lets just say we enjoyed the meal, plastic and all.

There are many more stories of mistakes I've made in the kitchen, but I realized that a gracious response to my children's effort to help is crucial to their character development. They need confidence to try new things without fear of getting blasted with anger or disappointment in the result of their efforts.

Desiring to encourage this mom during the stressful event, I told her how impressed I was with her response to such a frustrating circumstance. She responded regretfully, "there's a reason only my youngest daughter will still cook with me." I appreciated her openness and vulnerability in encouraging me in my own journey of motherhood.

Children learn by doing, and if I want to develop in them a heart for serving others and working hard, I must not stifle their eagerness but rather, guide and assist them as they learn. This is especially difficult for me, since I am driven by making my life as perfectly organized as possible and planning how each minute of my day will go. Though this type of perfectionism sometimes seems like the ideal way of life, I realize that if I continue to pursue it I will miss out on the joy and richness found in training my little ones.

Harvest

Living a couple hours from the nearest grocery store has pushed Kevin and me to work hard at learning to live like rural Paraguayans. Our garden has not only taught us of the value of hard work, but it has given us multiple opportunities to learn from the local people.

Last week as we prepared to celebrate Thanksgiving, we incorporated songs and stories that teach about the first Thanksgiving and the importance of giving thanks to the Lord as our provider. One night as we put the kids to bed, we sang Come, Ye Thankful People Come. The words of the second verse read:

All the world is God’s own field, fruit unto his praise to yield,

wheat and tares together sown, unto joy or sorrows grown.

First the blade, and then the ear, then the full corn shall appear,

Lord of harvest, grant that we whole-some grain and pure may be.

Having spent many sweaty hours working to plant a garden (and then working to protect it from animals and the intense heat of the sun), these words are more meaningful than ever. We are developing a better understanding of the hard labor that most Paraguayans do in order to provide for themselves. Though we are not dependent on our garden to put food on the table, we are learning about the struggle and joy that comes from watching and waiting for the fruit of your labor to appear.

This week our five-year-old son Micah just started a unit in his homeschool on Insects, the theme being, “I am a wise child; so I work hard.” How important it is to learn from the time we are very young that hard work is not something to run from. Rather it is the result of being wise. In fact, God promises that when we work hard for Him, we have the promise of a reward (Col. 3:23-24).

            Just last week we harvested our first crop of sweet corn here in Yataity. It was exciting to watch the process as we learned about the differences of planting here in Paraguay. What a treat it was to enjoy our homegrown sweat corn and green beans for Thanksgiving.  Just as we have practical rewards from the harvest here on this earth, some day we will receive our inheritance in Christ Jesus as our reward from the Lord. What a truth worth living for!

Developing A Heart of Gratitude

As Thanksgiving approaches, I am reminded of the first celebration between the Pilgrims and the Indians as they rejoiced over the harvest and gave thanks to God for his provision in the New World. The first settlers had suffered extreme hardship, hunger, cold, and death in their first year as colonists. But they chose to give praise to the author of creation, thanking him amidst their trials.

            Living here in Paraguay, my heart often becomes discontent as I sweep my house continuously, never getting rid of the endless bugs and dirt. With large cracks in the cement floor, leaks in the roof, and the spiders happily residing in every corner, I easily get drawn into wishing I had something better.

            As is the custom in many Paraguayan homes, I have hired a young woman to help me around the house several days a week. She is a fairly new follower of Christ, and she is  a joy to be around. She is also helping me a great deal in learning Guarani. Our conversations have taught me much about her life. When asked what she likes to do, her reply was simple: “cook, clean, wash clothes, and work in my garden.” I probed a little more to find out which was her favorite or least favorite, yet her reply was the same. “I enjoy it all.” I saw in her response an honest contentment and joy in her simple tasks of daily living.

            Having been to her house, I know that her life is not physically easy. Her home is made of wood planks with a thatch roof and dirt floor. There is one room enclosed, and a “kitchen” with walls on three sides. She cooks over a fire and gets water from a well about 300 meters from her house.  The bathroom is a roughly built outhouse with a hole in the ground. Needless to say, there is no shower or bathtub. And the majority of her food comes from either her garden or the animals they raise. Laundry is washed by hand with a bucket and a bar of soap, and then hung out to dry. (After observing her work, it seems so ridiculous to say I washed clothes today, when all I really did was throw them in a machine and turn it on.) All this and she says in response to my question, “I enjoy all my work.” I don’t see that kind of attitude in myself, and it made a deep impression on me.

            When I start thinking about my beautiful home in Minnesota and longing to live somewhere without exotic bugs and never-ending dirt, I have only to reflect on the reality of life for my sweet friend Mariza, to remind me of God's goodness in my own life.

            Thank you, Lord, for the honor it is to live and work among these people. Cultivate in me a heart of gratitude in this home or wherever you call me to live!

A Legacy to Learn From

In the past four years, I have said goodbye to all four of my grandparents as they entered into the presence of the Lord. This week my Granny passed away, and though I am not able to be with them at the memorial service today, I wanted to share about the legacy that my Granny left with us.

Most of my childhood, we lived in Minnesota, which meant not seeing Granny and Granddad very often. The distance between us made our time together precious. I remember eagerly anticipating our vacations, where after spending countless hours in the car, we finally pulled up in front of their beautiful brick house. Then there were hugs and kisses all around and excited chatter as we enjoyed our reunion.

We all knew that going to my Granny’s house meant lots of exciting surprises!  Between Granny and Great Aunt Rose Gay, they saw to it that we were completely spoiled whenever we were together. Whether it was pizza and games at Chuck E. Cheese, juice boxes, candies, or a day at Bush Gardens, we loved it all.

In the days that followed, we enjoyed her delicious southern cooking, including my favorite—Granny’s ham biscuits. Her table was always a beautiful display of her talent in the kitchen. Her home itself was also a warm and welcoming place to be, everything in its place, but without a rigidness that makes little ones on edge. We played and enjoyed ourselves thoroughly both indoors and out, exploring and enjoying the company of grandparents.

One of my favorite rooms at Granny’s house was the family room, which held a wide display of photos on the wall. I loved looking at the pictures from various occasions and seeing the proud display of my grandparent’s life and family. 

Not only was Granny an excellent cook, her skill on the Scrabble board was hard to beat.  The crossword puzzles and word finds from the newspaper were also a favorite for Granny, and most evenings included Jeopardy and Wheel-of-Fortune. Even as we got older, when it came to word games, Granny was always a challenge to beat.

            Each Saturday, Granny had her hair done so she could look her best for the Sunday morning worship service. Attending the service on Sunday and being a part of the body of believers was not just done out of routine. My grandparents looked forward to their time of worshipping their Lord, fellowshipping with other believers, and serving the church body in whatever way they could.  I remember watching Granny as she carefully prepared herself for church, stressing the importance of looking your best to worship the Lord. That not only included ironed clothes but a proper attitude as well.

Walking into church, I remember Granny and Granddad proudly introducing us to all their friends. As they enjoyed conversations around the room, I felt honored and privileged to be their granddaughter. It was obvious to me that they were well respected and loved by all who knew them. Even after moving into the Chesapeake, and Granddad going to be with the Lord, Granny still made every effort to attend the services that were available to her. Just a few weeks ago, upon hearing the beginning of several Bible verses, she was able to quote the rest from memory. Her love for her Lord and Savior was completely evident in the way she and Granddad conducted themselves, not only at church but also on a day-to-day basis.

As I think about Granny’s marriage to my Granddad, I see a commitment that has not only endured through the years but also thrived in a loving and God-honoring relationship. Granny had an unmistakable love for Granddad that was displayed in their marriage. I remember clearly watching Granny as she cared for him, fixing his shirt and making sure he looked good.  They were a team, and they modeled beautifully their commitment to one another.

Even though we were far apart, Granny and Granddad always made an effort to be a part of our lives. Granny often sent packages, making sure that there was something for everyone each time. She and Granddad encouraged us in our musical studies as well as academics. And they were extremely supportive when I chose to study international missions in college. Most of all, they encouraged us in our walk with the Lord, letting us know that they prayed faithfully for us each day. I have now come to realize how rare and incredible my grandparents were!

Today though I am sad to say goodbye to my Granny, I know that she is rejoicing in heaven, standing in the presence of her savior.  We will miss her greatly, but her memory and legacy will not be forgotten! I love you, Granny!

Mommy of 4

Well, over the past month, life has changed drastically for our little (or not so little) family once again. As the end of my pregnancy drew near, we prepared ourselves for a month or more in the city of Asuncion where we would await the arrival of our new little addition. I kept busy doubling and freezing every meal I served, and Kevin worked hard to make sure the house and garden were in order and ready for our departure.
Upon arriving in Asuncion, we settled into a new routine, spending lots of time with those coming and going from the guesthouse. Top priority during the first week was preparing for my big girl's 4-year-old birthday party, as birthdays are about her favorite thing in the world and she couldn't wait for her big day. Alicia requested a princess horse cake (I'm not even sure what that is, but I made an attempt) with bright pink everything for decorations. It was such a special time to celebrate her life, and she was thrilled with every bit of it! Over the following days, my mind continued to dwell on each of our precious children and how much I cherish being a mommy.
With each day that passed I was growing more awkward and entirely uncomfortable, but I sought to turn my attention toward the sweet family time we could have while waiting. Kevin served me in countless ways as we waited. If he wasn't out doing errands for our paper work or taking me to the doctor, he was doing dishes, cooking, playing with the kids and a variety of other tasks. He also made it part of our daily evening routine to head to a beautiful nearby park to give the kiddos time to run and play and to allow me time to walk.
My due date came and went with no changes. I remembered being extremely frustrated when Alicia was overdue, so I tried to be a little more prepared mentally this time. However, it was still difficult to wait. Another week passed and we set up an induction date with our doctor. According to procedure here I went in for another ultrasound to make sure the baby was healthy. In the ultrasound, the chord was wrapped twice around our baby boy's neck. Here in Paraguay it is much more rare for a woman to give birth naturally. Most commonly, babies are born by C-section. Because of the chord being wrapped twice, they told me I needed to consider the risks and a possible C-section. This made me extremely uneasy, and I became anxious about the whole process. I desperately wanted to have my baby naturally, but there was nothing I could do to make that happen.  In those moments, I knew that I was totally helpless, and I cried out to the Lord for his wisdom and grace for each moment. I was so thankful to talk to my dad and get his reassuring opinion that babies can be born with the chord around their neck, and there was a good chance it would unwind before the birth anyway.
The day before I was to be induced I was feeling extremely unsettled about pushing this baby to come sooner than he was ready. So after discussing it with Kevin and my doctor, we decided that I would wait a few more days. That night I walked around our guesthouse property determined to do everything I could and praying desperately for God to bring the baby! His kicking and constant movement became extremely uncomfortable, and I doubted my decision to wait on the induction. I was hurting and emotionally spent. But I knew that it was in the Lord's hands. I had done all that I could, and now I could only let go and rely on the Lord to bring our son in his perfect time.
I went to sleep exhausted from the day, but just three hours later I was awakened when my water broke. PRAISE THE LORD! He heard my cry and answered, yes, this baby will come today! We quickly headed to the hospital, along with our teammate Jean.
After about five hours, I began to feel the urge to push and they quickly moved me into the delivery room. Kevin and Jean had to leave me in order to put on scrubs, but they were soon by my side again.  Once in the delivery room, they instructed me to get up onto the delivery bed, which looked like it was from the 1950's at best. It was about 10 inches higher than the bed I was on, and in the midst of contractions, all I could think was "You have got to be kidding me. How was I supposed to move in my hospital gown up there in the middle of hard labor?" When I realized they were serious, I awkwardly rolled to one side and crawled my way up onto the other bed. There I lay flat on my back as they strapped my legs into metal stirrups and put covers over them to "keep things sterile."
I then realized that this was the position I would be in until our son was born, and I didn't want to be there long. So I used every ounce of strength in my body and within a half an hour Liam James Howell was born. He was 7 lbs. 11 ounces, born at 7:30 am on Tuesday, October 7.
With the birth of each of our children, I have become more aware of the miraculous blessing it is to welcome a new life into this world. I cannot express the joy I felt at knowing that Liam was here! In the past two weeks of Liam's life, I have continued to look at each of my children with a new measure of love, feeling total contentment at the evidence of God's grace in my life. David expresses so richly throughout the psalms the joy that I have experienced when I depend on the Lord completely.
At the birth of each of my children, my thoughts often dwell on the richness of life and God's total control in the entire process. It is a time of uncertainty and waiting, and frustration can so quickly consume me, but when I trust in the Lord, he proves faithful time after time. Today, my heart sings "oh come let us worship and bow down; let us kneel before the LORD, our maker! For he is our God, and we are the people of his pasture and the sheep of his hand."
As I think over the past nine months, remembering the pain and struggle of being pregnant, I am reminded that this is the process God used to knit Liam together in my womb. What an awesome privilege to know that after delicately designing Liam within me, He is now placing His tender creation in my hands to be cared for!

Just for Fun- Prenatal Care in Rural Paraguay

1. Ultrasounds: I hopped in the back of a van where our teammate Jeff has his mobile clinic, he squirted on the gel, and our baby boy was on the screen.
2. Urine/blood tests: As if it isn't hard enough to pee in a cup when you are pregnant, how does this sound? I walked into a small corner pharmacy off a dusty dirt road where they handed me a cup and pointed to the bathroom. There were no lights, there was a toothbrush in the sink, and it was anything but clean. I then walked back into the front room where I sat down on a not-so-cushy armchair and he drew blood. After asking about another test that I needed, he instructed me to go to the next town down the road where I could get the Strep B test done. Then he handed me both my urine and blood samples saying, "I was going to send these there tomorrow, but since you are going anyway you can just take them with you. Once back in the truck, Micah pointed at the items in my hands and said, "is that your pee in that cup, Mom?"
There were other experiences as well that I can laugh about now, but overall it was a very interesting experience!