Sep 4, 2010 | An Expat, Stories, The Good Word
About five years ago I found myself on a Scottish summer’s day, inside a grocery store, and in tears over dryer sheets.
You heard me right. Dryer sheets.
I think I need to back up a bit. I had just moved to Edinburgh a few weeks before and getting started in a new country brought a plethora of challenges to my dinner plate, including: Getting denied bank accounts and walking home in the rain. Getting denied a mobile phone contract and walking home in the rain. Getting on the wrong bus, then seeing the bus change numbers in preparation to change routes, and worrying I might not find my way home…ever. Fortunately after a while I learned to carry an umbrella, and to stand on the correct side of the street so that the bus would be going in the direction I wanted to go. It sometimes felt like Señor challenge found me around every corner with a big ¡Hola! ¡I yam heer to trouble you!
Anywho, this was the first time I was doing laundry in Scotland. My clothes were at the laundromat down the street, happily swirling in an industrial-sized washing machine, and I’d scurried down the way to the grocery store because I’d forgotten dryer sheets.
There I stood, struggling to calculate and recalculate the exchange rate in my mind before finally deciding that dryer sheets were prohibitively expensive, and I was no longer going to be able to afford them. In a culmination of weeks of rainy moments and culture shock, expensive dryer sheets set me over the edge.
Could I make it? Could I actually live here?
I returned to the laundromat empty-handed and discouraged, wondering what clothes dryed without dryer sheets would feel like, how I was going to survive the static electricity onset, and whether I was going to survive the transition to a new country.
Days and weeks and months went by, and I eventually began to adapt. By the time I left four years later, I was hanging my clothes on a drying rack like most of the UK, and my duds hadn’t seen the inside of a tumble dryer since I don’t know when. Except when I was home in North Carolina for visits. If there is a body of evidence that a person can be bi-cultural, this might prove a significant contribution.
Just the other day Hero Hubs mentioned that some friends visiting from the US had brought some friends of ours here in South Africa Bounce dryer sheets. We had a dryer in the first place we rented here in SA, and after last month’s move we just bought our own from some friends who moved back to the UK. (Because we’re not allowed to hang our laundry outside in this complex, and we’ve got a new wee one on the way…meaning lots of laundry is on the way!)
The mention of dryer sheets brought back the clean smells of fresh-cotton-flowery meadows and warm images of cuddly-soft, friendly teddy bears from commercials back in the States. I smiled and realised I had hardly thought twice about dryer sheets even though I’d been back to using a dryer for the last year.
It also brought back the reminder that life is always changing. Things are never going to be the same. There are important things in life that we need to try to hold on to, but there are a lot more things we might do well to hold a little more loosely. We can focus on what we don’t have, or can’t afford, or we can be thankful for what we do have…like an industrial-sized washer-full of clothing just down the street.
As the dryer buzzes, in the end I think the lesson is that learning to relax and let go of things you’d rather “cling†to brings healthy growth and healthy change into your life. As you begin to embrace the changes life brings, you may find that a gentler, fresher, bouncier you is just around the corner.
The lines have fallen to me in pleasant places;
Yes, I have a good inheritance.
{Psalm 16:6}
xCC
Aug 23, 2010 | Stories, The Good Word
This is an excerpt of an email reply I felt prompted to write a few weeks ago. I thought I might just drop it into a post, because for some reason I thought it might also be a word for a few of you, friends. It is amazing how a word that is in season for one of us is also in season, and encouraging, for others among us at the same time. If it’s a word for you, I hope you’re encouraged and you’ll take it to heart!
The excerpt:
Before I answer your questions, if I may, I just want to encourage you to press into the Lord to ask Him to continue to confirm His will to you. It’s easy to read into our circumstances (and what other people think), and that might try to dictate to us whether or not we’re walking in His will. But sometimes we are like Peter, getting out of the boat, walking on the water over to Jesus. He was in Jesus’ will, because Jesus said “Come” but he saw the wind and was afraid. The wind is likely to blow in an attempt to hinder you from walking in the plans God has for you. But don’t let the wind convince you that you’re not walking toward Jesus. Let Him confirm it to you. I say this now because when you arrive and things get tough, the enemy will creep in and whisper “Did God really say…?” and you’ll struggle to stand on faith through those tough moments if there is uncertainty in your heart. Transcontinental moves {insert your calling here} are not for the faint of heart — especially moves called by the will of God.
It sounds like the Lord might have a boat for you to get out of. My simple prayer when I was uncertain about my move to Scotland was just like Peter’s: “Lord, if it’s You, bid me come.” He did, unmistakably, and it was good to be able to point to that at moment when the enemy crept in to say “Did God really say…?”
{end excerpt}
Is there a boat the Lord wants you to get out of today? I hope you’ll run after the Lord, listen for His will and with simple and childlike faith respond like Peter: “Lord if it’s You, bid me come.†In His good timing, I trust you’ll hear His “Come,†His “This is the way, walk in it†— His voice with unmistakable power and peace, bidding you to follow, to walk in His glory.
Was that a word for you? If so, I’d love to know!
xCC
Aug 20, 2010 | Guest Posts, Stories
Hey guys and gals! I’m so enjoying having my Mom around. (As you can see — picture below — someone else is, too!) And I really enjoyed hearing thoughts from so many of you about ultrasounds, pregnancy and the like in response to Wednesday’s post. {Thanks for being gracious enough to read and comment even though that post was poorly written and not well explained.} I hope (and plan) for the discussion to continue … we have like 27 weeks to go!
I realised afterwards that I didn’t exactly clarify one or two points that I thought I’d mention here before moving on (in case you’re not the kind of person who checks back to read through the comments and replies!) I am likely to have a few ultrasounds over the course of this pregnancy. I want to keep them to a minimum because I don’t think they’re as necessary as we think they are, especially since becoming aware of a disability is not going to alter the course of this pregnancy for us. We are exercising thought and caution as we navigate procedures in a new country (pregnancy is WAY different changing from Scotland to South Africa!) and considering all the decisions about each appointment, test, and scan, our thinking is far from over. (Although I won’t have amniocentesis or CVS and that’s for sure.)
What I was specifically trying to explain was that I’m not going to share ultrasound pictures on the internet, and why I feel that way. We aren’t sure yet about finding out if it is a boy or girl this time around, either. The Bear was a surprise, although we felt like we knew he was a boy. This time I am much more excited about knowing…but not decided for sure! Hope that helps clear things up…and let the discussion continue!
Anywho, I am a guest post-er over at Pure Life today! And that’s why I’m asking if you believe in the Burger King God. You just might, so click over to the Pure Life Conference blog to read more! (I’m not sure what the link is yet, and they’ve changed the layout, but it should be under Grow Spiritually!)
Love you guys. We’re travelling to Knysna today — hope we can catch up soon!
xCC
Aug 12, 2010 | Stories, The Parenthood
A few nights ago the Bear and I had a special bonding moment that I might possibly remember and briefly retell when he graduates from university or something. Would you like to hear the tale?
Are you sure?
K.
It all started with me busy in the kitchen. A lot of good things start that way. Some not so good.
The Bear was toodling around in the Living Room, why she has capital letters, I’m not sure, but let it be. Ahem. He was in the Living Room, occasionally getting scolded for touching Dada’s MacBook, but mostly thumbing through a Wonder Pets colouring book, assembling puzzles, chilling out max and relaxing all cool. As they say.
I back up to mention two important facts: 1. He pooped already that morning. 2. The very sophisticated toots coming from the Bear’s rear end as I fed him at dinner didn’t really concern me because, see fact #1. Okay so there are three important facts: 3. These days morning poop is the whole kit and caboodle and a second poop is highly unusual.
Now you know everything you need to know, so let’s proceed.
Being a pregger of sensitive nasal-capabilities, I caught of whiff of an effluvium rather different from the chilli I was attending on the stove. It was pretty unlike the rice in the rice cooker, too. So I gathered the Bear’s pajamas, a clean diaper and a changing mat, and decided it was time for a change, and just past bedtime anyway.
Oh wait! Fact #4. Hero Hubs is away on an airport pickup. Stinker.
The Bear and I are now settled in ready positions on the carpet in our living room, I begin to take off a shoe to start the changing process. But soft, what sight from yonder shoe breaks? It is poop. On. The. Shoe. There’s poop on the shoe. Which means it left the nappy, travelled down the leg, and came to rest on the shoe.
I prepare for the worst by grabbing a page the Bear had tugged from an activity book. Sorry Bear, but this page has now become the landing spot for all things poopy.
As you might guess, with belt undone and trousers down, the discovery is, as I thought, poop past the knee of one leg, caked and dried on. I should mention here the Bear is a quiet pooper. He never makes the faces he used to make when he’s doing his business. He doesn’t often tell me he’s pooped either, even though he can. I find out by catching a whiff or making the discovery.
Three baby wipes into the attempted clean-up, it’s clear this job will take sixty-five baby wipes and since there are only 88 in a full pack my chances aren’t good. Time for plan B: getting hosed down in the bathtub.
Another edition of important facts which are important at this juncture:
1. The Bear used to love baths, but the new bathtub at this place is deeper and it freaks him out.
2. The Bear used to love the hand-held shower nozzle that creates maximum bubbleage from baby shampoo, but this new one also freaks him out and he hates it.
3. The Bear used to love laying back in the bathtub so that we could get his goldilocks rinsed without pouring water over his head, but for some reason, this new deep bathtub makes him like it NONE.
Back to the story, we’re heading up the stairs, me toting the naked from the waist down Bear who is totally upset at why he’s being carried at arm’s length while I’m praying the smells don’t combine with pregger nausea to make me throw up. (Important note for my one emetophobic reader: no v***ting will happen in this story. You can keep reading.)
We stop beside the bathtub, me starting the water, the Bear holding onto the edge, still slightly upset but okay with the fact that he’s going to have a bath. I’m waiting for the water to warm up when he starts peeing. And he’s peeing on the towel we’ve been using as a bath mat.
I whisk him into the tub in hopes that the pee will head down the drain faster than you can say ew, gross, and he is EXTREMELY upset that he’s been whisked into a tub with water still running at the other end.
I begin trying to balance keeping the poop-covered, peeing Bear in the tub while making sure the water does not get to scalding levels because it does that pretty quick in this place. He is rapidly trying to climb out, getting poop up and down the inside of the tub. I’m encouraging him that it’s okay, keeping him in the tub, and trying to avoid scalding. I’m concerned my neighbours are going to call child protective services because the Bear is screaming at the top of his lungs and crying as if someone is poking him with a cow brand or something.
The timer goes off for the chilli on the stove and I want to scream.
I don’t want to start filling the bath until I’ve rinsed the poop off, so I take the shower nozzle thingy off it’s handle and switch gears. The Bear’s emotions range from utter shock, to terror, to whytheheckareyoudoingthistomeI’minabsolutedisbelief. I give up on trying to convince him it’s okay and begin hosing his little poopy legs down with gentle determination. He is past disbelief and probably trying to find a happy place inside his little almost-two-year-old mind.
Finally his legs are poop free, I’ve switched back to normal faucet mode, the water is at a reasonable temperature and the Bear has calmed down enough to sit down and decide that it’s okay to be in the bath while the water’s going. He still seems upset with me for all this trouble but has calmed enough to let me begin to scrubbing the legs that had been covered with poop. I decide to make this the gentlest bath ever and not even rinse the shampoo from his hair with a cup. I’ll just use a wet wash cloth and I’ll be the nicest Mom ever.
As I get started with the shampoo I realise the ant hill dirt the Bear discovered when we were at the mission team’s cottages earlier not only found its way to new locations on the ground back at the cottages. It is also a new feature in Goldilocks the wee Bear’s hair. And that dirt isn’t coming out with a the gentle touch of a wet wash cloth. This boy has to be dunked.
I finally get up the heart to lay him back in the very shallow water and try to convince him it’s the same as it was in our old place and it’s just fine, but he remains none too convinced. He cries. I rinse. He wails. I repeat.
When he’s back to sitting on his bottom I wonder why child protective services haven’t arrived yet and then remember there might not be such a thing in South Africa. Shew.
At long last, we find ourselves atop Mom and Dad’s bed getting on a clean nappy and pajamas. The Bear giggling and pulling at his toes as if nothing ever happened, me wondering whether the wet spots on my jeans are water or pee. And after all the magic of the bonding adventure the Bear and I had just shared, my thoughts are troubled by one simple remembrance:
Oh no! I forgot to brush the Bear’s teeth.
As the absurdity sinks in, I think: this is motherhood at its finest.
xCC
Care to link up with a classic motherhood tale? Mrs. Goettsch? Mrs. Avery? Mrs. Dameron?
Aug 7, 2010 | Stories, The Parenthood
A few Saturdays ago, we were on the way from a Shoes of Hope distribution to a braai with some friends. As we passed a big Tile Market on our way to the distribution, we noticed that they had a big bouncy castle outside. When we had a little extra time between our first appointment and our second one and the tile store was on the way, we decided to stop for a while.
The bouncy castle was free of charge and empty of customers, so Hero Hubs decided to join the Bear and help him enjoy the moment.
You would’ve thought we’d paid a hundred dollars to bring the Bear to an awesome theme park.
He went from smiles and giggles to those incredibly delightful gigglesquealscreamlaughs indicative of a kid who’s so happy in the moment it seems like he’s never been happier.
As I grabbed the camera to document the precious moment unfolding I felt like my heart was learning some good lessons at the same time.
Lessons about how it’s good to let go and trust.
And how it’s good to let your hair float in the breeze.
And about how it’s good to just be in the moment, and smile and laugh with all you’ve got.
And even about letting all the things that are weighing you down just fall away…trusting that things are going to be okay, and choosing joy instead of letting worry make you too heavy to enjoy life.
A lot of the time, I’m the Bear’s teacher. But sometimes, he has some really important lessons to teach me. It seems like sometimes we grownups need to be shown how to stop surviving day after day…
to let go and start living again.
xCC
Aug 5, 2010 | Stories
A few of you might remember this post I wrote several months ago. In it, I shared that we weren’t really sure how we were going to pay our taxes, or how we were going to pay for flights home for Christmas. I didn’t really know why I was supposed to write that post and share with all of you what was going on, I just knew I was supposed to write it. Seriously, look back at it and you’ll be able to read the tone: I don’t wanna write all this but I’m gonna.
What I haven’t told you (until now) was what happened after I wrote it. I was blessed with one special gift from a friend from back home, and all else was quiet for a while. But then. I was contacted by a wonderful and gracious lady in the US. She loves the Lord, is originally from South Africa, and is married to an American. She was looking for blogs about Mexico (I spent a few months there several years ago, which I suppose I’ve mentioned somewhere around here) and she arrived at my site. It wasn’t what she was looking for, and she planned to move on but felt led to keep reading. She read the aforementioned post and then emailed me with some great news:
Her husband is a CPA and between the two of them it doesn’t add up that my taxes should be so high, considering my line of employment and likely income. They offered to take a look at things for me, free of charge.
Feeling like I had nothing to lose and not being particularly concerned about being swindled when I have little money to speak of and I’d just written a post saying as much, we began emailing back and forth, speaking on Skype, faxing documents and … would you like to hazard a guess at what ensued?
A rather important lil’ discovery. The discovery that my taxes had been filed incorrectly for the past two years. For a number of reasons a little too complex to get into, even though I’d been paying to have my slightly unusual tax situation studied and filed by a professional, things were incorrect. This led to another rather important discovery.
If I refiled my taxes, Uncle Sam would owe me some money. And a pretty decent amount, in fact. We re-filed my taxes for 2007 and 2008, and correctly filed for 2009 and then I waited and hoped that this would be the answer to the prayer: Lord please provide for our flights to go home to North Carolina this Christmas.
I decided to wait until something happened to share the news with you guys. And guess what?
My Mom called this morning with the news that a check for almost $3,000 arrived in the mailbox yesterday. Signed: the US Treasury. I couldn’t have been more delighted if they’d suddenly announced a seventh season of LOST.
After covering the ridiculously tiny amount that this amazingly generous CPA and his wife requested for their services, we have enough for two flights home for Christmas. And if we can find reasonable prices and an airline that will help us out with a child fare for the Bear (he’s turning two soon so he’s not allowed to sit on our laps anymore) we might just be close to covered to head home for Christmas.
So that one post, where I listened to the Holy Spirit and shared our story, led to us finding out we owed NOTHING for our 2009 taxes, that the government owed us for 2007 and 2008, and eventually, it even provided for us to fly home for Christmas. Three big birds, one wee stone. A desire that’s been in my heart for about two years now: Granted!
I feel sure there are at least a few readers around here who might think I’m making some of this Jesus stuff up. Are you getting tired of pointing at coincidence? (She’s the one standing in the corner saying “Uh…wasn’t me.”) I’d like to encourage you to keep hanging around, keep reading, keep searching, and believe me when I say I’m not making this stuff up!
God is true. Jesus is real. The Holy Spirit is alive and at work. Listening to His leading can have a powerful impact in your life. And prayer really does change things.
And in other news I’m delighted to share:
While I’m really going to miss bacon-covered cherries, Mom Collie’s amazing cooking, Dad Collie’s great sense of humour, Auntie Lyn’s stories and smiles, and the feel of Bloemfontein grass on a summery December 25th…
I’ll be home for Christmas.
xCC
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