Africa

Worst Date Ever: Absolved

/ amylynw / 1 Comment

It’s hard to believe a whole week has passed since my friend, Ruthie, left.  Ruthie is my friend who, when I was roughly nine years old, used to be my enemy.  Finally, our differences became something beautiful and we couldn’t live without each other.  We’ve seen each other fall in love, experienced birth, death, joy and pain together.  We have friend-shipped from afar, which has always felt a bit like sandpaper on my heart.  So I thank God for those couple of years we had together where the only thing that separated us was a dusty African road we could walk by foot.  About an hour after she, her husband, and four sweet kids drove away I realized our startling and horrifying overlook.  We never took a picture together.  This is a very long-standing tradition.  Before digital.  Before Wal-Mart one-hour-photo.  This has been something we’ve done for the past twenty-three years (gulp).  Giant hair bows, awful haircuts, crazy clothes, you name it.  We have many photos together.  But not this time.  Regardless, we had a wonderful few days with their family, and nothing quite beats sharing our home and our life with people we love.  It pretty much top dogs everything in life.

After they left, we went into town and the boys participated in a last-minute bike race in our neighborhood.  Elijah came in 3rd place!

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After the bang of fireworks that night, came the explosion of sickness to our house.  It hasn’t quite left us yet, but it’s dying.

A few weeks ago Matthew and I were in great need of a date.  Before we were married we were told: marriage takes work.  Eleven years ago I knew it as an idea, but now I know it by experience.  The night of our date we dropped the kids off at a babysitter’s, and headed out into the unknown.  Little did we know… that was the problem.  We’re usually pretty good about not having a plan.  This particular night the hunger pangs and tiredness from a long week were starting to cloud our decision-making process.  After a much-too-deliberated-upon discussion on where or what we should eat, things started going south.  Details don’t matter at this point.  After shooting down one of his ideas, he was in turn shot down, and we literally spent the rest of the evening not talking to each other.  We drove East, hoping to find a good chicken BBQ, or maybe someone outside grilling from whom we could mooch a piece of meat.  At that point, I didn’t really care.  I would glare in his direction, thinking how insensitive he was being towards me, his wife.  I would sniff.  The tears would trickle down my cheeks.  Silence.  It was going down in history as the worst date of our married life.  We finally ended up at a restaurant not even remotely my favorite, but I requested a salad from it anyway.  We went home to eat it because I didn’t want to be seen in public wiping my snotty nose and glaring at my date.  I banged around the kitchen and pulled a red plate out of the cupboard so at least I didn’t have to eat out of styrofoam.  He grabbed a bag of carrot sticks from the fridge.  Carrot sticks.  That was about the last straw.  If he sat next to me crunching those things while I indulged in a salad with pecan-crusted chicken, the tears would take their seventeenth journey down my face.  Still without talking, I pulled out a second plate, split the salad between us, and we sat down to eat in silence.  Fifteen minutes later it was time to pick up the kids.  Of course, in the last few minutes we started to hash things out.  We never did resolve whatever our problem was until the next day.  Marriage takes work, they said.  It also requires humility, selflessness, and making up, no matter how difficult it can be.

Fast forward to yesterday.  Matthew had some work in Long Beach Island, NJ.  His family was able to watch the kids so I could tag along with him.  We enjoyed an amazing day together.  I read my book while he worked, then after he finished his job he took me on a little surprise excursion.  We went jet-skiing!  I have since learned that a Jet Ski is actually made by Kawasaki and a Waverunner is made by Yamaha.  I can’t quite remember which watercraft we actually used, but I think it was a jet ski.  As we took off, I left my fear on the dock, embraced my twenty-year-old self, and held onto Matthew’s waist tightly.  When we switched positions so I could drive, I revved that thing full throttle.  I screamed and laughed and tossed all my worries into the swirling wake behind us as salt water sprayed my face and the wind whipped my hair into a million tangles.  It was the most fun I’ve had in a long time!

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Keeping our marriage fresh takes work, they said.  Sometimes the work is hard.  Sometimes it just takes a little creativity or letting go of fear.  Don’t get tired of doing what’s right, the Bible says.  I think this can apply to our marriage.  The next right thing may be saying you’re sorry.  It may just mean going out for coffee together.  Or it might mean finding the best chicken BBQ in your county.  Whatever it is, don’t give up.

Hope Postponed

/ amylynw / 1 Comment

When I was younger than my oldest daughter, I met two very special girls who walked alongside of me through life.  They walked the same African dirt roads with me.  They knew all of my awkward crushes and we all guessed at who we’d marry one day.  We fought, we made up, and we eventually grew up.  Our places on the map are scattered, and our visits are rare.  So, when the opportunity came to possibly see one another last weekend, my heart “soared on the wings of anticipation” (my favorite quote from Anne of Green Gables).  I prayed day in and day out that a way would be made possible to get my longing heart to Oregon.  I was reminded over and over of this verse:  Hope deferred makes the heart sick, but a longing fulfilled is a tree of life.– Proverbs 13:12

I had many gut-wrenching moments over the past weeks, but was determined to trust the Lord with whatever answer He gave me.  He gently told me, Not this time, Amy.  It wasn’t easy to accept that answer, but I know His ways are best, and experienced His grace to comfort my aching heart.  I love the promise in that verse: after experiencing the waiting, there is a light at the end of the tunnel, and the fulfillment is greater than the original longing.

It’s kind of like gardening in the dead of winter.  We planted many seeds, and looked for weeks and weeks at barren ground.  I hoped and prayed for beauty to rise from the ugly dirt.  It would have been great to experience instant beauty.  But God doesn’t do the next-day-garden.  He teaches us how to be patient, and sometimes we even feel a little sick when we wait.  Then, life starts to emerge from what seemed impossible.  Those first blooms are the fulfillment of all those longings.  We forget the emptiness when we are so full.  Yet we appreciate it so much more because of the hunger.

Hope postponed grieves the heart;
    but when a dream comes true, life is full and sweet.

June 2013

Sometimes it helps me to write out a verse in my own words.  This comforted me:  When a desire which you expect to be fulfilled, is delayed until the right time, your heart feels sick.  But when a strong desire for something that is unattainable becomes a reality, it is like eating from the tree which gives life.

Maybe you’re waiting for something which seems unattainable.  His answer might be yes, it might be no, or it might be it a little longer.  When it’s perfect, He will make it a reality.  Don’t spurn or wish away the aches that come along with the waiting, though.

For me, it wasn’t the right time, and it may never be this side of Heaven.  But I know for sure that one day we will experience an unbelievable reunion.  We won’t need plane tickets, and we won’t ever need to say goodbye.

My Perfect Normal

/ amylynw / 2 Comments

 

Tonight as I sit and sip my Bavarian Wild Berry hot tea, I am plunging into the memories of the past week.  A wonderful weekend with my sisters and sister-friends.  These girls knew me way back when… I never wore shoes, lived in mango trees, and seldom took a shower.

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Can you tell which ones are blood-sisters, and which are sister-friends?

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As I was thrown back into “normal”, I’m starting to swim again.  Before, I was gulping for air, unsure of where to put my feet, and had forgotten how to tread water.  Pennsylvania is vastly different from Haiti.  There are some things I don’t think I’ll ever be able to fully put into words.  My heart has a hallowed pondering ground, where thoughts between me and the Lord reside.  I’ve been asking Him to give me the ability to come back and 100% accept and take on the responsibilities given to me today, here, and now.  It’s not worth my breath to compare myself, my life, or my experiences with any other person.   I am realizing how perfect my crazy, messy, full, busy, joyful, loud, spontaneous, and beautiful life is. It is just as it should be, and is custom-made for me by our Creative God.

This week was full of perfect examples.   An empty box, full of clementine peels, stashed in the living room.   Betty sitting on the kitchen floor, pink jammies covering her sweet piggies, reading out loud with a tiny pile of pretzels beside her.  Being called into the living room, in the flurry hour of supper-making and evening rowdies, to see the amazing sight of all five kids on top of Matthew’s back.  Are we heavy, Daddy?  Schoolwork, flips on the trampoline, haircuts, beautiful shows by the sun while I’m driving, painted nails, a lost tooth, oats in the hair, on the face, on the floor, spills, fights, apologies, notes, special deliveries, and more punctuated my normal week.

March 2013

Today Elsie was crying about a sore tooth.  After calling the dentist, I was able to come in right away.  It turns out my mad scheduling skills forgot about her and Jack’s  check-ups for over a year.  Thankfully, found out there was nothing wrong with her teeth except super sensitivity, was able to schedule Jack for tomorrow, and earned a pair of silly glasses as a reward.  Ironically, yet another child has an already-scheduled appointment the next day.  I think that’s a record for us. Three kids, three days in a row to the dentist.

Since this happens to be my birthday week, so far the icing on the proverbial birthday cake was my Ikea date yesterday with Mom & Heidi.  Mom brought mugs and teabags, I ordered chocolate cake and other yummies, and we sipped hot tea at the cafe, then enjoyed ourselves at Ikea for the afternoon!  Tomorrow I will be three times the age I was when I was one year older than Nadine is now.  Yep.

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Exceptional Reminiscence

/ amylynw / 3 Comments

This weekend goes down in history as one of my favorites in a long time.  I knew it would be fun, but an hour after arriving in Syracuse, my sides were already aching from laughter.  It was great to be with my blood sisters and African sisters.

My sister, Sherry, graciously hosted all of us in her home.  She is an artist, with touches of beauty all throughout her house.  We spent most of our time around her kitchen table, looking at these sweet things her son picked for her.

Mugs of tea and coffee warmed our hands as we told story after story after story.  We finally unglued ourselves from the table to enjoy a gorgeous day at Green Lakes State Park.

We took a leisurely 3-mile walk around the uniquely green-colored lakes, with the backdrop of tree blossoms just about to pop, all around us.  Our photographers included strangers pulled from their own walks.

Also, a handy log and camera self-timer make for a good shot!  I almost got impaled by a branch running over to the group for this one:

There were more funny things that happened or were said than there are legs on a centipede.

More even than the amounts of time a bumble-bee can buzz in its entire life.

Sisters, indeed, are the best.

After our lovely walk, we pampered our toes with some beauty and whimsy.  Bonnie skillfully painted flowers, designs, and filigree on our toenails.  Can you tell which ones are mine?

Saturday night we made an African meal, complimented by more stories.  On Sunday, before we left, we took a series of photos.  I gave my camera to my nephew, Nathanael.  When I told him he could take as many as he wanted, a small chuckle escaped his throat, and we heard a constant stream of “click, click, click,” coming from his direction.  I deleted over 50 shots, kept quite a few, and am sharing my favorite four.

When Ruthie and I first met, we were more like friend-emies… a mixture between best friends and enemies.  For over twenty years now we’ve visited back and forth, been in eachother’s weddings, marveled at eachother’s children, laughed, cried and prayed for one another.  What a blessing friendships grown with time are.  Like the most delightful wine.  Aged to perfection.

I love how this picture captures the fact that, no matter how many years have passed, we’re really still just kids deep inside.

I will relish these memories for the rest of my life.  I treasure these friendships even more.

Broken Tulip and a Road Trip

/ amylynw / 1 Comment

This tulip was accidently smooshed the other day.  I thought it really had died, but with a little love it now sits happily in a vase on my kitchen table.  I’m thankful it got broken, because now I can enjoy its beauty whenever I walk into the kitchen!  It’s brokenness forced me to embrace its loveliness and not miss out on it while it grew in the garden where I looked maybe once a day.  So much like our own lives.  Sometimes we have to be broken in order for the beauty of Christ to shine brighter.   Sometimes we are moved to the kitchen table to bring more blessing and joy to others than if we had remained where we were more comfortable.  Now that it’s in a vase of water, it is actually growing more, because tulips never stop growing, even after they’re picked.  Brokenness leads to growth.

Easter was a special day with family.  Betty was in on the action this year.

Cousins always add an element of delight to any day!

I’m not sure what Betty was doing.  It seemed like she didn’t want to touch the grass with her knees.  Nope, she’s still not walking.  Just doing yoga.

This weekend I’m super duper excited to drive away to Syracuse with my sister and enjoy a weekend away!  We will be relishing time with my other sister and 3 friends we grew up with in Africa… I can already feel my stomach hurting from the laughter, my eyes stinging from the tears, and my heart filling up with once-a-year-maybe-more kind of memories.  What amazing husbands we have to happily let us go and enjoy time with our sisters!  It’s going to be grand.  Happy Friday!  May it be beautiful.

And Then There Were Twenty-Seven

/ amylynw / 4 Comments

There’s a ripple effect going on right now.  It all began seven years before I was born.  In an African hospital my brother was born.  My mom and he both had malaria… but lived.  Next came my sister, right before Christmas.  Then my other sister was born.  Two years later, I arrived and haven’t left since.  I remember being three years old and waiting for the sound of the airplane coming from over the hills of our little station called Nyankunde.  That sound meant my brother and sister would be home from boarding school!  I remember the homecomings and then the days without them again.  I know now just how incredibly difficult those years were for my family.  Missionaries often get a reputation for being above the ability to experience sorrow or regret or even make mistakes.  As a grown-up now, I know that this is not how it was or is.  The reality of life hits me every day, and I think often of how my Mom did all these crazy motherhood things in the middle of Africa, without the ability to update her life for the world to see and to give her applause or comfort as needed.  Yes, those couple years of boarding school were more difficult than I will ever know.  Even though we didn’t always get along, my brother has always been someone super duper amazing to me.  He was knowledgeable in all things from airplanes to card-tricks.  He knew how to solder a pack of duct-taped-together D batteries to a little hand-held Donkey Kong video game, so that it would basically never die again.  He taught me how to master the rubiks cube and ride a motorcycle.  He has experienced many life-threatening episodes throughout his life, and has displayed God’s power in so many ways through his endurance and faith.  It’s hard to live almost 600 miles away from family, and any chance we get at building memories with this part of our family is special.  Last week we had that privilege!  
A day at Valley Forge for a picnic, a walk, and memory-making is always a treat.

  I have more I can write about my sisters, but I will save it for another time.  I love this model-like shot of B&H sporting the shades.


We kept hearing the booming of a cannon, and walked to where they were demonstrating how a cannon was fired during the Revolutionary War.


It was delightful when Matthew met us after work.  There’s nothing sweeter than seeing two girls in Daddy’s arms at once and watching Betty’s little feet swinging happily.


Later, at Grandma’s house there were dress-ups to be had, and super-secret hide-and-go-seek spots to be found.  Can you see Brian on the red Escape?  Look very hard.

I often think of the years our family has had together.  Seventeen cousins (four which were missed this week), four amazing spouses for each of us “original” kids.  The African soil on which our parents raised us has left its marks on each of us in different ways.

  These amazing kids are treasures!  So thankful for the cousin bond that I pray lasts a life-time.  I wonder just how many places they will go, and how much the world will change because they are in it.  Praise God for the courage of my parents to go, to be different, to pray for their kids, to pray for our spouses, to pray for our kids.  The fruit of those prayers is being seen in seventeen little ripples going out into this world, effecting this generation and I pray, eternity.

My Soul is Getting Restless

/ amylynw / 3 Comments

At the beginning of this year I wrote down a list of goals for 2012.  Nineteen days later, I finally started one of them.  My fingertips in my left hand are a bit sore as I type and I’ve been transported to many times and places as I strummed my beautiful guitar once again.  I’ve had lots of excuses why I didn’t pick it up and play.  One by one I’ve shot them down, the last excuse being the fact that it only had five very old strings on it.  I was a bit rusty at changing them, but now they are shiny and smooth once again and it felt heavenly to strum after so long.

My guitar was a gift almost twelve years ago.  For my first guitar, I saved my pennies and bought the cheapest one in the showroom.  It served me well, and I learned so much from many people as I took it with me wherever I went.  Fast-forward a couple years to the night before I was leaving to go to Kenya for five months.  Since I was planning on taking my guitar with me to Kenya and only had a soft-shell case I was really hoping to go out and buy a hard-shell case the next day.  That night my church family gave me a farewell dinner and presented me with a hard-shell guitar case.  I was so amazed, but nothing prepared me for what came next.  When they told me to open the case to see if my guitar fit, there lay a beautiful, new guitar.  It was a weighted moment, sort of like when I looked at my babies for the first time, and I’ll never forget it.  Something so gorgeous and unexpected gifted to me.  I’m still humbled.

I remember playing that night in my bedroom with my sister, Sherry and best friend Rebecca (who is now my sister-in-law).  We laughed and sang and Rebecca stuffed secret crumpled up notes into my duffle bag that I found a few days later when I arrived on the other side of the ocean.  I stuck my first bumper sticker on the case that said, “Life is short.  Pray hard.”  It started many conversations from Pennsylvania to Kenya.  I was able to keep the guitar by my side the entire way there as a carry-on bag.


I love music.  I’m tired of thinking I’ll be good at the guitar one day.  I have a lot of ground to make up from disuse.  Then I have a lot of ground to cover that I’ve never crossed before, and I’m excited about it!  Hopefully in a month the pain on my fingertips will be replaced by numbness.  Ten minutes a day.  Anyone want to come jam with me?

Blue Nailpolish

/ amylynw / 3 Comments

Growing up as a third world culture kid, I still suffer from culture shock at times.  Since it has been 20 years ago this month when my family was uprooted from the Congo, I am surprised when it hits me.  It doesn’t always come in the same form.  The change of American culture often used to hit whenever we would stand in the cereal isle of the grocery store and be unable to wrap our heads around the fact that there were more options than just cheerios and corn flakes.   I’m still shocked when it seems like a new cereal has been added each month.  I revert to my old upbringing and rely on the staples that see us through each week, ignoring the new and exciting boxes of sugar that scream, “Buy me!”

This week I came face to face with my past in a whole new, but extremely amazing way.  My old friend Nadine emailed me that she was on the East Coast and would love to take the train to see us.  The last time I saw her was on my wedding day, and for nine years I’ve been wishing she could meet my daughter whom I named after her.  It was a crazy day and I wasn’t convinced it would actually happen until I saw her on my front porch and screamed with excitement,  just as loud as my kids.  

The next 22 hours were a blur of non-stop talking, playing, and reminiscing.  Seeing Nadine, with her laughing eyes, brown skin, gorgeous smile, and cute accent… was so therapeutic for me.  Our friendship goes back to when we were babies.  I remember very clearly, that whenever Nadine & I would not be getting along, she would go home.  A little while later she would come shyly back to me with a piece of bread or a hard candy as a peace offering.  Even as we got older we used to do that just for fun.  This time she brought enough candy to make up for many years of peace offerings!  In Africa there are these big aloe plants that grew between our houses.  We used to break off the pointy bit of the leaf and carve our names into them.  The scars would remain even as the plant kept growing.  I often like to think that our initials are still there.

Another thing we liked to do was paint our nails blue, just like her mom, Aunt Lyn, after whom I get my middle name.  This week my own Nadine sported blue nails.  I felt ten again.  Yet our conversations involved more than boys, candy, planting mango seeds, and Alf.  It was fuller, deeper, and older.  It meant so much to me.

When the time came to say good-bye, I was strong.  Then as her train pulled away every ounce of strength got on the train with her and I just cried my way home.  Sometimes I get angry because I never said goodbye the “right way” all those years ago.  Sometimes I can’t even put into words why I feel connected the way that I do, to a past so long ago.  I feel like it has been torn away and was never fully repaired.  Some days I even truly wonder if the past was ever really there.  But I catch glimpses of it, and remember.  This weekend I was given more than a glimpse.  I was given a huge handful of memories.  I was blessed with the beautiful smile of an old friend, the affirmation of days gone by, and a bottle of blue nail polish.

Portland, Vancouver

/ amylynw / 2 Comments

After thinking that we were on our way to Seattle, it was funny to discover that we were actually on a plane headed to Portland, Oregon, and then we stayed just outside of Vancouver, Washington.  A few weeks ago, Matthew schemed a delightful idea for the two of us to go away for a long weekend to visit dear friends of ours who are missionaries in Indonesia, back in the States for a couple months to renew their visas.  Then, it turned out that our other dear friends who live in Ohio, were able to join us!  We met up half-way in the Denver airport and flew the rest of the way together.

Since arriving, we were stuffed to the gills with delicious food, laughed our guts out, filled them up again with good food, saw beautiful sights, and enjoyed the delightfulness of friendship.  I brought a file of old letters my friend wrote me between the ages of 12 and 18, and the tears rolled down our cheeks as we laughed at our silliness and immaturity.

Us girls went out for coffee the first day here and enjoyed the cozy fireplace and conversation.

 

The men went hiking to a waterfall on Sunday afternoon.

  

While they were there they got hit by a big hailstorm.  We all laughed that they were able to have a real adventure, instead of a virtual one.  A few times all three men were sitting on the couch with laptop, ipad, and itouch, having a virtual adventure of chess, hunting, or the like.  We were happy they were able to experience a real-life, manly, flesh and blood adventure, complete with coming home soaked and exhilarated. 

  

Sunday, Katelyn threw up all day.  We went through towels and clorox wipes galore.  Before the sun went down, we wanted to go outside to take a picture of just us adults.  It had been raining a bit earlier on, so the deck was a bit slick.  As we walked out, Ruthie slipped on the bottom step and rolled her ankle.  So, we all joined her on the ground for our picture before she limped back inside to ice and elevate her ankle.

With those two adventures come and gone, we adults headed out for a birthday celebration dinner for Ruthie at a microbrewery in Portland.  It was so much fun!

The part that amazes me the most of these friends is how strong our bond is.  We all see eachother every one or two years.  This visit makes it twice now that our husbands have met and they connect and get along so well.  We live thousands of miles apart.  The three of us girls lived together in Africa for a time-span of about  9 months.  We have files of letters that prove how much our friendship meant to us throughout the years.  We watched eachother fall in love with our husbands.  We all approve of eachother’s choice of mate.  We get along as if we see eachother all the time!  We all love good food.  God is the center of our friendship and the reason we are able to be as close as we are, even though physically and in every other way our friendship really should have dissolved years ago.  Thank you, Father!

We missed our kids a lot while we were gone.  It was also very refreshing to have time away to reconnect, focus on eachother, and talk about things that we never have time to talk about!  We loved hanging out with these little kiddos, though!  Katelyn, Jordan, and baby Haddie!

The whole time we were in Washington, it became a joke that Mt. Hood & Mt. St. Helens were figments of their imaginations.  The cloud cover always hid them from view, and we lost all hope of ever seeing them.  On the flight home, however, I was blessed with an ever-so-small view of Mt. Hood at sunrise.  If the airplane wing wasn’t in the way, it would have been superb!
When we arrived in Denver, Matthew felt a bit sick from just flying.  I enjoyed a delicious egg and fire-roasted veggie skillet.  By the time we arrived in Philadelphia, Matthew felt better.
We got our suitcase, hopped on the train and had an interesting ride back to the Weldon’s house on one of the trains.  It totally felt like it would fall apart as we sped along.  By the end of the trip, I was so ready to walk the one  block to the Weldon’s house.  When we walked into the kitchen, the kids all screamed, then the girls cried.  I told Matthew they would.  They remembered we had promised them each a present when we got home, so those were quickly unearthed and unwrapped.
Now we are home.  I slept like a rock.  I am so full of thankful memories.

Roadtrip

/ amylynw / 2 Comments

Last week the kids and I braved the roads for 7.5hrs to drive to Ashland, Ohio to visit one of my best friends, Ruthie!  We had a great time with them, and my other friend Sarah joined us with her kids too!  One of the days there, Ruthie took us to this beautiful estate, where we drank in the perfect weather and gorgeous scenery.  The kids fed the ducks…

Got out all of their energy running through the gardens…


Enjoyed eachother’s company (yes, Jack was happy for most of the day, just not at this particular moment)…
(photo courtesy of my friend, Sarah)

Notice Riley (in the orange hoody)… shortly after I took this, he was standing where Jack is, looking into the water, and well, let’s just say he went for a little swim.  I was standing right next to him and fished him out by his hood.  He didn’t even cry or sputter!  Later that night it was funny.

This is where we ate our picnic lunch.

We toured the rose garden and felt like princesses…

(photo courtesy of my friend, Sarah)
It was a great trip with some great friends!  So thankful for friendships that stand the test of time, marriage, mommy-hood and distance!