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Your Grass Looks Greener: Stay at Home Moms vs Working Moms
Two Moms, Two Letters, Two Countries Dear Missionary Mom, I see you down here, with your hair pulled up and your patience falling down. Doin’ that missionary thing can drain, I know. It all looked so quaint from a distance, didn’t it? Needy people, corner sweet bread shops, hammocks in palms. Did you move for the life the promo video promised? I’m glad I’ve been your neighbor. Living in Baja has felt attractive, mostly. It’s been a place where those old roots I planted could get some fresh air and be replanted. Our kids probably won’t be graduating with yours though. We’re all scattered around and therefore…
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Juggle or Battle? Not Comparing Pain or Circumstances
Renewed inspiration! Fresh starts! Excellent intentions! Or not. For numerous people the idea of making big changes in January usually conveys feelings of, “Why bother?” or “It didn’t work last year,” or my personal favorite, “Tomorrow. Yeah, definitely tomorrow.” When we started our student-based ministry eleven years ago I wondered if my structured life might ever return. This mainly irritated me because I’m a bit of a perfectionist by nature – organized, systematic, color-coded, logical, and… tired. Even with our students gone now I still err on the side of weary and bitter, but not purposely. Between juggling marriage, motherhood, housework, exercise, neighbors, newsletters, blog posts and a 25-page…
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Last Christmas in Baja? Wrestling with the Unknown and Another Big Move
The C9 bulbs sit snug and proud, wrapped around the palm. It’s fat, freshly trimmed, and still full of green. Through the fall and into winter, palms don’t change. “It looks like a pineapple,” my husband says. “A glowing one.” He’s right; our own tropical Christmas. But whose kids are those? The holiday is celebrated here, yes, but you have to drive to the cities to see red and green explosions alongside gifts in excess. A peek into our low-income town will show you single strands of dim lights, old-school decor and a few lawn ornaments you might consider tacky. Big deal. We who possess bright white…
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10 Cool Costco Insider Secrets to Save You and Your Family Money This Week (And They Work in Baja, Too!)
If you’re a lover of the food court, impressed by ridiculously clean, smooth floors, and slightly addicted to samples, welcome to the Costco club. It’s pretty much the only place where your shopping cart can contain a $45,000 diamond ring resting on top of 1,875 Q-Tips and a five-gallon jug of nasty cooking oil. Just Baja? It’s also the only place I’d like to be stuck/trapped/held captive in the event of a Christmas lockdown. Think about it… grab a mattress, some sheets, a down comforter, drag it all to the middle aisle, bust open a pillow two-pack, choose some cozy jammies, slippers and a good book, plug in a heater…
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Christmas Card Burnout: Why I Chose to Stop Sending the Iconic Greeting
They were part of the tradition, part of the joy and part of the expectation. I can still see piles of cards in front of my mother. Her beautiful handwriting graced fronts of envelopes as she diligently wrote out addresses and duplicated ours in every lefthand corner. She composed classic Christmas letters with my father, describing the most interesting bits of our year and excluding all the sibling rivalry—mostly caused by me. Personal greetings inside sturdy cards of snow-scenes no doubt left each recipient feeling remembered and loved. Add an Olan Mills, lick a tasty stamp and bam—Christmas spirit. For all I know she lovingly placed them…
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8 Things I’m Teaching My American Pre-Adults in Mexico
Don’t Wear Red to a Chinese Funeral In some cultures it’s downright rude to wear certain clothes to certain events. Even if they never end up at a Chinese funeral (where they should only wear white or black), there are some things my American kids need to learn about clothing. Please don’t wear a fancy white dress to a wedding. (Unless you’re the bride.) … or a baseball hat to church. … or Crocs to a party. Or ever. (Unless you’re a nurse or you’re creek walking.) … or a tube top to a business luncheon. … or a mini skirt after a certain age. (ahem—39?) If you feel you must break this…
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Double Border, Side of Stress, Hold the Sunset
Crossing the Mexican border solo is not my favorite. But living in Baja for ten years makes me prepared, mostly confident and ready. Until that one time. After a lousy weekend back home for a funeral, I board some 737, block my row with stuff and close my eyes. Guilt tells me to open them and welcome any passerby, but the plane is virtually empty and I am spent. After touching down in San Diego, all that stands between me and getting home before dark is shifting my weight for 30 minutes at carousel #1, finding my shuttle, retrieving my vehicle, grabbing a fully-leaded liquid treat and heading for stores.…
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Cross-Cultural Patience: People Wait for God in Hamburg, Germany Too
I made a new friend! She’s on the other side of the Atlantic, but technology doesn’t discriminate when an American writer in Germany and an American writer in Mexico bond over the not-so-popular W-word. We both love Jesus and we both wrestle with waiting. Works for me! Please give a big “Welcome/Bienvenida/Willkommen” to Caitlin Lieder. Moving to Germany meant stepping out in faith in a big way. It was a new level of trusting Jesus; we moved internationally a few times but never with four kids under five years old, and we did not make the decision lightly. We talked and prayed with our small group, pastor, and trusted family members for over a year…
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In the Eye of the Swarm: Learning Patience While Waiting for Everything to Change
They come in near silence, minding their business and ready to work. They never need blueprints, complain of the load or ask for time off. Their days are long and full of physical labor. They don’t work for the weekend; the word itself does not exist in their world. They are not lazy, selfish or greedy. They toil as a team with their boss in mind; everything exists for her. But amidst their fantastic attributes, they are squatters by nature. They move in without asking, build without permits, and defend their stolen property with a vengeance. So who do you call when they join forces, come out swinging, and threaten…
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A Bark, a Whistle, and the Woman Behind the White
When a car of teen boys drove by and one of the confident losers barked, I secretly cringed, kept walking and felt something die inside. I didn’t need Seventeen magazine to tell me I wasn’t in the running; we who weren’t natural beauties already knew. My awkward teenage self turned a bit inward that day. I questioned more, doubted more, hurt more. Stupid memories stay with me longer than they probably should, but here we are. Two-and-a-half decades later and I can still hear his voice. I now live in a Latin-American country though. I am a pale version of the beautiful brown humans surrounding my kids,…
