Some highlights.

No doubts about it, moving can be hard.  We're adjusting to a new lifestyle with the military, getting new jobs (well, just me), figuring out a new place, and being NEWLYWEDS!  The happy part is that in this part of the world (au contraire to my living in Burundi), Skype and phones usually work leaving friends and family only a few numbers away, electricity and water always work, everyone speaks English, and no one yells at me the color of my skin when I'm walking down the street!  We are always looking at what we do have, not at what we don't have.  Every now and then, a jewel pops up, and we're reminded of how good God is.  And usually reminded that us being here is not by chance, and that the big story's not all about us.  Glad for these affirmations and grateful we live in a place where it's only an hour or so drive to get to some scenes like these.  They help me quickly remember that He is God.

A breathtaking view of Mt. Rainier from the roadside.  Note the fields of wildflowers that are
only in bloom for a 2-3 week span during the entire year.  (It is kind of a small miracle we were able to go as up until this weekend, Evan had worked 7 days a week/12-13 hours a day for four weeks.  Super happy he had that weekend off!)

A climb up to see the WHOLE thing.  Totally regret fearing what other park goers would think of
me as I did not seize this opportunity to practice my amazing yodeling skills.

We made friends on the way up.  And they took our picha!
(picture  picha = indication of happiness that my arm is not in this one as it is in most any we have.)

We made it!!. . .ish.  Well, we were forced to stop by some large gobby paths of snow.  (Snow? Snow!? What's that?  No, this east coast southern girl doesn't think of that possibility when hiking!)  My inexperienced
Mt. Rainier self decided to hike in my Chacos that morning.  Next time I hike, I'll pack some skis?!

Big gobby snow.

Other side!  Click!

So yeah.  Here are the highlights, my encouragement to keep looking for all that is good.  Sometimes it's REALLY good (like getting to hike a beautiful mountain with my husband), and other times the good is simple things like having a bed without bedbugs or food to eat (Yes, I know the bedbugs thing is considered "gross" but they happen and they ITCH!  The food part I take for granted because it's seemingly normal in my life, and I haven't felt "the lack.")  Having felt the lack of familiarity of faces and places (and sometimes my husband when he's under the sea), little things add up.  And we're grateful.

I'd Like Some Ketchup With That Please

Well, my blog was originally to keep people up with life in Burundi while I was gone.  But then a few changes were made, and I am still technically “gone” from most people I know.  For now.  Until I make friends.  In the new state of Washington.  Yep, I moved.  Again.  (But at least I’m in the same country now, right Mom and Dad???)

You see, there was this guy. . . .who was a catch.  So much so that we decided to get married.  By the way, his name is Evan.

Oh, that's why people write poetry.

He’s in the military.  And the government stationed him in Washington. 

This is your typical rainy day.

But then there are the beautiful surprises like this one as you drive.
(Lots of people pulled over to take a picture of this sky.
I like that people appreciate the beauty of nature here.)

And this is just beautiful whether it's rainy or not.

Oh yeah, and in case you were wondering, it wasn’t a split second decision, we met long before I went to Africa.  A whole two months!  Long distance for seven.  Then, I saw him for a whole two days when I got back, just long enough to get engaged, and then he went down for two more months in one of those little big tin cans in the sea.

They're not actually yellow as you may have been misled as a child by the The Beatles like me.

When he came back up, (Hooray for a long waited reunion!) we drove out west. 

Whatever that little house could be for, I have no idea.

Getting a look at the Grand Tetons before the big hike. . . ;o)

No talking on the phone while drivinggggg....

So this is my new life.  And it makes me feel like this:

Most of the time.  Moving is still moving.  But there's LOTS to be glad for.

*me = photohappy aka being back in the States with good internet!!!  Whoohoo!!

Season Change

I'm home now. In the States. It' hard to believe only 3 weeks ago, I was in a completely different world. God has been so faithful in bringing me back to this place. Even though it's incredibly different, so many things are the same as my old world. I'll come back to that thought in a moment.

First, I just want to celebrate a sweet ending to my time in Burundi. Whenever you're leaving a place, you want to make sure that you say proper good-byes, and that you leave things in a way that the footprints you made while there will start a path that others can continue to walk on after you're gone. Well let me say, Burundians know how to give a proper goodbye. My friend Freddy says Westerners wait 'til the funeral to say good things about a person. I don't know if this is completely true. But it's true sometimes. Not Burundians. Usually, all they have the means to give you are their words. They make sure you know how they feel before you're gone. They tell you thank you for the specific things you did, and sometimes they give you a gift to show their gratitude. I was grateful for open hearts and grateful for the chance to express my own gratitude. I didn't come for their thanks, but it's always nice when that happens.

My fancy bread in a box that Alphonsine surprised me with on the last day!

(probably cost her half a day's salary!)

Alphonsine and I in the classroom. She is the lady I worked with my

last couple of months at the school training to take over P3 class.

It was hard to say goodbye. It was hard to leave my children. It was harder to trust that the work I had done was done in such relevance to the culture that it would be continued after I had left. But God and life had just released me into a new season. And so it starts. Home sweet USA.

Being back has been good, surreal at times, but I guess that is to be expected. Overall it has felt natural, and God has been really faithful in helping me transfer my experiences in Burundi back to life here. To preface the next thought, I need to share a little confession: The past two times I've been to Burundi, I had only gone for about two months at a time. That being said, it's really easy to only see how great everything is there--how nice the people are, how beautiful the African cloths are, how incredible the long-term missionaries who live there are, how yummy the mangoes are, etc. It's really easy to come back and judge your own country. Grimace.

Going for a longer period changes a lot. I saw the unbelievable crazy corrupt effects of the government and even the church on people's lives. I drove a car that broke down on a regular basis on the streets that have no structure according to my culture (but did according to theirs). I saw the effects of the lack of education in the people affecting their daily lives. I saw people selling eggs and peanuts on the side of the street to make a living. I visited my friends, that I worked with everyday, in their homes or the hospital, recovering from malaria and typhoid and stomach ulcers, and who were wondering where the money would come from to pay the hospital bills. In other words, I saw the faults. I saw how imperfect Burundi is. Yes, they are doing some things at life better than us, and we are doing some things better at life than them. But we're all just

trying.

to.

get.

by.

For some people, trying to get by is just feeding your family. For people who have already conquered that step, trying to get by could look like buying a boat because it makes you happy. There's different levels of it I suppose. If Burundians could get to a level where they have enough money to buy a boat, you bet your socks they would! But most of them just aren't there. So it is a different world. But what I'm come to see is that it's the same heart. People just want good lives for themselves and the people they love. It's made me less judgmental of America. Or the western world. Because now that I've lived in two extremes, I see we are people--terribly broken but full of heart and just wanting to restore it to the way it was meant to be. People want a redemption. We're crying out for it in every possible way. Some ways are working, and some aren't. But through it all, it's not my place to judge. It's just my place to offer up the places I've

found that I believe in or walk alongside others as we find a place together.

I'm thankful not to be as cynical. It's not fun to be a cynic.

As an ending to my time in Burundi, here's a little tribute to some things I will miss: Here's to Burundi and to new seasons.

Duh...my kids

African skies

Beautiful landscapes

Ballet classes for $10 a month!

(thanks to a professional ballerina post-career current missionary)

This lady and our adventures

The Little Things

Living in Buj is like living in a very small town sometimes. Except that there's about 300,000 people. Seriously. But as far as the ex-pat community goes, we all know each other, we all go to the same places, and needless to say, everyone knows everyone's business. Mostly. If you don't keep yourself busy, life can get a bit mundane sometimes. So I've been trying to focus on my kids and my last few months with them at the school--writing lesson plans for the future years I won't be there, and just giving them as many experiences as possible.

A few fun things have happened lately. I can tell I am making more of a connection with my students now--one, their English has improved, and they understand how cool I am now. Two, time is a friend to building relationships. One of them, Patrick, has been writing on his homework papers and tests, "Ndagukunda Madame Melissa" which translates as "I love you Madame Melissa." (Melt my heart why don't you?) One of the girls who used to defiantly run away from me (Ciella) has now figured out that if she comes into the classroom during recess, she can have my undivided attention, which she LOVES. I usually just read a book to her or we draw together. One of my favorite little cuties (am I allowed to say that?), Ami Diel, and I have a new joke going on. Last week, he tells me that he has a pet lion at home. I ask him if he rides it to school, and he says he only rides it to church. Some days, I ask him what his lion is doing while he is at school. He tells me he's cooking or taking a nap in the shade. This week he started ripping off corners of his homework. When I asked him why his homework was ripped, he said his lion was hungry.

They have come so far. I LOVE being able to communicate with them better and see little pieces of their creative personalities. Just appreciating those small bits of progress. Just enjoying little things.

Ami Diel, who I've dubbed as "Simba." (Kiswahili for lion)

He's my man with the imaginary pet.

Ciella and I are hanging out in the empty classroom at recess.

She's not quite sure what this apparatus does,

but it's not long after this picture that she is determined to take one herself.

New Beginnings

Between busy-ness, traveling, and shady internet, it's been a while, so I'll delve right in. Lots has changed--both on the outside and the inside.

December. . .the highlight was definitely not exams. It was Christmas. In the States, teachers survive by trying to fill the month with fun Christmas activities (aka Elf Wordsearch) as the kids are going bonkers waiting for winter break and driving their teachers up the wall. Maybe a few of them even hide above the ceiling tiles to escape for a minute. There's lots of talk about Santa, gifts, Frosty, cookies, flying reindeer, etc. And if the teacher's a little bit cheeky, perhaps there's a few books about Kwanza, Hannakuk, and Christmas just so the Jesus word gets brought up. But in Burundi, it's a whole other ballgame.

Christmas is not a big deal. For most families, it passes just like any other day. What families have the money to buy Christmas trees or make cookies for Santa? New Year's is what it's all about (not the hokey-pokey) as it's a celebration of living through another perilous year. People buy each other new clothes and shoes and go out for drinks (aka sodas) if able to afford it. So knowing this tidbit about the culture, I wanted to make sure that there was some acknowledgement that Christmas is really all about a Savior leaving His throne in Heaven and coming to dwell among his people that He would one day save. Resources were low and craft options scarce, but we do have flour, salt, and water in this country. So what did I do but make clay for the kids to shape and paint. We made heart ornaments--a simple shape for a simple

story. God is love, and sending Jesus is how he showed us. The kids loved it. We shared the

Christmas story, and made our hearts. Not many people give these children the opportunity to create something with art. The teachers are currently learning how to teach art, thanks to another American volunteer. Most of them have never done art before, and the country itself doesn't have many opportunities for this kind of expression. It sets me alive to give them this opportunity as teaching art lets them see there are beautiful things in the world, and that they have the power to create them.

Dexon with his ornament/necklace/whatever he wants it to be heart.

The rest of December was a much needed break and reprieve home to see my family and friends in the US. And to rest. Being in a culture that is not your own and overcoming such barriers can be quite wearing at times. A bit of "normality" was just what the doctor ordered. I was able to evaluate my time in Burundi thus far and make some changes needed to live better and be more effective while finishing my time there. One of those changes included doing life with another person. I had been living alone on the outskirts of town, and an opportunity opened to live with a friend closer to town. This opportunity was an answer to prayer. No matter where you are in the world, you gotta walk through life with people, but especially in Burundi. What a way for God to provide and fight for me. . . .

I've been back for a month since break, and there's always a re-adjustment to culture that has to take place. For anyone who's ever lived and worked abroad, you know what I'm talking about when I refer to that time of shock where everything and everyone is just "stupid." People calling you white person in the street is "stupid", no rules on the road is "stupid," the heat is "stupid," businesses shutting down for an afternoon nap. . . .you get the picture. Probably humorous from afar and in hindsight, but very real in the moment. It's forced me to examine myself. What parts of me believes my culture is right and theirs is wrong? Why are these things bothering me? It forces me to align both cultures right up next to Jesus to figure out the truth. No longer is America the measurement of "correct" nor is any other country. We've all got faults, and Jesus sees past cultural differences anyway. It's a journey with Jesus as he reshapes my views on life, rids me of paradigms ingrained in me since birth, and realigns the way I love others. It's

humbled me and grown my patience tremendously as I learn to receive well others different than myself and learn new ways of communicating care and friendship to them.

In other news of January, the most exciting things happening has been teaching students to read and speak English and doing PowerClubs at school. In the beginning of the year, I was doing a phonics system where they learn the sounds of each letter. Six months later, there are students reading on a kindergarten level. Amen right?!? It really shows what children can do when they sincerely desire to learn. Knowing English opens a WORLD of doors to these kids, especially in the East African Community (Kenya, Uganda, Tanzania, Rwanda, and Burundi).

In case you missed the last blog, PowerClubs are Bible lessons. But they're different than any other Bible lesson. Okay, I don't really even want to call it "Bible lesson." Can we just call it kids' opportunity to experience Jesus? Alright, I'll explain. We start with a game. It gets all the kids involved and they forget how hungry they are or that they have to pee or that their mom just whopped them upside the head this morning. Then we praise Jesus. This is a Burundian's forté. They are the kings and queens of shouting out to the Lord, clapping their hands, stomping their feet, and banging on a drum. What else are you going to do with your time while you live in the dirt and survive? Praise eventually leads into worship where we get a little more serious and try to put our minds on Jesus. We pray, and a lesson begins. Here's a glimpse of what we've been learning:

Salvation: Caterpillars to Butterflies

Me: Have you ever seen a caterpillar?

Kids: Yes. Ew, they're hairy. They're creepy and crawly. They're low to the ground. They're slow. Birds eat them.

Me: Good, good. So before we know Jesus, we are like caterpillars. We aren't very strong, and we're quite slow.

Kids: [Giggle giggle as they think about themselves squirming on the ground like caterpillars.]

Me: But what happens to caterpillars as they grow?

Kids: They become butterflies!

Me: Yes, now tell me about that.

Kids: They're pretty! They're free! They fly around from flower to flower.

Me: Exactly! Jesus says that, "All those who are in Him are a new creation!" (2 Corinthians 5:17)

They like the idea of being a butterfly. Some of them pray to become "butterflies," and then one of them has a question.

Graciella: "So Madame Melissa, why some pastor tell you you can go back to caterpillar?"

WHOA. HOLD UP. YES, I'M IN ALL CAPS NOW I'M SO EXCITED. Graciella just brought up a gigantic issue here in Burundi, and that is that many people believe you can lose your salvation. It's one of the ways corrupt pastors can retain control of their congregation and unfortunately is a huge stronghold in the church. So...

Me: Well Graciella, have you ever seen a butterfly turn back into a caterpillar?

Kids: [Flood of fingers waving back and forth at me = Burundian sign for no.] Noooo Madame Melissa.

Me: It's not possible?

Kids: No Madame Melissa. Not possible.

Bam. Take that Satan. 40 kids, just saved from a ridiculous and popular yet untrue belief in Burundi.

So there's a glimpse of one of the small and daily miracles that take place here. It's one of the things that keeps me rejoicing and going from one day to the next. Living here is a challenge. But I'm growing. I'm finding it helps to believe in the small things. Beth Clark, author, wrote something that has been my refrain of song since I read it. It says:

"I've noticed something about people who make a difference in the world: They hold to the unshakable conviction that individuals are extremely important, that every life matters. They are willing to feed one stomach, educate one mind, and treat one wound. They aren't determined to revolutionize the world all at once; they're satisfied with small changes. Over time though, the small changes add up. Sometimes they even transform cities and nations, and yes, the world."

Thanking Jesus that life is one day at a time. And that He is my fighter.

Kids dancing and praising God during PowerClubs.