Home or Something Like It

I have been away for almost a month, down in Georgia, where I grew up. I spoke at a few churches, met lots of wonderful people, reconnected with some old friends, sprayed weed killer on approximately 382 poison ivy plants in my parents woods, played games with my family, and helped with a six-family yard sale in my aunt’s front yard. 

Last Wednesday night, for my last hurrah before I drove back to Kentucky Thursday, I spoke to a wonderful crowd of people at Trinity United Methodist, in the fellowship hall where I have eaten Wednesday night dinners for roughly twenty five years of my life. There is nothing quite like talking to people you love in a place you love about a ministry you love. It was good to be home. 

Thursday, I left my home in Georgia and returned to my home in Kentucky. I don't quite understand this peculiar ability to have more then one "home", but I am making peace with that.

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By Friday morning, I was standing on our back deck in Kentucky, sipping coffee out of my favorite mug and watching the sunlight as it spread across the backyard. Our house faces east, so early in the morning, our backyard is shrouded in shadow. The sun starts on the back fence and slowly creeps toward the house, illuminating the still-wet grass and garden with shimmering sparkles. It’s a lovely thing to watch as my brain emerges from sleep-fog.

A few hours later, I sat at our kitchen table, talking with my roommates. We covered topics ranging from mundane details of my trip to the complexities of human nature and the profound struggles involved in making major life choices that are outside the norm and perhaps not understood by everyone we love. We laughed, cried, and laughed until we cried, all within the span of about thirty minutes. It may sounds like an emotional reunion, but it’s actually just a normal day in this house full of women. 

Then I headed out to a friend’s house to watch her two little girls for a few hours. I had not seen them in almost a month and was greeted with warm hugs and an effusively verbal five-year-old’s summary of life since I had left and questions about my trip, my family, and my hat. (In contrast, when I asked her two-year-old sister how she was doing, I got a thumbs up.)

Yesterday morning, as I was walking into the sanctuary at my other church, I felt a tug on my hair. I knew before I even turned around that an joyful, goofy Puerto Rican man was standing behind me, grinning. I was right. After the service, I hugged friends (including the goofy Puerto Rican man and his family), told them about my meetings in Georgia, and heard about all their summer adventures so far. 

It is good to be home.

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Mt. Hood, Oregon

I travel a lot. In the past year, I have spent months on the road, all my essentials packed into the back of my trusty old Jeep, but, in the end, I come home to this life, full of familiar people, sticky-sweet hugs, predictable pranksters, peaceful decks, and perfectly sculpted coffee mugs. It’s comfortable, it’s wonderful, and, by the Grace of God, it’s mine. 

In a few months, all that will change. I will be on the road again--or more specifically, in the air. And I will not be coming back. As I settle once more into the rhythm of Wilmore life (at least for this week), that is hard to wrap my mind around. 

For this world is not our permanent home; we are looking forward to a home yet to come. 

Hebrew 13:14

One day, I will move for the last time and I will truly be home. I am so grateful. Until then, I am packing that coffee mug. 

On Waiting

Sometime late last fall, I gave up hope of any more warm weather, admitted the inevitable, and begrudgingly packed up the shorts and t-shirts and pulled out the suitcase that held my winter clothes. I was perplexed when I pulled out only a few sweaters. I dug through some more suitcases, checked some boxes under the bed. Where were the rest of my winter clothes? 

Suddenly, I remembered. Last spring, as we were shifting things around in our house--one roommate was getting married and leaving, I was moving into her old bedroom upstairs, and two new roommates were moving in--I had given most of my warmer clothes away. I wasn’t going to need them anymore because I would be in Kenya before winter came, anyway. (I consoled myself with the thought that, because I had kept mostly black/gray sweaters, at least my clothing would reflect my feelings about the cold weather.)

[Seriously, where would you rather go for a hike? In this freezing, colorless park or…

Castlewood Park, across the street from my old house in Lexington, my first winter back in the U.S.

In this gorgeous land full of warmth and sunshine? Is there really any question?]

Near Sharkertown, KY

And yet here we are, another winter come and gone, and warm weather is here…and so am I.

As most of you are aware, I have been in the process of raising money for almost two years. In April 2011, I was accepted into the Missionary Discipleship program with World Gospel Mission. That summer, I sent out my first newsletter.

My goal was to teach one more year at LCA and work on finding ministry partners and be in Kenya by fall 2012. 

In September 2011, I attended a seminar at WGM’s headquarters in which they told us that raising the funds and working with ministry partners was a full-time job. It wasn’t just about Sundays and Wednesday nights. Being a missionary is full-time--it doesn’t matter if you are here in the U.S. or on the field.

I remember thinking, “Well, I know that is true. . .but I already have a full-time job.” In fact, in addition to teaching full-time, I ran an after-school art club several days a week and planned and taught a Wednesday night kid’s class at a church downtown. 

I knew I needed to be talking to people, contacting churches, but when? When I came home dead-tired at 8 pm after an 11 hour work day? Or the day I got home early and really needed to work on the examples for art club the next day? Do I tell my cousin that I can’t help her with wedding stuff so I can call ministry partners? Or skip the chance to go out to dinner with friends I will miss terribly so I can catch up on emails? 

The result? I made very little progress. But I turned in my resignation to LCA, determined that, come summer, I would make up for lost time and be ready to head to Kenya by fall 2012. I had every week booked. Kids camps, camp meetings, churches. And I had a wonderful time, meeting new friends, traveling to some really lovely places, and sharing my heart about Tenwek Hospital and the MKs I love so much.  In the end, I wasn’t that much closer to my goal. 

So at the end of the summer, I let the school know I would be available to sub when I was in town, which, in the fall, wasn’t much. I spent most of September in Oregon, sharing with churches and groups out there. October was spent with a beautiful friend who was dying of cancer. After Mari’s death, I spent some time back home in Rome, GA in November. . .and then the holidays came. (Does anyone ever know where the weeks between Thanksgiving and Christmas go?)

And here we are again, at the end of another school year. I am almost half way to my goal. Has it been a long road? Yes. Am I tired of talking to people about money? Yes? Do I just want to be in Kenya? Absolutely. But the truth is, if God still has me here, there must be a reason. 

About a year ago, in a sermon, I heard a quote from pastor and writer Mark Batterson: “"God wants you to get where God wants you to go more than you want to get where God wants you to go." I have thought about having that tattooed on my right arm. (Just kidding, Mom!) It has solved a great deal of anxiety over the past months. Because if I am praying, searching, and trying my best to obey what God is telling me, it must be that the place God wants me to go, for time being, is a little brick house in Wilmore, KY. 

I am called to the Tenwek MK School. And I still hope, pray, and trust, that God will open the right doors and hearts so I can be there in the fall. (Is God opening your heart to be a part of this ministry? Follow this link to partner with me financially.) 

But until then, I can be content here, knowing that just because I have a calling to Kenya doesn’t mean I can’t have a purpose here in the U.S., too. My ministry isn’t confined to a little schoolroom in rural Africa. 

It’s right here, right now.

Is God preparing your heart for something. . .but you are still waiting for it?
Send me an email or leave a comment. I'd love to pray for you! 

Small talk, Small Worlds, and Mysterious Ways

“So, what do you do?” 

It’s the basic small talk question in any group and most of the time, I dread it. I am often hesitant to tell people I have just met that I am a missionary because you can never be sure what kind of reaction you will get. 

However, the question is usually inevitable and, and as a missionary, it seems particularly sinful to lie about being a missionary. 

So my standard response goes something like this: “I’ve been art teaching at Lexington Christian for the past four years, but this school year, I am working there part-time as a sub [albeit this part is mildly misleading; I am there almost every day] because I am preparing to move back to Kenya, where I used to teach.” 

The questions and comments after this vary a bit, but most ask what I teach in Kenya, how long I was there, if it’s safe, etc. etc. Often people will mention other missionaries they know and often ask if I know them. 

(Once upon a time, I was tempted to laugh at this assumption that missionaries around the world all knew each other by name, until a gentleman I greatly respect asked if I knew some missionaries he had known decades ago who served in Indonesia--on the other side of the world from Kenya--and, as it turns out, I DID know them. Their daughter and her family were my upstairs neighbors in Kenya and their grandsons some of my favorite students. Since then, I’ve quit rolling my eyes.)

However, I think I cringe when telling people I am a missionary because I dislike what is all too often a sudden sense of awe and admiration. 

“Africa?! Wow!”

“That’s incredible! Isn’t it dangerous?”

“I could never do that!”

The truth is, any admiration for me is hardly deserved. 

I serve a great big God who has an amazing and mysterious plan far greater than anything I can begin to understand. And He lets me--little, flawed, absent-minded, stubborn, prideful, all-too-often impatient and critical me-- be a part of it. That’s all. And what’s more, I don’t do it alone. I couldn’t. Missionaries can be missionaries because people back home are part of the team. You guys are our prayer warriors, our encouragers, and our financial supporters. We are missionaries because you are, too. 

And for that, I am overwhelmingly humbled and grateful. Thank you.

(This post was something I have been thinking about for a while, but I read this article last week entitled "Quiet Heroes" and it got the wheels in my head turning a little more about people in ministry. Thought I would share. )

I realize this picture has little to do with the blog post, but I've always liked it and 
decided this post needed a picture. Isn't her smile beautiful?

What's in a name?

Why is the subtitle to this blog “My Life as an Accidental Missionary”? 

As a missionary, I talk to a lot of people about how I got where I am. I tell them about my call into teaching and about hearing all the missionaries speak at Asbury College when I was a student and the impact that had on me. But when it comes to exactly how I ended up here? I don’t know. This was not the life I had planned for myself. I never started out with the intention of being a missionary. 

The inspiration for the other part of the blog name.
That's the Great Rift Valley in the background.

My plan was to be a writer like my dad. I am an introvert at heart and after four years of shoving my way through the overcrowded hallways of high school, I liked the idea of working in solitude much of the time. It sounded so peaceful. However, when I was a senior in high school, God called me into teaching pretty clearly. It wasn’t quite what I had picked out for myself, but I rolled with it. I figured that, as a teacher, I could get a job pretty much anywhere. I envisioned myself teaching a year out in Colorado, Denver maybe, then a year in Chicago. I could move around for five or six years, get a taste of life across the U.S. Then I would settle down and have great stories to tell my future children about all the cool places I’d lived and the people I’d known.

So when my college roommate asked me to move to Virginia Beach with her after graduation, everything was falling into place. First cool city, coming right up. Then I hit a bump in the road. I found I out hated teaching. Oops. 

In reality, I was just a first year teacher who had no idea what she was doing with colleagues and a principal who were spectacularly unhelpful and a class full of children who, more than anything else in the world, needed something I could not give them: stable homes. I realized that a fourth grader really does not care about multiplication tables or the parts of a plant the day after he has watched his older brother get hauled off for dealing (again). And I realized I couldn’t really blame him. I had no idea what to do with that. 

So I left. To be perfectly honest, I was long gone before the school year was over. I planned to spend the next year working in a children’s home somewhere overseas and, soon, that first year of teaching would just be a distant nightmare. I would be there for a year or so and come back and find different work. Maybe I’d go back to school for a different degree. I certainly wouldn’t teach again, that was certain. I made it through to the end of that first school year--barely--and I didn’t look back. But, again, my plan was not working out. I had been accepted to World Gospel Mission, but none of the children’s home they worked with had a place for me. You know where they did have a place? A little school for missionary kids in Kenya. I took a deep breath and said yes. 

I thought I would be there for that school year, then come back and find other work in the U.S. It would be a good experience, nothing more. But then I hit another bump in the road. I loved that little school in Kenya. I felt like…I belonged there. I loved teaching those kids, talking to those parents. I didn’t want to come back to the US and I didn’t want to stop teaching. But after two years, I did move back and found that I could love teaching here in the US, too.

Fast forward five years (holy cow! Surely not that long?) and I have left a job I adored here in Kentucky and am headed back to Kenya for good. Because the Kingdom of God is more important than my comfortable life.

So right now, after a long series of decisions and baby steps I still don’t quite understand or believe, this introvert is traveling and speaking in churches, to camps, any group that will listen. When I am not speaking, I am calling people (most of whom I don’t know) to ask if I can speak. (Why is that so hard?! I sincerely dislike calling people I don’t know. There is something unsettling about not having any visual cues for their reactions.) Or I am talking to people I do know about money (a subject I have a pathological aversion to discussing).

When I get up in front of a group, I say many different things about the Tenwek MK School and the work of Tenwek Hospital, but sometimes, as I am talking, I am really thinking “Wait a minute! What’s happening? How did I get here?!”

By the Grace of God, really. This was not my plan. This is not the life I picked out for myself. But I wouldn’t have it any other way.

Five Things

Some days, change seems to be the only constant thing in my life. 
I have not written on this blog in ages. . . six months to be more specific. Why? Lots of reasons, actually. I have been busy. I have not had much to write about other than traveling. More than anything, though, I have had trouble coming up with a single, cohesive theme on which to write.
As a result, I have decided to do a list of several loosely related ideas. 

So, without further ado, here are five things that have changed in my life since I have written last.

1. I have a new job. Well, sort of. I left my full-time position as the primary art teacher at Lexington Christian Academy and am now substitute teaching part time as my schedule allows. I have even subbed in my old job for the new art teacher. The kids were mildly confused and thought I had returned and Mrs. Wolfe was now gone. Oops. However, it is wonderful to be back with the kids I have known and loved for the past four years, even if it’s not every day. In the rest of my time, I am focusing more on working with partners for my ministry in Kenya and traveling to speak at churches. If you would like to know more about that, let me know!
2. I have new roommates! After my cousin Ivey ran off and got married (not really--she had a gorgeous and well-planned wedding), her sister and I found two more friends to share our house. Jayne and Audrey are amazing and, surprisingly for four kitchen-savvy, opinionated women, we all get along really well. I am incredibly blessed by their friendship and their laughter. There really is no place like our home.
3. I have new students! I have recently learned there will be at least three new young families coming to Tenwek through Samaritan’s Purse and they all have kids. I learned that when I ran into a guy from Samaritan’s Purse at the Global Health Missions conference in Louisville about a month ago. Through my conversation with him, as well as numerous other conversations with parents who are interested in missions, I have a renewed sense of the need for more educators for missionary kids. It is one of the top questions parents have when they start feeling God’s call into missions and it is one of the reasons many families never leave the U.S. It’s also one of the primary reasons (many agencies will say the #1 reason) families leave the mission field and return home. Many times, they just don’t think they have enough educational options for their kids. If you are interested in solving that problem in Kenya, follow this link and support my ministry. Or ask a question in the comments section below. If you are a teacher who is interested in serving overseas, let me know that, too! I’d love to help you connect with ministries that could use your teachin’ talents.
4. I have a newsletter! I am trying to improve my communication with the people who want to be a part of the ministry of Tenwek Hospital, so if you are interested in receiving my monthly newsletter, email me. 
5. We lost a roommate. Back in February, Mari, a family friend, came to live with us while she recovered from brain surgery to remove a tumor and started chemotherapy. In short, the cancer did not respond to the treatments and Mari passed away on October 28th. She was young, beautiful, and creative and we miss her terribly, but know she is finally out of pain and at peace. Thanks be to God. 

Thank you all for you partnership--in prayer and resources. You all are a blessing to me.

On the Road Again

I left my home in Wilmore a week and half ago and spent a lovely week with my parents, visiting with family and hiking around some favorite places.

Sunday morning, I left for Taylor County Camp Meeting and have had a lovely time meeting new people (and future missionary colleagues!) and wandering the grounds. I am not the speaker here, but have set up my display and met some really wonderful people.

I leave Wednesday to head back to Rome for two days, then back to Wilmore. ( Three cheers for sleeping in your own bed!) Then it's up to Ohio, Michigan, then Indiana--and I will be speaking at all those places.
I am still in need of $2500 in our own bed!) Then it's up to Ohio, Michigan, then Indiana--and I will be speaking at all those places.I am still in need of $2500 in monthly support, as well as about $6000 in one time gifts. I am trusting and praying that God will meet these financial needs. If you would like to contribute to God's work in Kenya, you can give onmonthly support, as well as about $6000 in one time gifts. I am trusting and praying that God will meet these financial needs. If you would like to contribute to God's work in Kenya, you can give online here or send in a check. ( Send it to: World Gospel Mission, PO Box 948, Marion, IN 46952-0948 and designate it for account #125-15732). If you have questions about giving and how it all works, you can read more here or (of course) ask a question in the comments sections. I'd love to hear from you!
As always, I covet prayers not just for the financial needs, but also for safe travel and endurance for my car, as well as for myself.
I am adding my schedule down below. If I am near you, let me know! I'd love to come see you.

July 7-11 Taylor County Camp Meeting (Butler, GA)
July 15-21 Mt. Hope Bible Camp (Otway, OH)
July 21-27 Eaton Rapids Camp Meeting (Eaton Rapids, MI)
August 6 Chandler Holiness Camp Meeting (Newburg, IN)

Interested in more?

We are making great strides around here in our technological know-how (or at least pretending we are) and you can now subscribe to my monthly email updates by clicking on this link. If you would like to receive the updates through snail-mail, feel free to add your street address and I'll mail 'em to ya.

Please note that the email updates will be different than the blog posts, although you can subscribe to those, too, if you really like me. (See the link down on the right side.) There will be some overlap in info, but I will try to share new stories, pictures, and information with you each month in the newsletters.

I am also trying to come up with a pithy little title for my newsletters, so if you have any ideas, shout them out in the comments section. (My aunt and uncle have called their newsletter the "Lewis Ledger". I like the alliteration, but, so far, haven't come up with anything creative.)

On another side note, I had a root canal yesterday. (Oh, fun!) I share that with you not because I think everyone likes to hear the words "root canal", but because of the poster my dentist (endodontist?) had tacked up on the ceiling above the chair so that the patients could see it as he worked on their teeth. Underneath the picture of a purple-pink sunset reflected in a lake, it's said "What appears to be the end is really just a new beginning." It is certainly applicable to my life as I come to the end of my last school year here at Lexington Christian and start focusing more on Kenya. But I am not sure what how it would apply to other people laying in that chair. Does everyone having a root canal think it's the end of something?


On the upside, I have not had much pain--either during or since the root canal and am very thankful.