Blog Schmlog

In Everything

2011-11-14T22:08:00.000-08:00

Can you guess what demographic of people would respond in a survey this way?

• 99 percent are happy with their lives
• 97 percent like who they are
• 96 percent like how they looked*

Do you think it’s the top 1% most wealthy in America? Is it the top 10% most attractive people? Could it be the most religious people? Is it the top quarter of a percent with an IQ over 140?

Does this describe you?

Let me also say this demographic has very few ‘bad habits.’ In a study of 3,000 people in this group, there were NO drug addicts or gamblers, only two alcoholics and a very small number of smokers.**

Who is it? People with Down syndrome.

When I read that, I thought...yup...it’s about like that.

Emme, our daughter with Down syndrome, is likely to fall asleep laughing at her own jokes and wake up singing her own little made-up songs.

When Karl had to take her in for some very painful shots – she screamed so loudly you thought they were cutting off her leg. Karl kept telling her “I’m sorry.” As she balled her eyes out, she kept doing the “I forgive you” sign.

At family gatherings while the other kids are running around, she loves to sit next to the person with the guitar and sing along.

The truth is, I often forget she has Down syndrome. Sure, there are few tell-tale signs...

1. She’s 3 ½ years old and has just started walking. Thank you, sweet Jesus!

2. She likes a small range of foods and will only drink coconut juice (SERIOUSLY! Coconut juice?!?)

If you give her something she doesn’t like, she seems to say, “Sure mom...go ahead, shove that in my mouth. You think you’re in control here – but I’ll just spit that right out. You can put it my mouth, but you can’t make me swallow it.”

3. She can’t yet tell us about her day at school, if she has a tummy ache or what her favorite color is. Well, Emme may disagree...she probably is telling us – we just aren’t fluent in “Emme-ese.”

4. Once she catches a regular old cold or sickness of any kind – it can takes weeks and weeks to get over it (and many times only with medication).

However – I have to say...I love everything about her. We love...

• How she liberally dishes out “Bye, Bye, Bye...” if she feels your presence is no longer required.

• How she definitely says “All Done” when she’s had enough of the vegetables I keep trying to feed her.

• How she bows her head and prays before a meal (although we can’t understand – we’re sure she’s saying something pretty good to God)...and ends it with "OK!" (Emme-ese for "Amen")

• How she thinks a wedding is actually a party for her (last weekend at a wedding she walked from table to table, greeting nearly everyone and giving out free hugs)

And getting ready to have Baby Girl #3...I am reminded again that life rarely goes as planned.

We have a 1.25% chance of having another baby with a chromosome abnormality. Before we got pregnant again – we had to ask ourselves if we were ready to receive any kind of child God wants to give us.

I’ve changed my statements from “I want a girl” or “I want a boy” or “I want a healthy baby” to “I want the next gift God wants to give.”

Do we want the next gift God has to give? Do we sometimes mistake the gifts – thinking they are curses?

In many areas of my life...from getting in the wrong check-out lane at the grocery store and the price of gas...to working with a difficult person or facing yet another disappointment, I say... “No, God, this is NOT the gift I wanted. Take it back – give me something else. Something different – something better.”

I am learning that His gifts are ALWAYS good. It’s up to me to see the gift, unwrap it, and say, “Thank You.” I say I want joy and grace – but see now the joy and grace come AFTER the “Thank You” - never before.

This Thanksgiving (and really every day), I want to be thankful not just for the seemingly good - but for everything...

Thankful for the shirt I shrunk in the drier, burned toast, and broken dishes. Thankful for medical bills. Thankful for Down syndrome.

1 Thessalonians 5:18
In everything give thanks; for this is God's will for you in Christ Jesus.

Ephesians 5: 19,20
..Sing and make music in your heart to the Lord, always giving thanks to God the Father for everything, in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ.

Sources:
* MSNBC
** National Association for Down Syndrome

A Lot of Drama

2011-10-28T16:21:00.000-07:00

One thing I love about South Africa is the word drama! The English is just a bit more colorful there...

Fell Pregnant = get pregnant

You don’t “get pregnant” in South Africa – you “fall pregnant.” It sounds like you have unfortunately and mysteriously fallen ill with a bad case of something you have yet to identify that you accidentally caught from someone.

Example: “She keeps falling pregnant.” (Not to be confused with falling while you’re pregnant – which really could hurt. Of course pregnancy can hurt too, or at least the end result, so maybe "falling" IS the fitting description).

Garden = yard

For me, the word “garden” stirs up images of lush flowers, fresh herbs and at the very least, a few straggly tomato plants (maybe a naked man and woman?). In South Africa – a yard, even if you have just a sad patch of grass and weeds, is still a “garden.”

Example: Jensen, “Mom, can I go play in the garden?”

(our "garden")

Sounds like false advertising to me...but sure kid...go play in the garden.

Rubbish = trash

Rubbish, to me, is a strong word for something that has absolutely no use. “That’s rubbish!” (should always be said with a strong English accent). To say you have some “rubbish” to throw away, as they do in South A, makes me think of some serious nastiness that probably needs a hazardous materials waste bin – instead of just some wadded up mail to be thrown away in a plain old trash can. It is MUCH more exciting to say rubbish.

Example: Julie, “Karl, just look at all this rubbish (pile of receipts)! Quick...let’s put it in the rubbish bin!” (I try to use my English accent - but it's not very good and Karl mistakes it for my southern accent - very confusing)

Flu = common cold

If you have the sniffles in South A – they call it the flu. If you sneeze...it’s the flu. If you cough...it’s the flu. You probably shouldn’t go to work if you have flu. It’s a lot of drama over what appears to be, for all intents and purposes, what server in America as a plain old head cold.

Example: “I have the flu...cough, cough.” (interpretation – I think I may sneeze with this cough...so I’m going to go ahead and clear my schedule and cancel all my meetings for the rest of the week.)

Children = kids

Instead of “kids” or “students”– it’s “the children.” I’ve even heard high school teenagers refer to themselves as “the children.” I usually think of children as 5 year olds – but they could be talking about someone who’s 16 years old.

Example: “Many of the children now are learning how to drive and apply for jobs.” (is it me – or is that a little strange?)

In other words...

In South Africa you would say....

“While the children were in the garden they picked up rubbish, even though some had the flu and had fallen pregnant.”

Or not quite as exciting...

“While the students were in yard they picked up trash, even through some had a cold and were pregnant.”

Oh Baby Baby!

2011-10-17T19:39:00.000-07:00

I’m sure you’ve heard...we’re having a baby! Many of you voted on “Boy” or “Girl” and 66% of you said boy.

You were close!

Here is how everyone voted at our “Gender Reveal Cake Parties” (we had the ultrasound lady write the gender in an envelope, took it to a baker and had them put “blue” or “pink” frosting in the cake – we found out with everyone else what we were having when we cut the cake).

Watch the 5 minute video:

Before we had kids Karl said, “You know Julie...we’re going to have 3 girls.”

I thought “Yeah, Yeah, Yeah.” However, it looks like my husband who is always right, is right YET AGAIN.

Someone asked recently if I was a little disappointed we are having another girl. No way! We're so excited about girls. Sisters are built-in girlfriends. A slumber party every night!

Its a girl!

When we told Jensen we were going back to Africa to have the baby, said she said, “Uh...Mom...will the baby be black?”

Seriously...not a bad question.

Here’s Jensen's top 10 list of baby names for her sister:

1. Bambi (this is her absolute favorite – she is very insistent we name her sister after a Disney character)

2. Sara (this is a close second after Bambi – ever since her cousin told her Bambi is not a real name this one has been creeping up on her list)

3. Nana (kinda like your grandma)

4. Malea (this has been one of her top names for about a year now – we thought she made it up till someone told us it was a real name)

Note: A friend from Ocean View was pregnant a few months ago and asked Jensen what she should name her baby. Of course Jensen was confident Malea would be the perfect name for her. And I guess it was – she named her baby Malea last August.

5. Sunny (I have to admit...it IS cheerful!)

6. Kiki (we did see the other day that Kikka means “mistress of all” - nice!)

7. Namala (a bit African sounding)

8. Isala (I guess she threw this in there just in case we didn’t pick Namala)

9. TikaTock (inspired by her new favorite nursery rhyme "The Mouse Ran Up the Clock”)

10. Sugar Pop (my personal fav)

Maybe we should go with Bambi Nana Isala TikaTock?

What do you think would be a great name? Something to go with Jensen, Emerson...???

5 Ways Africa Has Changed Me

2011-07-26T21:11:00.000-07:00

I thought I would be changing Africa...but Africa has changed me. Here are five paradigm shifts in my thinking...

#1: Success is Obedience

If at all possible, I prefer to avoid failure...it’s just a bit too much like failing.

Success just looks better, smells better, feels better.

For some, success is about “big” - the big promotion, the big sale, the big house, the big car. For others it’s about being “right” - being the right weight, from the right school, with the right degree, running with the right friends, your kid on the right team, living in the right neighbourhood, in the right part of town.

In Africa for me – it’s tempting for it to be about numbers – the numbers of lives changed, programs started, jobs landed, babies saved, desperate mothers helped, etc.

My big epiphany? Obedience to God is really my only success. That’s it. Obeying God. Even if it looks like failure, it’s not.

#2 Pray about it

For any upcoming decisions, problems, dilemmas – I usually like to think about it, discuss it, rethink it, ask a few more people, perhaps throw a little worry at it. In general, mull it over.

What happened in Africa? I had friends who would often say, “Julie, have you actually prayed about that?”

“Huh!” Some missionary to Africa I am! I usually had to say, “Yeahhhh...not a bad idea. Guess I’ll try that.”

So now...I ask God what He thinks. You know what? He actually tells me! I may not always like it...but nothing compares to God's voice.

#3: My 2%

Some people believe destiny finds you and others believe you find destiny. When people in the “destiny finds you” camp say “If it’s meant to be, it’s meant to be” I think “Oh please...you clearly don’t realize your choices can change everything! Make better choices! You can make it happen! Stop dilly dallying around!”

The problem in my case – with the “you find destiny” camp - is that every choice matters, every decision is crucial – and hard work takes the cake.

What I learned in Africa? Both camps are right, but for anything lasting to actually happen –I need to put in my 2% and totally, utterly rely on God for the other 98%.

#4 Never Enable, Always Help

It is a fine, razor thin line between helping and enabling.

My shocking realization? Enabling is doing something for someone they CAN do for themselves. Helping is doing something for someone they CAN’T do for themselves.

Too often I am helping myself right into enablement. My mother is the most amazing helper, non-enabler I have ever known (you would think 37 years of watching Dot Jensen in action would rub off sometime soon).

Since this mind blowing realization – I am rethinking how much I pick up after my tutu-trailing, sequin-spreading 5 year old and spoon feed my I-only-eat-mac-n-cheese-popcorn-and-bananas 3 year old. Not to mention a whole new look at how I give money away, distribute clothing donations, design employment programs and approach micro-enterprise.

Emme analyzing this morning's attempt to add microscopic amounts of strawberries to breakfast..."I'm prrrrrreeeeetty clear about my feelings on bananas - not sure why my slave force isn't picking up on that."

Jensen's question..."What is this 'bed making' you speak of?"

#5: Everyone needs a prayer team

One of the perks to moving to Africa is people expect you need a lot of prayer. And we do!

We have a “Prayer Circle” of about 20 people who really do pray for us...we’ve sent out the “Prayer Red Alert” for our job skills program, women needing work, little girls who were raped, a boy that was kidnapped, Karl’s back, our bed bugs – you name it. Anything that just wasn’t going to change unless God intervened. It’s surprising how much stuff that is.

The point is – you don’t need to move to Africa to get a prayer team. We all need friends who will really, truly pray for us.

I would encourage you right now to pick 5 people who really like you and would be happy to pray for you. Guess what? People want to know you – the real you. They WILL pray for you.

In fact, we’d love to be the first people on your list. Just email me: julie@karlandjulie.com. I’ll start praying for you today!

Taxi Wars

2011-05-29T17:17:00.000-07:00

Have we mentioned the taxi drivers here are a little passionate about their work?

If you’re picturing a nice, spacious New York city yellow cab – adjust that visual to slightly more of a mini-bus...van’ish thing– that holds about 15-18 people.

Apparently it’s an extremely competitive market. The taxis have been known to bomb other taxis for being on their “turf” and start open shooting at full taxi’s with people in them. I gather they are a bit annoyed when you don’t ride in their taxi.

Although quick tempered and impatient, with a slight tendency toward terrorism, they do appear to be quite resourceful.

On occasion they will make space for extra people by putting a crate in the middle part between the driver’s seat and the front passenger seat...and they’ve even been known to pull out the steering wheel and drive WITH A WRENCH in place in order to squeeze in one more passenger.

The government frowns upon this sort of ingenuity.

The Taxi Bosses (that’s really what they’re called) also don’t like to have their taxi impounded for being a teensy bit unsafe. They responded last month by burning tires in the street to protest the unfairness of the government to require that their vehicle be “road worthy” (similar to a car inspection in the US to prove your vehicle is safe to drive). I guess the police prefer that when you drive a dozen people around – you do so with a properly installed steering wheel instead of a rusty ole wrench. Picky, picky, picky.

The whole thing is a bad combination of the Scooby Doo Mystery Machine meets the Sopranos.

It’s Complicated

2011-05-11T10:07:00.000-07:00

Ahhh...being a woman. Men often say they don’t understand us – but the truth is we rarely understand ourselves. It’s complicated being us. Very complicated.

I’ll actually say to my husband, “You know me better than I know myself – what’s WRONG with me?” Most of the time he can tell me.

We are always thinking...always calculating...then rethinking and recalculating.

When we’re not talking (IF we’re not talking)...it’s because we are thinking, thinking, THINKING. Don’t mistake that blank stare for a serene mind of nothingness (a skill many men posses – I’ve heard they can actually do this – sit there and think about NOTHING!).

You might be impressed we’re multi-tasking by making dinner and talking enthusiastically to one of our kids about their latest school project and checking Facebook simultaneously – but you have NO idea. We are really taking multi-tasking to whole new level by thinking...

• Are my kids eating enough vegetables? The answer to this is always NO. Bust out some more frozen broccoli. Quick!

• Am I paying enough attention to my kids? NO! Is it even possible to pay too much attention to your kids? I’ve never heard of that!

• Did I permanently damage my child beyond the point that any amount of therapy can fix when I did that? Most likely! How much is that going to cost me in 10 years?

• Did I forget to get that at the store? Yes!

• Did my HUSBAND forget to get that at the store? Yes! Yes!

• When can I go get that at the store? Who knows? My schedule is too full already!

• Do my friends actually forget ME or does it just seem that way? (Quietly) I hope it just seems that way.

• Did she take it the wrong way when I said blah blah blah? Lord, please let that not be the case!

• Did everything seem OK last time I saw her – or was she acting “funny?” I really hope she’s OK and I imagined the “funny.” Yes...I MUST have imagined the “funny.”

• Should I ask her? How the heck do I do that?

• Do we have any money? No!

• How can we get more money? Not sure!

• Should I take that back to the store to get some money? Probably!

• Should I get a different job? Can’t think about that – quick think about something else!

• Should I cut back? Yes! But I already cut back everything!

• Can I possibly take on more? Not really!

• Can I squeeze in ONE SECOND to exercise today? No!

• Can I make up for not exercising by eating another pound of vegetables? Yes! Of course! I think I read that somewhere.

• Should I have said (here is a review of about a million things we should have said)? Yes to about 17 things on the list of 100 possibilities.

• Am I dying of a strange disease? Probably!

• How do I feel about Bin Laden? Can you actually get Princess Kate’s dress at Nordstrom’s? Will this economy ever recover? Will the price of gas ever go down? Who knows!

Yes...it’s true. We are actually thinking ALL of these things in the 10 minutes it takes to boil some noodles.
I must say...if it seems like a lot- it’s because IT IS A LOT.

I thought things would be different in Africa – but let me just put your mind at rest. It’s not. If you’ve ever thought, “Maybe I should run off to Africa like Julie- then I wouldn’t have to worry about this...” rest assured that I am probably thinking at the same time, “Maybe I should run back to America, then I wouldn’t have to worry about this...”

I recently had some issues with girl friends. Imagine. I was asking myself about 100 times a day (instead of the usual 5-10), “ Did everything seem OK last time I saw her – or was she acting “funny?”

Although I was REALLY hoping she was OK and that I just imagined the “funny,” I was not imagining it.

Turns out...I disappointed her (one of my top MOST UNFAVORITE things to do is disappoint someone). I hurt her without realizing it. I miscalculated a few things. Said the wrong thing...did the wrong thing...thought the wrong thing.

So we had to talk about it.

As in telling each other what was bothering us. Actually saying it out loud.

I’ve discovered, if it’s a little thing that bothers you – it’s tough to share. You don’t want to bring it up – after all – it’s just a little thing. If it’s a big thing that bothers you, that’s worse. To share a big thing – something that hurts you to your core and shakes your very depths – you have to become very vulnerable. You give people the ability to look deep down inside you and see you at your most vulnerable, naked state – and it’s entirely possible they could dismiss, misunderstand or worst of all - reject you.

So we talked and talked and talked some more. I saw her side, she saw mine. Just a little at first and then some more.

I told my friend – once we had thoroughly gone over all the details and apologized where necessary...“Listen, I have misunderstandings with my friends back home who come from my country, my very same Nebraskan culture...that are the same colour, speak the same language, come from the same religious background and have the same economic resources as me. I AM going to disappoint you. I disappoint them. I will do it again. We HAVE to talk about it. Every time. Every single time.”

So after we got to the bottom or our INDIVIDUAL issues – we then had to get to the bottom of some other issues in our GROUP. So not just 2 women having a real discussion – but now 5 women! Have you ever done this? Is this something you can imagine doing?

We read the verse together... "Therefore if you bring your gift to the altar, and there remember that your brother has something against you, "leave your gift there before the altar, and go your way. First be reconciled to your brother, and then come and offer your gift." (Matt. 5:23-24).

Then we had to ALL hear each other. Really hear each other. We were defensive, we raised voices, we cried, we agreed, we disagreed, we apologized. We were real. This is life.

I’ve learned if you haven’t had to have a hard conversation with someone, it’s only because you haven’t known them long enough or spent enough time together. Period.

So that said...let me encourage you. Go ahead and ask your friend - ask if everything is alright between you. Admit to being jealous and angry and hurt and disappointed and frustrated. Listen. Understand. Listen again. Apologize.

And then afterwards –get some nachos together. Talk about Jesus and his overwhelmingly shocking goodness. We did. Everything looks a little brighter with a plate of cheesy goodness in front of you. Even if you are nowhere near a Nordstrom’s, are tired of hearing about Bin Laden and just spent too much in gas to get there - order the extra guacamole and sour cream.

BONUS: You can cross two questions off your list: “Is she acting funny?” and “Am I eating enough vegetables?” (Guacamole counts as at least three veggies)

Five Words from Jensen’s World

2011-03-31T22:06:00.000-07:00

I guess I shouldn't be surprised that Jensen is turning into a little South African.

Sweetie = Candy

Although this seems like a term for endearment, it’s actually what Jensen now calls “candy.”

Example: “Mama, can I have a sweetie?” (I have to remind myself she’s not asking for a boyfriend)

Biscuit = Cookie

A biscuit really should only be coupled with gravy or given to a dog, but Jensen now uses this word for “cookie”

Example: “Mom, I’d really like a chocolate biscuit.” (Do you see how wrong this feels? Is a biscuit ever chocolate?)

Fetch = Go Get

Again, I feel this word should be reserved for dogs – but here it’s used when something should be retrieved by humans.

Example:

“Mom, can you fetch my jacket and slippers – I’m cold?”

“No, Jensen, you can fetch it yourself.”
“But mommmmmm…I’m not tall enough. I’m only 4!”

Hey = Huh

Jensen now consistently uses the word “Hey” where we Nebraskans would generally use “Huh.” She always catches me off guard with this one.

Example: “Whatcha ya doing, hey?” (I feel a bit like we’ve turned into horses)

Plastics = Band-Aid

I guess there is plastic involved with Band-Aids – but using this logic, shouldn’t all things constructed with plastic be called “plastics?” For instance…toothbrushes, cups, plastic silverware…Can you imagine? It would go something like this, “Go brush your teeth with your plastics and take a drink from your plastics and don’t forget to eat with your plastics?” Something is not right.

Example: “Mommmmmmmmmmmmmmmm!! I need a plastic! I’ve cut off my right toe!”

P.S. I won't go into how she asked me for a "rubber" this morning (yes, that would be an "eraser").

High Tea and High Hopes

2011-03-17T10:04:00.000-07:00

The “Baby Safe Girls” celebrate the small and big victories of 2010 – with a dress-up High Tea event

During tea, we looked back over 2010 and were amazed that the Lord brought hope – even in the midst of seemingly impossible obstacles.

In 2010, approximately 500 babies were dumped in Cape Town alone. A result of poverty, abuse, HIV/AIDS, hopelessness and desperation, the challenge seemed overwhelming.

And yet through Baby Safe, 50+ babies were NOT dumped. 78+ mothers chose life; they made a plan and sought help instead of a rubbish heap. 27+ women and children walked a road of rescue or restoration, to prevent these circumstances from even happening. 238 lives were touched, changed, challenged. Now in 2011, we look ahead with expectation that the LORD will do even more!

The Stats of 2010…

- 238 women and children were helped by Baby Safe

- 107 women were counseled before their Termination of Pregnancy at the local hospital (of these women, 20 of them changed their minds and made a choice for life-over 1/5th!-and possibly more that went unknown)

Note: In the US, 1 out of every 5 babies are aborted. Yes! That is actually true. We are excited that here on the continent best known for high abortion rates, 1 out of 5 babies intended for abortion (at the hospital where we offer counseling) was saved.

- 58 women, who made a choice to parent, were met on an individual level by our Baby Safe team

- 38 babies were born

- 7 babies were successfully placed in loving homes through adoption

- 8 children were put in a place of safety in our network of safety families, 4 of whom were placed long term while the other 4 were able to be reunited with their family.

- 27 women and children experienced intervention or preventing for either difficult or even life-threatening situations, many going through the process of discipleship

- 1 baby successfully in our local baby safe, as 1 brave woman chose to give her child a future rather than dumping it!

These women and children came to us from every background, circumstance, race and region.

We worked with countless from our local communities of Masiphumelele, Ocean View, and Fish Hoek, as well as surrounding areas like Muizenberg or even Khayelitsha. They were black, white and colored, Xhosa, Afrikaanse, Zulu, Zimbabwean, Malawian, and more. Each one different. Each one desperate.

Yet the LORD sees each of them and calls them by name. He called them to life and not death, to hope and to healing. He looks upon them and sees his children, forsaken royalty, calling them to a greater destiny.

“The nations will see your righteousness, and all kings your glory; and you will be called by a new name which the mouth of the LORD will designate. You will also be a crown of beauty in the hand of the LORD, and a royal diadem in the hand of your God. It will no longer be said to you, “Forsaken,” nor to your land will it any longer be said, “Desolate”; but you will be called, “My delight is in her,” and your land, “Married”; for the LORD delights in you.” -Isaiah 62:2-4.

Note: Information adapted from Danielle Kittinger’s Baby Safe blog post.

Cup of Cold Water

2011-03-10T12:11:00.000-08:00

Oh my! We know times are tough in America and gas prices have skyrocketed.

To commiserate with America’s Ridiculous Price of Gas Pain – the price of gas here is $6 a gallon. Since we typically buy gas in liters and rand (the currency here)…it took us a while to calculate fully HOW BAD IT IS. Our mouths fell open when we did the math last week and realized it’s $6 a gallon. Painful!

Shortly after I came to this realization...I kept a diary of my driving schedule. Let's just say - it's the LAST day I'll do that!

The Diesel Diaries - A day in the life of the Ostrand diesel truck (we decided to buy a 10 year old truck to transport soccer equipment and mass amounts of people who live in the townships).

Keep in mind this is from the girl that REFUSED to drive in Africa for the first 6 months I was here

Destination #1. 7:30 am - Go to Ocean View to pick up the women for the Sisterhood of Success class (NONE of them have cars and many cannot afford the 75 cents for a taxi to class)

SHOULDA BROUGHT MY HEELS: Today my crew of women is running a bit late (God bless Danielle who picked up the "on-time crew" and took them to class). The first two women stroll up (they are so tiny they look more like teenage girls). They still need to take one of their kids to creche (the word for preschool here), so I drive over to the creche to drop off the child.

Discussion going on in the truck at this moment? The fact that we are missing Beth, one of the other students. Beth told them she was sick…but they are concerned that she lied about being sick and that her abusive boyfriend is holding her captive in her flat (an apartment complex like “the projects” in the States). A gangster and drug addict, he doesn’t want Beth taking the Sisterhood of Success class – he’s terrified she’ll realize she can become successful without him…a REAL-LIFE “sister of success,” if you will.

They convince me to weave the truck around the back alleys of the flats and talk her into going to class today. I don’t usually roam around the flats – overrun with gangsters and drug addicts – but I tell them if the three of us go together, we can do it.

Note: Regret #45: Giving up high heels in Africa – those spikes could have come in handy today, coupled with a Fancy Nancy Karate Kid Kick to the kisser.

Trooping up the deteriorating stairs, we quickly knock on the door and she answers immediately…fully dressed and ready to go. Apparently her 4 year old ran out of the house when they started fighting, afraid her dad would beat her mom again.

Now we’re off to find the 4 year old girl! Somewhere! We track her down at a neighbor’s house and take her to crèche.

ON OUR WAY TO LIVING WAY CAMPUS (where we hold the Sisterhood class): I ask the girls…"What is your happiest childhood memory?"

map of our area

Mia says, “I remember being in school and going on field trips to museums. That was fun. I didn’t know then how hard life could be.”
Lisa says, “I remember walking with my sister hand in hand on Christmas morning – through our neighborhood to my grandmother’s house. That was a nice memory.”
Beth says, “I don’t have any happy memories.” Choking up… “but I know Jesus can change my life.”
I say (still driving), “Beth…Jesus was there with you when you were a child – all those times you cried…He cried with you. He was there. He loves you.”

There wasn’t a dry eye in the truck.

Destination #2. 8 am - Go to Living Way to drop off the women for class – I hop out of the truck and run through my morning Sisterhood routine: make sure there is enough food for snacks and lunch, collect money the students have earned to pay for the class, update the “contest board” (whichever team of women can pay off their $30 for the class first – wins a lunch out with Alli and me), answer questions, confirm the schedule. It’s a bit “hectic” (as they say here).

Destination #3. 8:30 am – Jump back in the truck at lightning speed and go home to pick up Jensen for school (we only have one vehicle that can take our kids). Karl has given her breakfast and packed her pink princess backpack with the required items for preschool in Africa: snack (she’ll only eat bread and butter – you’d think she spent her first 4 years in prison) and her “cozi” (aka swimming suit – daily swimming at school – why not?)

Destination #4. 8:45 am - Go to preschool (drop off Jensen – she is met by a posse of happy friends to see her)

Destination #5. 9 am - Go back home (try to remember to grab everything else I may need for the day

Destination #6. 9:15 am - Go to Living Way again (pick up Alli – my fabulous partner in crime – her car is in the shop)

Destination #7. 9:30 am- Go to All Nations for presentation on what Baby Safe does and how Sisterhood for Success if making a difference. Meet Elmien for the first time – the newest member of the Baby Safe team - and ask her if she can help us with class today. Amazingly she agrees!

Destination #8. 10:45 am - Go back to Living Way with Elmien and Alli (for the third time today) and find out Elaine, one of the students, just received a phone call that her mom is very sick and she needs to be rushed to Ocean View to take her mom to the hospital.

Destination #9. 11 am - Go back to Ocean View (for the second time today)

Drop off Elaine at her house
Go to Ocean View library (post dance class flyer for 10 year old girls to attend a new dance class)
Go to an Ocean View crèche (one of the crèche directors called very upset that the some of the Sisterhood children have been coming to creche on days we didn’t pay for/make payment for Sisterhood childcare)

Destination #10. 11:30 am - Go back to Living Way (for the 3rd time today) - Do individual evaluations for each student with Richard, the instructor, and Alli. They both have such amazing input and encouragement for the women.

We determine that of the 15 women attending the class - 10 are employment-ready and 5 are micro-enterprise-ready – which means the 5 will go on to “Sisterhood of Dreams” – a pre-entrepreneurial course. The others will start a genuine search for employment. We’ll help them with weekly support groups, accountability and internet training so they can search for jobs online. We also want to find out which women want to continue with the Bible studies after the course is over. Most of them want to! Exciting!

Individual Evaluations with Alli, Richard and me

Destination #11. 12:30 pm - Go back to preschool (Pick up Jensen – she looks happy and exhausted – about like me at this point)

Destination #12. 12:45 pm - Go home (have some family time over lunch – crackers, cheese, turkey – with baby marrow dipped in hummus. Yum!)

Destination #13. 1:45 pm - Go back to Living Way (for the 4th time today) to finish up individual evals

ON THE WAY THERE PICK UP MAN ON THE STREET: See Shane at the robot (aka “stop light”) on my way and give him a ride in the back of the truck (he’s a man with a bad limp who begs on the street that Karl and I have befriended - we're praying for a job for him). Drop Shane off at a taxi stand and return to Living Way.

Meet Shane

ONCE THERE, WE CONTINUE WITH THE EVALS: We pull each woman out of class one-by-one and spend about 10 minutes with them individually.

For some of these women, this is the most positive feedback they have ever received in one sitting – many in their lifetime. They beam as we tell them how proud we are of their efforts.

FORGIVE OR FIGHT: During our individual sessions, a heated argument breaks out with the women back in the classroom. Ironically enough, this happens during the “forgiveness” section of the lesson. We ignore it and let Elmien, who is handling the group discussion, take care of it. Baptism by fire…she does a great job and somehow manages to calm the class down and work out the fight. Drama, drama, drama!

Finish up the evals with barely enough time to get the women back into Ocean View before the cresche closes early on a Friday. EVERYTHING seems to close early in South Africa - but especially on a Friday. 3 pm? Really? For closing a creche for working moms? What I wouldn't give for ONE 24 hour Wal-mart!

Destination #14. 2:55 pm- Go back to Ocean View (3rd time today) - we’re down a car for transport so the 9 of us pile into the front seat, back seat and bed of the truck.

3:02 pm - Drop Zimbini off at the Ocean View wholesale shop to buy baggies for her brownies (she is fundraising for the course by selling brownies – but needs the little bags to put them in)
3:08 pm - Drop off some women at Ocean View creche #1
3:12 pm - Drop off other women at Ocean View creche #2
3:15 pm -Arrange for some of the women to stay at another location (abusive boyfriends and family members make their current home situation unsafe)
3:20 pm - Pick up Zimbini from wholesaler to give her a ride home
Do you feel like this is too much information about my gas mileage? It probably is...bear with me!

Destination #15. 3:30 pm - Go to Masiphumelele, the “black township” - I would normally drop Zimbini off at the entrance of Masi, as I’m running late to get back home. However, her hip started hurting her this morning, so I maneuver through Masi alleys and drop her off at her house. I've been to her house 3 times - but I still can't rember how to get there! I think she must be seriously questioning my geography skills. In fact, she says as much - in a Xhosa sort of way. Gotta love Zimbini!

Zimbini

Destination #16. 3:45 pm - Go to Alli’s house (drop her off – this day has bedraggled us both!)

Destination #17. 4 pm - Go to the store (need chips for tonight – everything is much better with corn tortilla chips, isn’t it? Somehow a little Mexican goes a long way)

Destination #18. 4:30 pm - Go home (sit down for a half hour and discuss the day with Karl)

Destination #19. 5:00 pm - WALK to pick up Jensen from her play date in our neighborhood. Congratulate myself for zero gas mileage used for Destination #19.

Destination #20. 6:00 – Walk home with Jensen and make dinner for the family (pan sauté a flaky fish here called hake, and serve with broccoli and baked potatoes - Emme eats some fish!)

Destination #21. 7:00 pm - Meehan picks me up for our girls night (Thanks, Meehan! I don’t think I have the energy to drive ONE more block or the will to spend one ONE rand on gas).

I’m tempted to complain about the driving and Alli says, “You know Julie – there’s that verse about giving a cup of cold water– maybe giving a ride is the same thing?”

Maybe it is…I’m holding out for THAT! If so, I gave out about 20 cups of cold water today.

Note: Names of Ocean View community members changed.

On days like this Karl takes the bike to his meetings and soccer events so I can have the truck. Here are some photos of him transporting soccer players after practice a few days later. He has SERIOUSLY fit 27 kids in that truck!

Thank you again to all who gave towards our vehicle last fall! You've been giving out quite a few cups of cold water yourself. We are grateful and the people of Africa seem to think it's their truck. Looks like they're right!

Joyful Expectation

2011-02-22T07:54:00.000-08:00

Two things I try to avoid in life is getting my hopes up and change. The truth is, I get pretty disappointed with disappointment.

My secret plan is to silently expect the worst and set my expectations low. Even though I can expect and pray for good things for others, I just struggle with doing it for myself. I can’t believe I’m admitting that – but it’s true.

A few months ago in our house church, we studied this passage.

Our house church

Romans 12:9-13 (The Message)

9-10Love from the center of who you are; don't fake it. Run for dear life from evil; hold on for dear life to good. Be good friends who love deeply; practice playing second fiddle.

11-13Don't burn out; keep yourselves fueled and aflame. Be alert servants of the Master, cheerfully expectant. Don't quit in hard times; pray all the harder. Help needy Christians; be inventive in hospitality.

In our house church we use the Discovery Bible Study model – which ends with the question, “After reading these verses – how will you change?” The idea is – let’s not just read the Bible, let’s decide how we are going to tangibly obey what we just read.

Ha!

I used to be able to sit in church, hear a sermon and think “That was GREAT! Somebody should really start doing that!” Now at church, we read a passage, have a lively discussion and then each decide how we are PERONALLY and SPECIFICALLY going to change. Then we tell each other what we decided. It’s painful! Have I mentioned I don’t like change?

Seriously.

If you’ve known me for any length of time you might think, “Well – she changes her hair and it appears she has changed her continent recently – she MUST like change.” But this is misleading. I don’t like every day change that means I’ll have to do something differently.

It’s very inefficient (efficiency is one of my MOST favorite things). I want to learn how to do something well – and then just keep doing it FOREVER that same way. I don’t change my desktop graphic, I don’t rearrange my furniture, I don’t like to upgrade my cell phone. I even resist a new television series (back when I had television) – it just seems like a lot of work to get interested in a whole new set of characters and plot line. You see my point - it’s putting it mildly to say I resist change.

So after reading that passage about being “cheerfully expectant”– I realized I had to change. Even though I can do it for others, I really don’t “cheerfully expect” at all for myself. In fact, I PURPOSELY don’t joyfully expect. That night God showed me how wrong I am.

So, my “I will” statement was…”I will have joyful expectations.”

Bethany, a friend in our house church, asked me a few weeks ago, “How’s that going with joyfully expecting?”

Julie and Bethany

I said, “Yes, I think that’s a really good idea…but I still don’t want to.”

She said, “Julie, how much would your life change – if you really did ‘joyfully expect’ good things?”

Hmmm…how much would it? I began to realize, if I joyfully expected good things, even if bad things happened, I would just continue to expect God to work it for good. Isn’t that in the Bible somewhere?

I thought I would be changing Africa – but as it ends up – Africa is changing me.

So the 2 things I avoid – high expectations and change – are pretty much the two things I am choosing to embrace at this moment. Church isn’t for us something that happens once a week, it’s something that happens throughout the week as we live in community. That means I see people almost every day that know how God is working in my life. They’ll actually say, “How are those joyful expectations going?”

I can’t get away from it!

So I am choosing to joyfully expect good things – joyfully expecting God to show up and somehow work out all these messes for good. And there are A LOT of messes. Real relationship with real people is messy...poverty is messy...township life is messy.

So now, when I need to make a decision or choose my attitude, I’ll ask myself, “Julie, what would you do if you were joyfully expecting good things from God?”

He loves to do GOOD things! I know this! I'm expecting it!

Next time you see me – ask how my “joyful expectations” are going!

Heaven - The Real Deal

2011-01-30T06:34:00.000-08:00

She died and went to heaven. Seriously. Actual-real-deal heaven.

Have you ever wanted a small glimpse of the afterlife? Something to make you hold on a little longer? Sometimes even a tiny slice of heaven can make the days not as cold, the nights as dark, and the road not as long.

Mike and Kalyn

Kalyn seems like a regular person. Originally from Oklahoma, she moved here to South Africa with her husband to work with All Nations. We both went to the “Girls Christmas Craft Night” last month, and while I was craftin my fingers to the bone stitching felt birds together, she rocked my world with her story…

Kalyn’s Story:

When I was 16 years old, I was sitting on the hood of my car playing the guitar. A friend of mine hopped in the car, got behind the wheel and started to drive it up a hilly street. As she drove down the hill, the car gained speed. I couldn’t balance, so I planned to throw my guitar off and grab the windshield wipers, but the force from throwing my guitar caused me to flip backwards onto the pavement. I had massive injuries to my head and was rushed to the hospital.

The doctors told my mother I wasn’t going to make it.

I remember physically leaving my body and watching everyone gather around me in the hospital room. I even remember seeing our neighbor boy lie to a nurse, saying he was my fiancée to get into my hospital room. Later, he was shocked I knew he had done that.

After hovering there for some time, I then was with Jesus. I just remember His eyes – looking at me with such love! We didn’t have to speak. He could read my thoughts and I could read His. He is AMAZING! It was so real…all my senses were SO ALIVE. It makes this life we are living now – seem like we’re dead – compared with how REAL and full of life that life is.

Even at our most healthy, fit, vivacious life, it is as if we are not even alive here on earth. THAT is how amazing being in the presence of CHRIST IS. Every cell of your body is vibrant with life. It is brighter than the brightest sun. It is incredible to be in His presence!

I was so filled with joy that all I could do was dance. I danced without stop in the presence of Christ. It gives me joy just remembering. Words truly can't express how it is to be in the presence of Jesus. In the scripture it says, “For now we see in a mirror dimly, but then face to face.” (I Cor. 13:12).

It is as if we experience His full glory and it is INCREDIBLE!

Some time passed, although I had no concept of time, and I remember Him looking at me. I stopped dancing and He asked me if I wanted to return to earth or go with Him. Of course there is no way anyone would ever want to leave the presence of Jesus. It is as if you are truly alive for the FIRST time. I answered that I wanted to go back to earth. I was shocked that those words came out of my mouth. NO ONE would choose to return to earth after being that full of life. I believe it was the prayers of my mother and friends that caused me to choose to return. After that I woke up from my coma several weeks later.

It was a painful recovery…I still wear a hearing aid and have no sense of smell. In fact, I had to re-teach myself to read. But for years afterward – whenever I would reflect on that time, I could still feel the presence of Jesus. In fact for a long time, whenever I would hear someone had died, I would say… “That’s WONDERFUL! That is GREAT! They are with Jesus – they are having the time of their life!” My mother would have to remind me people were grieving and sad.

In heaven we are more alive than ever in this body on earth. It IS an actual place, and I look forward to being COMPLETELY ALIVE after I have died and left this earth!

Pudding That’s Not Pudding

2011-01-16T12:43:00.000-08:00

If you ever hear “Bring your costume and some pudding” in South Africa, you’ll know this is a swimming party with a dessert potluck (that is not likely to include actual pudding, as you know it).

Here are a few “must know” terms for your next trip to South Africa…

Costume (or Cozie) = Swimming Suit (as in “swimming costume”)

Context: Bring your cozie!

Commentary: When I first heard someone say “Bring your costume!” I thought, “Costume? Princess? Pirate? Dinosaur? I don’t have a costume!”

Now Now = sooner than Now

Context: I’ll be there now now.

Commentary: People say this all the time. “Now Now.” From what I’ve been able to gather from several different sources – this is the equivalent of “asap” or “right now.” Of course this is Africa – so it’s not lightning quick or anything – it just means “I’m STARTING to head in that direction.”

Pudding = Dessert

Context: Do you want some pudding?

Commentary: Pudding here is the generic term for dessert. Odd. A South African was telling me she had asked an American to bring pudding to a pot luck dinner and she brought with a bowl of chocolate pudding (as I most certainly would have). The confused South African said, “What’s this?” and the American said, “Pudding, of course!” So they served the pudding for pudding!

Force Cup = Plunger

Context: Well…we better go get a force cup.

Commentary: We’ve been in Africa for about a year now – and had to buy our first “force cup” recently. When Karl asked the Pick N Pay (grocery store) employee where to find a plunger – they looked at him like he was crazy – after several hand motions (don’t picture it), they pointed him to the “force cup” section.

Half Past Eleven = 11:30

Context: Meet me for lunch at half past 11.

Commentary: The most exact time gets here is 15 minute increments - “quarter past,” “half past,” or “quarter till”. Saying 11:15 or 11:45 is not common. I asked a friend once, “What if you had an appointment at 9:10 am? How would you say that?” She said, “Why would you have an appointment at 9:10?” Shouldn’t they just make it for quarter past?” Ahh…good point– it seems it’s just us Americans that like to be so precise. How I miss a movie with a show time at 8:25 pm!

Craftin My Fingers to the Nubbins

2010-12-19T12:50:00.000-08:00

There are crafty-esque people and not so crafty. Research shows I fall into the definately NOT so crafty category.

However, I stand in admiration of these crafty people (not crafty like Brer Rabbit – but crafty like “I just whipped up amazing winter decorations for every room in our house, while I was knitting matching mitten/scarf sets for orphans and making home-made Christmas cards for all 200 people on our mailing list”).

THOSE crafty people. They are amazing.

I always walk away a little resentful I could not think of any of their amazing craft ideas in a lifetime or find the energy to craft up a single Christmas card. Oh sure, in college I made a few Christmas presents for friends.

I seem to recall an angel ornament made from a variety of noodles – this was the height of my Craft Career and my skills have since been in serious decline.

All told, scrap booking has left me with a few feeble attempts and one half finished book.

Knitting sounds like something I would like to do – but the skill set is beyond my capacity.

Even baking is something I leave to the professionals.

However, I will say here in Africa I am surrounded by some amazing Craftation Women. I even attended a craft night and attempted to make some “Joy to the World” birds. Yes, it’s true.

This is my green "Joy" bird - as in "Joy to the World" - to be hung from a pinecone branch I found outside

For those that know me well, rest assured that I was surprised as anyone to find myself later stringing pop-corn for our tree and hanging an Advent Bunting Calendar. I had not even heard of bunting till last week. Who knew this was the latest fashion? Triangle banner flags hung by string? Do you see how out of touch I have been with the Crafting World?

I even found myself buying some old buttons from an antique store – thinking, "WHITE BUTTONS! These must be useful to someone! Maybe they could be useful to ME!"

So here is the new me – attempting a few Christmas crafts – next thing you know, I’ll be making my own clothes, kneading bread from scratch, and canning tomatoes.

Alright - this idea is swiped from the VERY CRAFTY KATE (Christmas Advent Bunting Calendar) and the paper was donated by my friend Sarah - but I did print the numbers, cut and glue them (my 4 year old should be proud)

Advent Bunting Calendar (mark the day with a paper clipped black arrow)

We put our mini-tree on a table - in hopes of making it feel a little more tall-ish

Little did I know it takes about 2 hours to string pop-corn for a mini sized tree

OK - so I confess I did NOT make these (but I DID hang them with "sticky tack" - THAT is a skill).

OK, OK, I didn't make these either - but I hung them up in an attempted crafty-looking stagger

The white buttons inspired me! I think I'll put this star at the top of our tree (Jensen has been VERY disturbed we have a starless tree).

A few weeks ago Jensen said, "Mom, Santa is NOT going to like this house -there are not very many Christmas decorations."

I hope he appreciates the fact that I have been craftin my fingers to the nubbins!

Besides crafting...see the other cool things we are doing in Africa! See December journal

If you have a favorite Christmas craft, recipe or idea - please comment below!

African Style Thankfulness

2010-11-25T15:01:00.000-08:00

Top 5 reasons to be thankful for living in South Africa...

Turkey with friends on Thanksgiving Day

#1: From 9,000 miles away Husker football penalties and poor refereeing doesn’t seem quite so vivid – especially since we can’t actually watch the games (although still very painful to recall – I’m trying to block it out as we speak).

#2: I now know what it means when they tell you to pull your “trolley” up to the “till” (my “cart” up to the “cash register”) – even though I have to go back EVERY TIME to weigh my fruit (they can’t weigh it at the till – and I look like a crazy person running with oranges swinging in all directions as I hold up a entire line of people who clearly took the time and effort to weigh their fruit first)

#3: The 30 miles per hour gusts of wind, although likely to blow away my children and the roof off my house, do a top notch job of drying my laundry (yes, you heard that right, I am now a line drying machine – although of course not really a machine at all)

#4: I'm so glad the dollar was up today - 7 to 1 (it has been at an all time low since we have returned). The fluctuation in the value of the dollar can mean up to a hundred dollar difference in the rent we pay every month. I never thought I would care so much about the international power of the dollar. Go up! Go up! Go UUUUUUUPPPPPPPPP!

#5: I can use “hectic” appropriately in a sentence. Unlike “hectic” in American – which simply means busy – hectic here means so much more…

- “So you had a hectic past” (you did drugs, became homeless, had 4 kids, and checked into rehab)
- “My hair is quite hectic today” (noticeably messy and perhaps missing a shampoo or two)

- “Her driving is a bit hectic” (she has no idea what she’s doing and drives like a mad woman)

So there you have it. Happy Thanksgiving…hope it’s not too hectic!

Toast Parties and Dadisms

2010-11-18T15:46:00.000-08:00

Ahh…little girls love their daddy. And I love mine – dearly and now almost desperately.

Growing up we had what we called “Dad-isms.” Classic things my dad always said.

Here are his top 20 Dad-isms:

1. Let’s have a toast party (this was a special treat of family time – eating jelly toast, talking, laughing - and most importantly staying up past the bedtime we rarely missed)

2. Use Normal and Customary procedures (he repeated this over and over again while teaching me to drive – I’m so grateful he thought I knew what “normal and customary” driving procedures actually were).

3. Put away your guitar and clean up your room (this one was for my brother – who taught himself to play guitar and is now an amazing worship leader – but I guess his room must have been pretty messy)

4. Now see if you can get back home from here (he loved to play a game where he would ask us to close our eyes while he drove my brother and me to some random location and then we had to figure out how to get home from there – from the back seat of the car we would give him directions till we found our way home “turn right…go straight…etc.” – he felt it was very important to be able to get “unlost”)

5. Since responsibility is your middle name… (this statement would proceed some responsible thing he was sure I was about to do)

6. Only under these 3 conditions (often he would let us talk him into doing something we really wanted to do – but there were ALWAYS 3 – not 2, not 4 – but 3 conditions)

7. Start saving (he believed you should actually save up your money if you want something - how unAmerican!)

8. Where’s the Buick? (in college he would let me borrow his car and instead of asking where I was he would say, “Where’s the Buick?”)

9. Only 90% true (he believes that several things can be true at once – meaning everything is not always as clear-cut as it may seem)

10. I’ll give you ten guesses (this is a game we still play – where we have to figure out something within 10 guesses – aka, what restaurant did he eat at last night, who did I run into at the mall, etc. - this is a game I hate to loose)

11. Pick up as you go (he believed in cleaning up messes as you made them)

12. I-C-E (my parents would spell out I-C-E for ice cream when I was young, thinking we wouldn’t catch on to that one…ha!)

13. Train! (this is a game of who can hear or see a train first –then yell “Train!” to stake your claim of firstness)

14. Keep short accounts (he firmly believes in shoring things up quickly – debts, conflicts, etc.)

15. Long pause (like most men, my father likes to pause in conversation – apparently it’s only us women that see this pause as long – as our pause is about 1/100th in length – he attributes this to a man’s smaller lung capacity)

16. I’ll give you $10 if you can solve this math problem (he loves both a good incentive and good math problem)

17. Is it in the book? (meaning have you recorded your day’s expenses in your budget book?)

18. Have a banana (his way of saying “eat healthy”)

19. Hey Champ! (that was my brother) and Hey Bug! (that was me - not sure how I ended up as the insect and my brother as the champion)

20. Today is a packet day (a freeze-tag style game my dad made up 50 years ago - involving wadded up packets of newspaper and two teams – it’s great fun and has been carried over to international notoriety in Kabul and Cape Town)

So that’s my dad.

I’m sure it’s obvious from this list, but he really is an exceptional father - toast parties, games and life lessons. If everyone had a dad like mine, this world would be an entirely different place.

That said, for his birthday this past Tuesday I had a special request. As many of you know, he finished Chemo for his cancer (chronic lymphocytic lyphoma) last summer. We thought it was great…the cancer treatment was successful!

However, he is now sicker than he has ever been. His immunity is so low from the after effects of the chemo treatment– his body can’t seem to fight off ANYTHING. He’s had painful canker sores for over a month now (that refuse to go away) and a lingering fever that has lasted over a week. It’s possible his immunity may be severely compromised for the rest of his life…with little hope of medication that can help.

So for his birthday, we asked friends to join us in a fast for the complete recovery of my dad’s immune system.

Many people sacrificed for us in prayer – sending encouraging words and scriptures. We can’t thank you enough!

After reading the kind words from friends, here is the email I got from dad today.

Julie and Karl,

This is dad.

I have read many emails that came from your request.

All are encouraging.

Thank you so much for caring for me.

I am overwhelmed that so many are praying and caring.

I have significant pain but I work daily to speak into kids.

I talk funny but the kids seem to get it.

I am weak but they are so helpful.

I run scared but Jesus runs within me.

I am discouraged but not without hope.

The race is now difficult but Christ has won this marathon.

Because the church surrounds me, I am not alone.

Many have endured, I am in good company.

This is hard, but Jesus is my life.

I have one verse, I have a thousand. They all say one thing, "Jesus in you, the hope of glory."

We are called to run the race, but sometimes it's a vertical thing, hard but upward.

Sometimes, the answers are slippery, but JESUS is not. HE is the ANSWER.

We must all run while resting in His PRESENCE.

I am tired now, talk later.

love, dad.

*The "kids" are dad's students (he teaches math at a junior high school)

I stand in awe of my daddy. What I wouldn't give for a toast party right now.

NOTE: Here is the page on our site with the scriptures friends sent for my dad and a status update on his health: Prayer for Julie's Dad

His Instruments

2010-11-14T13:31:00.000-08:00

Sitting in the bookstore café with Karl, I was surprised when an old man clamored over me. He quickly hopped onto a chair next to us and reached for a book sitting on top of the book shelf.

Now I was curious. You never quite know what you’re going to get in South Africa.

“Is that a good book?” I said (referring to the paperback he had just swiped from his high altitude perch)

“It better be…I wrote it!” he replied, as he slipped colored photos of an old cello into the books.

“Oh…what’s it about?” I inquired. He seemed so intent on his mission – I HAD to know.

Mr. Robson introduced himself and explained how a homeless man, rummaging through the trash on “bin day” (as in “garbage bin day” – naturally the day you set your trash out), discovered a few splintered pieces of an old baroque cello.

Although it looked more like firewood than a 300 year old treasure, he passed it on to someone who “knew something about music.”

For 30 years it sat in storage…neglected, worn to shreds, unusable.

Mr. Robson, who had a habit of restoring old instruments, took it out from time to time. He admired the old bits of worn wood, but was daunted by the task of restoration. He wasn’t inspired to repair it until his music group took up an interest in performing Bach’s church cantatas on original instruments.

And why wouldn’t you? Why perform Bach on a hideously modern violin if you can find the original instrument from Bach’s era? Little did I know, there are people who live to do this.

After months of tedious labor, he made an amazing discovery! Much to his shock and excitement, this was not just a cello from around Bach’s time - it was a 5 string cello-piccolo, created in 1707 – most likely to have been used by Bach himself. These instruments were only popular for a short time, as a precursor to the modern day cello. They are now obsolete and extremely rare - with a mere 4 or 5 in all the world – designed solely for Bach’s church cantatas (there are only 10 songs Bach composed for this instrument, “Deck yourself, my soul, with gladness” being the first).

Standing in the café with a wistful look in his eye he said, “I just knew this instrument was really special.”

In his book Midnight Mess (by William Selway Robson), he goes on to say, “I could sense its musical soul was intact, it only needed painstaking repair to bring it back to life again!”

For some reason I had to hold back tears.

Hearing him speak so tenderly about the discarded instrument, thrown in the trash, found by a beggar and restored to beauty - I couldn’t help but think of my friends in Ocean View.

They are discarded, neglected, abused, forgotten, thrown away. They are in the bin….treasures…waiting for restoration. When someone…just one person…takes the time to sit for hours, peeling back layers of hurt and abuse, carefully gluing pieces in place, repairing broken strings – a treasure takes form.

Not just an expensive, well crafted instrument – but a priceless instrument, designed by a great composer for specific type of song.

I thought the lyrics to Bach’s first song, composed for this piccolo-cello, are quite fitting…

DECK THYSELF, MY SOUL, WITH GLADNESS (lyrics to 3rd verse)

He who craves a precious treasure
Neither cost nor pain will measure;
But the priceless gifts of heaven
God to us hath freely given.
Though the wealth of earth were offered,
Naught would buy the gifts here offered:
Christ's true body, for thee riven,
And His blood, for thee once given.

He is our treasure and we are His…instruments - born to be restored – with a destiny to be played in a song composed uniquely and specifically and only for us!

If we are not played, our part of the song will never be heard.

I love 2 Timothy 2:21

(We) will be instruments for special purposes, made holy, useful to the Master and prepared to do any good work.

May I stop performing my own song, but participate in the cantata He wrote just for me!

Ava's Dream

2010-10-27T16:42:00.000-07:00

Lately I have not felt very connected to Jesus. I’m not sure why. I love him– but haven’t felt close to him. To be completely honest…he has seemed 2,000 years away, embedded in a distant culture and not near enough to really know the me on the inside.

Just when I felt He was furthest away, my sister-in-law shared her daughter’s dream with me.

Ava, my 4 year old niece, lives in the middle east – a place that puts a high currency on the meaning of dreams.

For a full day she was very distraught – crying frequently, in anguish that she “didn’t get to hug the nice man goodbye!” She kept saying, “I want to go back to sleep and see the nice man!”

Hours later she would start sobbing saying, “I really miss the nice man! He was a doctor and he was so nice.”

My sister-in-law realized Ava had experienced a dream so vivid, it seemed more real than being awake.

The dream in Ava’s words:

“There was lots and lots of hot lava. There were lots of people getting hurt from the lava. The nice man was a doctor and he helped get the people out of the lava. Then he gave me special powers, and I jumped in the lava but I didn’t get any owies. I helped him get the people out of the lava. I could jump all the way down the stairs from the top and not even get hurt! I had really special powers. The nice man was fixing all the owies and making all the people better. He was a doctor. He knew everything about me and kept asking me questions. He was SO nice!

He came to our house and helped make Jett better. Then he got into his car and he had to leave. He told me he had to go to Morning Star to help some people then he wanted to go spend time with Emme.”

I was blown away! THIS is the Jesus I know – the One who knows everything about us, yet still asks questions. The One who partners WITH us to touch and heal a broken world. The One who wants to spend his time with a little girl with Down syndrome in a far corner of Africa.

Suddenly Jesus was near – more real and full of love for ME – than I had realized in a long time. Now I am the one that can’t stop crying.

Thank you, little ones!

Old is the New Young (Kinda)

2010-09-25T10:47:00.000-07:00

I have always believed “40” is what happens to OTHER people – not something I would actually experience for myself.

And much to my shock and disbelieve… I eventually turned 20, then 30, followed by an unavoidable 35 and now at nearly 37 – I feel as if 40 is a smug Katie Couric waiting to air our interview on foreign policy.

Growing up I constantly felt I looked TOO young. Julie means “youthful one” and for years I distained not looking quite my age. I remember being carded for a MOVIE around 30 years old, and thinking, “Does this high schooler behind the ticket counter really think I’m 16 and could be in his P.E. class? Disturbing!”

However, in Africa these past 6 months – we were THE OLD PEOPLE. I think the average age of the rest of our training class was about 24 years old. This should not have surprised me (being “the old couple,” that is) – but somehow I still feel 24, despite my near 40 year old state (doesn’t everyone?).

I will say…the highlight of my summer was returning to our home church and being introduced as a “nice young couple.” It was great. I thought that’s right – I’m young! I have my whole life ahead of me! Jensen’s not going to put me in a home YET!

To stave off the inevitable, I’m reading the book “How Not to Act Old” (by Pamela Redmond Satran), and I have to cringe at the tell-tale signs of my inescapable old age:

• Wearing a watch - the “evil young” (as Satran calls them), don’t wear a watch because they use their cell phones to tell time – I say, show me a cell phone you can strap to your wrist and I’ll show you a girl that no longer wears a watch!

• Leaving a voice mail - apparently “the young” prefer to let you see their “missed call number” so you can wonder with excited anticipation what is the urgent reason for their call (as opposed to “leaving a detailed message at the beep” – however efficient and polite that antiquated system is – apparently it’s out). As for me, when I see a missed call I assume you accidentally called my number and are hoping I didn’t notice.

• Sending email – Ahh – why use email if you can reduce all your communication to 140 characters in a text message or Twitter post? If you have more than 30 words to say, should you really be saying them at all?

• Surfing the Net – No one calls it that (it’s “getting online”). Here are a few techy words Satran says we all must know before our old age pushes our current vocabulary into Shakespearean oblivion:

Dead Tree Version: paper edition of a newspaper or book
Ego surfing : Googling yourself (you should try it)
Fat Finger: typo excuse (because your fat fingers can’t find the right keys??)
Mommy Save: saving a computer file without first choosing a folder or directory
Voice Novel: endless voice mail

So there you go!

If I could just get myself to throw out my watch, reduce all communication to texting, never leave a “Voice Novel” and stop sending email – I could give Joan Rivers a run for her money!

Snapshots of Life with the Ostrands

2010-09-04T14:12:00.000-07:00

It’s been great being back in the US this summer, and we will return to Africa in a few weeks – to embark on our 3 year commitment. Here’s a few snapshots of life with the four members of the Ostrand family…

Miss Daisy Can Drive

While I was in Africa I went on strike as a driver. Unequivocally I REFUSED to get behind the wheel.

Although I’ve been driving in the US for 20 years, can handle a stick, have successfully maneuvered through New York City traffic, and posses my international driver’s license - I just COULD NOT get my mind around the concept of driving on the left side of the road. If it’s not right…it MUST be wrong!

From day one in South Africa I was chauffeured around. When Karl couldn’t take me somewhere– others would drop me off and pick me up. True, it was a little “Miss Daisy” – without the colorful southern banter – but I fully embraced life as an old lady passenger.

On our first day back in the US this summer, I asked Karl to take me to my beloved Target. I wanted to give it some big, sloppy kisses ASAP.

He said, “Well, I’d love to take you, but I really need to figure out our cell phones here.”

I said, “Oh, that’s OK. Can your mom take me?”

Awkward pause.

He hesitated, searching for just the right words… then settled on, “My mom? You can DRIVE!”

Slowly it sunk in…“Huh…that’s right. I CAN drive!”

And off I went, happily on the right side of the road – gleefully singing all the way to Target, “I’m driving on the right side, I’m driving on the right side – I get to go to Target and I’m driving on the right side!”

What in life, I beg of you, is better than those two things? I guess I’ll take up driving when we get back to Africa, but it won’t be the same without Target.

More is Less

Karl has been thinking about living a lot more simply. While in Africa he kept a careful list of things to buy in the US to bring back to Africa.

However, here are a few things he’s recently crossed off– deciding that sometimes more is less (if you saw all the suitcases we brought to Africa in January, you would agree that hauling around more stuff can be much less pleasant)

Even Bigger Jack Bouer Knife – To stab the dogs in Ocean View before they wrap their gnarled teeth around an unsuspecting ankle (I guess his somewhat smaller “Jack-Bouer-As-Pre-Teen-Knife” will have to do)

Rubber Bands – Does he really need something that can twist, tie and stretch in such perfect symmetry like a rubber band? I think he’s holding out that these brilliant little bands actually exist somewhere in South Africa (NO country should be anti-rubber band)

Another watch – Karl’s current $30 watch has lasted about 2 years, but he planned to get another one here in the US because the “loopy thing that holds the band in” fell off – however, he’s discovered that Emme’s pony tail tie works just as well (I think he’s pushing the envelope a bit too far on this one)

Medicine– Apparently we don’t need to bring back enough medicine to set up our own home clinic

Money Grows on Trees

Jensen has had two recent realizations…

#1 “Understanding Jesus is kinda tricky,”
#2. And in the next breathe…“Having lots of money is kinda tricky too.”

I’m not quite sure how these two epiphanies are related – but she has been talking about all the money she’s going to pick off the “money tree” she planted back in Africa. She even jumps up and waves her arms wildly in the air – showing me how she’ll just grab bunches of money out of those trees – wading through her piles of cash. I wish I was kidding – but when Uncle Mike visited us, he told her if she planted her coins a money tree would grow. Sure enough, the next day I found her out in the back yard, diligently digging a hole– planting all her coins in hope of some kind of Donald Trump forest of money trees. She watered it faithfully and could not be convinced that a money tree wasn’t just around the corner. Thanks, Uncle Mike!

Emme Tries Out for American Idol

The “try-out” episodes on American Idol often leave me bewildered – wondering what kind of mother would not mention to her terribly off-key-Britney-Spears-wanna-be daughter that perhaps she should look into a career as a key-grip or band bus driver instead. Some things are better discovered live on national television?

That said (and admitting that we mothers, as a people group, are biased judges of our children’s abilities), I still say that Emme is on the fast track to stardom!

See Emme's Video

Dreams and Nightmares

2010-08-22T00:22:00.001-07:00

By far the biggest “nightmare” phase of my life was planning our wedding. I had numerous nightmares but knew I must be taking the whole thing too far when my Maid of Honor started having nightmares too – about OUR wedding.

My Maid-Of-Honor’s Actual Pre-wedding Nightmare:

Erin dreamed we were all waiting for the wedding to start when suddenly she realized that she had forgotten her white, high-heeled bridesmaid shoes. Seizing her mother's fuzzy yellow slippers, another bridesmaid convinced her that if she just told me, “Oh, my feet are a bit swollen,” I wouldn’t care and no one would fault her for the untraditional footwear.

She was relieved until she noticed that we were one bouquet short on the bridesmaid's flowers. Hurriedly she convinced a bridesmaid (some girl she didn't recognize in the line-up - who WAS that girl?) that it was much more important that the MAID OF HONOR have a bouquet than her. Of course it was!

It looked like it would all be OK...when I rushed up to her in my white, sequin leotard and insisted that she stall the wedding while I finished applying my fake eyelashes.

Desperate to STALL THE WEDDING, she walked as slowly down the aisle as possible. Finally, when she got to the end, she was so tired from all that slow motion walking she couldn't physically keep her eyes open. She concocted a plan to just tell me that it only LOOKED like she was sleeping, but really she had been crying because I was so beautiful (somehow crying and sleeping look like the same thing??). But before she could explain her insomnia…the flower girls came running down the aisle with DREADLOCKS in their hair. Cute she said, but a bit disturbing.

Eventually I walked down...but instead of letting my father give me away...I started preaching. Pacing up and down, I directed my fiery lecture on "Love is a Choice" to the bridesmaids, groomsmen and audience. I’m sure I was convincing in my white sequin leotard (maybe "love" should have chosen a less gymnastic wedding dress).

By the end of the "ceremony" none of my bridesmaids could figure out if Karl and I had actually gotten married.

Can you make this stuff up? How do you recover from a wedding nightmare like that?!

Enough about nightmares - let's talk about dreams.

One of the best things about my parents is that we talked about everything growing up and this often included dreams. Regardless of my flavor-of-the-month-career-aspiration, my father would invariably reply, “Wouldn’t you rather become a missionary?” It’s amazing how much passing comments of our parents deeply affect our destiny!

This past year I was surprised to find out the girls of Ocean View dream too.

During our film club when asked what they wanted to be when “they grow up” – they responded like many American teenage girls - they dreamed of becoming a professional dancer, model, teacher, soccer player (see the video: Film Club Movie).

Despite the big dreams, many come from nightmare lives.

One of these “film club” girls was raped repeatedly at the age of 11 by her step-grandfather. Her brother, furious, murdered him in front of her. The step-grandfather’s family to this day insists she brought it on herself and calls her a whore. She dreams of becoming a famous soccer player and escaping this nightmare life where she questions every day if it's somehow her fault.

For all of these girls, their parents don’t own a car, they aren’t able to take dance lessons, get extra tutoring or attend professional soccer training – but still they dream. And they aren’t afraid to dream big.

Right now my dreams are simpler. I dream of having 10 minutes to myself, the time to finish a book, well-rounded-yet-unspoiled children, less clutter, more patience.

At this stage in life for many of us, most big dreams not only seem out of reach, but the truth is – we can barely remember what they once were.

Life is loud and messy and has a way of luring us into a dreamless sleep.

Why am I in Africa? True it’s a calling and a dream – but it’s more than that.

It’s the answer to this question I continually pose to myself:

When I’m 92 and full of wrinkles, cinching up my Depends, and on 22 medications – when I look in the mirror and ask, “Did I dream big enough?” what will I say?

I’m not talking about a bucket list of “dreams” like learning how to ski or seeing the Great Wall or reading War and Peace – I’m talking about the MAIN THING in life you know you MUST do.

Put another way…I’ll ask myself, “Was my life worth living? Did I do anything that really mattered?”

I’ve thought a lot about this – and landed on this: The only thing that really matters, that makes life worth living ––when health and strength and vitality are distant friends - is “Did I obey God?”

Obeying is not a word I like to use – it sounds so authoritative, definitive, unbending and bossy.

But never-the-less, it’s THE thing that matters. That’s it. That’s all there is, folks.

Sometimes for me obeying is to stop talking about a leader I thoroughly dislike, to change my tone with my children, to not buy another matchy-matchy-pink skirt for the girls, to move to Africa.

It doesn’t really matter what it is – it only matters that I do it.

By faith Abraham, when called to go to a place he would later receive as his inheritance, OBEYED and WENT, even though he did not know where he was going. (Heb. 11:8)

I want to obey God, even when I have no idea where I’m going.

When we go, when we obey – that is the place of our inheritance. I guess that’s what I really want when I’m 92 – an inheritance (one that I am sure is only found after obeying in a thousand tiny ways).

A wise man once said, “If you can’t hear God any more – go back to the last thing He told you to do, and do it.”

Obeying is about doing – not necessarily the hard thing – but the thing He’s telling you to do. It's that simple - not easy - but simple.

Three Great Things About America

2010-08-05T23:43:00.000-07:00

Ahh…America. So many great things!

Allow me to focus on three stunning facets of the American Restaurant.

1. Kids cups –It’s plastic (your 4 old can actually drop it without breaking it) AND it has a lid (they can drop it without breaking it OR spilling it). How great IS this country? What more could you want IN YOUR LIFE TIME than kids cups at restaurants? Seriously. Even if you don’t have kids – do you really want some else’s screaming kid spilling their chocolate milk on your shoes while shards of glass fly into your eye? Think about it. Kids cups are a real game changer (not that Africa has chocolate milk - but that's a topic for another day).

2. Brewed Iced T – Wow. Brewed. You wouldn’t think this would be as exciting as it is – BUT IT IS EXCITING. Virtually every time I had Iced T in Africa it was in a can – just really, really not the same. I will say – it was a little slice of heaven when a fellow CPxer shared their imported-from-good-ole-southern-USA sweet T they brewed themselves. I would have traded several pairs of SHOES for a few more swigs of that!

3. Condiments:

---- Ranch - Obviously the best condiment in the entire world and should be served at all meals – does not exist in Africa for reasons that surpass my understanding

---- Malt Vinegar – The restaurants in South Africa have a small deficiency in variety and virtually all of them offer Fish and Chips. However, not one of them has Malt Vinegar to go with their anti-diversity Fish and Chips. When Karl really pressed the issue – they brought him Balsamic Vinaigrette and tried to pass it off as the same thing. Let me just say, not even remotely similar.

---- Ketchup – They don’t call it ketchup – they call it “tomato sauce” – I’m not sure if that’s a copyright issue or if they just feel strongly that “tomato sauce” is a more honest approach. Regardless, it’s much sweeter in Africa – tastes more like candy Ketchup. To be fair, Karl likes African tomato sauce better (but does that really make it OK?).

I could go on and on – but let’s just say I want to kiss America on the lips! Don't you?

Let Us Know When You Can See the Mountains

2010-07-31T22:27:00.000-07:00

Flying back to the US last week made me appreciate virtually uneventful international travel. Let me tell you about truly, hands down, the worst day of my entire life.

Karl and I were flying back from a 10 day visit to Afghanistan to visit my brother and his family. It was COLD. In fact, they said it was the coldest winter in 50 years. Of course it was. You don’t want to pick a warm winter to visit a war zone where heat is optional.

In a normal trip to the airport - you walk inside, find the check-in, get your ticket and fly away. The “fly away” part being key in that scenario.

Not so much in Kabul on this day.

Driving to the airport (notice the low visibility)

We first went through security outside of the airport – “security” in the very loosest sense of the term.

The men have an actual “security building” of sorts, but for female passengers “security” is a dark little shack that looks like it’s out of Deliverance – with a serious looking Afghan woman who glances at the contents NEAR the top of your suitcase- not inside- because, of course, if you were going to hide a weapon of mass destruction in your suitcase you would lay it ON TOP OF your undies and nightgown (you certainly don’t want random Muslims looking at your undies – a self detonating bomb is a sure-fire way to distract them from any embarrassing under garments).

Once we were “through security” our driver took us to what appeared to be the American equivalent of “long term” parking and dropped us off– it was that far from the airport. We were instructed to stand with about 100 other passengers and wait for our flight to be called.

This sounded somewhat reasonable. Somewhat. However, they didn’t seem to be calling our flight (no loud speaker system, no flight information boards) – just a parking lot with too much snow and some unofficial man blocking the gate.

We started to ask around. It appeared our flight was canceled. I say appeared because no one quite seemed to know. We couldn’t call the airline (they weren’t open yet – it was 6 am – why would they be open?). We couldn’t call our travel agent (it was midnight in Omaha).

I was 6 months pregnant at the time and FREEZING (did I mention it was the coldest winter in half a century)? My undaunted husband sprang into action. They wouldn’t let us go into the airport to try to make arrangements (since our flight was canceled), but Karl found someone who seemed to know something. Oh, he knew something alright. He knew if you paid him 50 bucks he could get you closer to the airport (something more promising like short-term parking distance from the actual building). We gladly paid the bribe and got about half-way there. He passed us off to someone else who, for another bribe, got us to the airport door. At the door we paid a third bribe and were finally in.

Still of course, the airline hadn’t opened yet. It was 8 am. Why should they be open to answer pesky customer questions?

We were instructed to wait in a lounge that looked like it had not been in use since the Soviets left. Literally.

Around 10 am the airline finally opened their desk and when Karl asked about our flight – the airline employee said he could get us on a later flight for a little sompin sompin - $200 specifically. At this point Karl was finished donning out bribes for a legitimate flight we had already paid in full.

The airline also explained that they couldn’t take off until they could physically “see” the mountains (it had been snowing and the mountains were blocked from view). Kabul is surrounded by mountains and apparently they don’t have typical airport commercial radar for planes to be able to take off without being able to PHYSICALLY SEE the mountains. This was a point of concern.

He said to Karl, “Since you’re up in the lounge with all those windows – could you let us know when YOU can see the mountains?”

How we presume the mountains should look

What??!!?

When WE can see the mountains?

This was a point of further concern – much further concern.

After hours and hours of waiting – it eventually cleared off and we could, in fact, “see” the mountains. We had met a very nice American from the state department who took pity on us and somehow sweet talked her way to getting us on the later flight to Dubai.

It was about 4 pm. We had been waiting a long time in the terminal filled with Taliban looking men. They didn’t look pleased either – but I couldn’t tell if it was the delayed flight or the inevitable unpleasantness of being Taliban that vexed them.

The snow had subsided enough that the mountains were now visible. FINALLY we were traipsing over the tarmac to our beloved plane. And then it began to snow...again.

Boarding our plane moments before it begins to snow
(with mountains somewhat visible)

It snowed so much in that 20 minute period that once we were snug in our seats, the pilot walked to the middle of the plane, took a careful look out the window and determined that there was too much ice on the wing to leave. No instruments needed for THAT crucial decision apparently.

Out again onto the tarmac and back to the Taliban Terminal.

Another hour passed.

And another.

No information boards – no loud speaker announcements.

Finally a character that perfectly embodied Jack from Lost emerged. A fellow passenger with an Austrailian accent, he stood on his chair and began to make announcements.

Jack’s first announcement: They don’t know if we will be able to take off tonight!

Some murmuring. This was perplexing – as it was now dark and you certainly COULD NOT see the mountains – to say nothing of the fact that all information seemed to be relayed through Jack from Lost.

We considered packing it up and trying to catch a flight another day – but our luggage was AWOL in the annals of Kabul airline delirium.

Jack’s second announcement (20 minutes later): We may be able to take off tonight if ISAF can give us clearance to leave in the dark!

Applause broke out. No one else seemed to care that Jack was the only one that knew what was going on (ISAF was the “International Security Assistance Force” that acted as the governing body at the airport. Weird. But at this point – what isn’t?).

Jack’s third announcement (1 hour later): ISAF has given us clearance and we’ll be taking off soon!

More applause. Where’s Kate?

And so we were back on the tarmac, shuffling through the snow in the pitch black, headed to our certain doom.

Once on the plane and settled in, the ice began to accumulate again on the wings. This time ISAF said it was OK (how this is OK I’m not sure). They announced that they would de-ice our plane, but since we were the third plane in line to take off, it would take about an hour.

I tried not to notice that the plane looked like it had been pieced together from several different airlines. The seats said American Airlines, the beverage cart was Delta and the bathrooms featured British Airways appliances.

At this point in the melodrama off my life – I began to feel a bit ill. OK, maybe not just a bit ill. I was crammed into a hot, dark plane, 6 months pregnant with the worst cramps of my life. Worse than child-birth pain. And nausea.

I threw up. Into the bag.

Karl got me a new bag.

I threw up again – into the new bag. That one had a hole in it. I essentially threw up onto myself.

Karl got me another bag – presumably without a hole.

I threw up again – and again. On myself –in the bag – it was hard to tell.

I was in the fetal position in my seat. It was excruciating (I later found out it was an appendix attack).

For three hours we sat on the tarmac – me throwing up – in my own personal hell. It took this long to de-ice three planes – as they were using a garden-hose equivalent to spray the de-ice stuff.

Jack got concerned.

Jack’s fourth announcement (shouting from his seat on the plane): I’ve spoken with the pilot and told him we DO NOT want to take off if it’s not safe.

I’ll say we don’t!

Enough was enough so Karl went to talk to the pilot himself. He decided that he needed to get his wife to the hospital.

Once to the pilot’s door he looked down to see a few guys on the tarmac – dressed very unofficially – arguing about the details involved with de-icing a large plane. Becoming convinced that they had never de-iced anything before, he told the pilot we needed to get off the plane immediately.

The pilot said in a thick middle-eastern accent, “No! We take off now!”

Where is Jack when we need him?

Karl returned to our seat, the plane finally de-iced, and we heard the pilot start the engine. Well – start is an exaggeration. It sounded like trying to start a car when the engine is dead. He turned it over again. Nothing.

Apparently the pilot didn’t take into account the energy that would be used running the heat on an airplane sitting on the tarmac for three hours.

The plane’s battery was dead.

What else is he failing to take into consideration, we wondered? Altitude? Wind velocity? Fuel? Very, very disconcerting!

ISAF comes through again and gives us a jump start.

The plane was now ready to take off. “Ready” may be pushing it.

However, we did a “cork screw take-off” and circled hard to presumably miss the mountains. Karl was convinced we were about to meet our certain death (in my condition this didn't sound so bad). He wondered, "If you crash into the mountains, do you see the plane folding like an accordion in front of you? Or do you just die instantly – glad to finally be off of KamAir?"

Trustable Wings?

I proceeded to throw up on the three hour flight to Dubai. The stewards were smoking in the back, sleeping on the floor and not caring much about finding more holeless throw-up bags. Karl, in a state of total desperation, convinced the crew to let us off first, due to my dire medical emergency.

We landed, pressed our way through customs and I laid on the pristine Dubai airport floor while Karl tracked down the first aid crew. About this time I started to feel better.

In the end – I was fine – and we somehow managed to catch another flight back to Omaha unscathed.

I walk away with 5 insights I will hold dear the rest of my life:

1. It’s never good if the airline puts you in charge of visibility (run fast if they ask YOU to let them know when you can see the mountains)

#2. Jack Shephard can come in handy in any airline emergency.

#3. Save your appendix attack for a first-world country.

#4. A garden hose can accomplish many things, but de-icing a 737 is not among them.

#5. Always, always check the throw-up bag for holes BEFORE use.

Sleep is for Sissys

2010-07-27T09:43:00.000-07:00

Ahh….20 hour flights with children. God bless the other passengers.

Great to be back on American soil! Let me recap the highlights of flying home this week.

#1. LUGGAGE IS OVERRATED: We got on board in Cape Town around midnight on Saturday night. Good thing Karl realized half-way through the luggage check-in process that they were only sending our bags HALF-WAY to America. You know, just everything we need for the next few months in the US. What-eva.

#2. SLEEP IS FOR SISSYS: On the first stretch from Cape Town to Amerstam (from midnight to 8 am), I thought – this is GREAT! The girls will sleep…they are EXHAUSTED BEYOND WORDS. Emme participated in the plan, but Jensen was so excited about the er-plane that she slept an hour. Yes, ONE HOUR, folks. I was delighted.

#3. SECURITY IS A LITTLE JACK BAUER: Amerstam has the most impressive security in the world. You can’t buy a bottled water IN THE AIRPORT and bring it onto the plane – because they do an additional security check at the gate. They gave us a mini interrogation about why we had been to Afghanistan two years ago and the security risk of our possibly-sketchy -housemates back in Cape Town (we had been living with another couple that had access to our luggage).

He was so serious - I wanted to confess to every crime I had committed since 2nd grade - including writing a letter to our neighbor about the mistreatment of their mangy half-starved dog and making Mrs. Wilson cry (I mean really – how much stock can you put into an animal rights letter written by a 9 year old?) and dressing my brother up like a girl and parading him around the neighborhood calling him Christina (it’s possible he hasn’t yet recovered from that one). In my defense – he was overdo a haircut and his cute little hairs were a BIT curly on the ends – plus the neighbor kids bought it and I must have had a good half dozen people in awe of my newly produced sister .

This is Africa - A Photo Blog

2010-07-15T07:18:00.000-07:00

Ahhh...life in South Africa! Pictures say it best...

This is our house key and gate-to-blockade-the-front door key - along with the button for our front gate.

All the keys here are "skeleton keys." (I feel like I'm living in the 1950's - without the Mrs. Cleaver niceties). Since they don't actually "cut keys," if you need a copy, you go to the store and say, "I need the #M24B." (which will be a key already made with grooves to match your key). Somehow I don't see how this is a very safe method. Surely there's got to be a lot of #M24B's out there that will unlock my front door?!

Security gate in front of our neighborhood with electric barbed wire (most neighborhoods have a gate)

You are not allowed to pump your own gas. Since unemployement is so high - they create jobs wherever possible. We'd like to know what happens if you commit the crime of self service - but no one here has been brave enough to try it. These guys are serious!

20% of South Africans live in an informal settlement township - with homes much like this...

I realize I'm beating a dead horse here - but I just really, really don't get it. Most faucets have the seperate hot/cold spouts. Isn't it more work to put in two faucets? And there is NO counter space in the bathrooms. This may be the #1 best thing about America - COUNTER SPACE! Please kiss every inch of your bathroom counter and think of me.

Plastic mail "boxes" outside our gate - you may be nice and safe inside the gate, but your mail is definitely at risk

Electricity box in our garage (you buy the electricity at the store and then put the code in the box at your home). For example, 293 credits will last us about a week. We did the math and electricy is about 3 times more expensive than the US. Painful! We are seriously considering not using the lights and walking around with head-lamps - maybe a little too Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs?

Steering wheel on the right side of your car (even after 6 months, I still get in on the wrong side)

Typical grocery cart (mini double-decker) - I can fit about 2 things in there

Jensen and me in rain boots (it's the rainy season now).

Not unusual to see baboons on the side of the road - they are smart little suckers and if you leave your windows down will jump in your car and try to steal your keys. HOW do they know the keys are important?

Cockroaches cover the digital clock numbers on the microwave at Africa House. So horrific I can't even discuss this one!

One interesting point on telling time - for 1:15 they don't ever say "one fifteen" - they say "quarter past one" and "half past one," etc. I asked what they would say for 1:50 appointment - and they said, "Oh we would never have a 1:5o appointment...you Americans are too exact!"

So About Those Romans…

2010-07-09T13:45:00.000-07:00

I love the 4th of July!

I love the fact that we told England to go home and made our own country. I love our flag and our patriotic songs. I love America’s Americanness - I love the amber waves, small town parades, big city hurry, a million choices and goodwill of my fellow Americans. I love my country!

This 4th of July we invited over a bunch of Americans, had a grill-out and lit “fire balloons.” Fire Balloons are a Jensen family tradition. My grandfather owned a little shack by the Elkorn River and taught us how to take a piece of newspaper, fold it at the corners, pin it and light it. When the wind and the humidity are just right – these elegant balloons will soar into the air – brilliant with a thousand points of light - “fire lace” in the sky.

When you’re in South Africa and fireworks are nowhere to be found – you rely on the 50 year old tradition of your grandfather – and light some Fire Balloons. It didn’t quite work this year – but we had fun in the failure.

Video: The Fire Balloons NOT Working (4th of July this year in Cape Town)

Video: Just to prove they do work (4th of July a few years ago in Omaha)

We were graced by a few non-American friends willing to be a good sport about the whole event. When the room spontaneously broke out in the American national anthem - we pleaded with our expatriate friends to sing their nation's songs. Germany and Holland represented and it was very Fourth of Julyish in World-War-II-Allies-Axis-Global sort of way.

Surround by national pride, this 4th of July made me think about my Americaness, and I am reminded how much the first century disciples thought about their Jewishness.

Picture this…Jesus has just spent 3 years with his twelve best friends, God Himself teaching them personally and doing a bunch of miracles – you know – walking on water, healing the sick, raising the dead, all that. He is brutally tortured and killed for being God – then miraculously comes back from the dead. Just to be sure the disciples GET IT – He hangs out with them for another 40 days – walking through walls, eating with them, telling them cool stuff.

Jesus put all his eggs in one basket – the basket of a few random guys that frankly missed the point most of the time. Now he's about to leave and these 12 guys are IT.

Just as He’s literally minutes away from His ride in the sky – He gives them his final words – unveiling THE HISTORIC PLAN TO SAVE MANKIND : Them + Holy Spirit

Since Jesus was not going to be around, He sent them One better –THE GAME CHANGER. Before the Holy Spirit, the disciples just couldn’t get it together, BUT after the Holy Spirit invades their life – they change the world.

Once Jesus breaks down THE HISTORIC PLAN TO SAVE MANKIND …you know what they say?

“Yeah, Yeah, Yeah – so about those Romans. What we really want to know is when will our country be restored? These Romans are a big, fat pain and basically we just want OUR country back. We miss being in power and since it looks like you’re about to head out of here – if we could just get an ETA on Getting Our Kingdom Back – that would be fantastic.” (Acts 1:6 - roughly)

What??!!??

The God of the Universe is unveiling his plan to save mankind for all time and they just want their country back?

Even though the disciples would have driven me CRAZY and I would have NEVER included them in my grand plan to, literally, save the world, I learn much from them because we are sadly similiar.

Jesus’ response to them was so kind (Acts 1:7,8) – He said…

“it is not for you to know the times or dates” (He didn’t squash their hope for their country, but said don’t worry about the ETA)

“you will receive power when the Holy Spirit comes on you” (what they really wanted was power – power to be restored to the Jewish people – and here Jesus is telling them they’ll get an even better kind of power, the Holy Spirit)

“and you will be my witnesses in Jerusalem, and in all Judea and Samaria, and to the ends of the earth (reminds them that He has called them not just to their little Jewish world – but the ENDS OF THE EARTH).

The ENDS OF THE EARTH can be anywhere – your office, your neighborhood, your Kindermusik group, the Antesaka of Madagascar (one of the 30 unengaged, unreached peoples) – anywhere you are called.

Just when I wanted to say to God, "Yeah, yeah, yeah...so about those Romans..." God called us, The Ostrands (and all of our overflowing Americanness) to this little spot on the tip of Africa.

He has called you too. And it’s AMAZING!

The best part is that He has a calling ONLY YOU can fulfill. No one else.

Floyd McClung, the director here at All Nations, talks about a prestigious position he was once offered with an influential mission organization. He was honored and would have jumped at the chance - but when he prayed about it...God said, "I have many people that can do that job - there is something else I want you to do that ONLY YOU can do. If you don't do it - no one else will."

Embracing your calling is the best, most scary, exciting thing you will ever do. Ever.

Don’t know where you’re called (and I say WHERE not IF)? Just ask God.

He longs to tell you! He is waiting – on the edge of His seat - to tell you!