Feliz Navidad

What does Christmas in Honduras look like?


The poinsettias are blooming on my front porch, right alongside the pink petunias and the geranium.

We mowed the lawn yesterday and the scent of fresh grass was simply delightful.

The garden is producing lovely tomatoes and a bounteous crop of green beans.

Last evening we went to Lucas's house for a service, and despite the mosquitoes, had a beautiful time worshiping under the stars.

After the service, we were served the typical Christmas fare of tamales and Coke. Mrs. Lucas makes some mean tamales, I'm telling you.

Like decent gringos, we went to bed at our normal time, only to be awakened after a few hours by some fantastic explosions. I blinked at the alarm clock which read 12:04, muttered to myself about my hatred for firecrackers, and went back to sleep.

We enjoyed a baked-chicken-and-trimmings dinner today, topped off with sugar cookies and hand dipped chocolates. Afterward, my guys did dishes and I... (whispers) ...rested.

The children played ball and climbed trees and Dave went swimming with friends.

Friends showed up this evening and we shared chicken leftovers and tamales with them. A cup of coffee completed my day, which is why I am up blogging at this hour.

I am delighting in the wonder that "God with us" has become "God in us" and pray that you too are experiencing that joy!

Peace.

Because He Lives

...I can face tomorrow/ Because He lives, all fear is gone/ Because I know He holds the future/ and life is worth the living just because He lives! (William and Gloria Gaither)

I certainly didn't expect to be posting about the miracle baby again so soon, but this time it is to announce her home going. Yes, she is safe forever in the arms of Jesus! Last week she had a fussy spell that ended with Tim taking them to a doctor here in town. The doctor prescribed medicine for colic and sent her home. She calmed down and slept until late at night and then she once again began to cry until she was nearly blue. Her anxious parents called Jeremiah who took them back to the same doctor. Seeing her bluish color, the doctor said he thinks she might have a heart condition and urged them to go to the hospital as quickly as possible. On the road, as her daddy held her against his chest, he suddenly felt her clutch his neck and give a little shudder. He knew at once that she was gone. They continued to the hospital and confirmed that life had fled, and then there was nothing to do but make the sad trip home. It seems that at her six-week checkup the pediatrician had told Ricardo that she had a heart defect, and if she would live to be five months old they would consider surgery. Ricardo didn’t tell anyone about this, possibly because he refused to accept it, but more likely he simply believed that God would continue His series of miracles in little “Milagro”. Even now, I am groping for words to convey the grief and anguish that all of us felt during those first few hours. What do you say to a father who loved his child as few men love their children, and now bends over her tiny body, stroking her hands and dripping tears onto her still-soft cheeks? How do you comfort a mother who daily praised God for her “little miracle”, and now sits writhing with sorrow? And what of the eleven year old girl who, such a short time ago beamed with pride over her baby sister, now hangs over the tiny coffin, quivering with sobs??? We prayed, we cried, we asked questions, we dug the grave and built the coffin… and we trusted God. I suddenly understand why Job, in the midst of his calamities, “fell down upon the ground, and worshiped.” Worship comforts and heals like nothing else. God is still good, and kind, and full of compassion. Best of all, God is a Redeemer, and He is completely worthy of our trust! We are inspired and humbled to see Ricardo and Rosi rise up and praise God and declare their faith in Him! In every church service this week, Rosi requested the song, “Because He Lives”. Every morning Ricardo wakes at the time he normally gave the baby her bottle, and immediately these words come to his mind and comfort him. Please pray that they will continue to cast themselves on God!

For pictures and video clips, go here.

Miracle Baby

Many people have prayed for this baby and her mother. Little Sandra Maricela was born full term and naturally to a mother with kidney failure. A tiny 3 pounds something, she spent about two weeks in the hospital before coming home to join her thankful and happy family. She is doing well, growing, and seems to be bright and alert.

Recently we hosted a baby shower for this precious miracle baby and her mother, Rosi. Although this is not necessarily a custom here in this area, we want to teach the women to celebrate their children as gifts from God and this seemed an excellent opportunity to do so.
Rosi's older daughter and a niece were delighted to help open the gifts.

Rosi's gratitude was evident in her delighted smile and the tears that fell as she read the words of blessing that were shared. "Mi milagrito" [my little miracle] she crooned softly, cuddling her tiny daughter.

Here's a shout out to our faithful prayer partners- only eternity will reveal what a difference you have made in this woman's life!

Two Years Old

All day long I listened to her chant... "My buth-day soon! I wanna piñata! Where's my cake? Blow my candle! Gwamma sent it!"

"Gwamma" really did send this package, so she had at least one wrapped present to open!

Cozy new clothes, a notebook of her own, and crayons. Unfortunately, Mandie still thinks crayons are for breaking and unwrapping and chewing; no, they didn't last long!

Her favorite toy was the little kitchen set her Daddy got her with lots of dishes and plastic food. Every few minutes she announces, "I gonna play wif my buth-day toys!" and off she trots to the play room.
When you're two, what is more delightful than party cake with lots of sprinkles? Thank you, "Mimi"!

And now... we are off to learning how to read. No, wait- better make that potty training. Waa!

Preacher's Kids and Church Services

You know all those stories about the preacher's kids being the worst behaved children in church? I used to think they were largely unjust... until my own children haplessly fell into that category. Add to that the stigma of being missionary kids, and it is enough to cause palpitations to even the most stalwart mother heart. Church services in El Eden are always an adventure. Our building is too small; there are no restrooms, (don't even ask about a nursery); there are no benches, (only plastic stacking chairs that make raucous noises on the cement floor when bumped, which is frequently); and every service attracts a great assortment of village children who have nothing more entertaining to do than to come and watch the "gringos" have church. Now I don't begrudge those little guys at all- I really have faith that they are learning something worthwhile, and sitting in church is definitely one of the more profitable choices of daily activities.

However.

My tribe, especially those under the age of ten, is still in the training process where church is concerned. With my hubby involved in every service -either leading worship or preaching- it falls to me to maintain order on The Brechbill Row. Sometimes things are fairly calm: Derek actually looks at the speaker and doesn't ask Embarrassing Questions in a Loud Whisper. Mandie is content with her doll baby and snuggles on my lap. Tony remembers to stand up with the rest of the congregation and follows along in the songbook... Then there are the other times.

The "other times" frequently take place when Freddy, Elvis, and Henry (three little characters as colorful as their names) choose to sit behind us. This week we had special meetings for four nights which gave unprecedented opportunities for training, or, entertainment if you are not a parent. Last night the church house was especially crowded when another local church joined us for services. As soon as I herded my tribe to their seats, the Three Characters dashed in with great gusto and a good deal of noise and flopped on the chairs behind us. The show began at once. There was lots of talking, shuffling, pinching, humming, squirming, and punching, accompanied by large quantities of giggles. Well, my tribe simply doesn't have any resistance to that sort of amusement and in no time there was a full-fledged competition in progress. With some shuffling, I managed to get both my boys seated in front of me instead of beside me which lowered the noise to a dull roar, as Andrew would say. The threesome behind me kept up a steady stream of distractions in spite of my dark looks and the much hissing from the visiting ladies behind them. Worse yet was their mimicry of the brother in the back row who was being particularly blessed. Every few minutes he emitted a hearty "Glo-o-o-o-ria a Dios!" which was immediately repeated in the row behind me. "Glo-o-o-ria a Dios! A-a-amen! Oooooh Señor!" I alternately considered spanking them, offering prizes for total silence, and lecturing them on the sin of mockery. Then I decided that they were a battle I wasn't called to fight so I prayed for wisdom instead. Fellowship time after church wasn't much better as my boys were ready to vent their energy and the Characters were all too willing to induce them. I remind myself that some day very soon they will be grown-ups, reminiscing about "these times"... and I wonder what will they remember???

So today Derek was making his usual complaint about "those boys that always fight with me," and prescribing various punishments for their behavior. As he detailed the many injustices he has suffered because of them, I sighed inwardly and wondered how to show a four-year-old the deception of his own heart. Jen also stood by listening and not succeeding too well at hiding her amusement. "Many are the afflictions of the righteous," was her conclusion to the matter.

Oh, but a sense of humor and a hearty laugh does wonders for a mother's perspective!

About...

Life: It's all about Jesus; His purpose and His glory!

My Kitchen: A place for coffee, chopping vegetables, and heart-to-heart conversation.

Patience: It's tireless and long-suffering; has the power to endure whatever comes, with good temper. (Col. 3:12, Amplified Bible)

Derek: Loves people. And, unlike his mother, he will never long for "just a small space of peace and quiet".

The Sky: There's nothing in all the world like a Honduras sky. I fall in love again and again.

Listening: What my sweet friend Janie does best. Thank you Lord, for her short visit!

School: Happy, happy children. Contented parents. Patient teacher.

God's Love: I am discovering it anew. And wondering how we can know such a huge, powerful, passionate love and yet remain so unmoved.

Emily: Celebrated her eleventh birthday. How can this be happening to me?

Our Table: Now regularly seats ten people.

Manners: What my children are learning since there are ten people at the table.

Guests: They are plentiful and kind and generous.

Chocolate: My cup runneth over, thanks to some of those generous guests.

Gratefulness: What shines in Mandie's eyes when I sew a dress for her beloved Baby Maggie- followed by a hug and, "Baby Maggie wuvs me!"

Jackets and Socks: The new novelty since the weather has suddenly turned cold and rainy.

Potty Training: Definitely not my field of expertise.

After Dinner Conversation: Anything from homemade rockets and basketball to courtship and "finding God's will". Having three young people around has certainly added an interesting dimension to our lives!

The Truth: Sets us FREE. I love it!

Long-suffering: You, if you have endured to the end of this post.

Me: Loving my life!

On Listening

I think it was Dietrich Bonhoeffer who once said, "The first service that we can perform for anyone is to listen." Peter Dyck quotes this in his book, Up From the Rubble, and goes on to challenge the reader on the difference between being a servant or merely performing a service. It is the difference between doing and being; an act versus an attitude; it is character rather than performance. True servants give themselves along with their gift.

This is a lesson that I am presented with constantly in mission life. It is all too easy for me to merely give away my "good deeds" while tenaciously guarding myself. Thankfully God is infinitely patient with me, and again and again He gives me opportunities to lay down my life for others. I am learning... slowly.

No one ever told me that the one of the first and most important things a missionary needs to learn is to listen. I believe every aspiring missionary would do well to take some intense listening classes. (Ok, is there such a thing??!) There are days when it seems that all we do is listen to people: financial problems, struggling families, marriages in distress, hurting youth, children with questions... Many of them are not looking for answers so much as a sympathetic, listening ear; someone who truly cares. And this is not a gift I can hand out like the sweet rolls and coffee that accompany many of our conversations. When I ask God to teach me how to listen with my heart instead of only with my head, spirits are connected and true fellowship ensues. Yes, this giving of oneself is costly... but it is the way of Jesus, and it is the way of JOY!

Not what we give, but what we share,
For the gift without the giver is bare;
Who gives himself with his alms feeds three,
Himself, his hungering neighbor, and Me.
(James Russell Lowell)

Why My Days Are "Like That"

Here is the pair who brings us so much mischief, delight, trouble, laughter, and gray hair. We can't imagine life without them!

Some Days Are Like This

The day started calmly enough. At 7:45, the three oldest children bounded off to school and I was already immersed in the wringer washer's soap suds. Derek and Mandie have yet to learn to entertain themselves constructively while their older siblings are in school, and I am finding out what a negligent mother I am with only my own eyes to watch the two little ones. Mandie got her first bath for the day after playing in a pile of wood shavings and generously filling her hair with sawdust. I literally put the vacuum cleaner to her head before attempting to scrub the fine shavings off her scalp. Freshly washed and dressed, I was about to send her outdoors again when Derek asked for a lollipop. Unwisely, I agreed, blithely imagining that sucking a sticky candy would somehow keep them from worse mischief. As I returned to the clothesline, Tim dashed by on his way to a meeting in town. "Someone is coming to buy study Bibles," he called. "I got the order ready and it's in a box at the library." I nodded absentmindedly. While selling books is not my forte, this sounded simple enough. Returning to the house, I discovered my recently-bathed girlie was a sticky mess and her clean blue dress stained with sweet red drips. I only had time to wash her hands when a rattle at the gate announced the arrival of a book customer. Suddenly I faced a dilemma I had not anticipated. Do I leave Derek and Mandie alone in the house while I run across the street to the library (bookstore) or do I take them with me??? To leave them unattended in the house spells certain disaster; taking them with me- well, they might play in the grass beside the building... Scooping up Mandie and grabbing Derek by the hand, we headed across the street to the waiting customer, just as a second vehicle stopped by our gate. Greeting the two men who were patiently waiting, I opened the library door and invited them in. Derek and Mandie were hard on my heels, but the building is much too small to accommodate more than three or four people, so I sent them outside to play. At this time, two more men arrived at the door and announced that they were here to pick up the study Bibles. As I sat down at the desk to write up their bill, they decided to add more books to their order and began stacking them on the desk where I was working. Suddenly the quiet order of business was rudely shattered by a handful of sand and gravel flying through the open door and across the plywood floor. "Amanda Jane!" I gasped. "Derek, go play in the grass, please!" Derek cheerfully obliged by grasping Mandie under her arms and hauling her off despite her shrieks of protest. "What's the price of Bibles per box?" one of the customers asked as I returned to the desk. "Oh look!" gasped another. "Your little girl- she's eating dirt!" My brain did a sideways flip as I gazed out the door at Mandie's dusty hands wedged firmly in her mouth (two year molars coming in). My mind said, "Ok, I am running a business, and my little girl is eating dirt. What am I supposed to do about it?" But my lips smiled and said, "Oh she's not really eating it; she just put her dirty hands in her mouth for a minute." Back again to writing up the bill. For the third time I tore it up and started over when the customer discovered he didn't have enough cash for that order. Suddenly to my unbelieving eyes there appeared a moto-taxi and two more customers squeezed into the very crowded and overheated building, sending me into further despair. Somehow Mandie slipped inside and began unpacking the stack of books I had so carefully recorded and placed in a box. Seeing my obvious incompetence, one customer attempted to help me by calling out orders to Derek in broken English. "Der-r-rik! Come he-ah pliss!" Finally I had one order completed and two customers dismissed. Then I had to run to the house to get change and business cards. By this time I was sure that leaving the children unattended in the house was a far safer and saner option than having them with me, so I picked up Mandie and hissed at Derek to "watch these people" while I run to the house. A look of panic crossed his face, but I assured him I'd be right back and rushed out before he had time to protest. Leaving Mandie on our front porch, I grabbed the change and raced across the street once more. I tried not to appear too eager as I waved good bye to the second set of customers, and turned to the lady who was still waiting for my services. Sorry, we are out of Thompson Bibles; no, there are no books on Intercession... No Derek, I can't come across the street and open the gate for you, you will have to figure out a way to do it yourself... (And under my breath:) "If one more person comes, I am going to---" And then another car pulled into the driveway. An older couple walked up to the door and greeted me enthusiastically. "Did your husband tell you we're coming? We're from El Progreso and we ordered some books..." They were obviously enjoying an outing together and had plenty of time to visit and ply me with questions. "What denomination do you belong to? Are you something like Amish? I was in Pennsylvania once, and went a theater where the actors dressed like Amish or Mennonites..." Their rambling conversation helped me relax, but I kept a wary eye turned toward our house and wondered nervously at the great silence reaching my ears. At long last the final purchases were made, the sales carefully recorded, farewells spoken, and the door closed behind me. It was noon when I returned to the house, where there was still laundry waiting to be hung up and lunch to cook for the teacher and children who would be out of school in a few minutes. You are probably wondering what Derek and Mandie did during the time they were left alone in the house. Frankly, I do too. I found Derek playing outside, but I have no memory of where Mandie was or what she was doing. Which means that either she was in rare calm behavior, or my mind had somehow gotten lost in the shuffle of the morning's events...

That evening, over grilled chicken and fried fish at Las Glorias, I poured out my tale of woe to my man. He listened with grave interest, murmured sympathetically, and kindly restored my right mind to me. ...Sighs of thanksgiving... All is well once more.

Blest Be the Tempest...

If, on a quiet sea, toward heaven we calmly sail,
With grateful hearts, O God, to Thee,
We’ll own the favoring gale,
With grateful hearts, O God, to Thee,

We’ll own the favoring gale.

But should the surges rise, and rest delay to come,
Blest be the tempest, kind the storm,
Which drives us nearer home,
Blest be the tempest, kind the storm,
Which drives us nearer home.

Soon shall our doubts and fears all yield to Thy control;
Thy tender mercies shall illume
The midnight of the soul,
Thy tender mercies shall illume
The midnight of the soul.

Teach us, in every state, to make Thy will our own;
And when the joys of sense depart,
To live by faith alone,
And when the joys of sense depart,
To live by faith alone.

(Augustus Montague Toplady)

Thank you, Dorcas, for reminding me of these beautiful words. How can we refuse the storms that drive us closer home?

Refreshment

Well, after that stressful week, God graciously provided me with a mini vacation. Tim needed to make a trip to the town of Santa Barbara to take Bibles and books to a vendor there, so we decided to make a family day out of the occasion. The three oldest children were delighted to ride on the back of the pickup truck for the hour-long drive into the mountains. I have long wanted to see the town of Santa Barbara which I have heard much about, and I was not disappointed. It is an old colonial style town; its narrow streets are shared by both modern automobiles and mountain men in their best sombreros. I had hoped to find a market where the woven hats and baskets are sold, but we had no such luck. Since shopping was not considered of general interest by the rest of the family, we chose to enjoy the drive and the glorious views instead.
I never cease to be impressed with the Hondurans' abilities to cultivate the steepest hillsides!


A typical rainy season afternoon cloud, preparing to divulge its contents onto the expectant earth...

We stopped for lunch at a place that boasted a tree house unlike any I have ever seen. I was much too lazy to climb those many steps to the top deck, but my boys were highly impressed!

What impressed me was this fountain. I love the clay vessels and natural rock, but I can think of so many ways to improve it... with tropical foliage, a couple orchids, delicate ferns, and a few of my hubby's colorful fish!

A day away from the house does wonders for a Mom's perspective, and I came home refreshed and altogether thankful to hop back into my fishbowl! :)

One of Those Weeks

There are times, in spite of my proclamation in the last sentence of my previous post, that the tame and comfortable looks mighty appealing. Last week was one of those times... and here are a few snapshots.

The children come into the house to inform me that there’s someone at the gate asking for me. As I tramp out to meet her, she bursts into exclamations of “Hello, Sister Naomi!!! How are you doing?” I find myself stiffening involuntarily… I have never talked to this woman before and here she is greeting me like an old friend. This can mean only one thing-she is here to ask something of me. I recognize her as a lady who came to church recently and made a lengthy speech in front of the congregation about her relationship with God and her son who has sores on his head and could we please pardon the bother and help her out??? Sure enough, at my gate she repeats the story of her son’s problem and explained that he had an appointment at the hospital “this very afternoon” and would I please pardon the bother and lend her 200 lempiras (about ten dollars) and she will most certainly pay them back by Saturday… Her well-fed and well-dressed figure causes me some suspicion, but I refer her to Tim, who lends her the money and she goes on her way. About an hour later my phone rings and it is Edna calling. A sigh escapes her voice as she asks if I remember that lady who was in church recently and asked for help for her son who has sores on his head??? As a matter of fact, I do remember her. Edna wants to know if we know her well and whether we believe her needs are genuine? Because she is now at Edna’s gate with a new story… It seems her mother fell and injured her head and is in the hospital possibly needing surgery and could Edna please [pardon the bother] and give her 500 lempiras???… Relating to a dependent culture and trying to distinguish the legitimate needs from the fake is one of the single most exhausting aspects of mission life… Oh for the spirit of Peter! (Acts 5)

We are just fixing to serve lunch when I notice a commotion at the gate and realize we have guests. I recognize the woman as someone we had contact with years ago when one of our youth teams built her a house. There is no doubt she is poor, but the greater difficulty in relating to her is the evidences of her immoral life in her speech, dress, and behavior. I watch from the window as Tim obviously tries to keep her from entering the house. Meanwhile, her small daughter barges in and asks for a drink of water. We hand her a cup, and then she runs to the kitchen and begs for food from the girls who are finishing up meal preparations. I tell her rather sternly that I will share food with her, but she must NOT go into the kitchen and beg. At this she runs outdoors and tells her mother that I invited them to come in to eat, and as soon as Tim turns his back, both mother and daughter burst in the door. More disturbing than her artificial warmth and incessant chatter is the vexation I feel in my own spirit. When the question is asked whether she does not get on my nerves, I admit that indeed she does… But what if I am the only “Jesus” she ever sees? How am I representing Him???

It is naptime, and Derek is nowhere to be found. I wander outside, calling his name, when I spy him trudging up the hill from the chicken house. “I got a bunch of eggs!” he announces cheerfully, showing me the brown treasures gently cradled in his shirttail. “Where did you find them?” I ask a little suspiciously. “Down there by the old aquaponics,” he explains, gesturing toward the abandoned barrels where we had begun our experiments. I sigh, “Oh Derek, I’m afraid those eggs aren’t good, because Josh said a hen has been setting on them for a long time… Here, just lay them in the flower bed and then we’ll deal with them later.” Derek squats down and carefully places the eggs, one by one, into the soft earth. As he places the last egg on the pile, there is a sudden noise like a gunshot and poor Derek is dripping with slimy rotten egg. I stare in disbelief as he turns and marches away without a word. Six seconds later he suddenly erupts into wails of terror while I try my best to not laugh out loud. “It’s just like Templeton’s egg in Charlotte’s Web!” I exclaim enthusiastically, but he is not to be distracted that easily. After a shower and some severe scrubbing, he meekly crawls into the safety of his bed.

Pineapple Day…. I wanted around eighty pineapples to can, and somehow ended up with 120 instead. Thanks to the energetic young people around here- Bertha and her two sisters who were visiting, and Dave (our helper for six months)- they were all cut up and in jars by lunchtime. One hundred and seventeen quarts!!! The processing, however, seemed endless, what with a small stove which had only very small burners, and jars that kept breaking. (What causes jars to break at the bottom when the water is only heating, not near boiling yet??? No, they were not mayonnaise jars; yes, they were setting on a rack; no, we did not turn the rings too tight, but we did cool the water before submerging jars…???) We celebrated by going out to eat fish, which was another experience in itself. We went to our favorite restaurant about two miles away, only to discover they were closed. So we drove a few more miles to a bigger and more expensive place, and just as we had all decided what to order we found out they were out of fish! We ended up driving an additional ten miles to a place at the edge of the lake where we did in fact eat fish while being eaten by mosquitoes.

My kitchen counter is spread with all the ingredients for a haystack supper… lettuce, chili bean mixture, fried rice, chopped tomatoes, crushed tortilla chips… I pause to wonder whether there is enough to feed a dozen people, and secretly hope the bread will serve as a “filler” for hungry boys. We are having meetings this weekend and the first service starts in less than an hour, but my family and guests are still scattered. I announce that supper is ready when my eye catches sight of another vehicle at the gate... Before my mind can wrap itself around the turn of events, we are blessed with six more guests for supper! There is no time to fret about the possibility of running out of food, and in a matter of minutes appreciative guests are bent over their heaping plates. Half an hour later when everyone has drifted away from the kitchen, I stare incredulously at the leftovers… Every single dish still has food in it, and I am simply convinced that God has once again multiplied my loaves and fishes!!!

My life is a lot of things right now, but dull is not one of them.

Thirteen Years

July sixth is always a big deal at our house. I cannot imagine worrying that Tim would ever forget our anniversary; I would be more likely to forget than he would! Whenever feasible, we have taken a day or two off to spend time by ourselves. Our celebrations have ranged from the Poconos Mountains to a cabin in West Virginia; from a family camp out at Shawnee Park to a return trip to our honeymoon cabin in Stowe, Vermont. This year we really, really wanted to go to the Bay Islands, one beautiful part of Honduras that we have never visited. But we are at that awkward stage in life where our children are too many to just dump on someone else for a few days, and too young to leave by themselves! With the political situation being unstable as it is, we're thankful we did not have any travel plans this week; I especially don't care to venture far out of my comfort zone. But a trip to San Pedro was necessary today; our Troyer relatives flew in late last night and we weren't able to go pick them up them because of a curfew. (They found a friend in the city who risked spending a night in jail and talked his way through several police checkpoints in order to rescue them from spending the night in the airport!) ...So this morning Tim and I left our (many) children with our great friend Bertha and went to the city by ourselves. And our anniversary was celebrated by going to the Immigration office, picking up our Troyer cousins and their mounds of luggage, lingering long over baleadas at "Baleadas Express", enjoying a slice of !CHEESECAKE! (compliments of Uncle Junior) and buying two new bicycles for a couple fast approaching middle age and in need of some fun exercise! It was a truly beautiful day ~filled with "simple" pleasures~ and tonight I am thanking God for every moment Tim and I have shared together! Mission life has a way of testing a marriage and exposing all sorts of strange and uncomfortable things about your relationship that you never knew were there... It seems to take so much more commitment and effort to maintain complete oneness, and sometimes it simply feels like war- not with each other, thank God!- but against the enemy who seems to have an intense hatred for godly homes here in this country. But those concentrated efforts of preserving our marriage bring some marvelous rewards! It is the storms of life that deepen and strengthen our love, and I am so grateful that God's choice for us has far surpassed the tame and comfortable existence of our little house in King!

Words of Affirmation

Mama: "Derek, how about I tell you a story about when I was a little girl... Did you know I was a little girl once?"

Derek, surprised: "No."

Mama: "Well, what did you think I was???"

Derek, carelessly: "A piece of dirt!"

A Girl and Her Car

It was the typical morning confusion at our house- breakfast and devotions were over and I was overseeing chores and trying to get the older children into gear. Derek and Mandie, who need no prompting to get in gear, headed outdoors as usual and pulled out their riding toys. I heard the cycle leave and knew Tim and Derek were going to the Roses to check on their new fish tanks. Some five minutes or more elapsed when we heard a strange call from the gate. "He-e-e-y!" This is not a typical Honduran greeting, so I ignored it at first. After all, it was probably someone who wanted Tim, and he wasn't home. The caller continued persistently so I finally went to the front door and peered toward the gate. A man on a bicycle waved frantically at me. Pointing up the road, he shouted, "La niña! Un carro le va a matar!" ("The child! A car will kill her!") I was down the steps and at the gate in a flash. A glance up the road confirmed his words, for there in the middle of the road went my independant little girl on her green car, heading for El Eden! I took off at a gallop, barely taking time to holler "Muchisimas gracias" to the hero. As I sprinted toward her, she glanced over her shoulder with a huge satisfied grin and then resumed her journey uphill. At first she looked like a mere speck on the far horizon, but in reality she had gone as far as the neighbor's gate, which is a good distance away, considering that there is a large orchard between our house and theirs. I scooped her up and held her close, much too shaken even to scold. She chattered happily as I carried her and the car back home and then sank weakly into the nearest chair. How many people passed her during that time is a question that cannot be answered, but I do know at least one vehicle went by just as I had arrived at the door. The children of course wondered whether she would have gone to Jeremiah's house or to the church, had she reached El Eden. I just shuddered and declared we certainly would have missed her before she would have gotten that far! Needless to say, everyone is now on high alert that the gate must always be LATCHED, not merely closed.

How could a mother not believe in angels?

Dinner Table Conversation

Derek: "There ARE deer in Honduras! I saw one in the woods by the banana field!"

(Expressions of unbelief from siblings)

Derek: "Well, I saw brown, and I saw antlers- and that means deer!"

(Giggles and more protests from siblings)

Derek: (chuckles) "Ok, maybe it was just a fake deer, because it just stood there for a lo-o-o-ng time!"

The Man

I love celebrating my man! Not only is he God's gift to me, but he is God's love to me in so many ways. While I don't write my love letters to him on our blog, I think he deserves some public recognition on his birthday!


This little girl adores her Daddy and loves nothing better than spending time with him outdoors.

Here Tim gets to enjoy the fruit of his aquaponic labors with our first fish fry! We fixed it the traditional Honduran way- the fish fried whole with the head on, served with sliced fried green bananas and cabbage salad. Yum!

There are so many answered prayers in this picture... I love it!

Richly blessed... In love... Best Friends... Thanking God for each other... Amen.

Joy!

Setting: Family devotions in the Brechbill living room

Tim: (smiling broadly) "Josh, would you like to tell everyone what happened to you last night?"

Josh: (very softly) "I got saved."

Derek: (curiously) "Did God save him???"

Amen, Derek!

Earthquake!

I rolled over in bed and squinted at the alarm clock on the stand next to me. "Two o'clock," I sighed. "And I was awake at midnight too... wonder why I keep waking up?" Wearily I turned onto my back and willed myself to relax. Suddenly I was jerked wide awake by a violent heaving of our bed- first an up and down jolt and then ending in a sideways swaying motion. I bolted upright and tried to catch my breath as the walls creaked and groaned around us. A deafening clatter from the bathroom added to the confusion as Tim leaped from the bed and braced himself in the doorway. "An earthquake!" I gasped, and dashed to the children's bedrooms. The ground now steadied beneath me as I checked on the girls, who both appeared to be sound asleep. Wails greeted me from the boys' bedroom, and all three boys were crawling out of their beds. "Nobody was by my bed, but it wouldn't stop wiggling!" Derek whimpered. "It's an earthquake!" I explained as I herded them to the living room and opened the front door where Willie the dog was yapping excitedly. Meanwhile Tim dashed outside to check on the chickens who were screeching in panic. He found the entire flock in a frenzy, wildly seeking an escape from their enclosure. Amazingly, the electricity didn't go off, although the street lights dimmed briefly. I walked carefully through the house looking for broken items but found nothing more than a few bottles toppled over and pictures hanging crookedly on the walls. The clatter that sounded like dishes breaking turned out to have been only a metal rod falling onto the tile floor!

The phone then began to ring as friends and neighbors checked in and shared their fright. "I was dreaming about the coming of Jesus," Ricardo chuckled, "And then I woke up in the middle of the earthquake!" "Is everyone okay at your house?" This time from Lucas. "We're a little frightened, but everyone is fine," I assured him. "Same here!" he exclaimed. Sleep forgotten, we rehearsed the events of the night and discussed the possibility of aftershocks.

Finally there was nothing else to do but go to bed. The boys were soon fast asleep and I too eventually drifted off to restless dreams but Tim got up and watched for news breaking online. An hour after our shocking arousal, the New York Times posted the first announcement of a magnitude 7.1 earthquake about eighty miles north of the coastal town of La Ceiba.

Today's inspections revealed a few cracks in the walls of our house and evidence of water having splashed out of the fish tanks, but no serious damage was found here on this property. We have not heard of any homes crumbling in this area, although some families had their possessions broken, or, in at least one case, burned when the quake caused a lighted candle to fall. Our friends tell us that Peña Blanca was in complete chaos as everyone fled to the streets in panic. What a wonderful opportunity for us to proclaim tidings of peace!

We are so grateful for God's protection last night, as well as for the confidence that even tonight we can go to bed in peace knowing we are in His hands!

Quote of the Night by Derek: "This is a purty bad night!" -minutes after the initial shock when all of us were dashing about in a state of confusion.

More Motherhood Moments

- I am doing laundry on the back porch, confident in the knowledge that the children are bent over their desks, diligently doing math lessons. A movement in the lawn below the boys' bedroom window arrests my attention, and I turn to see a pink balloon bouncing through the grass. Suddenly the barrel of a BB gun appears through the open window and several seconds later all that remains are bits of pink latex and gleeful chuckles.

-I am seated at the kitchen table, laboring over a hand written letter when Mandie toddles up beside me, making her familiar grunting noise that means "Looky here, Mom!" A glance down at her uplifted hand sends shocks of terror through me and I begin shrieking hysterically. There, clasped between her thumb and forefinger is a tiny gecko, its beady black eyes imploring me for pity. "A GECKO!!! SHE HAS A GECKO!!! AAAAAAAGH!!!" Mandie promptly drops her hapless victim on the floor and stares at me, fascinated. Half an hour later my legs are still quivering.

-I walk into the girls' bedroom one day and notice a new decoration on the wall above the dresser. Emily, the creative one, took the pink and black frame of a clock which no longer worked and turned it into a typical, girlish-looking motto. Her choice of quote reveals as much of her character as does her uneven hand:
"Idleness is a constant sin, and labor is a duty. Richard Baxter"

-"Has anyone seen the book I was reading?" the question comes from Josh as he crashes onto the sofa. "Is it a blue book?" wonders Derek. "Mm, I don't think so," I reply absent-mindedly, dicing another mango into the fruit salad I am preparing for supper. "Cause the blue book is in the chicken pen," Derek continues helpfully. "The- what did you say?" the rest of the mango drops into the bowl with a splatter and I turn toward my small son. "And just what on earth is a book doing in the chicken pen, pray tell?!" Derek sighs -adults need so much explaining of the obvious- and reminds me that earlier in the day he brought a batch of eggs to the house in his backpack(!) which he emptied of his usual treasures in order to accomodate the eggs. After a short speech on carelessness, I accompany him to the chicken coop where we find in the nesting boxes, the blue book, an undressed doll, sunglasses, several scraps of fabric, a keychain, and a short piece of PVC pipe.

-Then there is the sick night, wherein four out of five children take sick and three out of four fail to reach the proper destination in time. I spare you details. Only let it be known that the father of those children deserves prizes for Cleaning Nasty Stuff in the Middle of the Night.

-I am a very blessed woman.

Twelve

I am discovering that being the mother of a twelve year old is nearly as exciting and perplexing as being twelve was. Some days we are best friends- laughing at the same things, 'getting' the same jokes, trying the same spoonerisms. We both love to read and we abhor misspelled words. We are dedicated and loyal to a fault; we love the safety of our familiar routine. And then there are days when it feels like we are strangers- and I am not sure whether to get close or back off. Personal hygiene is pretty much inconsequential; but when Tony pours syrup on his pancakes, there will be an all out war whoop and a lecture on the sins of extravagance. Speed seems to be a malady to be avoided at all costs, and patience is a virtue reserved only for self. Oh, this passage into adolescence promises to be an interesting journey- bewildering, perhaps, but certainly not boring!

Josh with his birthday gift, a book he has coveted for a very long time... Backyard Ballistics by William Gurstelle. With three boys and one hubby who all love experimenting and explosions, I figure the best I can do is to give them a book with lots of safety advice (and then run for the house with my hands over my ears.)

Here Josh creates a Cincinnati Fire Kite. If it fails to fly, at least there's the satisfaction of having had a very appreciative and admiring audience.

In case you're thinking of taking a collection for new jeans, please don't. These have now been discarded and replaced.

Blest Be The Tie

This is the day........... we celebrate Motz and Paige!
It was such fun to dress up for a truly special occasion... Who cares that some of our clothes came out of the Missionary Barrel -ahem- Goodwill? This wedding was one of the most joyful and glorious celebrations I have witnessed, and I feel very honored to have been part of such a beautiful experience.

I have got some cute relatives, if I must say so myself.

The newlyweds are not tense... just terribly alert. And we are terribly happy with them.

The lovely and tired couple. What else is there to say?

Everybody Loves Derek

Derek's fourth birthday was spent flying to the States for Uncle Motz's wedding, and after a whirlwind trip to Virginia and Pennsylvania, we are back in our Honduras home re-collecting our senses and updating our blog...

What to write about Derek? Well, he is the one who frequently needs to be reminded to "study to be quiet" but rarely needs to be told to be more friendly. He loves to hunt, party, eat rice and beans, sing, play football, and cuddle in his fleece blanket. He hates solitude, tomatoes, quiet time, and being excluded in any way. Derek loves life and people and some of his heroes are Alex Peight, Jordan Martin, and Paul Rose. (Anyone else notice a pattern here?) I am frequently challenged and inspired with his unquestioning love for people, his frank honesty, and his zest for life in general. The following photos capture some of that irrepressible personality!
Singing his heart out one morning on the beach in Tela...

Doing his own stunts for Cousin Eg...

This means "I love having my picture taken when my face is wet!"

No Honduras birthday is complete without a piñata!

While other moms (like Dorcas and Becca, for example) bake and decorate exotic cakes for their youngsters, my kiddos have to be satisfied with the plain rectangular variety and a couple of candles. My guilt complex evaporates under Derek's grateful and adoring expression, and I am reminded again to celebrate life the way he does!

Help the Teacher

Three of my favorite desserts are chochalate puting, chochlate ckake, and cheesckak. (-Anthony, grade 3)

If anyone knows how to effectively teach spelling of the English language, please let me know.

Heroines

Today I want to honor two beautiful people... Hilda and Anika. Just yesterday, these very brave girls said good bye to their Daddy/Husband as he headed back into the swamps of La Moskitia in western Honduras. They might not see him or talk to him for a month as he treks through the marshy wilderness, distributing Bibles and doing door-to-door visitation among the poor Indians. The glamour of missionary adventures fades very fast when a little girl begs for her beloved Daddy and a wife longs for that familiar shoulder to lean on. Sometimes Hilda wails, "But I'm not brave!" -unaware of the sweet grace of God that we see pouring from her life. Her cheerful spirit is like a burst of sunshine and she never fails to inspire me, challenge me, and make me laugh! Join me in thanking God for brave missionary wives like Hilda... your prayers are greatly appreciated!

Building Walls

Recently I spent some time studying the book of Nehemiah, asking God what lessons I could learn from this hero of old about fortifying my life. I read and re-read, simply astonished at this man’s strong and simple faith. More than that, I was appalled at the determination of his enemies, and the lengths they went to in an effort to destroy the work of God. Although Sanballat and Tobiah did make some threats to physically hinder Nehemiah’s work, their attack of choice seemed to be directed to the destruction of the morale of the builders. When mocking, scoffing, and jeering failed to discourage and intimidate, they resorted to vicious verbal abuse and ridiculous rumors. Did Nehemiah ever reason that maybe building walls just wasn’t God’s will for him? Was he ever tempted to retreat or give up? Did the accusations ever strike doubts or fear into his heart? Or how about negotiating with his adversaries and making a peace treaty of sorts? Certainly not. He steadfastly refused to listen to their taunts and made no apologies for adhering faithfully to his task. In spite of all the efforts made to distract and discourage the work, it prospered amazingly because first of all, God was in it from the beginning, and also because every man worked with a tool in one hand and a weapon of defense in the other. Eventually the wall progressed to the point where the workers were able to be in the offensive instead of merely defending.

This story touched a chord in my soul. My enemy is far more skilled and cruel in his tactics than were Sanballat and Tobiah, and he knows much better than I do, just how vital is the maintenance of my wall. Nehemiah’s courageous example has inspired and encouraged me more than I can tell- his unwavering confidence that God will look after and bless His work, and his refusal to listen, even for one moment, to the empty threats of a defeated foe. Let us build, for our God will fight for us!

Here our loyal carpenters work on building our new wall- the one in front of our house. The old pillars were crumbling, so they removed the woven wire and simply added a few more rows of blocks. It not only serves to keep stray animals out and stray children in, but provides a bit of privacy from curious pedestrians. From the inside, the wall is only about four feet high so we can still comfortably see out over it.

Mandie in Black

No, there's no formal occasion (not many of them around here) but I wanted to show off this exquisite dress... Thanks to Ava for rescuing fabric scraps out of the church sewing box and turning out this masterpiece! I desperately wished for a small hat to complement the outfit, not to mention sort of hide that very bald head! Yep, she's just as bald as her brother Derek was, and just as charming.

Derek had to hold her hand so she wouldn't walk away... she is fiercely independent and I am guessing her first sentence will be, "I can do it myself!" Life is a huge adventure with this pair.

Travel Plans

As everyone knows, my little brother Motz is getting married in about a month from now. Whether or not we could/would attend the blessed event has been a long-standing discussion at our house. After all, we've been here at our post for less than a year, and I had made a few rash comments about "no more international travelling till the children are teenagers" and that sort of thing. So we debated. Weighed the pros and cons. Prayed. Waited. Asked advice. Checked prices. Prayed some more. And then we began to get letters from home with comments like, "We can't wait to see you all [emphasize: all] in April!"

Plaintive sigh.

Now that tickets have been purchased, I decided to go ahead and publish our plans on the World Wide Web to clarify all assumptions once and for all. Yes, we are going to the wedding, Lord willing. In this case, the "we" being Tim and myself and the two children who are the farthest from being teenagers. For various reasons -the most obvious being the fact that we're leaving some of our family here- this will not be a trip to spend lots of "quality time" with family and friends. In fact, plans are to spend a total of four days in our hometown. So if you're of the very
observant type, there's a small possibility that you will catch sight of us somewhere, sometime between April 5-8. In spite of the very limited time, we look forward to seeing some of you and if we fail to tell you then, please know that your friendship, prayers, and support are greatly treasured.

And remember, you can always come spend time with us here! We're certainly not tired of visitors yet, especially not the kind that come from home!

Just Picturesque

Ok, I'm just doing what everyone else does that doesn't have time to maintain a real blog- posting pictures. Let me explain that this blog is neglected by choice; I am choosing to invest in the Truly Important these days, which is my walk with God, my family, our ministry, and our guests- in that order.
Who would have thought that it could be so difficult to line up five children for a few casual photos? A very independent toddler certainly adds interest to the poses, if nothing else.

You probably wonder what's going on here, and frankly, I do too. (Aren't the stair-step sizes interesting? I'm wondering how long they'll stay that perfectly spaced.)

And finally, a (rare) Family Valentine's Day shot...

All photos courtesy of Chick Photography. Thank you, Cousin Eg!

Third Born

Eight years ago, we had just moved to Honduras with our two small children and began the process of pioneering a base for Christian Light Missions. We were full of plans and visions and dreams... and mercifully ignorant of the fact that we had just enrolled in the Missionary School of Hard Knocks. No one had prepared us for all that pioneering would entail- from finding a temporary place to live (since the house which had been purchased for us was still occupied by the previous owners), to learning where to shop for groceries, to dealing with the High Expectations which only fellow missionaries understand... It was a time of excitement and adventure, to be sure, but also one of testing and humility, as God held us up to His Light for all to see what we were really made of. At least, that is how it felt to us! In the midst of all the changes of culture, language, climate, and roles, our son Anthony was born- a blessed confirmation straight from the heart of God. The feeling I distinctively associate with his birth is one of overwhelming gratitude... that in spite of falling so far short of my own lofty expectations, God chose to give us this precious baby simply as a token of His love for us! It was like God was saying, "Here- I just want you to know that regardless of everything else you're feeling, I have high hopes for you. And I'm giving you this child just to show you how much I love you!" I love celebrating the births of all our five children, but the memories surrounding Anthony's arrival into our lives are among those I ponder and cherish in my heart. I find it difficult to buy gifts for the middle child... Anthony is not into weapons and all things wild like my other boys; playing Legos and chess in a quiet corner would be his choice of entertainment any day. We finally settled on a smaller version of the classic, multi-purpose Honduran tool: a machete. A special package from Grandma, a trip to the lake, and some time spent fishing completely satisfied the birthday boy.

A true Brechbill-at-heart, chocolate cake is the standing birthday order, this time with peanut butter frosting and balloon shaped candles, thanks to "Mimi"!

Fiesta

A Honduran birthday party is always a great cultural experience, especially for our children. The main requirements are a pinata and loud music, and if there's money enough, throw in a large pot of chicken and rice, a couple of cakes, and plenty of lukewarm Kool Aid.Derek was all too happy to take his turn with the stick.

The mad scramble for candy... almost invariably someone gets hit on the head by the flailing stick.

Sharing candy... It's best to not be a finicky mom in these parts.

No one seemed to mind when this poor fellow came by and flopped down beneath the balloons. His bottle is hidden behind him, the dog is barking mercilessly, and doesn't his face look simply hopeless? Our hosts graciously shared the party food and I sincerely hope he remembers being loved, even for this brief moment.

One Busy Girl

Mandie has an opinion about being on a date with Daddy and Mama.... We're just not sure what it is since she's not actually talking in sentences yet.

Mandie had an opinion about the pool too, and it was this: If you'd just let me go, I know I could swim!

Her self-appointed daily duty of rearranging Mama's messy cabinets.

Oh is this a guilty look or what? Water is the biggest attraction, whether it's the drinking water filter or.............

Daddy's new fish tank! Forget the dolls and the tea parties- this girl is happiest outdoors with her Daddy: petting the chickens, gathering eggs, playing in the vegetable beds, organizing Daddy's tools, climbing dirt piles, and keeping up with her big brother Derek. This is Mandie's kind of life!