field day
I love to write, and I imagined writing a lot once we moved to Ethiopia. I wanted to share our life here with people in other places and show them what Ethiopia is like and what God is doing here. I imagined writing being a big part of my life, and I'm sad that it hasn't turned out that way.
For a significant part of our time here, some things in my life have been too hard to *really* talk about. There have always been lots of good things and lots of blessings, but I'm not good at only telling the happy part of the story. If I leave out the hard parts, I feel fake. And when I feel fake, I just want to throw in the towel--and that's what happened to writing. When I don't know how to be honest in my writing, I'd rather not write at all.
Here I am now on a different day, and I have words again. I've slowly gathered up some "treasures of darkness" (Isaiah 45:3) from all those hard days, and I want to lift up the lid on that treasure chest and share some of it with you.
It seems probable that we all have certain things that are hard for us to really believe about God. Sometimes we don't even realize these things until something pushes up against them. The last few years in Ethiopia have pushed hard on some of those things in my heart. They have pushed in a way that I'm honestly thankful for because when I can see them, I can tend to them. Or put more accurately, I can let God tend to them.
Thoughts of things our kids miss out on by living here hit me hard sometimes. I don't mind myself missing out on things because--hello, I made the choice to move here. But our kids didn't. I know there are so many things they gain by living here, but there are also some real things they don't have. I find it much easier to trust that God will take care of me than to trust that God will take care of my kids. I try to trust God, but subconsciously I think I have to do all the things to take care of them and make the hard things better.
About six months ago, Pip asked if we could have a field day in Soddo. I probably said, "Sure, I bet we could do that sometime!" and then hesitantly wrote it on my to-do list thinking, "How am I ever going to organize a field day??" The kids know about field day from the international school they went to in Addis when we were in language school, but we've had a hard time making the trip back to Addis at the time when their field day happens. So having one here was the solution in Pip's mind, but I had no idea how I would make it happen.
I know, some of you might be thinking, "What's the big deal about organizing some games for kids?" For some people, that's an easy thing to do. For me, not so much. I don't remember many of the field day games I played as a kid, and I get overwhelmed when I start googling open-ended things like that. Then perfectionism noses its way in, and it gets bad. If I had nailed down the activities though, I would still have to manage it--gather the kids, explain all the rules, be energetic, make snacks, manage meltdowns, etc. It sounded overwhelming to me, and at the same time I really wanted to make that experience happen for Pip. So on the to-do list it sat.
Fast forward a few months, and some young people who are interested in missions are here for a month. They are athletic and full of energy, and they offer to play sports with the kids while they're here. I sheepishly mention Pip's field day request, not wanting to seem presumptuous or demanding. They say, "Oh sure, I bet we could do something like that." I jump up and down inside, dreaming about if this really happened. Fast forward a week or two, and I learn that one of them used to be a P.E. teacher and coordinate field day for hundreds of kids. The others have recent experience doing things like this with kids, too. They're having meetings to plan field day, drafting a schedule, and sharing a list of supplies they need. The date is set.
The night before, the kids are so excited. "I need to get lots of sleep tonight so I'll have energy for field day tomorrow!" "Mom, can I please sleep in my athletic clothes so I'm ready when I wake up in the morning?!" I say yes, and we wake up the next morning ready to go. But first, I find some time to sit in the chair in our room. I sit in silence for a bit, sensing that something is going on inside my heart that I should pay attention to before this busy day starts. Moments later, the silence gives way to tears and an overwhelming feeling of gratefulness to God.
One thing about me is that often when I see something that needs to happen, I think I need to do it. That might sound logical, but there's more to it. I usually don't stop to consider whether God wants me to do it, or whether it might be better for someone else to do it. I think I have to do it, and then when I don't get it done, I feel guilty. Every time I see it on a list and think about how long it's been there, I beat myself up. The weight of feeling like I have to take care of many things weighs on me, and it's heavy. That's where I was in my relationship with Pip's field day dream. It had weighed on me and made me feel so guilty, and then I sat in this chair in silence.
Field day didn't depend on me. Field day is happening, and I'm just doing the snacks. I didn't plan it, I'm not executing it, and I don't have to muster up the energy of a 22 year old and lead the show. God provided all this. He worked to cross the interns' path with our hospital, and it ended up that they came. And not just any ole interns, but specific interns who have field day experience, who love kids, and who are willing to serve in this way.
I never once prayed about field day. I never asked God to show me what to do with this desire in Pip's heart; I just felt guilty about it. And without me even asking or praying or turning towards Him at all, He swept in and did it. In that chair and with those tears, I was astonished thinking about God caring for Pip this way, thinking about God caring about field day, and thinking about God caring about me this way. I dry the tears, prep the snacks, and off we go.
The day is so fun. Energetic twenty-somethings who know fun games and know how to lead them. A soccer match, sack races, eggs on spoons, an epic water balloon fight. The kids had a ball, and in the quiet moments when I caught a glimpse of the fun they were having from a distance, I tangibly felt the tender love of God for our family.
This won't be the last time I prayerlessly carry burdens around. It won't be the last time I think everything depends on me. It won't be the last time I grasp and frenzy to make the hard things in our kids' lives better. But it is one more gracious lesson to teach my scared, forgetful heart that God cares about our kids. To teach me that I can trust Him not just with myself, but also with them.
Who knew that field day could teach lessons like that? God did.