the day the blender made me cry

The other day I had past-its-prime yogurt and past-its-prime fruit in the fridge along with empty popsicle molds in the cabinet, so obviously it was popsicle time.  The blender we inherited when we moved into this house had not been working in the past, but I got it out to check and amazingly—it worked!  So I proceeded to peel mushy bananas, scrape in the last dredges of the yogurt, and got that baby filled to the brim with popsicle delight.  Then I flipped it on and...nothing.  There was the sound of a motor running, but no blade turning.  I stirred the mixture and tried lots of different tricks, and still…nothing.  

What is there to do in that situation but stand there with a drippy, yogurt-y spatula in hand and cry?  Well, to be honest it would be more normal *NOT* to cry, but there I was, staring at the lumpy, unblended popsicle delight in the stalled-out blender with tears pouring from my eyes.  Then Sam walks up…

Mom, what’s wrong?
The blender isn’t working.
Are you crying?
Yes.
Are you crying about the blender not working?
Yes.
Ummmm…why?

Well Sam, that’s a really good question.  Insert life lesson that I learned in counseling a couple of years ago: When someone’s reaction to something is more intense than the situation merits, they are likely reacting to something else—something the current situation reminds them of, something that’s been going on that day, etc.  It sounds pretty basic, one of those things that you hear and think, “Oh yeah, of course that’s true.”  But I didn’t really know it until the counselor said it.  And after that, oh my did it explain so many things.  It’s why I snap at my kids when I’m stressed about my to do list that’s not done, why Tim is cranky when he comes home after a day when patients died and suffering was all he saw all day, why I overreact if a situation reminds me of a hurt from the past.

I explained that to Sam, and told him that I wasn’t really crying about the blender.  “Well then, what are you crying about, Mom?”….well, that’s a good question too.  I’m not really sure.

I’ve been all out of sorts for the last week or so, crying randomly and sometimes feeling like I’m on the edge of breaking, and I can’t put my finger on exactly why.  Why am I telling you this?  Well, I think that many of you care (which is such a very beautiful and humbling thing).  But also, all along I have deeply wanted to be honest about this journey we’re on.  I don’t want to make it look easy at the times when it’s not—I want to show what it’s really like.  So today that means crying at the blender.

When I tried to think about what’s going on in my heart, it seems like everything has been thrown into a blender that IS working.  I can’t quite sort it out and tell what’s what.  But there are some things I do know…

-We had only been in Soddo for a month when coronavirus hit, so that transition was greatly affected by this sudden fear and changes of plans and semi-quarantine.
-A good portion of the people in our hospital missionary community left abruptly due to coronavirus.
-At various points in the past month, we’ve debated whether it’s right for us to stay here in Ethiopia or right for us to fly back to America.  That is a deeply complicated question, and we feel good about our decision to stay here but the deliberations have been heavy.
-Our kids had good friends leave without much notice and their school abruptly closed.  Trips they were looking forward to got cancelled.  Lots of tears have been cried by them too.  
-We have a precious one year old who has decided to start waking up again at night and be pretty fussy during the day.

Then I read through a list of common challenges that missionaries face, which included:

-Grief and loss experienced from going through the revolving door of change, moves, painful goodbyes, and transitions.
-Experiencing emotional, physical, or spiritual fatigue, as well as potentially fighting through sleep deprivation with babies and young children.  
-Stresses of job performance—their directed efforts toward learning a new language or increasing language proficiency.
-Constantly striving to achieve a proper and sustainable work-life balance between husband/wife and family.
-Addressing the question that even if the field experience is good for the couple, is it the best environment for the children?
-Wear and tear of living, working, and relating to family, team, and locals in constant “survival mode”.

Reading through that list suddenly made me feel completely justified in crying at the blender.  There has been a lot going on with us, with our kids, and with the world we live in.  My days have felt so full and long that I haven’t had much time to think through it all and really notice what’s going on in my heart.  I’m thankful for the blender crying day that made me realize something was up.  Yesterday Tim took the boys out to dinner and sent me to bed at 8:00pm.  Today I did a few things to make space for spending time with God and thinking.  I have an incredibly supportive husband and community here, and honestly I’m excited to be in the process of realizing these things that are apparently demanding to be realized.

But right now I just wanted to tell you that right now feels hard.  And if I were a bettin’ person, I’d bet your right now might feel hard too.  I know our lives are different, but yours has probably been deeply affected too by all the lockdowns and restrictions and changes of plans and fears.  Friend, can I just say that we’re in this together, and that there is a God who sees us and knows us and loves us in the midst of it?  Let’s move forward into whatever tomorrow holds with confidence, knowing that He holds tomorrow, that His strength is made perfect when we are weak, and that it’s ok to feel and cry and struggle.  Even if you’re a missionary.  Because dude, haven’t you heard that some missionaries even cry at silly things like blenders?

“God is our refuge and strength, a very well-proved help in trouble.” -Psalm 46:1