Worlds Collide

Have you ever had one of those moments where your worlds collide and no one in the room can relate to you?  Think about high school reunions.  If you’ve never been to one, you might someday.  This summer was my first experience in going back in time, stepping into old roles, meeting old friends, and I’ve got to say, it weirded me out a bit, and not because my friends are old.

Last weekend I had the privilege of singing with my high school choir from the 1970s and seeing photos of us on tour wearing pea green polyester leisure suits back when we lived in the same world.  Most of us come from affluent north Dallas neighborhoods—some much more affluent than my own, which wasn’t too shabby in the least.

What struck me as humorous was how diverse our lives are now.  The only equalizing factors were the choir robes and the songs we sang.  Somehow it tickled me to think that only one or two of my old choir friends have any idea where or how I live now. 

While many of them live in lovely big homes to rival those of their parents, successful by anyone’s standards, here I am, a lowly missionary with (gasp!) seven children, living in an adobe “hut” (compared to their homes, anyway), but still one of the richest people along my unpaved end of my southern Mexico town.

I just kept thinking, If only they knew. At the same time, I had another unexpected thought:  Why don’t they?  How is it that I disappeared from their world?  That seems unfortunate.  There are many reasons my home church never sponsored my ministry, but this weekend, it seemed strange.

After a packed summer of being introduced, honored, and appreciated at churches around the U.S. where people were glad to know me and glad to be part of what God is doing through my life, it was weird to be invisible at the one church I called home for eighteen years.

On the one hand, it was nice to have a weekend of not talking about unreached people groups in Oaxaca and about the need for audio Scriptures for non-literate indigenous people. It was great just singing the old hymns and reminiscing with old friends.  But on the other hand, it felt almost disloyal to put my real life behind me and almost pretend that I was a successful Dallasite (with fewer than three children), working a normal job.

Is this ringing a bell with you? Have your worlds ever collided?  Each week I write these different posts, holding my breath thinking none of you will get it, that perhaps I am the only one who has experienced this.  Then you all chime in with your own experiences, and I see that we are all in this together.  Oh, how I appreciate you ladies and your lives. 

IRL* If you happen to find yourselves in a collision of worlds where no one gets your life, you are not alone!

Blog On

Normally problems go away after a few weeks, or I at least gain some spiritual insight in the midst of them. Sadly this is not one of those times. The house remains stinky, the summer heat is increasing, the flies are multiplying, and dust is everywhere. The various unsuccessful attempts to solve the plumbing problems have just made the house a wreck. Still life goes on.

Do you want to know how I spent my weekend when I wasnʼt killing flies, lighting candles, and sweeping up the dust and debris?

On Saturday I spent hours of glorious solitude (after successfully ridding my room of the kids with the old “Go ask your dad!” trick)... Are you ready for this? After watching videos of the royal wedding, I spent my weekend reading blogs.

Since apparently I am still at a loss for any personal lessons learned from my current trials (besides perseverance), I thought Iʼd share the wisdom of some fellow bloggers.

Criticizing our hosts or learning from them? From a blog called Olive Tree: Growing Green in God’s House.

Swimming in New Waters by Marilyn Yocum (... fighting procrastination … or at least thinking about it). Don’t you love her byline? Here is a poignant quote from this particular post:

TRUE ‘culture shock’ occurs -
I learned at a conference in February -
when you are in that new and unfamiliar place,
when you are there to stay
and are not returning (at least any time soon),
when it is your new dwelling place
and you must learn to swim in new waters.
There is no
holding your breath until it’s over,
so you better learn to breathe
in the midst of it.

(That’s what I’m learning about stinko houses; you can’t hold your breath forever!)

Belonging by Inky’Spot (Musings of a Missionary Mom), an IRL friend of mine here. One quote from her that sticks in my mind: Two plus years living here does not a man from the pueblo make.

Polarized Lenses, from a blog called Joy’s Graffiti (Count it all, Joy) by another IRL friend in Mexico, a mom raising a special needs adopted son on the mission field.

The could’a, would’a, should’a game from a blog called The River into Words (… a journey from safety to risk, and all places in between …). The title says a lot, doesn’t it?

We call it good by Koodaigirl (… simple thoughts from one of God’s girls).

Living a Powerful Story: Being Myself from a friend whose blog title I love: Sitting on a Cactus Smiling ... (Life… its joys, pains, pressures, blessings sometimes feels like sitting on a cactus smiling … observing life through the window of my heart.)

My Life as a Tour Guide by A Common Woman (living an uncommon life). This one cracked me up. I’ve been there, done that one many times, answering the same exact questions over and over, never knowing the real answer, but trying to sound like the expert people expect me to be.

And last, but not least, I’ve enjoyed reading the new Yellow Dress WOTH blog. I highly recommend you add her to your blog list.

In case I need a harmless diversion next week, please leave me a comment linking some helpful or humorous blog that you enjoy. If you are a blogger yourself, feel free to link a particular post you’ve written that you would be willing to share.

IRL*sharing our lives, one post at a time.

"ASK JAMIE JO"

Surprise unveiled! Yes, ladies, what we’ve been waiting for is this: a separate password-protected forum that will provide a more private place strictly for women serving cross-culturally, where we can get down to the nitty-gritty and discuss the things that concern us, stir our hearts, bug us, and make us laugh. [Editor's note: Although the forums are still in the research and development phase, we will keep you updated with the launch date. How could we stifle JJ's unabashed enthusiasm?]

In the meantime, I am proposing we have a monthly “Ask Jamie Jo” blog post where we post someone’s question or concern, and then have an open forum for you all to post your solutions or viewpoints. We'll use the current comment section to do that.

Don’t you love it? I sure hope you do, since I stated three times last week that you would.

The benefit of an “Ask Jamie Jo” question is to allow you to ask things you might not feel comfortable posting if you had to sign your name to it. Being in the line of work we are in does not prevent us from having occasional marital disputes or even (gasp!) personality clashes with our coworkers and conflicts within the Christian community. However we do need to be discrete in addressing these publicly. Thus, the “Ask Jamie Jo” feature. Once we get the forum up and going, "Ask Jamie Jo" will move there.

The forums will not be exclusively tied to this particular blog, but will provide a safe place for us to discuss articles from the onlineMagazine, movies and books we recommend, things we are learning from the WOTH Writer’s blog, etc. You could even “Ask Jamie Jo” about things I have written here. For instance, Cindy Blomquist was asking me last week for an update on the Friday afternoon Bible study I mentioned leading in Spanish. On the forum we can tie up loose ends like that.

Can you tell I am seriously jazzed about the potential for this new WOTH Forum?

In my spare time, I love to read the different blogs listed on Coffeegirl’s sidebar. It’s a way for me to connect with you and get to know you. The forum will make it even more personal. Blogging sometimes feels like speaking to an empty auditorium, but a forum is community. We may not always agree with each other, but we will learn to love each other better online and IRL as we see different sides of potentially hot topics.

Until the forums are up and running (pray for our dear techie guy in the WOTH office who got dumped with this great vision!), let’s start with our first “Ask Jamie Jo” blog post next week. Send your questions to Cindy (editor@womenoftheharvest.com), and she will select one for me to address next week. Let her know if it needs to be anonymous or if we can use your name. When needed, Cindy can sign your name appropriately like on Ann Landers and other columns, “Friendless in Mexico,” “Sleepless in Saigon,” “Snarky in Singapore.” Things like that.

IRL*Creating community EXCITES me!

It's Chime for Christmas!

Merry Christmas from Jamie Jo and Women of the Harvest! Wherever you are, whether the weather outside is frightful or downright balmy, may you experience the true joy of the season, and may Jesus be very near and dear to your heart.

For some of you this may be your first Christmas away from extended family, and my heart goes out to you. This week may trigger more homesickness than happiness. That’s only natural. Here’s a (((cyber hug))) for those who secretly or outwardly wish you were elsewhere.

Take time to journal about your struggles this week. Later on you will be amazed to compare your current feelings with how far you have come. You might also figure out creative ways to make new Christmas traditions that will make it seem like Christmas each year, even though it’s never quite the same as Christmases of the past.

On my first Christmas overseas, I had one other single American friend who shared a summery holiday with me in Thailand. We listened to a bootlegged cassette of Bing Crosby crooning “White Christmas” while sweat dripped on the Christmas cards we were signing. Being in a Buddhist country where there was no such celebration as Christmas was very odd. The only highlight was getting together with a small group of believers in a village church for an actual Christmas service.

I can count on one hand the number of Christmases I have spent north of the border in the past 24 years. For me, Christmas south of the border is the norm— poinsettias in full bloom in the yard, tamales and pozole served at the local church programs, fireworks, and warm weather.

Besides Christmas stockings and big parties (and all the baking involved with that), one other tradition I have maintained is directing a Christmas Chime Choir. Years ago I decided to invest a bit of inheritance money on a 3-octave set of chimes. My own children would never experience playing handbells in a big American church, but they could play chimes here in Mexico.

For about fourteen years, I have taught MKs to ring choir chimes, and now it is tradition to play for special services at Christmas time. Our signature piece is “Carol of the Bells.” For me, it literally rings in the Christmas season to fill my living room with two long banquet tables and young people making music together each week in anticipation of the holidays.

Christmas Eve will find me at a candlelight service with many other English-speaking families singing carols, ringing chimes, and watching the little kids act out the Nativity story while it is read aloud from Luke 2. Why? It’s tradition. I love tradition. I love the holidays. I hope you will, too.

IRL* Still missing my married sons and ddils*, but choosing to be joyful for all my many blessings this week, including my two college kids who are home.

Party @ Jamie Jo's : Y'all Come!

As some of you have figured out, I live in a location with many missionary colleagues in close proximity. It’s my tradition to throw a big Christmas party every year. One neighbor loves to call me “the hostess with the mostest.” Sometimes I graciously thank her outwardly, while swallowing the ungracious responses that pop into my mouth. “Yeah, the most dishes to wash afterward, the most stains on my furniture, the most migraines the day afterward….”

When we were in Guatemala twenty-some-odd Christmases ago, I remember a certain hostess who fully expected young couples to hire a baby-sitter for parties at her house, which were clearly "for adults only." I used to take offense at her stance, but now I understand. I really do.

Equally clear is the memory of the family-friendly Christmas party I hosted that same year. I was aghast at one mother’s unruffled attitude as her son took a piece of chocolate cake and ground it into my rug with his little foot. She smiled innocently and said, "Boys will be boys" to which I retorted (with a less-than-genuine smile), "And mothers will be mothers and clean up after them!"

It's all well and good that children be allowed to be children as long as parents remain parents and don't leave the poor hostess such a huge disaster to clean up after the party's over. Within the missionary community, I'm afraid that isn't always the case, which is also why, I suspect, some people simply refuse to invite children into their homes. What a shame.

Now that I have no little ones of my own, I hope I have grown less peevish about spills and messes, but I admit I still need to work on my heart that cringes when children come over for parties. Too many memories.

Is it sinful pride that makes me crave a nice orderly house? Is it selfish to not want neighbor children to destroy my house? Or is it simply good stewardship to try to protect my belongings? After all, I know what agony we endured to find each and every piece of furniture and rug, which we carefully selected and brought from the city, and even the support necessary to buy them. I don’t know. There has to be a balance. All I have is a gift from the Lord, and on my good days, I acknowledge that it all belongs to Him. I want to claim none of it as my own.

Nothing challenges this resolve like a good old Christmas party. Next week I’ll have to have my head examined heart checked. Again. I just hope I can be gracious and not just act gracious. I hope the snarky remarks don’t even appear as a thought bubble over my head like in the cartoons.

IRL* The party is set for December 20. If you live close enough to come, you are welcome, kids and all!

I'm Grateful

First of all, thanks to Debbie Peck for the fun recipes and resources for Thanksgiving. What a fun encouragement that was. I’m assuming all of us are receiving the WOTH onlineMagazine and the subsequent email from the Editor, “In Between the Lines,” in which it appears. If not, click here.
Now to balance my more negative posts about head lice, car-sickness, and things we don’t take for granted, I want to give some serious thought to the many benefits of living exactly where we do. Your list will not necessarily look like mine, but I offer these to inspire your own. Please add yours in the comment section.

Here is a partial list I made for Thanksgiving (in random order).
I love the simplicity of life here. No junk mail, no telemarketers, and in fact, few phone calls in general. I enjoy the quality and quantity of family time without so many outside distractions. No sports practices or youth events requiring me to be a chauffeur. Cheap reliable public transportation means the kids can get around independently, even to school in the city three times a week.

Living close to our friends means even the youngest can walk back and forth to each other’s houses during daylight. After some upheaval earlier in the year, I am extremely thankful for no further incidents in our town, and that our kids are safe in their comings and goings.

One thing that remains on my list every year is my house. Being settled in my own home for almost 17 years is a tremendous blessing. I love that it is climate- controlled simply by opening and closing windows and drapes. Being adobe, it maintains the warmth or coolness without air-conditioning or heating.

Of course a huge bonus of living where we do is that it provides a meaningful purpose in life. The ministry opportunities alone are a tremendous blessing that short-term teams only glimpse. Even with the challenges and difficulties, we receive intangible benefits. Does that sound weird to say I am thankful for the very problems that cause me to grow more like Jesus?

After that horrible bout with E-coli, I am thankful for good health, which I do not take for granted. I am thankful to see the scales finally inching their way down after ten years of gradually going up. I’m thankful for affordable fresh fruits and vegetables available year-round.

As always, I am grateful for my family and friends, and for modern technology that helps us stay in touch. I love my family, and I thank the Lord daily that my children are all walking with the Lord, knowing so many heart-broken mothers who pray for this daily. I love the fact that we all still want to be together, even though we can’t.

And lastly, I adore each and every one of my very odd diverse friends, both near and far away. I’m thankful for my e-maginary friends on the Sonlight forums, and for my new WOTH friends (you!).

IRL*Gratitude is the gift I give to you.