Is It Worth It All?

Many years ago dh* and I mastered a pithy formula for those occasions when someone suddenly says, “Come up and give us a ten-minute summary of your mission work.”  We were always prepared to give a spontaneous presentation broken down into various 2-minute story segments.

 Usually my husband would start by presenting the concise nuts-and-bolts module – who were are and what we do.  Then I would give a thank-you module, followed by a prayer module or a miracle module.  Oh, how people love to hear the amazing way God works on the field! 

Toward the end of our rehearsed/impromptu talk (how's that for an oxymoron?), one of us would give a slightly longer module we call the is-it-worth-it-all module.

In that portion of our presentation, we would talk about some particular challenge we had faced or some enormous trial we had endured, and we'd conclude with a story of what God has done in our hearts and in the lives of the people we serve, causing us to marvel and say, “In spite of everything, it has certainly been worth whatever small sacrifices we have made.”

This past week I’ve been thinking about the “Is it worth it all?” part, and I still come to the indisputable conclusion that, of course, it’s been worth it to live and raise a family on the mission field.  No regrets.  Well, not many.  Okay, I’m not altogether sure, but I think it’s worth it for me, but not so sure if the children would agree.

My one area of insecurity is home schooling.  I know without a doubt that God gave me the grace and desire to teach my kids at home.  In 1990 it was a no-brainer.  I had to teach my own kids because we lived in remote locations without any other educational options. 

In the spring I will boast (by God’s grace) of having five home school graduates.  That leaves just two kids at home.  Thankfully my son is attending high school in the city full-time, leaving me more time and energy to focus on my soon-to-be 14-year-old.  Unfortunately, the MK school does not have the needed support to handle her language disability/ Apraxia.

Without divulging details, let me just acknowledge that I am weary.  It’s one thing to home school by choice, and a whole 'nuther thing to home school by necessity.  I know in my head that “God’s grace is sufficient” for each day and each challenge, but in reality, it sure doesn’t feel like it some days.  Teaching has become a chore, and I don’t feel very creative, loving, or grace-filled like before.

I’m asking myself hard questions like “Is it worth it?” - but I’m not coming up with any automatic response like “Of course it is!”  I’m just not convinced.  Maybe this youngest daughter would have fared better in the U.S. under capable teachers more equipped to instruct her.  I don’t know.   

This seems to be the road God has taken us, but I’m pretty intimidated approaching four years of high school when I don’t think I’m doing such a stellar job any more.  This sounds terrible, but (whispered) I'm secretly ready to move on to ministries outside the home where I don't feel so inadequate all the time.

How about you?  Do you have an instant affirmative answer to the “Is it worth it all” question?  Any areas of insecurity you’d change if you could?  Are you ever ready to jump ahead to the next season of life?  

IRL* Maybe we all need to be infused with power and hope again, especially when the cost seems high, and we're not sure it's worth the struggle.

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Scatterbrained Sidetracking

WOTH named this blog IRL* In Real Life with Jamie Jo, but a reader recently commented that I’ve never devoted a post to what “real life” actually looks like for me.  At the risk of boring you to bits, I’ve decided to lay it out here and describe a typical weekday for me in Mexico.  (You’ve been warned.)

By 7:00 A.M. my day is well underway.  I am generally up and at 'em, a load of laundry started, with breakfast, personal and family devotions behind me, and one or two kids rushed out the door to catch the carpool to the MK school in the city.  (Hey, speaking of which, do any of you know of teachers or a principal who might want to come to Oaxaca in the near future?)

Just like that last paragraph, my day is full of rabbit trails and scatterbrained sidetracking.  Multitasking is not my strong suit.  My goal is to devote the full morning to instructing my youngest daughter who is way too much like me (except for talking too much) to ever accomplish this.  She has Apraxia in addition to, ahem, ADD tendencies, and school requires a heap of personal attention and direction.  Every history and science text must be read aloud to her, along with other books we read aloud together just for fun.

For a couple of hours, a home-schooled friend of Miss Will-You-Please-Hurry-Up comes for English, science, and P.E.  That helps us get back on track.  P.E. is worth mentioning because we close all the drapes and doors and turn the volume down low while we sweat to Wii Dance.  (The neighbors would not understand.)  That is the highlight of our morning, enabling us to stay awake to finish our morning studies.  No promises after lunch at 1:00 or 1:30.

Any typical day I might be interrupted with home deliveries of drinking water or gas tanks, neighbors needing to borrow something (until the lawn mower finally broke – what on earth are we going to do now?), one of the three phones ringing (Lingo phone from the U.S., local phone, or Skype – since now pastors in the villages have internet and think every time they see that Jim-Jamie are online they should ring us up to bless our day, and then once I’m on the computer, well, I really should check email, Facebook, and Pinterest. 

When dh is not traveling (this week he is in Mozambique for the dedication of a friend’s recording studio like ours), he is working mostly from home, in and out between here and the office next door.  That can provide a distraction, too, as we stop to discuss the day’s/week’s events, emails (will you answer that one or should I?), and challenges.  Did I mention we are both talkers?

Several times a week I am blessed to have a local gal (not a maid, but more of a housekeeper we have sort of adopted) come to fix lunch, do some light cleaning, and (thank you, Lord!) run interference with the phone and door while I teach.  She is my right hand and my sanity saver.  Whatever I start but don’t finish, she discovers and completes (hanging laundry, ironing, breakfast dishes, etc.)  When the babies were little, and I was home educating four children, she was indispensable.  Now she is just a blessing.  I can even send her a text message to pick up eggs, milk, or tortillas when needed.  Yes, I am spoiled.

Afternoon activities vary, but are boring to recount (housework, lesson plans, etc).   My favorite things are prayer with the other missionary moms on Monday, writing in my journal, blogging, talking to my adult dc*, playing the piano, or reading for pleasure.  Then there are those city days when I take teens to the orthodontist, do grocery shopping, get a haircut, or attend meetings at the school.  Those are tiring days for sure.  

No matter what a day brings, I'm always ready to crash by 9:00 or so.  Getting distracted and not completing tasks is exhausting!

IRL* Now I’m wondering how your day compares to mine…. Do tell!

If You're Waiting for Me to Be Just Like You

As some of you know, I am not the kind of person who can fully enjoy a book without savoring it orally. I simply must share it with someone to complete the experience.

Owning a Kindle and downloading/ devouring free books almost daily has proven to be a character building exercise for me. So far I have resisted the urge to regale my friends, both IRL and in Cyberland with one of my long-winded book reviews. Until now.

Letters Missionaries Never Write* is an amazing book that every one of us can appreciate. It exposes us all, from singles to marrieds, veterans to newbies, short-term to long-term, home-schoolers to boarding-schoolers. The writer managed to nail each one. What a difference it would make if we could see each other’s hearts and the underlying frustrations that cause so much hurt and misunderstandings. I highly recommend this book!

Reading these hypothetical letters spotlighted for me again how diverse we are, and how vital it is that we embrace our differing viewpoints and backgrounds rather than fighting over them. I can’t imagine how uninteresting it would be to only relate with people exactly like me, supposing there were such a thing. We are all unique, and that’s a good thing.

The trouble comes when we think we know what people are like, and we start categorizing people and putting them in their proper boxes where we assume they belong. As much as I try to put my “people-pleasing god” behind me and to only care whether my ways are pleasing to God, I’m still aware that people misconstrue my words, appearance, and convictions.

Home schooling – Oh! One of THOSE! (So, Jamie Jo, do you think ill of me for sending my children to public school or – horrors! – boarding school?)
Big family – Oh! One of those! (So you must think I’m horrible for only having two children…)
Missionary – Oh! One of those! (Don’t you know there is plenty of needs right here in the U.S.?)
Sadly, I’m just as bad.

When I’m with ladies who wear a head covering or dresses-only, or have long hair and no make-up or jewelry, I automatically assume they are judging me for not sharing their convictions. Hopefully the ladies in the ultra- not-of-this-world group think nothing of my short hairstyle, dangly coconut shell earrings, and (gasp!) shorts on a hot summer day in Texas—any more than I would judge someone choosing to not home school, not to have a big family, or not to become a missionary. We’re all just different, which is a good thing. (Oh, I said that already.)

Sometimes it’s not only appearances that cause division, but our ministry focus.

In many cases we will never see eye-to-eye, but it is so helpful to consider the other person’s perspective. Last month I posted an article on my ministry blog about the pitfalls of literacy-based evangelism in the third world. I hoped perhaps it might provide some insight for those who are struggling to reach the unreached with the standard literate approach, as well as to explain again to our supporters why we do what we do (providing audio and video evangelistic materials for non-literates).

Inevitably it caused discomfort for some who connected the dots differently, who came to a different conclusion than the author of the article. That’s okay. We have to live with the constant tension of differing vantage points on many subjects. That’s just how it is. We’re all different. (yada, yada, said that!)

For those who are uncomfortable until peace is restored, I’ve got news for you. As long as you define “peace” as everyone being in unanimous agreement, it’s never going to happen this side of heaven, so just dream on.

IRL* Embracing the differences, and agreeing to sometimes disagree while still remaining friends.
*This book was sent to me by a df, and is not yet available in digital form.

My Old Restless Companion

In the early years our visas only lasted six months at a stretch. We made the dreaded border runs twice a year to renew them. The absurd thing is I actually enjoyed those journeys, especially the trips to Texas, which allowed me a visit to Stuff-Mart* to restock on things we needed and frivolous items we simply preferred.

On our last official “border run,” we were bummed to only receive sixty days instead of the usual six months on our visas. No way could we pack up however-many-kids-we-had-at-the-time and run back to the Rio Grande every eight weeks, even if the children managed to outgrow their clothes that fast! We finally switched over to more permanent resident status.

That’s when I noticed that my coping mechanisms seemed to only last about five months; after that, I became antsy and ready to plan a trip of some sort.

In fact, I would hit a downright slump twice a year right on schedule. I would wake up in a funk with no logical explanation. Once I figured it out, I just laughed over it, and then went on with living cross-culturally with no escape in sight.

Today, things are different once again. The three remaining children at home are Mexican-born, and therefore need no visas. That’s nice. I’ve learned to cope with Mexican living, the good with the bad, year-round. More or less. Some days I still get overwhelmed with the noise and stench interesting smells.

I was doing fine, pondering our lovely summer in the States—a time of blissful invisibility while some wounds healed over. I was enjoying our first week of home schooling, hosting a young teacher while she looks for housing, and honestly feeling content. Then one morning I woke up with my old restless companion, and I felt a funk coming on. This is way too soon to start feeling that again.

All I can say is that life has become too routine, too predictable. My old norm (especially when there were seven children living at home) was high-stress, crazy, and anything BUT predictable. I had no time to even think about contentment or lack of it. Now I find myself on auto pilot. Life seems too easy somehow. I’m not sure I like it this way.

How ungrateful can I be? God has blessed me with every good and perfect gift, and I am momentarily discontented. After what I said (and thought) last week in my blog post about “those” kinds of missionaries, I can honestly see the potential to become a snarky, bored missionary if I’m not careful. Yikes. Pardon me while I run back to the true Source of all contentment.

IRL*Striving to restore my old sense of adventure, minus my old restless companion.

Extenuating Circumstances

Last week I sent out another memorable prayer update. A classic. I started my email by relating a story about my daughter’s school assignment in which she was to calculate her father’s age in Roman numerals. The worksheet mistakenly said that “M” was fifty, so my daughter wrote that her dad was MVI. I thought that was so cute, since our sending agency’s initials are MVI. Then I added something about the following day being my Mth birthday.

The joke was on me. Soon I had a flood of responses teasing about how we are both older than Methuselah, since M is actually 1000, not 50. Hopefully people will remember some of the prayer requests and ministry news, and not just my silliness. I had to send out a retraction saying it was my Lth, not my Mth birthday.

I did have a very good birthday, by the way. Thank you. Except…

...it turns out my driver’s license expired on that very same day.

Some of you are groaning. You already know what I’m discovering yet again. People outside the U.S. borders cannot renew driving privileges online, post 9-11. Not in Ohio, anyway.

Methuselah and I spent long hours trying to finagle a way to accomplish this simple task. One option was to fly to some other random state where the regulations are friendlier to persons who do not fit within “the box.” I hear Arizona is a great place for online renewals until you turn 65. That’s tempting. (One photo of the 50-year-old me for the next fifteen years.) No can do. What proof can I possibly provide of residing in that state?

It is impossible. For the first time in sixteen years of living in this country, I am forced to apply for a Mexican driver’s license. By the time we drive to the U.S. for my son’s wedding next summer, my application will have red flags all over it due to the time lapse of seemingly not having a license. I’ll be required to get a learner’s permit for two weeks (and drive again with Mommy in the front seat, I suppose?), and retake the written and driving exam. That’s a memory I do not prefer to repeat.

The last time I took the test in Ohio, the examiner was a stickler for petty details like coming to a complete stop at stop signs. What kind of craziness is that? In Mexico that would get me rear-ended by other drivers. I explained to the woman that she simply had to pass me, or I would never hear the end of it from my sons whom I had taught to drive. She did not think that was her concern. She didn’t even smile.

Just once I wish there would be some tiny allowance for people like me who live their lives smack dab in the middle of extenuating circumstances.

IRL*Just like stop signs, driver's licenses are a necessary nuisance...