February 7, 2011

• Up and Away

  Sometimes I long to travel the world.  The lure of other cultures and peoples fascinates me.  It lifts me out of the smallness of my little corner and miniscule problems.  It helps me to see God differently when I consider Him working beyond my small place.

   

  Far-flung places like Ireland and Liberia call my name.  I want to see  BoraBora and Japan.  Australia and Chile.

   

  I doubt that I ever will.

   

  But sometimes it really feels like God has been extravagant with me when it comes to travel.

   

  We may have lived in the boondocks, but my parents believed in us “getting out”.  Hence my childhood memories include many trips to Pennsylvania to see the relatives and Oregon for church meetings.  I remember our neighbor laughing at our family one time when he met us heading out for a long trip to PA.  “Where are you off to?” he asked Dad.   And he couldn’t believe how casually Dad answered Pennsylvania.  To him 3000 miles away meant a lot of planning and saving.  But for us it was simply a part of life.

   

  In Pennsylvania we took buggy rides with our Amish cousins.  I remember eating grape nut ice cream for the first and only time.

   

  My teen years took me to Bible schools in Minnesota & Missouri.  I taught school in Wisconsin and Oregon.   I found that most American people are just as nice as Canadians, even if they DO call toques “stocking caps” and  Canadian provinces “providences”.

   

   I visited my sister who was teaching in Belize when I was 21.  It was there that I fell in love with hot dark nights and dewy mornings and the brightly colored shops of Orangewalk town where rows of flipflops shone and cheap dishes begged to be purchased.  That was the trip where I of the olive skin who never got sunburned started peeling so badly on the airplane that I was ashamed to see my boyfriend who came to pick me up in Minneapolis and even more ashamed to spend the night at Maranatha where the whole student body was sure to see the ugly patches on my forehead and nose.

   

  I had always dreamed of a honeymoon to eastern Canada.  It came true when Dan &  I spent two happy weeks in Nova Scotia and Prince Edward Island camping after our wedding in August.  The warmth of eastern Canada’s people, the quaint churches, and the wheat fields nearly touching the sea affected us deeply.  Maybe we’ll retire there someday.

   

  Since we are married we have been to Grenada to visit family with Olive Branch Missions.  That is where I became convinced that brown/black skin is truly more beautiful than white-especially white with a sunburn.

   

  We spent two years with a mission in Belize.  While there we were able to visit wonderful Costa Rica, with its fresh pineapples and melons and lush greenery.  We were at a conservative Amish Mennonite church leaders’ meeting and loved the diversity of people who came.  So many races.  A lot of racial intermarriage.  So many sweet and Godly people.

   

  Guatemala with its pretty Spanish ladies frying up corn tortillas and its steep and rocky roads fascinated us.

   

  And Belize-with its diversity of cultures, its taco stands and amazing Cayes, its hot dry season and mango trees, its tree-ripened avacados and its people who became our friends-changed our lives forever.

   

  After Belize there was Romania, where my sister and her husband lived for seven years.  That was the trip where we left our three little children with Dan’s family in Wisconsin for two weeks.  I still can’t believe I did that to three year old Bryant.  He survived and the people caring for him survived.  But I don’t think we’d do it again. 

   

  But Romana .  Ahhh.  We loved it.  We loved the huge old stone buildings and the stacks of hay and the people who had us to eat with them and insisted that we take second and third and fourth helpings of cabbage rolls and noodle soup and fried chicken.

   

  This week our family of 8 flies to Cancun, Mexico and then takes the bus to Belize.  We are back to see Belizean friends, the missionaries we worked with, and maybe Caye Caulker.

   

  Now by some standards that’s a lot of travel.  By others it is not.

   

  You may think that we are made of money.  Which we are not.

   

  And sometimes when I think of the eight of us heading to Belize on Tuesday morning I worry that we should be using the $$$$ to give to someone who needs food.

   

  Dan had a very good year with his sawmill business and was able to share a lot of that money with people who needed it.  (I hope I don’t sound like I’m tooting any horns here.)

   

  But we still live in the boondocks where I grew up.   The call to Go gets both Dan & I on a regular basis.  We know our children need a broader life than our own little in-grown church and community. 

   

  So the suitcases are packed.  Four pairs of little crocs for ease of going through security in Edmonton and Houston.  Sandals, flipflops, stroller, sunscreen and swimming trunks. Shirts and dresses and underwear and gifts and Tylenol and PaSsPoRtS.

   

  I know that by the time we drag through the Belize border at midnight we will be anything but bright or sweet. 

   

  I know that my dreams of visiting our old haunts will be overshadowed with a baby who will likely be hot and fussy and bothered.  I know that there will be fire ant bites to soothe and 7^th grade boys who will need to be nagged about school books.  And there will be the constant mom-job of keeping everything organized.

   

  But I am up to the challenge.

   

  Because a hug from Mrs. Dorothy

  and escabeche with Raquel

  and the chance to see the new brown babies

  and eating tacos and drinking Fanta

  and having coffee with the pastor couples

  and going to Bible study at Carmelita

  and watching Mrs. Juana bake her tortillas

  and sending the children to their old school for a few days

  and the heat of that Belizean sun

   

  will make it worth it.

   

  And I am thankful to God, the Giver of extravagant gifts. 

   

   

  I really feel like this posts spells “Look at what we get to do…na na na boo boo.”

   

  And I don’t mean it that way at all.

   

   I still want to add a few pictures of my week last week. 

   

  Which was a gift in itself.

   

  Because I do not sew well. 

   

  And if you are my Facebook friend you’ve heard me spouting off about it.

   

  But this is the product of last week.  And I only post this because it is such an unusual occurence.  And proof that I work best under pressure, which I am not proud of.  Not at all.

   

  

   

  The 3 little Tshirt dresses were so simple and fun.

   

  And then….

   

  A friend offered to make my share of the food for our monthly fellowship meal today at church.  And she also offered to babysit for a few hours yesterday while I thought I would be frantically packing.  But the packing seemed to be under control and I wasn’t making food, which my life consists of.

   

  So I sewed a dress that I cut out last summer.  Fabric bought in Guatemala four years ago.

   

  

   

  Now if the boys wear their bright green and blue shirts.

   

  And if I can convince Dan to wear his yellow shirt (not likely).

   

  We will look like the Truly Tourist family when we hit the Edmonton airport.

   

  Bright white skin.  Wearing loud colors that shout: “We’re off to Mexico, folks!!

   

  

   

  I cannot wait.

  • 2:50 am
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