"Reading the bible is like eating chocolate....it's not a lettuce thing". -don miller

Things are changing...everything and seemingly nothing all at the same time. Two years ago we found ourselves sitting in a guesthouse in Ethiopia, completely petrified. We were in the middle of a complete "leap into the unknown". We felt an invitation into an unknown process (adoption) in an unknown country(ethiopia). But what we knew, was that we were holding God's hand as He introduced us to something unspeakably great that we had yet to taste. Loving His whole family.

We were introduced to a love, that day in Ethiopia, that we had yet to expierence, taste, touch or be touched by. It was indescribable to be introduced to a stranger...who had always been part of our family. Jericho Zelalem Emmanuel Oestreich, our son who introduced us to the most stunning story of all time. God's great big family...our Great big Family...love created and designed before the beginning began.

That day, our eyes were opened to All of our family that is scattered across continents. Our idea of love, became different as we felt God walking around and introducing us to all His beloved kids. Our family wasn't just increased by one...it was increased by a world!

Our old nationality slipped off our shoulders as we rubbed shoulders at this "family reunion" of sorts. All God's kids, each and everyone. We are connected by God's love. His love pursued me, and is pursuing each person on the planet who was made in His image. The shackles of an inbred, quarreling family felt so freeing to drop! Our country was one of the people that mattered at God's table...but oh there were so many more countries to see, meet and love!

I almost got the feeling that, as we were petrified to board the plane for Ethiopia, not knowing how or what would happen to our life. God was giddy like a parent at Christmas time...sitting on his hands to stop himself from spilling the beans of this beautiful present he was aching to introduce us to. After feeling Him introduce us to Jericho...and the bigness of our family in Him. We have never been the same.

Everything has changed...and yet its all still the same. I feel the drag of mondays, daily routines and the dread of cleaning the bathroom. Can anything be different?

This is a loud shout, "yes!" to myself. To remind myself to not scorn small beginnings. To look around for the small signs of a sprout growing..pushing up through the earth. Unnoticed...but not for long. Today I am recounting the goodness of God and the small, oh so small changes that are here because we fell in love with Jesus and His whole wide Family two years ago in Ethiopia.  We just had a family who was put on the street come and stay for the weekend. Total strangers were invited to our dinner table and to rest and take refuge in our home. Of all the times I have started reading the bible in a year...I have never made it to Titus before! My kids play and make believe they are going on adventures to countries like Azerbijian, burkina faso and haiti. They are loving and learning about All of Gods kids. They are learning french so they can talk to the kids when they go to Haiti with me. Little do they know it won't be this year. They talk about our 5 sponsored kids like they are siblings...they care for them and about them. I usually would be planning some sort of family vacation this year for spring...and this march we are shooting to go to Haiti to serve, not be served by our money and time. Jake and I are praying for people together at church. Standing up there and offering people the only thing that really matters...god's heart for them. His love and His care for them. It feels new, scary and strong all at the same time. Its nothing....but everything, all at once. Discouraged, yet  I hear a small voice that says to be "encouraged".

"Abraham had two sons: one by the slave woman and one by the free woman.  The son of the slave woman was born by human connivance; the son of the free woman was born by God's promise. This illustrates the very thing we are dealing with now.  the two births represent two ways of being in relationship with God.  one is from mount Sinai in Arabia. it corresponds  with what is now going on in Jerusalem- a slave life, producing slave offspring.  This is the way of Hagar.  In contrast to that, there is an invisible Jerusalem, a free Jerusalem, a free Jerusalem, and she is our mother--this is the way of Sarah. remember what Isaiah wrote:
    Rejoice, barren woman who bears no children,
       shout and cry out, woman who has no birth pangs
       Because the children of the barren woman
        now surpass the children of the chosen woman.

We are not children of the slave woman, but of the free woman."
Galatians 4;18

"It is absolutely clear that God has called you to a free life.  Just make sure that you don't use this freedom as an excuse to do what ever you want to do and destroy your freedom.  Rather use your freedom to serve one another in love; that's how freedom grows.  For everything we know about god's word is summed up in a single sentence; Love others as you love yourself.
That's an act of true freedom.  If you bite and ravage each other, watch out- in no time at all you will be annihilating each other, and where will your precious freedom be then?

My counsel is this: Live freely, animated and motivated by God's Spirit.  Then you won't feed the compulsions of selfishness.  For there is a root of sinful self interest in us that is at odds with a free spirit, just as the free spirit is incompatible with selfishness.  These two ways of life are antithetical, so that you cannot live at times one way and at times another way according to how you feel on any given day.  Why don't you choose to be let by the Spirit and so escape the erratic compulsions of a law-dominated existence?

What happens when we live Gods way?  He brings gifts into our lives, much the same way that fruit appears in an orchard- things like affection for others, exuberance about life, serenity.  We develop a willingness to stick with things, a sense of compassion in the heart, and a conviction that a basic holiness permeates things and people.  We find ourselves involved in loyal commitments, not needing to force our way in life, able to marshal and direct our energies wisely.

Since this is the kind of life that we have chosen, the life of the Spirit, let us make sure that we do not just hold it as an idea in our heads or a sentiment in our hearts, but work out its implications in every detail of our lives.
Galations 5 (message version)

Jericho the Fierce

Yes, Jericho, it was your first, very first day of going to preschool. You looked over at me as we walked into the classroom you looked at me and in a serious voice said." if my bruder is alone... I take care of him."
Funny, be because it should be you that might be worried about being all alone.. Your first day and all. But not you my Jericho-the-Fierce... You are looking out for your brother, ready to take on anything and anybody that might hurt him. This is you! Bravado to the max! Fiercely protective of your treasured people!

Personality sneak peaks...

Write it down Diana!
If it tickles me now it will be priceless to remember on the future.
The first couple days of preschool brought a few one liners from bridger and Jericho that gave me a peek into their personalities....

"God art's the world mom... And you art t-shirts!".
Well said Bridger, I completely understand where my newly acquired skill of tshirt making ranks. But oh yes! Your little soul has caught the amazing artistry of god and the world around you! Sometimes bridger you seem to bring into focus things that get blurry in my everyday living, thank you for clearing up the fog and reintroducing me to the Art all around me!
" I made a new friend today at school mom!" how did you make this friend
Bridger?
" Well, I was at the water table and made a really cool splash... And she laughed!"
Oh so clear... All of male female bonding summed up so well... "she laughed!" friends forever now I am sure. I am going to use this one in my marriage... What does it mean that I am taking marriage tips from my four year old? Bottom line, I am a girl, and I just got a peek into a boy brain!

Dear Bridger,

Dear Bridger,
You were standing up on your bike pedals, careening towards a four way intersection...and I knew you would stop. I didn't yell, my safety radar didn't hit code red....because I know you.

The knowing of you, just hit me. Like getting dropped into a dunk tank of caramel, its so sweet it almost makes my knees buckle.  realizing  the intertwined-yet-totally separateness of you and me had me undone on a suburban street in the cities as your little brother and cousin zipped right behind you...following the leader.

You see Bridger, the way that I trust you, and the way that I trust you to be someone that your little brother can follow and your little cousin ride right behind means that you are my lead dog. Yes, I did just have my first stint at volunteering at the John Bear grease Sled dog Race last year....but this really is a compliment!  Bridger, you and I have spent time together...a whole lot of time together. Time where I am teaching you, and times where I am holding back and allowing your character to come out and be tested.  Times where we are rolled up like puppies whiling away an afternoon reading every book on the shelf..just being. You see, I didn't even realize how much all the time we have spent together has established a rock steady trust that transformed you from a 4 year old bike riding boy, who from the untrained eye is about to ride into traffic and lead the two littler ones to their doom, into my Lead Dog.

 This relationship has changed me from a fretful mom, into a proud and confident Musher, trusting you with the rest of my prized team. There is this admiration that I have for you, a pride that comes from not  anything I have done, but from a place of seeing you become the best you. I knew you could do it! All the laps around the block, all the repeating, all the training wasn't for nothing...its sneaked up on me. Right now, a movie reel of you being my first born, all the times things didn't go right, all the times we kept at it..two uninterrupted years of you being my baby, my highest aspiration, my coworker and my Boss, my partner in crime. All of these memories are dumping into my heart as I watch you ride up to the intersection, drop your left foot and sit back onto your seat by the stop sign and look back to me.

Man, I knew that investing in you completely was the best thing I could give up my job and my time to do...but I never knew when  I was going to get a report card on how it was going until today. Your eyes grab mine as you give me the familiar two fingers pointing to your eyes, and then to my eyes. Proudly, you are letting me know that you have stayed in my sight, and I am in yours.

I am crushed by how much sweetness life has to offer. I don't deserve to get to taste it all, but I do get to taste it, again and again and again.

You don't even know it Bridger, but you have this gut wrenching iron character that keeps me guessing, alright, keeps me a little envious. This genuine want to, in your words, "make other people feel good, and I will feel good too!"   Where does this come from? You are completely content with being yourself, and you see your brother, not as a little brother, but as your equal. You have a respect for life, an aching to be not funny but "hilarious" and a mind that just seems to understand how things work even more than what they do. Your character is strong Bridger, in Haiti they would ask if someone is "strong in Faith" and you my son are strong in Faith. I trust you, and I see you not elevating yourself, but including people into your world, on your level.  To put icing on the cake, when we read books, you mindlessly slip your fingers into mine. Unconsciously, you have started putting your arm around my neck when you bombard us in the morning and snuggle in our bed. I am achingly proud of all the ways that you are growing forward, but they way that you keep reaching back for me makes me cry with gratefulness.

You are going to change this world Bridger for the better, you'll walk straight into worthy things and point out the beautiful things, and the ways that things should be better. I am so excited to watch how you'll love being part of this world and how it will love you...but I will always be grateful for how you reach back, and take my hand in yours.

First date awkard

THURSDAY, SEPTEMBER 23, 2010

First date awkward

my favorite book title, taken. The name of my first idea...taken. The name of my first childhood dog...taken. The whole world must be blogging to have taken all my seemingly personal titles. Blogging? Really? Not for me, I have been completely sure. So, now I will have to give a lot of excuses why I am not blogging, only writing...in the year 2010.
My Dad is this really amazing writer. Growing up, I experienced delectable bites of life through his writing. Slowing down an everyday experience and serving it up with a splash of wit, heavy helping of observation and oh yes, the bleak Irish humor. All that being said, I offered him a birthday present last year. I would write about a childhood memory, mail it to him and then he would write one of his. and Wa la! we would have his most hilarious stories preserved to tell my sons. Alas, we are both horrible at data entry...so this is my sneaky fix. A blog! automatically typed and saved in cyberspace! We shall see if he buys into it...
Past all the quips, I have felt this tug at my insides lately, as regular as my daily paper and my son exclaiming about his " poop-castle" after he has his daily constitutional, This tug shows up. An overwhelming sense of being kicked in the pants to "write it down". I know that it is my bestfriend and creator, nudging me in a good direction. So here I am. Daring to put thoughts on paper. Lately, I hear Him telling me to write down the daily stuff....so I won't forget so quickly the truth, or mabe the proverbial bus is going to run me down soon and this could be my last will and testament on this earth. I so desperately want my son's to know that each day I spend with them is a beautiful gift to me. That I have discovered the world and myself a thousand times over in their simple questions and toddler presence. Staring, I still can't quite get used to the miracle sitting next to me on the couch...how did God make this little person? will I ever get to know him completely? What is he going to be like? Grown inside me, his existence completely started in me....yet I still can't wrap my mind around the magic of his existence! The favor God has given me in getting to be part of his life. Wowed, I have tasted afternoon picnics, swinging high until you don't even remember what it looks like from the ground. Swearing I am now half bird, I don't even want to stop. I am promising myself that I will unashamedly write what I want....refuse to delete anything and put down the red pen of editing. This is a beautiful salute to life lived messy, gut wrenching moments and ugly emotions panned for gold . I won't give up until I see God's redemption in my story, in our story.
To my husband, who fights for me and bleeds with me...I want him to know the amazing stuff that I sometimes forget to tell him...that I am living the dream. He has made my whole life a dream.....thank you. Even when I forget to tell you anything but the rant. Thank you for being in my corner, always choosing me, and laying yourself down for me. I experience Jesus in you...and I can't wait to intertwine our fingers in heaven and worship forever together.
To my Dad, I really had every intention to write memories for you...but the things that I want to write are about Iraq. It is a messy, ugly story that I feel the tug to write. I know I shouldn't be ashamed to let you read about my story, but I am. I think it might hurt you, hearing how a big war and inhumane people bested your Duaba. I don't want you to feel hurt or uncomfortable...but right now, this is what I have to share. The more I don't write about it, I am frozen for writing about anything else. Mabe if I just write the worst of the worst, the "rest of the story" I will have freedom to write about other things. Like how, I am pretty sure that God is giving me the vacation/adventure I have always dreamed about, but disguised it as being a "stay at homer" with my son's. Imagine if this is better than all the brochures I have read and collected over the years, but He dressed it up as my "everyday life". What a kick that would be! How God is that....always flipping things upside down. Instead of pinning after a vacation from my real life, in reality I am living the vacation...daily. and years down the road, when my peanuts are grown I will realize it. Creatively amazing God is..the first will be last, if you give away your life you will actually find it, if you forgive you will be forgiven, what you did for the most overlooked you actually did for the king of kings! oh, yeah...I think this hypothesis has merit...God is feeding me my fav dessert, all dolled up to look like a nutritious carrot. what do you think?

From Haiti with love!

Isn't it easy to lump things into two categories, “best” and “worst”? Even as I pull up a chair, slide up to the computer and attempt to write down my adventures in Haiti, I am immediately tempted to sum it up into those two quick categories. Did you know that is a “cold culture” way of communicating? Before I left, some of the orientation included an article highlighting the differences between Cold Cultures versus Hot Cultures (Foreign to Familiar by Sarah lanier). There is no doubt in your mind if you are from Duluth which one we are. If you're not sure, its based by how close you are to the equator. “cold culture” values efficiency and information giving during communication. Hot cultures on the other hand, value building relationship and putting people at ease during conversation.

Interesting to “catch” myself, not being myself, but practicing the culture that has been given to me. There isn't a right or wrong, but each culture is practicing what they value. Man, I think the Haitian's have slam dunked this one!” Relationship over the task” sounds like a value that you will never regret, and in fact, might allow you to get the most life out the days that you live. Another comparison that rang my bell was, “in Cold cultures, prestige is determined by ones accomplishments and accrued wealth.” Yeah, I really don't see how this could apply to Americans right? “hot cultures identify themselves as a group, not individuals. So, individuals do not expect to have to stand alone in life. I almost feel a little like Haitians have a total head start on us. Americans struggle with building lasting relationships their whole lives...divorce, friendships, broken families. We have the ability to accrue wealth, yet depression, anxiety and loneliness is, by the numbers crippling us. Suicide rates for kids under 14 are rising in our society. If these issues trickling down to them, its bigger than I know. We desperately want relationship, but our culture doesn't practice valuing it, in our everyday way we communicate.

At this point, I haven't even gotten on the plane yet, and my heart is being sucker punched by sadness. I am leaving my beautifully-boring (after Iraq..boring is a blessing to me), affluent life, because I feel like Jesus asked me to. He asked me to set aside my pursuits, and the treasured people in my life and get to know more of God's family in Haiti. To put on my boots, and work side by side with people he loves, as they struggle to survive another day. And yet, they are rich in relationships! They don't have healthcare, clean water or food, but they are able to relate to Jesus, and each other in a way that brings real hope. Kids are killing themselves because of feeling utterly alone and hopeless in the country I am leaving. Being honest, I don't know how to process this. But what I do see, is hope. The hope that allowed Haitians to keep going after the earthquake was having a tangible, experienced relationship with Jesus. And that same Jesus is the antidote to a wealthy country that is hurting.

And then I got on the plane......

Crinkled up eyes sat low under his dusty cowboy hat, while his hands pried open an old western book that looked so old, I wanted to ask if the reprint date was from the 1920's or if john Wayne lost his book. It was triple thick, and held together with a paper clip the size of a small dog. Yep, this was my seatmate on the flight to Miami. Anyone who knows me, can anticipate this being a major high light for me. Given my uncool love of rodeos and all things cowboy. But not today folks. I was rattled. Given the teary goodbye, even Jake wasn't sure I was going to snap out of it. I was rattled by my own rattledness! There was a group of tornadoes in the Midwest that caused a total shutdown and cancellation of my flight. When I showed up the next day to catch my flight ( total groundhogs day moment) they said the computer had automatically re booked my flight, but whoops! Not my return flight. I had visions of maybe making it through their computer glitches and getting to Haiti....but standing in the airport in Haiti with no ticket home, only a sign that says, “will work for plane ticket”.

From the very beginning of even thinking about going to Haiti, its been uncomfortable and hard for me. And getting rattled at the ticket counter, was only the beginning. When I felt Jesus kinda poking me in the ribs about Haiti...then finally feeling like He was inviting me to go. I kept getting the sense that He was asking me to give up all the things I find security in, and make space for Him to be those things for me. And He wasn't talking about mushy feeling stuff...He was talking about the gritty, practical I-am-going-to-a-foreign-country-totally-alone reality. Jesus was my only security blankie, only person who knew me..and in my mind, the only person I was going to blame if this went really pear shaped. Things weren't starting out great for me. When things happen, I usually rely on the fact that if no one is shooting at me, its really not a crisis and its going to be okay. It might not be easy or fun, but its all going to pan out. Standing at the ticket counter, it felt like someone might be shooting at me...or shooting my confidence in myself down. “When there is less of me, there is more of Him”

Port Au Prince, Haiti. Touchdown! To those who have ever tried to deal with an unhelpful airline when they lose your bag......I now join your ranks and understand while you pack yourselves up like a donkey with all those carry ons. Given the language barrier, and the fact that I had no idea if who ever was picking me up would wait for me...I pretty much waved aur revior to hopes of getting my bag back..

My plane was late, and I was really late given the bag fiasco and panic started creeping up my spine. I would jump in a taxi and take my chances, but it was getting dark by now. And that seems like a different gamble. I leave the ticket counter and say I have to look for my ride, keep in mind....I have no idea who this person is, I could be walking right by him. A guy has a crumpled up index card in his hand that says, “MTI”. Whew! The knot in my stomach loosens, and hope starts to breath again. Until we get outside and he starts to hustle me for money when I see the real MTI guy in a bright red shirt with MTI printed on the front. It helped that an RN from portland just flew in and was waiting with the MTI employee. People from Portland make duluthians look tan....just say-in..it helped me to see him in amongst everyone else. After the day that I had, I heard myself telling this fake MTI guy and his three friends who were harassing me to pay him ,”Don't be a Bully, dude”. And slamming the door in his face. Mabeduluth's anti- bullying campaign is really working?

Driving through Haiti, felt oddly familiar. Keep in mind, I didn't say homey, just familiar. It looked like Africa, smelled like Africa and had my favorite thing...round a bouts! Besides, a near extinct group of indigenous Haitians who look similar to native Americans, everyone who lives in Haiti is from Africa. The french captured Africans and brought them to Haiti to be slaves. Which is Haiti's bragging right, They have the only successful Slave-led revolt in history. It was bloody, and took 20 years but they did it, and kicked the frenchies so bad they went home and invented french fries to soothe themselves. Alright, that last part is not approved by Wikipedia...yet.

Africa was in my nostrils, but a more masculine sounding french was tickinglingmy ears. And to confuse my senses even more, I left Miami two hours ago, and landed in a place that screamed “Africa” to me. My first time, I flew 27 hours before I saw outside my plane window the red, dusty soil of Africa, that I had grown up pining over in the national geographics in our basement, not two hours. So close to the U.S, yet so far away.

“You both are angels. You could be on any beach in the Caribbean, but you chose to come to Haiti, thank you.” That is Fabienne,the medical director's greeting to us as we walked into the house.

She grew up in Haiti, went to nursing school in Miami, was working there when the earthquake happened and she felt like God called her back to Haiti. She gave us a 20 minute run down, which started with, “5am tomorrow you guys leave for La coma.” She is lucky I even kept listening to her. I get carsick, and La coma is across the entire country, up until you hit the opposite coast. It can't get any farther away or I would be catching a boat back to the states. To get there would take 8 hours of crater filled driving, and driving through three different rivers. All this screamed carsickness to me, and all I had was the shirt on my back and the undies I was wearing. Spending 10 days in the Haitian wilderness was making me really miss the bag that got lost. I wasn't going to tell them that I get car sick, and puke y when I have to drink dirty water in a foreign country. La coma wasn't set up to have teams go up there yet, no team house, no electricity, no clean water or a cook to boil everything so us forieng
wimps wouldn't spend the week puking or in the outhouse. I was supposed to be trusting Jesus, for everything. And my mind was screaming that I would spend the whole week puking and He wasn't going to change that, and as much as I wish I could have been really trusting....I wasn't. I was freaked out. Puking in a land rover for 8 hours without my hubbie to care, or hold my hair back sounded like a nightmare that I wouldn't even want to have, much less live. That night alone in my room, I realized how much of a wimp I am. If I could spill all my crazy fears to someone, it would sound less scary than having them run the gerbil wheel in my head. Its easier to be part of a group, than to be left alone with my own thoughts. Stretching...uncomfortable stretching seemed to be the mainstay of this trip. And it didn't seem to be letting up.

Day #2. Road trip day. Bag was found, Wes, the other RN got carsick also so we rode three across in the front seat, think summer on the equator people, and the Land Rover with the help of a 8 year old boy guided us as we drove straight through three rivers. 8 hours later, we rolled into La coma, all of us sporting head and neck whiplash injuries and poor Wes, some bruised ribs from getting slammed into by me and the driver. Inertia and “corner!” can do nasty things. We made it to camp! It felt like a weeks worth of traveling, sweating, and being pretty scared. But tomorrow will only be day #3.

I am going to take my time, and process through and write through my days in Haiti. No rushing for this cold culture junkie! I don't want to miss anything, I don't want to write a movie preview or synopsis of Haiti. The really great stuff is like panning for gold, and I want to be willing to sift through some dirt so I don't miss the gold pieces of God in the big stuff and the little stuff. So this will end with the dreaded words...”To be continued...”

But I will tell you that I met more of God's Family...my family in Haiti. It felt like finding yourself at a family reunion, and you had no idea that you are part of such a sweet, amazing group of people that you didn't even know. Totally humbled, that this “family” would allow me to be part of their group. That they claimed me, as their own. I don't want to have my head down, self focused on only my family, and miss the big family of God. If I choose to only be a citizen of my country...its going to be a small story. But if I choose to be a citizen of the world, I will get to be part of a big story, and a big ol family.