Our Displacement Story

Displace

dɪsˈpleɪs/

verb

past tense: displaced;

o                                       take over the place, position, or role of.

synonyms:

replace, take the place of, take over from, supplant, oust, supersede, succeed, override;

• move (something) from its proper or usual position.

synonyms:		dislodge, dislocate, upset, unsettle, move, shift, relocate, reposition

• force (someone) to leave their home, typically because of war, persecution, or natural disaster.

We are displaced. Our family, together we are displaced. We have been dislodged, dislocated, upset, unsettled, moved. We have shifted, relocated and been repositioned. We have had to leave our home, not because of war or persecution and I’m not sure if it qualifies as a natural disaster, but it feels like it.  The soil composition in our yard has created a mess. Half of our yard has saturated, lush soil. The other half is so dry that it cracks in deep jagged lines. This has created an atmosphere dangerous for the foundation of the house. The lounge and verandah are cracking, and will eventually break free from the rest of our house.  This started becoming apparent with cracks on the walls, then the ceilings, on the opposite side of the house. It wasn’t obvious or clear until we moved out of the house and the contractor could tear out the ceilings, and dig up some places in our floors and dig deep trenches on the outside of our walls. Foundational issues that need underpinning. Water Drainage issues that need t obe sorted out.

Strong foundations. There are so many metaphors. I’ve heard about strong foundations in Sunday sermons basically my entire life. So when the contractor said “cracks in the foundation” I expected the house to topple on us any moment.  But that’s not how it works. First little cracks, then bigger ones, then more jagged and obvious ones. Then crumbles. Is the house falling apart? Yes. Is it immediate? No. But when the foundation isn’t right, the damage is being done long before it’s clear on the surface. Certainly before it’s clear to those living inside and way before it’s clear to those passing by.

This month, I have been paying really close attention to my foundation. My recovery, my faith, my values. There have been things going on around me that have made me wrestle and question. I have asked, “Do I believe that?” “Is this The Gospel or is this my culture?” and most importantly, “Do my actions seem to be aligned with my faith?” Is my foundation solid or are my walls showing cracks? When someone I care about is resentful and proclaiming that loudly to all who will listen, does my behavior change? When the refrigerator falls out of the moving truck do I lose my mind? (Yes, it happened. And it rolled. Laugh, we have had to laugh too.)

The house is being repaired. The damage is done, but no further damage needs to happen and the experts are there to repair what is broken.  Even so, we are displaced. In order for the work to happen we had to move out and leave this home that we love. Our landlord has been amazing in the process and has given us beautiful accommodation.

Our entire family moved together, Gogo is here with us.  We have all of our things and all of our pets (two dogs and two chickens.) My girls are sleeping in there same beds, with their same blankets surrounded by their same toys.  Ruth is doing her homework at the same desk, grabbing snacks from the same fridge (although it’s slightly dented and leaning.) The only thing that has changed is our location and the walls surrounding us.  According to my iphone, we are exactly 7 miles and 10 minutes down the road.

This might seem like an exaggeration to call us displaced. It might seem as if there would be no effects, but the effects have been much bigger than we expected.  I am discombobulated, I can’t find things and whenever we get in the car to go to our places I get turned around or lost.  Ruth has done surprisingly well, although she is disgruntled that she has to get in the car at 7:00am in the chilly winter morning rather than stroll around the corner to school at 7:25. Vivienne has had the hardest adjustment. This home is lovely and comes equipped with three friends, girls all around her age that LOVE to play. There is a gorgeous garden to run in and a trampoline, swings and a playground. Everyone she loves is here. And yet she is weepy, not sleeping well and super clingy. She has APPEARED to be angry, but when you dig deep you see that she is sad. She has had moments where she looks wonky and wild, but if you dig deep she is scared. When she is vulnerable, she will cuddle up and say, “I don’t want to sleep in this house. Mommy, I want to go back to my crack house.” (Laugh, we have been CACKLING at her affectionate term for the home that was cracking all around us.)

My children are displaced. But because they are with me and their father and the adults they trust and love they will settle and there will be little lasting damage.

But at the same time that my three year old has crawled into my arms crying, looking for comfort I have heard cries from the children of strangers. Videos and audio released online of children who have parents seeking a better life, sometimes in the right way and sometimes not. Some children of parents who are seeking safety from the dangers of the world they live in; violence and natural disasters (remember that volcano that erupted in Guatemala?) I haven’t had the emotional margin to read or watch much of the enormous amount of content, but what I have seen and heard has hurt me deeply. In my work I have had to learn how to hear the message in the cries. There is a difference between sad and scared. Hungry or hurt. And then there is terror, danger, and trauma. Those cries immediately cause my body to react. I have only heard that cry from Vivienne once.

Regardless of my politics- my values, my faith and my recovery require of me to be outraged that we live in a world where already displaced children would be separated from their parents.  We may not be responsible for their displacement but we must not be doing the reprehensible damage of then removing them from the adults they know who can help maintain some sense of security. These kiddos MUST be reunited with their people. My faith, my values, my beliefs dictate that I must speak out about that.

Our displacement pales in comparison and yet my children are struggling. In their struggle to accept a new, temporary normal they find comfort in the arms of safe and trusted adults. Every child needs and deserves this.

What I am reading: A MILE WIDE

Hatmaker’s new book, AMile Wide: Trading a Shallow Religion for a Deeper Faith, is a new take on the old saying “An inch deep and a mile wide” and a fresh look at Jesus’ parable of the soils.  He says, “We can’t out dream God.  His desire is that we would each live our greatest story.  A story that only He could author.” His words reminded me that even while living a life I clearly know that God is authoring, I need to allow time and space to remember what it actually means to be a disciple.  I need to allow time and space outside of church services, Bible studies and meetings with church “insiders” to spend time with the people Jesus pursues. 

You will NOT regret buying this book! 

For the past ten years I have been serving as a missionary in Zimbabwe providing psychosocial support to precious orphans and vulnerable children and the amazing people who care for them.  During that time I have gotten married, started the process of adopting a (now) 12 year old and had a baby.  We have worked with countless churches and Christians from many denominations.  We have seen miracles and we have held babies as they have died or wept with parents as they morn the most horrific losses. 

During these 10 years my heart has burst with joy and disbelief that we get to be a part of a life like this and my heart has broken at the injustices we have witnessed.  During all of this, I have tried to balance the life I have had as a privileged American with my experiences in Zimbabwe.  My friendship with the Hatmakers (in my mind--through their books, sermons and blog posts) has made that formidable task a bit less daunting.  

I received an I received an Advanced Readers Copy of Brandon’s book, AMile Wide, in exchange for my honest review.  In the most authentic way, my heart has felt rejuvenated as Brandon clearly articulated biblical truths that I have been wrestling with in my daily life.  I am so grateful for the words he put on each and every page.  A couple of months before I was given this book, my husband and I fell to our knees, wanting to give up, to live a more “normal” life. 

I read Brandon’s words, “To truly present ourselves to God is to give a blanket commitment.  It means we choose his ways over our ways before the dilemma even begins.” We might adopt this to be our family motto for 2016 as we walk through unprecedented food shortages, banks refusing to allow cash withdraws in a cash based society and the increased violent crime rates as people become more desperate by the day.  I needed to be reminded the meaning of the commitment I have made in times that are harder than I signed up for.

Brandon’s new book is a must read for anyone who has grown weary in their busy life or for anyone longing for a deeper sense of community.  I highlighted something on EVERY. SINGLE. PAGE.  I am not even kidding.  It’s just that good.  There is no crazy revelation, just the reminder of who God is, who we are and why we need each other. 

Love.Love.Love.Love.Love.Love.Love.Love.Love.Love.Love.

Things are even more difficult in this place we are living today than they were when I started reading this book and yet somehow these words I have read encourage me to keep going, to find my identity in Christ and to share these things I am struggling with in the trusted relationships in our community.  This is the joy of being in Zimbabwe for me: that although I am an outsider in every imaginable way, when I choose to be vulnerable in my relationships here—about my struggles, my fears and my failures; all the differences fall away and deep, authentic relationship is formed.  Thank you Brandon for reminding me why our family is here and why these relationships are so valuable. 

You will not regret buying this book.  Honestly, buy one and read it.  Wrestle with it. Highlight it. Dog ear the pages. This is a book to be lived.  And then buy a copy for a friend that needs these words too, because they are for all of us.  No matter where we are in our faith journey.  No matter what time of soil we are today, there is something for us in these pages! 

Revive: Where we tell our untold stories.

"We need to look hard at the stories we create, and wrestle with them. Retell and retell them, and work with them like clay. It is in the retelling and returning that they give us their wisdom." - Marni Gillard

On Wednesday nights, Nyasha and I lead a group of people who are recovering. Recovering from what? Themselves.We work the steps, similar to a 12 step program for any and all hang ups, habits or hurts.

Depression.
Pornography.
Alcohol.
Unhealthy relationships.
Unforgiveness. 
Anxiety.
Drug Addiction.
Anger.
Eating disorders.
Ce-Dependency.  
Sex Addiction.

ANYTHING.

I have been sober from my alcohol and drug addiction for 17 years now.  SEVENTEEN YEARS CLEAN.  I never, ever, ever thought I would say those words.  

People ask why I keep working the steps, why I stay involved with 12 step programs.  The answer is simple, "I still have A LOT to work on." Drugs and alcohol were never really my problem.  They were a symptom of a much larger problem: MYSELF.  

So I am working on myself.  Baby step by baby step.Character defect by Character defect. Sometimes these changes occur quickly, sometimes slowly but they are always in progress.  Be patient with me, I am learning to be patient with myself.  Oh how I have longed for a quick fix.

So on Wednesday night, we gather together, a group of imperfect followers of Jesus and we share our stories.  In the honest telling and retelling we find our way, we find our healing and we find our strength.  In the telling, we are able to clearly hear and see what the Holy Spirit was revealing all along-- it is in our weaknesses that God's perfect strength is revealed. 

In 2 Corinthians 12:9 Paul wrote, "But he said to me, 'My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.' Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ's power may rest on me."

When we share our story; our weaknesses and God's gracious redemption, we give others permission to do the same.  Paul did that, as did Bill W. and Dr. Bob (the founders of AA.) And that is what we try to do each Wednesday night from 6-8 at River of life Eastlea.  Join us if you would like!

$5 an hour $10 a night

Today I was scheduled to share at a women's meeting in a peri-urban, high density neighborhood outside of Harare.  The church that was hosting is still being built, as is most of the neighborhood.  But once a month all the ladies from the (instrumental) Churches of Christ get together for a time of fellowship.  They had decided that they needed to make these meetings a bit more practical and that the topic they wanted covered this month was addictions.  This is how I ended up here. 

When the organizer told me that the ladies would be gathering from the instrumental Churches of Christ, I had a basic understanding of what this meant and why it was important.  A few years ago I would not have! However I had the opportunity before I got married and pregnant, to participate in a masters degree in missional leadership program at Rochester College.  Most of my cohort were pastors from Church of Christ churches and I learned a lot about how big the instrumental vs non-instrumental divide was.  If you love Jesus and serve on the staff at a church, I would highly recommend this program, although I wasn't able to continue because of crazy life situations, it was life changing!

Ok so back to Saturday:
I was drove out to this church, which only took about 40 minutes. However when I turned down the dusty road into Southlea Park, it felt like I was world's away from my neighborhood.  The homes were mostly unfinished, and there was construction taking place everywhere.  The wind was blowing dust all around and there were very few trees.  The hot sun seemed to make everyone who was walking up and down the streets extra tired looking.

As I tried to follow directions to the church a sign on the side of the road caught my eyes:

$5 an hour
$10 a night

Prostitution is illegal in Zimbabwe, although it is rampant.  When I drive down the main road to our home at night, there are ladies standing in groups every few feet waiting to be picked up and often we see car accidents from people who decided to stop with no warning to the cars behind them.  However it shocked me that in a neighborhood in which the houses are not even completed that a lodge would already be built and operating and so blatantly advertising an hourly rate.

When I got to the church the women were so filled with hope and anticipation.  We spoke of addiction and recovery and the questions were all about how they could best help their children and husband's find their way into a life of recovery.  How there is hope for those of us suffering in our addiction and that hope has a name: Jesus.

The despair that I felt as I drove through the neighborhood was so different than the hope I felt as I stood in the church.   

It reminded me of a quote from Desmond Tutu:

Such creativity brings me hope!!

Hope is being able to see that there is light despite all of the darkness.

It is my hope that some of the men and women who are booking this lodge hourly will find their way into the homes or churches of the ladies I met with today.  

Confessions of an imperfect missionary: I live with depression.

At 19 years old I intentionally overdosed and cut my wrists.  I was not confused, I wanted to die.

I didn't die.

What came next was excruciating.  Hospitals and physically healing, but by far, the hardest part of my healing was emotional.  Psychiatric appointments, therapy, rehab, constantly adjusting medications until the right combo could be found for me.... And oh the side effects of those medications.  The dry mouth, the funky metal taste in my mouth, the nausea, the fatigue.  Some of them I have forgotten and some of the side effects make my body tense just thinking about them.  Eventually, the doctors were happy with my prescription and dosage and I was responding well and adjusted to the side effects and life went on.

Some people would say that the medication was a crutch, that it made me weak or that it was a cop out.  There are cruel people, especially in this age of the internet where we can sit behind our screens and toss judgment around cloaked in anonymity,  I will tell you that the medication didn't make me weak....it made it possible for me approach the story of my life from a position of real vulnerability so that I could face that story and walk away victorious: with healing.  I spent years, all of my twenties and now the first half of my thirties, doing Some REALLY hard work for that healing.  I have earned it.  Some of those years required medication to make that possible, and many of them have not.  I am grateful for the science that has contributed to leveling out my brain chemistry so that I could do the work required for healing and I am grateful to God who brought people into my life to help facilitate the healing of my most deep pain and brokenness.

Today is World Mental Health Day.  The goal, I think, is to bring awareness to the fact that people suffer mentally and emotionally... And that these people look like me and you.  These people, my people, do not need more advice-- they need compassion and understanding.  They do not need non-doctors passing out advice about prescriptions nor do they need any more shame.  For at the heart of depression and most mental health issues is deeply rooted shame.

I was 19 when I tried to kill myself.  But the time I graduated university at 22, I was completely off of my medication. I had done intensive work with a fabulous therapist as well as the wonderful people I met through Alcoholics Anonymous.  I felt good about where I was mentally and emotionally.  Then came a big break up, a huge move and the beginning of graduate school stress and madness.  In the midst of my second semester in my MSW program I was flying off the rails.  I knew I had lost my momentum and I was feeling broken and lost.  I sought counseling again and I faced the difficult decision of going back on medication.  The day the therapist recommended medication felt like such a setback.  I felt like a failure.  I was drowning in shame.  Why couldn't I handle my life on life's terms?  A wonderful Christian woman sat with me after an AA meeting while I wept and she gave me beautifully freeing advice, "If you had cancer would taking the treatment feel like failure to you?"  I said no, but depression and cancer are different.  Then she said, "If I stop my cancer treatments I will surely die... Maybe quickly or maybe slowly but it will happen.  If you try to fight this on your own, without treatment, we already know the outcome.  You were 19 the first time this disease almost took you out."

I went back on medication for about 6 months and again found myself in a routine that worked well for me.  When I weaned off the medication at the age of 23, I have never needed it again.  Not because my depression is magically or miraculously gone, there are seasons where I feel its dark grip and I feel afraid.  But, I have been able to catch it early.  I am vulnerable and accountable to people in my life that help me and through diet and exercise and a healthy routine, I have been able to handle my depression without medication.

I have prayed and prayed for my physical and emotional scars to be removed.  I have prayed to be free from depression and what I have learned is that healing comes in many different forms.  Sometimes it is instant and miraculous, sometimes it comes at the hands of medical professionals who are gifted by God to accomplish miraculous feats and sometimes it comes in death, when our souls find peace in a perfect eternity.  My healing has come as a journey.  I have learned to admit honestly what is going on in my world, I have learned to ask for help and I am learning not to be afraid of what form that help comes in.  My faith is in God and He gives me hope.

Today we acknowledge that people in our home, our family and our community need help.  We acknowledge that we might not always know how to provide that help, but we can most certainly offer compassion and a safe place for people like me to be my real self.  The church can and should be a such a place.  My prayer is that every person who seeks a listening ear in the church finds someone as wise, understanding and hospitable as the Christian woman I met in a dingy basement AA meeting! 

 

Lessons from my life as a 31 year old (Part one)

Tomorrow is my birthday.  I will be welcoming in my life as a 32 year old… Although there are some gray hairs growing in and a few more wrinkles, I don’t really see how 32 looks much different than 31, but as I thought about what I learned this past year I thought I would share some of those lessons here:

1.       1. God loves me. And you. The most. But Equally.

We all long to be treasured.  I long to be treasured. I am treasured. I am God’s favorite possession—I learned that this year, but so are you.  Every single one of us can stand and say that we are the most important thing to God.  It has been pretty life changing for me to allow that reality to wash over me.  Once I began to feel treasured, and to see how much He truly treasures each of us, I no longer needed to be the MOST special… I became far more comfortable sharing that spot with you too!

I am also then free to live out my purpose—because being loved by God leaves me motivated.  Having a purpose –serving God-brings me joy. 

George Bernard Shaw said, “This is true joy in life, the being used up for a purpose recognized by yourself as a mighty one; the being a force of nature instead of a feverish, selfish little clod of ailments and grievances complaining that the world will not devote itself to making you happy.” 

My true joy doesn’t just come from being loved and treasured.  My true joy comes from doing something with the motivation brought about by the catalyst of love.

2.      

  2. Love can hurt or it can heal. 

I have fallen in love with a song from a movie I saw with my Aunt Laura and cousin Amanda. These two women are so very special to me.  But for a long time I had little to no contact with either of them. When my parents divorced my relationship with my mom’s family fell apart.  The loss of love between my parents had a ripple effect that I still don’t understand.  This song says “You can be hurt by love or healed by the same….timing is everything”

Love is a powerful thing.  The words to this song ring true for me because I have walked through several periods of my life where love has hurt SO badly.  I am walking through one now.   

Mother Teresa said, “I have found the paradox that if you love until it hurts, there can be no more hurt, only more love.” I believe her.  I believe that when you love someone enough to withstand the difficult times that hurt, you eventually get to a place where the love heals the hurt.  The hurt that love can bring is real.  So is the healing. 

3.        3. Sometimes our past hurts can prevent us from receiving what we want most.

I was recently having a conversation with Nyasha about the love we received from our parents and I was sharing stories about my grandpa.  As I told the stories I could feel how real his love was for me.  But I can also remember as a little girl, feeling differently.  I desperately wanted to be loved, to feel the love of a father and mine was not really around.  When my grandparents would do something to show their love for me (basically every day) I didn’t feel lavished in love.  I felt they were loving me and caring for us out of some obligation they felt.  I was so hurt by the hole my parents left that I couldn’t receive what was being offered to me—even when it was the thing I wanted the most.

Today as God continues to heal the pain from my past hurts, I can feel loved just by sharing a memory.  I wonder how often I have missed the love God has been showing me because of a hurt I am carrying. 

4.       4. Forgiveness costs.

I don’t often watch Oprah, but I caught a show one day when I was in the States and Oprah was telling a girl, “Forgiveness is letting go of what could have been.” I will never forget how my heart opened that day.  Accepting what is. Letting go of what could have been.  Loving someone for who they are, not what you want them to be. That is real love.  It is hard. It is costly.

When I teach my parenting class, I have to teach about marriage as well. I am not married (yet) so I rely on the wisdom of those who are.  An author that I respect says this, “Forgiveness is a decision to give up your perceived or actual right to get even with or hold in debt, someone who has wronged you.” (From fighting for your marriage) It is a decision to sacrifice, it is just as costly as forgetting a financial debt when someone owes you money.  They both cost. 

I read this and think it is beautiful.  It was written by a woman who was publically humiliated when she learned that he husband (a pastor) was having an affair.  “Love is powerful enough to erase a person’s sins.  Love is forgiveness.”

This year I have learned that forgiveness is costly, and yet it brings with is something priceless: peace and freedom and REAL, TRANSFORMING LOVE.

5.       5. We are all Shunamite women

There is a small story about a woman in 2 Kings Chapter 4.  This woman was kind and generous to the prophet Elisah.  He wanted to bless her and found that she didn’t have a son.  So he told her “Next year you will hold your son.” Her response was strange to me.  She said, “Do not lie to me.” I imagine this as her looking at him with immense sadness, saying “I didn’t ask you to go there- why bring up the most painful thing, that deep desire that I have hidden in my heart from everyone, please don’t bring that up- don’t go there.” 

I think I am a Shunamite woman, I think we all are.  I believe we all have deep desires- some of which have not been filled yet.  I think we probably all have something we desire that is so precious to us that we hide it, ignore it, try to detach from it so that we don’t have to feel the pain.  The people closest to us might know not to go there in conversation, or they may not even be privileged to know of that deepest longing.  But we know it’s there: things like career success, restored relationships, marriage, babies--big life things.  We can’t hide from it, we will notice things that remind us that we are missing out.  This woman probably saw babies everywhere she went and it probably hurt.  She may have finally hidden that desire so deep in her heart so she could try to move on.  And then here comes Elisha putting it out in the open, bringing it to the surface and giving her encouragement to hope again.  But she did hope and she got her son. 

To hope again after disappointment is to risk being hurt again.

This year I have learned that I have something in common with this woman...I have a deep desire hidden away from the world.  What I am STILL trying to learn, is how to respond in faith the way she did. 

A few years later when her young son died in her arms, when she looked down and saw her dream that she had held after such a long of  wait fade away.  How would she respond? She placed him in bed and told no one. When her husband asked why she was going to see Elisha she simply said, “It will be well.” 

She didn’t scream and shout about how unfair life was that she waited so long for something, until she finally gave up hope and learned to live without a child, and then this man comes by promising her she will have one and she hoped again.  And NOW her child has been taken from her.  She could have went on and on about the injustice of the situation, but she didn’t.  She went to Elisha and when his servant asked how things are she said again, “It is well.” I think she was afraid that if she spoke of the situation she might explode.  Finally when she saw Elisha she let it out- she asked him “Did I ask you for a son? Didn’t I say to you, ‘Do not deceive me.”  She refused to leave without him and when he arrived home with her, she received a miracle and got her son back.  

What I am hoping to learn is that even when I see the thing I longed the most for die in my arms, to be able to say, “It will be well.”