I hear you say, what is the point

In all of the grovelling,

Obsessing over our sin.

It smell of an abusive relationship.

 

I cannot deny there’s been plenty of days,

Where I’ve cowered in shame.

Self-pity and fear are the sins I’m trapped in.

They’re a net that the enemy often entangles me in.

 

But he’s the abuser, my Father the rescuer,

Lovingly cutting the nets of sin away.

 

So you see my tears are of thankfulness,

To the One who rescues me from my sin,

And from all the shame I’ve been trapped in.

My God is my rescuer.

 

And His rescue is so complete.

He dresses my wounds, then carries me home.

Holds me by the fireside, stroking my hair,

Calling me His daughter.

 

But I don’t get to sit by the fire forever,

He lovingly then sends me out to play.

To get muddy again, attempting to love.

Battered and bruised I run back home to Him,

Seeing how much my love pales next to His.

 

We are the abusers, our Father the rescuer,

Who hands out forgiveness, each time we are hurt.

 

When we are united, as we’re meant to be,

Then all of your sins will surely hurt me.

But the net it is strangling you, it pains me to see.

It’s not me you’re fighting and I can’t cut you free.

 

I see it in my children, and I see it in me.

All this resisting God just makes us bleed.

So I cry out for mercy, for me and for you.

Oh how I long that my Father be known.

That you’d let Him rescue you and take you home.

You’re probably wondering what “psong” means. I wanted to write a psalm, in form and spirit, but it felt sacrilegious to call it that outright. So I made up a silly word. I have been loving the Psalms lately, and am so thankful for them!

 

Holy Father, your ways are so beautiful, so perfect;

I want to shout them across the ocean!

 

No image can contain you—your glory bursts any image we create;

It floods the whole earth.

 

In my ignorance I imagined you like me, only much better;

Your holiness burned that image to ash.

 

You are a consuming fire, of goodness and perfection;

How could I stand before you?

 

My heart shriveled, my spirit wasted away,

When I tried to worship you on my own terms.

 

Help me not imagine you as I like,

But seek to know you through your Word.

 

 

You lovingly created me,

you know me better than I know myself.

 

You make yourself known to me, your creature.

If you hadn’t lifted the curtain, I would still be in the dark.

 

Through your creation you are glorified, defining beauty;

Through your written Word you speak, revealing your ways.

 

You became poor in the manger;

The Word became flesh among us.

 

At the perfect time, you came near,

A helpless babe, lighting the darkness.

 

Because you desire a real, honest relationship with me, you left glory behind.

Your pursuing love revives my heart of stone.

 

You are not obliged to love me, I was walking away from you.

Sitting in judgement of you left my soul in ruins.

 

Your love is nothing like ours, it knows no fickleness or limitation.

You chose to love me, sending your Son, before I ever knew my need.

 

Your love is light that darkness must flee before.

Your love is powerful enough to free me from the sin that strangles.

 

 

You are the just judge, the authority on what is good and right;

Your anger is not senseless like ours, you are right in all your judgments.

 

Your holiness cannot tolerate sin, your heart knows how it destroys us;

And so you sent your Son, to pacify your own just wrath.

 

He died no peaceful martyrs death;

Though willingly he went, the agony he faced we’ll never know.

 

You are just and justifier of all who cling to Jesus’ propitiation;

He transformed your righteous anger into favor.

 

 

Now my spirit rejoices that you have made me your child!

Once an enemy, now adopted into your family!

 

You have given me the greatest gift,

Your Spirit of adoption that cries, “Daddy!” in my need.

 

Your Spirit that enables me to rest my head upon your chest,

As a small child, listening to my father’s heartbeat.

 

Now my heart longs to be near you, to be like you,

To see you respected by all.

 

I am your daughter, my Savior is my brother,

One day I will see you face to face.

 

 

Right now you take my hand and guide me through your Word;

And the road you choose for me is not the easy one.

 

You are not, and have not, easy answers to all life’s pain and problems.

My security is in your hand that has taken mine and will not let me go.

 

When I was a babe in faith you cuddled me close with joy unspeakable;

Like I once rode inside my father’s coat, protected from winter.

 

But as I grow older you mature me through heartache,

No man can hold a candle to my jealous God who fights for my heart.

 

In love you do not shield me from pain, so that I may learn to hold fast to you,

Unable to rely on my own strength or understanding.

 

To your glory you have hidden your plans for my days,

But are generous with wisdom one moment at time.

 

The ways of your world do not make sense to me.

I bow before you and submit to your mysterious ways.

 

Thank you for all you have spoken, oh LORD, my King,

Your Word is like sunshine on my frozen heart, promising life.

 

No matter how I blow it, I know you will never give up on me,

Because you are faithful.

 

Your love is adequate enough to grow me into your image;

There’s no place I’d rather be than here in your love!

 

Note:

A lot was inspired by J.I. Packer’s Knowing God, which has helped ground me in Biblical reality the past few months. I wanted to do a book review, but it turned into more of a profession of faith, when my dear friends Jessica and Judith recommended I write a song, like the Psalms.

 

I have been keeping up a little with the updates here, so that I can start June with a clean slate. I have to say it’s getting a little weird to catalog our life like this. I think it will be healthy for me to slow down on picture taking when we get home. But I know I will enjoy looking back over our time here, probably even next winter.

May 1

Hiromi takes us to the Chinese markets after music class to look for tapioca pearls, because Lewis wants to make bubble tea. Sam and Naomi Heckathorn, friends from Brisbane, come to stay with us as they begin their New Zealand holidays. Their baby is now a year old. They rent a camper van to travel around the South Island.

May 2

After Bible study, Twill and I join the Heckathorns at Orana Wildlife Park, a zoo here in Christchurch. It’s an incredibly personal zoo, where we get to feed most of the animals. We travel from one feeding to another, with the enthusiastic and helpful volunteers. Twill especially loves feeding the giraffes and the pigs.

May 3

The Heckathorns take off for the west coast as we walk the boys to school. Twill and I head to Adventure Park for Nature Play. I finally return Jane’s tea towel from the loaf of bread she made for us back in March. Twill enjoys the slack lines and the trampoline. We meet a mother there from the Philippines and invite her to join us again for Nature Play.

  

May 4

Chris, Lewis, Stewart, and Wesley leave before daybreak to climb a mountain. They drive out to conquer Peak Hill. The first ones to the top that day out of 45 hikers counted. Twill and I walk to the farmer’s market in the Riccarton Bush. We get an Indian dosa for lunch, that’s like a lentil crepe, and enjoy a hike through the ancient, protected bush.

May 5

Wesley trips and falls into the counter running into the kitchen to help me make dinner before church. His front tooth goes flying. But when he calms down he wants nothing for the pain. Chris is willing to stay home with him from church, but he wants to go, so we stick together.

May 6

After we make a dentist appointment for Wesley, Twill and I walk over to Jessica and Mary’s house. They are decorating Bethan’s beautiful castle birthday cake. Twill and Mary make fruit skewers and we enjoy being helpful with party preparations.

The following afternoon, the dentist x-rays Wesley’s mouth and reassures us that he should have a new tooth there within the year.

May 10

We take Hiromi and Kuni to Nature Play at the mud flats where we met them back in February. It is warm enough that many of the Kiwi kids are swimming in the water. We are not as game. But we are the last ones there, still throwing sand balls into the water and building turtle families in the sand well into the afternoon.

May 11

Lewis sets a personal best at Parkrun, with a time of 23:22. He is taking his training for the regional cross country meet pretty seriously, even running before school one morning with Chris. The rest of the boys go to the toy library with me. Wesley spends some of his birthday money from Grandma and Grandpa on a moon ball and stickers, then treats us to ice cream with the rest of it. Moffat and Stephanie come over for dinner in the evening.

  

May 12

Chris gets us all out early for a hike along the Crater Rim Trail above Lyttleton Harbor to celebrate Mother’s Day. It is stunning and delightful. I am very thankful for the kids’ hiking stamina. We have had many half day hikes, on the trail for 5 hours. The boys and Chris are more willing to pose for pictures because it’s Mother’s Day. On the third try I get a wallpaper shot.  The rain that was predicted starts the instant we start the car. Chris takes us to the Park Ranger, a new outdoorsy cafe, for lunch. At church that evening we hear a particularly encouraging message from Nick about original sin.

May 13

Hiromi and Kuni come to play. We have fun making a parachute out of a sheet that won’t stay on the fort.

That evening we take the kids to the Mark Drama, a gospel play that the university students put on. I’m surprised how eager the kids are to go on a school night after our full weekend. It brings on quite a few questions from the younger two kids. I am thankful to get to share all this life with them.

May 16

Lewis runs in the West Zone Cross Country meet at Halswell Quarry. Chris rides out with Eric to cheer them on. After Bible study Twill and I have lunch at Jessica’s. She makes miso soup and Twill enjoys eating it with chopsticks. He really wants his own, and Lewis does too. Helen joins us too and I am thankful for her perspectives on parenting unique children.

May 17

Naomi and Beatrice take Twill and I to Nature Play at the Ohoka farmer’s market. Twill and I enjoy running the bike track to warm up in the chilly morning air. There are a surprising amount of people from North America there. Abigail is from Kansas, Naomi from Illinois, Agathe and Oonagh from Canada.

May 19

Chris takes us all to Halswell Quarry for a hike in the afternoon. Lewis has us all run his cross country course before we hike up along the ridge above the quarry, learning a bit about the history of the quarry and the importance of staying together.

May 22

After music class Hiromi takes me to Japan Mart to buy chopsticks for the kids, and other recommended Japanese food. I am learning to make Yaki Soba and miso soup. She invites me and some friends over to teach me how to make hotpot.

May 23

As we arrive at school Wesley says he is really looking forward to the room 2 assembly in the afternoon. I ask Lewis if it’s something he wants to share with us (room 2 is his class) and he gives a proper invite. So after bible study and lunch at Jessica’s Twill and I attend the assembly. Lewis’ class has prepared some thoughtful dramas about bullying for anti-bullying week. Wesley is proud of the wall of hands. I am very happy that they have the opportunity to attend this school.

After the assembly we have a spontaneous play date in the Ilam Gardens with Jessica’s girls and some new friends who have moved here from the USA. Lev is in Wesley’s class and has taken quite a liking to Wesley. His sister is in Stewart’s class. It’s delightful to see all 9 children taking such good care of each other as they play hide and seek in the gardens on a beautiful day.

May 24

Naomi and Beatrice drive Twill and I to McHughs Forest for Nature play. This time Twill wants to take the little balance bike that Teresa lent us, but he says he won’t ride it. He ends up riding it about half the time and I find it definitely worth it to carry it the other half. He has a great attitude on a long hike/bike through a beautiful pine forest with Agathe and Oonagh again. Friendships start budding among the preschoolers by the end.

After school Wesley and I head to Lev’s house for a play date. His mother is a children’s book author and lends us a book she’s written that’s a compilation of authors sharing their childhood work and aspirations. I am thankful to share it with my boys, who are all aspiring authors at times. Wesley has grown noticeably on our walk home, just from having a friend of his own.

May 25

I finally make it to one of Stephanie’s Centergy dance classes. It combines Yoga and Pilates, putting it all to music in a high energy routine.

 

May 26

After the sun comes up we drive out to Rakaia Gorge. There’s a beautiful rock beach along the biggest river we’ve seen in New Zealand. All week the boys have been asking to go there because of a picture they saw. We hike the trail along the river all day, sharing a snack at the end of the trail, and finally returning to the beach late afternoon. Shoes and socks come off to enjoy the soft sand. Then we find Burger Wisconsin for a late dinner as the sun sets. I am keenly aware of how much I enjoy the kids, and life, when we get outside. I am thankful for Chris getting us out on hikes faithfully here, and we’re all thankful for the lack of mosquitoes in New Zealand.

May 27

Hiromi teaches me how to make Japanese hotpot. Two friends from bible study are invited too. Naomi, who was born in Australia, grew up in Japan from age 2 to 18, attending public school there. Hiromi can’t get over her perfect Japanese. Stephany has split her life between New Zealand and Taiwan. She took 8 years of Japanese in high school and university and welcomed the chance to revisit it. The kids share the trains surprisingly well while we enjoy a feast. Twill insists on using his own chopsticks that we brought from home. He is quite a sport and really likes Japanese food. I learn to use chopsticks too, rather clumsily. Hiromi’s flatmates are very encouraging and kind.

May 28

Chris starts a science experiment with Wesley for his speech on Friday. He is testing whether food coloring will penetrate egg shells. Three eggs go in each color: raw, hard boiled but peeled, hard boiled with shell on.

May 29

The kids have a day off school for a teacher strike across New Zealand. Wesley has trouble wrestling with the concept. But we enjoy having the kids home. In the morning Stewart plays school with Twill. Twill is very enthused about the science experiments where they see what sinks and floats. The kids are making games and stories and playing really well together under a technology ban, but I wish I could figure out how to get a handle on interruptions.

In the afternoon Wesley, Twill and I head to the Margaret Mahy Playground with Lev and his sister. Lewis and Stewart play test some of Chris’ students apps on campus. They have been doing many after school play testing sessions as the semester winds down.

May 31

Wesley gives does his science experiment speech, cracking the eggs in front of the class to discover the outcome. It looks like food coloring will penetrate the pores in an eggshell. Chris gives his last lecture here at the University of Canterbury. Twill and I stay home for a quiet day, that turns exciting as several men come to the house to install a new hot water cylinder.

April was a beautiful month here in New Zealand! I have so many random pictures to share that I think I will break it into four weeks. I am mostly thinking of all the little and big things that I want to be able to look back on and remember down the road. In a matter of weeks we will get to take all we’ve learned back home!

April 1-7

April 1-3 Lewis heads to camp out in Wainui. His class stays at a YMCA camp with one other class from their school. They do some sea kyaking, raft building, zip-lining, and other challenges. Lewis has so much fun that he doesn’t want to come home. It is his first time away from home overnight without family, which I find a rather huge milestone. I am thankful that it goes so well.

Twill and I head to Travis Wetlands and New Brighton Beach with Hiromi and Kuni on April fools day. I am pretty sure the warm weather is an April fools. I keep thinking it’s going to get colder, but it doesn’t. The temperatures have barely changed since we got here in January. Twill looks like he’s doing classical stretch moves in the first picture. He has been asking to do the “dances” (really stretching exercises) since Chris had us all doing them one night after dinner. In the second picture Twill holds a piece of toi toi grass, classic native New Zealand vegetation. He and Kuni enjoy fishing with it.

One morning coming home from school we see this rainbow touching down right over our house.

One night I don’t have anything for dinner, so we walk to the fish n’ chips shop up the road and take it over to Ray Blank Park, where we like to play frisbee.

After bible study Mary teaches Twill how to make a rhino horn out of a rose thorn.

Friday night Wesley takes me to his school’s disco dance. We dance hard for over half the hour. It is a magical release for Wesley, who has been quiet and listless. Jessica’s daughter is crowned “best girl dancer” for her innocent enthusiasm and stamina!

On the weekend Chris takes us on a beautiful hike in the port hills. We start at Victoria Park and hike up to the Sign of the Kiwi Cafe for lunch. Then hike back to our car on a different trail. The mountain bike tracks we take going up are incomprehensibly daring. We are in awe at Kiwi capabilities.

Stewart shares his homemade Uno game. He and Lewis have been enjoying making their own card decks, coming up with new cards and color schemes.

April 8 -14

Monday night we have Hiromi’s family over for dinner. They make yaki soba, fish soup, and homemade pork and beef dumplings for us. I can taste the love in the dumplings compared to the ones we’ve tried before! I make salmon, roast root veggies, and spinach salad. We all enjoy the feast and trying new things. They admit that it’s their first homemade foreign dinner. Japan is still 99% Japanese. I can’t imagine what it’s like to have such a defined culture and cuisine.

All three boys run one or two kilometers in the Ilam School cross country race. Chris comes over from campus and runs along side them all on the campus side of the fence. It’s fun to see the colorful cheering children. I capture a picture of Lewis with his friend, Vanson, who won the year 5 boys race. Lewis’ place qualifies him for the next regional race. Stewart nearly does, but is not disappointed. Wesley is happy to have his water bottle, which he has grown rather attached to on this trip, because of all the many adventurous occasions he’s found himself thirsty.

Twill and I savor our regular routine at the Wednesday music class he has grown to love. He has really grown more comfortable with the adults at music class, showing them things and telling them stories. He enjoys the familiarity of the songs and playing instruments. I have learned quite a bit from the song leader, who was incredibly shy as a child and is very sensitive with children. And we enjoy seeing Hiromi and Kuni there too.

After music class we head to Jellie Park with Hiromi and Kuni to feed the ducks and climb trees on another beautiful day in New Zealand.

Lewis and Twill are glad to see each other in the morning. They are all very ready for a break from school and more time together. The next two weeks are school holidays. We have no idea what they’ll bring, but look forward to more time together!

Wesley and Twill want me to take a picture of them sharing the umbrella on the way to school.

I want to take a picture of Wesley and his daisies in front of Ilam fields so we can remember the massive expanse of green that we cross every day to go to school and campus and church. The picture doesn’t capture it at all.

April 15-21

Tuesday we drive to Te Anau, in the fjord land. On the drive down we listen to Escape from Mr. Limoncellos Library. It makes the drive fly by. Wesley throws up his breakfast not long after we leave home, but seems fine after we lean his seat back a bit further. Chris finds us a great house on Air BnB to be our home away from home away from home.

 

Wednesday morning Terry, our guide with Fjordland Tours, picks us up in their cozy shuttle van. There’s a couple on the bus from France and Terry considerately asks about Notre Dame’s tragic fire. There’s also a couple young teachers from Australia, and we pick up a family from Sydney. We enjoy Terry’s commentary and all the beautiful stops he makes along the way. We joke that the boys would probably be happy throwing rocks in the water here all day. I especially love the mountain stream hike, pictured second. Terry takes the boys up into the ferns and shows them how well they can hide in the thick New Zealand bush. We make a short stop at Gunn Camp for morning tea.

After driving through the amazing Homer Tunnel we reach Milford Sound and find our boat. Everyone keeps mentioning how lucky we are to have sunshine, as it rains in Milford Sound over 300 days a year. I am definitely thankful. There’s still glacier water feeding Sterling Falls, pictured here behind Wesley. They take the boat up to kiss the falls and anyone who wants to can get wet. We stay under the roof up top at first, then they boys and I go out to experience the shower.

The whole day is completely magical. It is a unique beauty here. But it also reminds me of the Rocky Mountains, and even the Smokey Mountains, at times, and the Alps in Italy as well. It makes me marvel at all the beauty there is in the whole world.

On our way out of Milford Sound we stop briefly at this bridge and I ask Lewis to take a picture of Chris and I. We have been letting Lewis and Stewart have fun with the camera all day. I have been wanting to get a picture with Chris. Wesley and Twill jump into it too, which I find very sweet. Wesley is usually the only one who likes to be in front of the camera in our family.

When we get back we go to a very busy, but very authentic Italian pizza place for dinner. They seat us outside in front of a heater. No one falls asleep at the table, and I marvel that the kids are able to handle such big a day so well now.

Thursday we walk down to Lake Te Anau from our house and play at the city park until it’s time to board our boat to see the glow worm caves. There are no photos allowed in the glow worm caves, and I am very thankful for the limitation so that I can soak in the experience without trying to capture it. There are elaborate lit walkways above the stream that flows out of the cave. They lead us up to an impressive waterfall within the cave. Then up some stairs to a platform where we wait in silent darkness for the boat to return and take us under the glow worm sky. Chris and I keep our hands on the kids while we wait in the darkness. We wait for such a long time in complete silence that I freak out a bit and wonder if we’ve been left behind. But the boat does return and we take our seats. Our guide pulls the boat along some chains in the darkness while we enjoy the beauty of the glow worms in respectful silence. Ironically, I feel like a kid, struck with wonder, and at the same time like all the years I’ve lived help me appreciate the experience even more. After we come out of the cave we watch a rather gory movie about the life of a glow worm. We are all glad that the movie came after the cave.

After the tour we gravitate back to the flying fox at the park, then pull ourselves away to find some lunch. We find a healthy food truck that has unique things on the menu, like deer and rabbit and duck. The kids are clearly in need of some down time, so we enjoy playing games at home, then drag them out, very unwillingly, for a beautiful sunset hike along the lake that we all agree was a great idea. The boys run ahead and hide in the ferns to jump out and scare us dozens of times. Wesley and Twill enjoy finding all the stoat traps that are placed every 50 meters or so. And Chris and I find that we can actually enjoy a real conversation.

Friday we drive home, listening to Wishes and Wellingtons. Twill and Wesley both throw up, and we attribute it to motion sickness. We stop for lunch at a place called the Pink Glider. The glider is actually a plane that will take people up to glide. We get to see it take off in this field. It’s a very kid friendly place with balls and frisbees and toy planes to play with. We also stop at the park in Geraldine, where our jam comes from.

We enjoy a quiet weekend when we return. Sunday is Easter, and a very wet one at that. We take a memorable jog around downtown under a grey dawn looking for the sunrise service that was supposed to be outdoors at the Christchurch Cathedral. We find the gathering at the Salvation Army just in time. It is an ecumenical service that Tim Bell invited us too. Tim leads the music for the service, which is both new and familiar. He is largely responsible for getting us to Christchurch, and works in the department Chris is teaching in.

In the evening we also enjoy our own church service, and a lamb roast that is very New Zealand. But I find myself missing family quite intensely, like at Christmas. It will be good to be home for the holidays next year.

April 22-30

The second week of holidays we slow down more. I take Wesley on a date to climb trees and find garbage bags.

Wednesday we meet Hiromi and Kuni at their food caravan, the Lucky Ninja. We are impressed with their food and Lewis enjoys the chance to use chopsticks. He prefers them wherever they’re available, which impresses me! After lunch we head over to the Margaret Mahy playground, which is unbelievably packed with people. I wonder how many are locals and how many from out of town, as the school holidays seem to be similar across all of New Zealand and Australia.

Chris finishes reading the Lord of the Rings trilogy with Lewis and Stewart and then finds the movies at the library. Unfortunately they won’t play in our DVD player at home, so they watch them in Chris’ office on campus. Twill and I find Bottle Lake Forest finally, a place I’ve been hearing about for months. It has some impressive bike stunt board walks, and a tire playground. I am again impressed with Kiwi kid capabilities. After we realize how huge the tree plantation that makes up Bottle Lake Forest is, we get back in the car and drive to Spencer Beach. It is a fascinating place with many forts made of driftwood. Twill and I add to one. We see a man on a bicycle with a homemade motor powering it. And a homemade horse drawn chariot. I figure this must be the beach where the locals come. I’m glad we found it.

Friday we drive out to the Hinewai Reserve for a magical hike in a restored native bushland full of waterfalls. It is beautiful beyond description. Wesley and Twill both throw up their breakfast on the way out. It’s the mountain roads again. We are not as prepared, but wash them a bit at the hut (where there’s a composting toilet, but thankfully running water) and they don’t let it ruin their day. Twill manages a very challenging side trail to Ghost Falls where the trail crosses the creek several times and even goes under some fallen trees.

After the hike we find some fish and chips and enjoy the beach in Akoroa. Some local girls help us find many crabs. And Wesley becomes a popular photo opportunity for many of the local tourists. We want to visit the beach where Lewis got to sea kayak when he went to camp in Wainui, but it is on the other side of the bay and we all agree we need to get home.

Monday we’re back to school. Jessica and Mary take Twill and I to Halswell Quarry for an adventure. Twill and I are both glad to see our friends again after the holidays. It rains cats and dogs in the afternoon when the car is at the garage for a yearly check up and oil change. So the boys and Chris get thoroughly drenched coming home from school. Twill and I get to bake and share a carrot cake with Jessica and her girls while we wait for the car to be done. When Twill and I finally get home we learn that Halswell Quarry will be the site of Lewis’ regional cross country race.

There’s an interesting cultural difference down here in Australia and New Zealand called Tall Poppy Syndrome. Here’s the actual dictionary definition, to cut to the chase:

“noun. informal. Australian/NZ: a perceived tendency to discredit or disparage those who have achieved notable wealth or prominence in public life.”

The longer I am over here the more clear it becomes that this is a large part of why I feel so at home here. My whole life I have lived this out, quietly, inside myself. When I was a teenager nothing annoyed me more than cockiness and arrogance in others. As a young adult I loathed our culture of shameless self-promotion when it came time to apply for jobs. And recently I have feared ambition and worldly success as my husband grows more accomplished in his field. Quite honestly, I wanted to come here to Australia and New Zealand because I felt my life was a high speed train driven by our capitalist, competitive, ego driven culture and I wanted off!

But life is full of surprises, and I am learning a bit about the complexities of both cultures. In reality it is my own pride that bristles at the arrogance, and even success, of others. Ironically, it’s the humility of my friends over here, who are able to break out of tall poppy syndrome, that’s helping me see the good in my own culture. They are showing me what humility looks like by both celebrating our strengths and admitting their own weaknesses.

When I flat out asked for help seeing the good in our culture, Jessica was quick to share that we have strong leadership in our country, and that there is a huge lack of male leadership in New Zealand. When I try to explain our problems with hero worship in the church back home, and abuse of power, I sense that it all sounds very foreign to them. Friends from church here are quick to admit that Kiwis don’t honor their leaders well.

It’s been interesting to note that all the government officials I’ve encountered, from mayor to Prime Minister, are women. Even our boat captain was a woman. At first I was impressed with the progressiveness. But after Jessica pointed out that Kiwi women have a hard time finding men to lead their households, I can see more closely how it affects both genders. I have also heard a surprising number of off-hand comments about teenage boys getting into so much trouble here, and struggling with depression.

These are very personal and dangerous things to overgeneralize on. And they don’t reflect our experience. All the teenage boys we have encountered at parks here have been unusually kind and thoughtful. But it does make me pause to consider, as I raise four young boys, about the things I have observed in the men, and boys, in my life. There does seem to be some correlation between a sense of accomplishment and a healthy mental state. Maybe there is a place for ambition and competition. Maybe the lack of it does not equal utopia.

At any rate, working through my aversion to ambition would no doubt help my relationships at home. I have actually had some good conversations with Lewis about this lately, as I realize that my disdain for his competitive nature could be a simple difference between us that I really need to give ground on. My hopes for my own boys are being formed by this experience, to find some middle ground between the extremes.

Stewart consistently rises to a challenge, and he helps me see the value in challenging our boys. He has been writing stories on google docs about Mario Kart power ups, assigning them personalities, like I used to with letters and numbers. But he got into trouble for consuming comics when he was retrieving pictures of them from the internet. So I challenged him to start something new. He started writing about Kittyland, a world he’s imagined for years. This time he’s taking pictures of his own illustrations that he’s drawn. It’s incredible how well they respond to us challenging them to create instead of consume. I think they see the value themselves.

That’s another thing that I have been appreciating about American culture. There is a very high value placed on creativity, and I think it runs very deep into our history, back to many early inventors. When we had our friends from Japan over for dinner they shared a neat insight. They said that Americans are always inventing and Japanese are always improving. I found it a very healthy way to look at different strengths without being competitive.

Another difference Hiromi has brought to my attention is how we relate to each other in marriage. She said that in Japan spouses do not express emotion, or say “I love you.” This kind of floored me. When I was studying in Australia, as a 21 year old, many of my international friends teased us Americans for being romantics. I remember missing the genteelness of the boys back home, but at the time I had never had a boyfriend, so I couldn’t appreciate the reality of this cultural difference. But this time I came home to my husband with incredible thankfulness for the relationship we have. I know that Hollywood romance is laughable to a lot of the world, and I can relate to the sentiment, but I am thankful for real expectations of expressed love in our culture.

One subtle way I have noticed the tall poppy syndrome is in the area of praise. A couple of my close friends over here have found me very encouraging. Upon reflection, I don’t think it’s me, because I get the impression that they’re not used to being praised. I think in general Americans are more generous with praise. Maybe it goes hand in hand with evaluating achievement so much. At any rate, I am beginning to really appreciate the expressiveness of our culture.

Yesterday it came up at the dinner table that we were missing the International Folk Fair back in Eau Claire. It’s something we eagerly anticipate each year, because we love learning about other countries and trying their food. It was fun to celebrate the fact that we are living this event together this whole year! We have friends over on this side of the world from Australia, New Zealand, Japan, Korea, Singapore, India, Taiwan, China, Indonesia, England, Ireland, Germany, Chile, Peru, South Africa, Sri Lanka, Pacific Islands, and probably more I’m not thinking of! And the boys’ taste for international food has grown exponentially.

This whole experience is a huge dream come true, full of surprises. Especially how much my friends are helping me appreciate my own culture. I have been admittedly embarrassed to be an American. It’s obvious as soon as I open my mouth that I am, because of my accent. But we’re all a mixed bag, with good and bad. And it’s friendship that gets us past stereotypes and over generalizations, even the ones that were blinding me to the good in my own culture.

I am looking forward to coming home. I miss our family a lot, and our cat just had more kittens! But I say that with a pang in my heart because I will miss many things. I will miss the reality of a slower paced life that I know isn’t only because we’re on sabbatical, but in a culture with different values. Though these values feel so much closer to my own, life isn’t about my comfort. I am thankful that some of the things I once feared, and others that I idealized, have been somewhat disarmed.

I am even feeling free to allow myself some ambition. I too have dreams of being part of real change in our nation towards racial equality and justice. I don’t think I can do anything on my own, but I believe that together we can make a difference, and I’m realizing how cultural these feelings might be.

I also want to work hard at writing songs, because I am so thankful for music and those who have gifted us with it. That’s another good thing that folks at church here have helped me see. There was a song that Lewis really wanted me to learn that we sang at church. It was “Spirit of God” by Sovereign Grace Music. Scott said they use a lot of their songs. They happen to be in America and I have really been enjoying their music.

I think this tall poppy syndrome in me is a place where I have been limiting God with my own finite mind. I haven’t trusted anyone who is famous or popular, because I know Jesus is bringing an upside-down kingdom where the first shall be last and the last shall be first. So I have been somewhat childish. Just like my kids, in fact. They always use the upside-down kingdom to their advantage when they lose a race or game, saying “the last shall be first!” In my own way I have been trying to stay small so as not to miss out on the kingdom Jesus is bringing.

I have a hard time believing Jesus wanted to be famous. Every time I read that he told someone he healed to keep quiet my heart jumps, saying, “See! Jesus isn’t trying to be popular, just loving individuals.” But even if Jesus wasn’t playing into the world’s games of fame, he wasn’t afraid of it, like I am. Perhaps I have been reading myself into these stories. Perhaps there’s a lot more to Jesus than I’m willing to see.

 

 

Last month we settled into some routine and are all thriving in it, especially me. With more holidays around the corner I find myself treasuring our precious routine. I suppose that’s often how it goes though, as soon as we get comfortable it’s time to mix things up!

Anyhow, the snapshots from March are much more everyday and less exciting than the past three months. I won’t repeat what I shared before we saw Teresa and her family off.

March 2

Twill helps me pick rosemary leaves off the stems for our meal of roast root veggies and roast leg of lamb. When our dinner guests cancel last minute we invite Jessica and Scott and their three girls, Adele, Bethan, and Mary over to share it with us. The kids have fun climbing the tree in the back yard, and we get to hear about how Scott and Jessica will be moving back to their hometown on the North Island. Thankfully they aren’t moving until July, after we go back home, because we are very fond of them.

March 5

For my cenita we head up to Ray Blank park after an early light dinner. We play frisbee and hide and seek, then go get ice cream, for Mardi Gras.

March 11

Twill and I check out the Avonhead Playcenter. It’s a parent run early learning cooperative. Twill enjoys painting with cotton swabs and baking muffins with homemade play dough. Hiromi and Kuni join us. Kuni is strikingly interested in cooking and running the cash register, which I find interesting since his father runs a food caravan. He is always wanting to share food with us too.

  

March 12

Ilam School holds a duathalon where students can run, bike, and/or scooter around the school fields and courts. Lewis just wants to run, and runs strong. Stewart signs up to bike and run, but as he is trying to bike to school in the morning we realize that the front wheel of his bike is very loose, making it impossible to ride straight. We have a very dramatic and challenging walk to school with the bike, in case he can’t back out of it. He can just run. Stewart ends up being one of the last to run in the middle of a very hot day. Twill is toast by the time Stewart finishes. We unknowingly miss Wesley’s race later in the afternoon.

  

March 13

After music class Twill and I join Hiromi and Kuni at Castle Rock on Sumner Beach. It is a wonderland of caves and pools of water and sand. Twill doesn’t want to share me, but ends up having a lot of fun. We keep thinking this might be our last really warm day, so we have to live it up and get to the beach!

March 15

The weather takes a 180 degree turn and I am thankful that I found rain jackets for the boys and puddle boots for Twill. We walk to school and back in the rain, and find the sprinklers in Ilam Gardens running, ironically, even as it rains. The mass shootings at the Muslim mosques happen in the afternoon.

  

March 16 and 17

We pick up momentum on the fort building era that’s been going on since the beginning of February. A slightly shorter lived scavenger hunt era has accompanied it. On this Saturday evening we host an American family, also Erskine Fellows, from Davis, California. Their two daughters go to school with Lewis and Stewart.

On Sunday we go to morning church and then to Jack and Hannah’s house for lunch. Jack works for the guy who helped get Chris down here and it’s neat to hear his story about how well they have taken care of him. Jack and Hannah have a two year old and an infant and were willing to host the six of us for lunch. Again, I am blown away by hospitality down here. They send us home with a huge bag of peaches from their peach tree and a board game to borrow.

  

March 18

Jessica and Mary take us up to the Sign of the Bellbird to hike for mental health after the shootings. Jessica impresses me with her warm picnic. She even has hot chocolate for the kids. Twill and Mary play a little hide and seek, fight over feathers, and generally enjoy a typical hot/cold friendship between 3-year-olds.

  

March 19

We get to school early enough for Wesley to show us his climbing tree, and his new friend Shantha. Unfortunately, Shantha moves back to Sri Lanka the following week. She and Wesley were taking care of a little nest together. Wesley writes her a goodbye card that says, “I don’t know what I will play during lunch. Maybe I will take care of the nest.” And draws a picture of it too. Very bittersweet.

Twill and I walk to a friend’s house in the afternoon. They are friends from our women’s bible study, Katie and Hugo and baby Nina. It’s warm enough to play in the kiddie pool. Katie is kind enough to invite us over, because Twill has been having a hard time settling into creche (childcare) at bible study. She reasons that time with other kids at their home might help him feel like he has friends there. It does tremendously. We go to Jessica and Mary’s house nearly every Thursday after bible study, or they come to ours. And this play date with Hugo solidifies their friendship. The following week when I pick Twill up from creche and he is jumping on the trampoline with Mary and Hugo. He says, “I’m having fun with my friends!” This is pretty huge after all the resisting he has done.

March 20

After music class Hiromi and Kuni meet us at Victoria Park, up in the Port Hills around the city. The views are spectacular. Kuni and Twill bond over hide and seek on our little hike, and actually play together on the playground some.

March 21

After dinner Chris takes us down to see the wall of flowers, where hundreds of people have left flowers and notes for the victims of the shooting. Twill wants some flowers, but soon catches the somber mood and wants to look for a dandelion to give.

March 22

Twill and I join the Nature Play group for some foraging in the red zone. There’s a large neighborhood where hundreds of homes were destroyed after the earthquakes, because it was cheaper to displace the people than get the land safe again. It’s like a huge park of old yards, where you can pick fruit long ago established by others. We go hoping for peaches and apples and find grapes and pears instead.

  

March 23

We drive out to Castle Hill for Wesley’s birthday adventure. We arrive in a cloud and have no idea what we are in for until it lifts. It’s a huge rock playground of caves and boulders. We play hide and seek after an explore and a picnic. It’s a magical day, but not a hike, Wesley points out.

  

March 24

We continue celebrating Wesley’s birthday with blueberry muffins, forts, and scavenger hunts. I am thankful for his simple birthday dreams, but still get overly anxious about making them all come true.

  

March 25

Wesley takes mini muffins to school for his actual birthday, and we think the birthday fun is over. But we get yet another “last warm day” where Twill wants to go to the beach. Kuni and Hiromi are housebound waiting for a plumber, so we go to their house to play in the morning. We decide to wait until after school and surprise Wesley by taking everyone to Castle Rock for a picnic supper on the beach. It is raining a bit as we drive out, but clears up when we arrive. We play hide and seek in the caves, jump in the waves, and run Lewis’ MarioKart race tracks and battle mode courses in the sand.

At the end of the week Wesley talks about his birthday fun in his weekly oral language speech. He is overjoyed at how many good questions his classmates have.

  

March 29

Twill and I take the bus to the National Remembrance Service in Hagley Park. I am thankful to learn from victims and leaders alike. After the service we queue up to cross the bridge in a sea of people. I overhear people talking about how tension is still rising in America, so the world’s in a volatile state, even if New Zealand is not tolerating racism. I find it fascinating, but just listen, knowing my accent gives away my nationality every time I open my mouth. When we get across the bridge we find Hiromi and Kuni. We have a fascinating discussion about religion and racism, then play in a huge leaf pile under a basswood tree.

  

March 30 and 31

We have a quiet weekend preparing to send Lewis off to camp. His class was supposed to go the week after the shootings, but it’s postponed until April 1st. Lewis and I go for a run together, because I want to soak up more time with him. It’s our first time sending him away overnight and it feels like a very big deal to me. He helps me bake a peach rhubarb crumble and lasagna to take to camp. Twill helps me pit a bucket of plums. He thinks he’s cracking them, like eggs. Wesley makes a rhubarb fountain.

 

There’s another interesting theme coming out of all my reading of and about the Old Testament. The idea that the Bible is not just a bunch of religious ideas, but a unified salvation history strangely gives more meaning to the present, and history.

As I’ve grown more interested in the abolitionist movement and civil rights movement I don’t see them as just textbook history anymore, but God’s continued involvement in our world, our history. The Bible illustrates how God relates with us, and leads us. And there’s further evidence here in many of these historical movements of God leading, taking ground in a sense, with love conquering hatred. But it’s because of real people, doing real brave things, at a particular point in history.

I found Eugene Peterson’s introduction to the book of Joshua particularly encouraging in light of this, and my wrestling with the Old Testament. It reads:

“As the book of Joshua takes the story of salvation forward from the leadership and teaching of Moses, it continues to keep us grounded in places and connected to persons…What we often consider to be the subjects of religion–ideas, truths, prayers, promises, beliefs–are never permitted to have a life of their own apart from particular persons and actual places. Biblical religion has a low tolerance for “great ideas” or “sublime truths” or “inspirational thoughts” apart from the people and places in which they occur. God’s great love and purposes for us are worked out in the messes, storms and sins, blue skies, daily work, and dreams of our common lives, working with us as we are and not as we should be.

People who want God as an escape from reality, from the often hard conditions of this life, don’t find this much to their liking. But to the man or woman wanting more reality, not less–this continuation of the salvation story–Joshua’s fierce and devout determination to win land for his people and his extraordinary attention to getting all the tribes and their families name by name assigned to their own place, is good news indeed. Joshua lays a firm foundation for a life that is grounded.”

I have been guilty of wanting less reality at times. Sometimes because life is just less messy when I hole up inside my own head. And sometimes because reality can be really overwhelming and confusing when people are killing each other with calculated hatred, and it’s been going on since Cain and Abel. But I believe God is still the Lord of all His creation, choosing to let us go our own way and learn from our mistakes, like a loving parent. He is so visible in the aftermath of evil though, like a loving parent too. I have no reason to believe He is apathetic to evil and injustice, still today.

Last week I attended the National Remembrance Service: We are One here in Christchurch, two weeks after the horrible mosque shootings. I didn’t really know exactly what it was as I ran across a golf course with Twill on my back in a growing sea of people. I knew many roads were closed and buses were free, and full.

We arrived as the mayor of Christchurch was giving her address. Then we heard from Muslim leaders. One survivor of the attack spoke too. I caught enough words to hear his message of thankfulness that they were not left alone in their grief. It meant a lot that the people of Christchurch have reached out to embrace their community in this tragedy, not leaving them alone. The Muslim leaders communicated a lot of forgiveness, and a lot of larger religious ideas that weren’t quite so personal. It made me thankful that they let the survivor speak.

After this they read the names of all those who died in the attack. The names were read by members of the Muslim community, with people from a Christchurch interfaith society standing in support while they did. Many people got to read, a few names at a time.

Then Cat Stevens sang a few songs. I was surprised by this. I’ve listened to his music since I was a kid. He seemed very shaken by the tragedy and grateful to be there.

But what surprised me even more was the way the people reserved their loud praises and adoration for the Prime Minister, not the entertainers. I have heard from many Kiwis that this is not normal here in New Zealand, she has earned their respect by how she’s handled this tragedy. I was thankful for the chance to learn from her compassionate words in person as well. She challenged us all to not wait on the government to fight racism. It takes individual people speaking out against it, standing with the victims.

Honestly, I was in tears, partly because of the tragedy, but partly because of the beauty of how well it was being handled here. And the reality of how deeply wounded our nation is by racism. I don’t want to run away from it though. I want to return home with these practical lessons that I’ve learned from real people here. That it doesn’t take a huge movement to make a difference. I can find real people to stand with in love, to not leave alone in their pain. There are so many of victims of racism in the USA, though it might be slightly harder to cross the walls that have been built pretty high between us.

Chris and I are reading a novel called That Hate U Give, by Angie Thomas. It exposes the way police brutality affects African Americans. It’s breaking my heart that this is reality for so many, that the ones who are supposed to protect them are the ones they have most to fear. Like an abusive parent. It’s messed up. I am so thankful for stories to give us windows into others’ lives.

When I was a kid I spent way too much time wondering why on earth I was born in this century, and wishing I had been born in an earlier one. I dream of a world with no technology and modern distractions way too much. But lately I have this deepening sense that God really did intentionally put me right here, right now, at this point in history. And He definitely knows best.

This morning in women’s Bible study I was hit broadside with a realization that the justice Jesus brings is so much greater than my little mind can fathom. Just like many of the Jews in Jesus’ day had their own ideas of the justice the Messiah would bring, I am guilty of wanting to write history for God. But those individual lives that Jesus touched when he walked the earth surely experienced a personal freedom far greater than any political freedom. I can’t even imagine. But I long to know this kind of freedom, and share it with others through simple love.

My friend Jessica is a gift beyond what I could have imagined. We have a shocking amount in common, not in surface interests, but in deeper personality quirks. Like our mild love of chaos, and ambivalence that muddies our parenting consistently, and an easy acceptance of our own unpopularity. We struggle with so many of the same things, even dark moods, yet I have learned so much from her simply because she’s so rooted in the Bible. It’s given me incredible hope in overcoming my own weaknesses just to know her. The surprising thing is that she’s the pastor’s wife, and God is using her redeemed imperfections to help me learn to trust human leadership again.

God is healing my heart in huge ways through a simple friendship with Jessica and Scott. They completely counter every awful stereotype and resistance I have built up to pastors over the past several years. They’ve breached the walls in my heart with ease, just by being the gentle, earthy people that they are. I can’t tell you how thankful I am for this breakthrough.

Chris took us to Campus Church, because we wanted to make university connections, and find a local community when we thought we’d be without a car. I never would have guessed I could become such an excited college student myself again! I feel 20 years younger! The church community we’ve found here is solidly grounded in the Bible, and more gentle than any I’ve encountered. Their attitude towards the Word of God is so inviting, because they are such gentle, child-like students themselves.

The truth is, I’ve had a lot of questions, not just with the church, but with the Bible, brewing for some time. But I haven’t been in a place where I could trust anyone in authority, except Jesus himself, for years. Many things in the Old Testament just don’t sound like the Jesus I know. Many church leaders in America haven’t either. And many people in the church seem to have such easy answers to every question, when it doesn’t feel so easy to me. So I’ve been really wrestling with realities of corruption and beginning to wonder how much men have corrupted the Bible, if they’re corrupting the church before my eyes.

I’ve never walked away from the Bible, or really mistrusted it. Jesus’ words in the Gospels have been my greatest comfort through a very dark season. I felt like I could trust them because of what they say. There is no gain to be made by anyone seeking power in the Gospels themselves. Jesus’ words often condemned those who were abusing power. His love for the outcast and oppressed is so genuine and fierce. So, for me, there is no one more trustworthy than Jesus, because of the life he lived, and offered.  Jesus clearly laid down his glory and power and calls anyone who would follow him to do the same. So in all my doubting my heart has still been crying, “where else would I go? You have the Words of eternal life.”

Scott gave a talk last week about how we got our Bibles. Literally, what old manuscripts we have from different centuries, and how people are still working hard at translating and studying them. He showed us some of the things scholars debate over, and how challenging translation into other languages can be. It really helped me to face the reality of how messy and human the whole process has been for centuries.

Interestingly, Scott threw in some comparisons with the Islamic beliefs about the Quran. They believe the Quran was dictated by an angel and is literary perfection itself. There is no study of textual history, because they believe no errors or variants exist. And translations to other languages are not considered the Quran. This struck me as quite a contrast, a different attitude towards our holy books.

But then Scott shared a very helpful insight that I want to share word for word:

“Jesus Christ, the divine Word of the Father, became fully human, showing that our humanity is not a barrier to God’s self-revelation.”

This is so exciting to me, that God delights in working through fallible humans, through our passion and sweat and tears, in spite of our sinfulness. Just as He delighted to come into this fallen, messy world as a man Himself. Our humanity is not a barrier to God’s self-revelation, it is how He delights to work. This gives me great confidence in God’s ability to speak through the Bible as His written Word, once more.

It also helps explain why I have been so thankful for The Message paraphrase of the Bible through this hard season of raising babies and feeling so distanced from church. I think it helped bring it alive for me that I could see this man, Eugene Peterson, who was alive at the same time as me. I could get to know him a bit through his writing. As a writer I could sense the effort and joy and love he put into the process of making the Bible more accessible to people like me, who were sleep deprived, or discouraged for whatever reason. It’s true that it is someone else’s interpretation, a cross between the Bible and a sermon. But I have been thankful for the humanness and interpretation through the hard season I’m coming out of. And I am thankful that I’m at a place now where my brain is firing a bit more and I want to engage with other, more challenging translations.

My friend Mackenzie has been sending out a schedule to read through the Bible in a year, so I’ve been immersed in the Old Testament since we got here. When I was wrestling with Leviticus Jessica gently helped me take a step back and look at both the mystery of all that we don’t understand about the culture of this era, as well as the big picture context of the whole Bible. She lent me a book, Gospel and Kingdom, by Graeme Goldsworthy that’s been very helpful with big picture context. It spells out how each part of the Bible reveals its part of the story of salvation, which is, essentially, God bringing about His Kingdom through the Gospel.

One thing I am realizing is that, though I claimed to trust Jesus completely, I was devaluing Jesus’ own words about the importance of the Old Testament. In distancing myself from it, I became nothing more than a critic. In reality, I was worshiping my own ideas about Jesus, that were growing narrow and distorted, as so often happens when we are isolated. Now I am thankful to be reading it afresh, hungry to accept God on His terms, not mine. And thankful to be in this humble community.

My women’s bible study back in Eau Claire knows how deeply I’ve been longing to find a community that is really serious about the Bible. I am rather amused by how thoroughly God has answered this prayer beyond my wildest dreams, both in Australia and here. It’s been more challenging than I bargained for, to be sure. But slowly God is changing me from a hardened critic back into a child-like student, through the love of real people.

The past several weeks have been quite a ride, emotionally, but I’m to the point where I think it would be helpful to share what I’ve been learning.

The day Mom and Dad flew home, which was the same day I met Teresa, we got some more bad news from back home in Chris’ department that sent me reeling. I realized that we couldn’t escape the storm of uncertainty, even over here, on the other side of the world. But this time, thanks to the rest I have had over here, I’m learning that I don’t have to fall back into anxiety and depression over the uncertainty. I can take control of my reactions, instead of falling victim to them. Quite honestly, it’s my reactions that I was fearing more than any circumstances.

So, I did what I knew would help, I pressed in to finding friends, here and now. For the past several weeks Twill and I have hardly been home, because we’ve been spending every day out and about with friends. We usually spend a good 2 to 3 days a week with Hiromi and Kuni, going to Play Center, music class, Nature Play, each other’s houses, or parks or beaches together. Thursdays we have Bible Study and spend the rest of the afternoon with Jessica and Mary. And we’ve had a few other play dates with friends from church. If you were to ask my husband and kids they would testify that all this socialization has been so good for me, that I am in a much healthier state of mind. It’s definitely been growing a happier Twill as well.

Still, there’s been a lot of resistance to push through, in both of us. Twill keeps saying he wants to stay home, and there’s been days where I’ve questioned myself, because we’ve been serious home bodies for the past 10 years. I can’t help but think of this song now:

I wish that I knew what I know now, when I was younger.

One of the things I love about the culture over here is house sharing. Many people we’ve met have a border that rents a room in their house, or host international flatmates. It’s largely because housing costs are so expensive and it helps with that. Whatever the motive, it seems like a very healthy situation for all my friends here who have small children. My good friend, Jessica, says she always likes to keep a border because it helps keep her mood up to have another adult in the house when she’s home with small children. Hiromi enjoys having other adults around who love to play with Kuni. I think it really would have helped my mental health too. But we can’t go backwards, like I tell Twill everyday. He is in that lovely stage of changing his mind every chance he can, and learning that we often can’t undo what’s been done.

So onward! I am very thankful to be on this adventure when our children are old enough that I can jump back into the world with all I’ve got and not sacrifice their sleep. This year is the year that I’m coming out of a solid decade of naps every day. We are all growing a lot socially, partly because it’s time to. And it feels so good to be here, both in this stage in life and in this part of the world. They really do have a slower pace of life over here that leaves more room for relationships.

It’s also partly being a foreigner, out of my element, that’s pushing me to make friends. Hiromi says that she felt very isolated living in Japan as a Japanese person too. Maybe it’s easier on our home to turf to isolate. The leader of Twill’s music class says she was painfully shy as a child, but moving from England to Canada and then to New Zealand grew her, or pushed her, out of it. She acknowledged that when you move with small children you just have to reach out for friendship, you can’t do it alone. It’s so true, and I was very guilty of trying to do too much of it alone back home. Maybe reaching out to help others, but not asking for help enough. Here I have to ask for help, because I don’t know anything!

Anyhow, I haven’t felt this healthy in a long time. I’m so thankful for the chance to be here, learning to receive these friendships, however temporary they might be, as the awesome gift that they are.

 

On Friday, March 15th there was a tragic shooting at the Muslim mosque prayer service here in Christchurch. It was a hate crime in the name of white supremacy. 50 people were killed, half a dozen are still in critical condition, and many will need medical, and emotional, care the rest of their lives. We are grieving, along with everyone over here, the loss of precious, innocent lives.

Many friends and family have asked how we are doing, and I think it would be good to try to figure that out through writing. I have been feeling awful about how front and center my own emotions and thoughts have been the past 10 days, and ashamed to face or share them. I think it might help to be honest.

At my women’s bible study Thursday we were given some notes from a local counselor that started with this:

“When we come through a trauma we may experience shock or even just fuzzy brain; finding it hard to concentrate as usual.”

That simple sentence was so freeing, because I have spent way too much energy feeling awful that I didn’t feel more, and often don’t feel anything when I hear tragic news. I usually find it hard to concentrate and pray like I want to. In hindsight it makes sense that this might be a normal response, but hearing it from a professional really helped me to not feel so heartless. Also, I have been thinking, and telling the kids, that what you’re feeling or not feeling isn’t as important as what you do in response.

I heard of the shooting through a text from Chris at 3 pm, letting me know that the boys were in lockdown at their school and he would let me know when he heard anything more. A couple hours later nothing had changed…and finally three hours later, at 6 pm, I heard that he was able to get them and bring them home. I knew there was a major shooting in the city center, and I chose not to look it up on the news, because I wanted to be present with Twill and not upset myself.

So Twill and I baked muffins and listened to the Okee Dokee Brothers music on my phone, because I wasn’t much up for talking to an argumentative preschooler. He loves helping me in the kitchen these days, I dare say it’s his passion. So we just puttered around in the kitchen for most of the time, slowly making supper, then eating ours and going on with the night.

When Chris and the boys finally walked in the door around 6:30 I was so glad to see them. My heart aches now with relief, but at the moment I was trying to carry on like normal. I fed them warm grilled cheese, squash and apple bake, and cold blueberry muffins. Wesley says now that grilled cheese and blueberry muffins are his favorite foods, and I think it likely has something to do with the circumstances and hunger of that night.

Ilam school took very good care of the boys, and we were thankful that they didn’t inform them of what was going on. I think, like me, many of the teachers didn’t know much of what was going on at the time. They knew they had children to take care of in the moment, and they did what they could to make it a pleasant experience. I heard some really sad stories of private schools in the area who had kids sitting silently under desks in the dark. I am thankful that Ilam school did nothing to scare our boys and left discussing the details up to us as parents. Chris did hear some rumors that kids were speculating when he picked them up, but rumors can be exposed as just rumors.

When I tucked the boys into bed that night they seemed to have had a good day, and I felt relieved. But the guilt was slowly mounting that I still hadn’t given enough thought to the victims. I got the details from Chris after the boys went to bed. It was neat to hear that though this guy video recorded the shooting himself for all the world to see (17 minutes of him shooting people), they were not broadcasting it, because they knew that it was what he wanted.

I was really surprised that both my mom and Chris’ mom heard the news about it and messaged us just a few minutes after I heard from Chris, at the beginning of the lockdown. I was also surprised how many friends here in Christchurch texted me, during the lockdown, to see how we were doing. Some were very apologetic already that we had to experience this here in New Zealand.

Saturday morning the whole city seemed to be shut down. There was no Parkrun, all the toy libraries were closed, and there were hardly any cars on the streets. Of course it’s impossible to sort out how much of it was fear and how much was grief. I know it was both. We were happy to all stay together for the day, for sure. Late in the morning all six of us walked to the grocery store together, because we were hosting some American friends for dinner that night. People at the grocery store were notably friendlier.

It’s neat how that has in general been a city-wide response to this shooting. Everywhere I go people are acknowledging each other more than before. Making eye contact, smiling, saying ‘hi.’ Random strangers, especially at school, will ask each other, ‘How are you doing?” and really care.

And we are all especially aware of Muslim women in headdress, knowing so many of them have been widowed and traumatized. There are many Muslim families at Ilam School that are directly affected. The distinction in dress has been a gift, because we can recognize and reach out. I know little of the Muslim culture, and have been trying to learn more through stories and movies this past week. I know there is a huge spectrum within, but one thing I’ve learned is that in extreme sects the women are supposed to cover themselves so as not to be seen. But in this case it is helping them to be seen, and loved, by many.

The Sunday after the shooting we all went to morning church (we usually go to the evening service on campus). Chris was a little uneasy about being in a large, religious congregation in the wake of such an event, and I wondered if anyone else would feel that way. But the crowd was even thicker than our previous time there.

The whole service addressed the events of the weekend. Many people got up and prayed for everyone involved in the situation, people I hadn’t even thought of in my fuzzy brain. I was so incredibly thankful for the reality that we are stronger together than apart. The Body of Christ is a beautiful thing with everyone bringing their unique prayers that I hadn’t put words to. I was so thankful for those prayers.

The message was about the ways that we can love our Muslim neighbors, looking at the good Samaritan passage. There really is no “us and them” divisive mentality of fear in the church here, even though we don’t agree religiously. These are people, loved by God, in need right now. I didn’t have any expectations going in at all, but the way this community is addressing it makes me more aware of the divisiveness, and defensiveness, I have experienced back home.

The way the prime minister here has responded to the tragedy is a stark contrast as well to our president’s defensiveness. I have to admit, I have fallen in love with the whole country over this horrible, horrible reality, because of the love in the wake. There is clearly so much shame felt by people here that this could happen in New Zealand, when they work so hard to be inclusive. And most are giving all they’ve got to show it now.

Chris took us all down to the wall of flowers in the city center after dinner last Thursday. It’s over a city block of flowers several feet deep that individuals have given with notes of love. Many signs said “We are One” or “They are Us” or “You should have been safe.” You can see much of this in the media, but it was quite different to go in person and see so many people there at the same time, so affected. It all makes me incredibly aware of my own personal reactions.

One overwhelming feeling I have been wrestling with is awe and inferiority at the responses of people here. Everyone I meet seems so respectable, people I could stand to learn so much from. And seeing how respectable their leader is, and how much they respect her, it just feels like such a healthy culture that I sadly can’t relate to. Everyone was so ashamed that this could happen here and apologetic and I kept thinking who on earth wouldn’t want to move here if this is how this kind of thing is handled.

It didn’t help that Chris’ students were falling in love with him at the same time and many have been encouraging him to stay and apply here. I entertained the fantasy, though I knew it was a bad idea, for a few days, thinking maybe I would become a better person if I moved here. But I can see that for what it is, putting my hope in external things to change me, instead of my Jesus and hard work.

The other feeling I have been ashamed to admit is how desensitized I actually am to hate crimes, and the threat of crazy people with guns. It is so sad that it doesn’t surprise me anymore. And I feel so insensitive when everyone here is in so much shock. It reveals their innocence and my lack of it.

We had a helpful conversation at my women’s bible study last week that gave me some perspective on this. We were processing and addressing the shooting for bible study, instead of continuing in Matthew. We looked at some Psalms and talked about fear, to begin with. I’ve been hearing from many people here that their sense of safety and security has been taken from them. But honestly, I don’t know what it feels like to feel safe in the way that they used to.

I’ve never actually been held at gunpoint, so I feel like I have little room to talk. But the reality is there’s a spectrum here of safety and I’m in a very different part of it growing up in the USA. Even in my small rural Midwestern town there was murder, and drugs, and so many hunting accidents. There were school shootings in the news when I was in school. When I was in high school if anyone asked me what I was afraid of I would answer, without hesitation, “scary people!” Basically what I meant by that was crazed people with guns that might hurt me.

But what I realized in our bible study discussion was that God has really done a great work in me to free me from those fears. Fear for my own life is not something I’ve been facing in the wake of this. I’ve faced it for decades, and ultimately, I am not afraid of death. Jesus says, “Do not be afraid of those who kill the body, but cannot kill the soul. Rather, be afraid of the One who can destroy both soul and body in hell.” (Matthew 10:28)  I have other fears that I need Jesus to help me conquer still, but I am learning that the only antidote to my fears is fear of God.

So that discussion shook me out of my fantasy about moving to New Zealand, because I realized how hypocritical it would be to move here to protect my children from danger in America, and put my hope in what seems to be a healthier situation, when God has done such a freeing work in me in the midst of danger back home. My safety is only ever in Jesus, no matter what transpires around me.

Truth be told, though, today I took great comfort in simple daily routines. The fact that I make eggs and oatmeal for breakfast every school day morning felt like such a huge comfort. This afternoon Twill and I were dancing to the Okee Dokee Brothers music and I realized that I do miss my homeland. Music has such a way of bypassing my head straight into my heart. I miss a good live banjo! I miss bluegrass music, and gospel music! But it’s not just the music, it’s the people who make it. The heart and hardship behind it. I love my wild, if sometimes frantic, nation.

So that’s where I’m at with all this, at the moment. I’m not proud of it and don’t plan to stay here. I feel very childish and self-centered. But I can see that I need to love myself and have compassion on myself to move forward. That’s why I write.

I am just one weak person trying to make sense of insanity. I know I can’t fix it, but pray I can do something to ease other’s pain. We have found a few opportunities to give, and chances to acknowledge others pain in passing at school. But it’s hard not to feel a bit on the outside of the whole community, because we’re here for such a short time. I am thankful for any prayers for the whole situation.