Barnabas Pastors to Missionaries Conference, pt. 1

The name of the conference is a little misleading. It's not a bunch of pastors, though it would be nice if there were more. It's a conference for missionary care givers, primarily made up of those who serve full time, either overseas or from the States. There were a few agency heads, a few pastors, and a few lay people, but the majority of the 160+ people were full time care givers. And though I knew I would be one of the youngest, I wasn't quite prepared to be one of six under the age of 35, and out of those six, only two of us are full time(the others are students in the Member Care program at CIU). Then, following the six of us, there were a handful of 40ish folks, and perhaps 10-15 in their 50's. The biggest age group represented at the conference was 60's and 70's. The face of Member Care in our mission agencies today is, er, to put it mildly, OLD. At first, I was rather intimidated by these older, incredibly wiser, far more experienced, battle scarred warriors..........until I began to converse with them.And with the exception of a couple of folks who definitely thought the youngins were too young, the rest were amazingly encouraging. They talked about how we're missing entire generations of Member Care folks in our agencies, and how necessary it is for younger people to be brought along in this important work since they are getting older. It felt like I had so many incredible "grandparents" who were sharing with me, investing in me, praying over me, giving me books, passing on info., encouraging me, telling me the most important conferences/trainings to get to, etc., etc.- and just pouring into us younger ones. It was incredible.

This was my wonderful small group, which met together twice daily. The couple on the far left are the next youngest in my group- and they're the same age as my parents. =-D

I had to take a picture of these two couples. They've served with New Tribes for ages and ages- far more years than I am old- and are now in the States as Member Care workers. They're all(except for one who's only 38 yrs. older- haha) at least 40 years older than me, and the most fun and raucous bunch of mid-70's people I've ever met. They were fantastic and I spent quite a bit of time with them. They have children almost as old as my parents! I want to be that fun in 40 more years.

*in pt. 2 I'll actually write about some of the sessions and things that I learned.

Out and About

When it rains, it pours, right? Sometimes I don't feel as if I have enough to do. And then other times.....yikes. This is just a quick update to say, "Sorry I haven't been a good blogger." My picture taking skills have become quite lousy since I'm no longer traveling like a crazy person. And my writing- well, I should just make myself write more, because it's good for me and I enjoy getting my thoughts out of my head in a good medium.

I had meant to write an update about my Counseling Class. I had intended to do an updated Thankfulness List. I had wanted to.........you get the picture, right? A few months ago, the lady in the home office who did all of the newsletters retired. That job got shifted to someone else and I was asked to do a lot of the editing of the letters. I've thoroughly enjoyed that "job", as it helps me to get to know our staff and their ministries better. Well, now it's time for the annual IM newsletter, which goes out every Fall to thousands of people all over the US. Each year the missionaries of IM get a chance to share their thoughts and concerns with a much broader audience than is the norm through their regular newsletter. And do you know what that has meant for me this year? Yep, I now have the task of editing all of those articles. Starting last Wednesday, I was sent forty one articles from staff all over the world, and I've been steadily working my way through, in an attempt to get them edited before tomorrow. Why tomorrow?

Well, tomorrow I go to my first Missionary Care conference. It's Barnabas International's annual Pastors to Missionaries conference, and runs tomorrow through Friday in the mountains of NC(which makes me super happy). The pres. of IM(and his wife) flew in to Charlotte tonight and we'll be headed out in the morning. I'm nervous, excited, and looking forward to a great week of fellowship, worship, and learning lots of things! So, I apologize again for not being a better blogger, but after a week of caring for grandma, and then a week of editing like a crazy person, well, I just ran out of time. Can't wait to tell you all about the PTM conference when I get back, though!

Wild Hair

Yeah, I know. Most of you are expecting to see a picture of me with crazy hair. I'm sorry to disappoint you. I just thought I'd share a bit of a wild hair with you that I got a couple of weeks ago. I looked around my light beige room, and thought, "Bo-ring!!" So I drove right on over to Home Depot, bought some paint, and changed the boringness. Of course, this wild hair was a wee bit more time consuming than the spur of the moment thought. The walls are done, but I still have to do all of the base boards and doors(there are three in my room- it's an unusual old house). That trim will get done eventually, but I thought I'd show you my change. If you ever want some paint help, I love painting! You just may not want to take me to Home Depot with you, because when I want change, I really go all out. =-D

The light beige walls with my three different test colors.

After

Other side of the room

Memories

When I returned to the States in December, the packing experience was rather traumatic for me. I had to reduce everything that I owned to two suitcases. Mom and Dad took back some things in their suitcases after their visit, I was allowed to bring one suitcase on my flight, and I paid for the second. But that was it. I had figured out a way to send most of my books back to the States through training center teachers, but there was just no way to get the other stuff home, due to the high expenses. So I had to make decisions. I gave away shoes, jewelry, craft supplies, clothes, books, makeup, body lotions, purses, plants, picture frames, suitcases, etc. So. Much. Stuff. I packed and unpacked. Weighed and reassessed, whittling it down to two 50 pd. suitcases. There were a few things that were absolute priority to me. Clothes could be bought again, but I didn't feel that these things could:

a Hungarian vase, Polish and Ukrainian pottery, Ukrainian and Polish jewelry, and some Ukrainian paintings that I had bought in the markets of Lviv and Odessa. So I carefully wrapped and packed them, leaving other things behind that were of less value to me.

And when I show people the pottery, jewelry, or a painting like this one of an Orthodox church in Odessa:

Or this street scene from Lviv:

......they ooh and ahh. And I too love the beauty of those things and these paintings. And I loved going into cathedrals and witnessing the splendor of the grand old architecture first hand. But today, today I found a painting that stopped me cold and grabbed me. I was walking through a local art festival with a friend, and we stopped to look at the paintings in one vendor's booth. And I kept staring at this one painting and told my friend, "That's Eastern Europe. I know it. It has to be." I started to talk to the artist and found out that I was right- it was from Romania. It turns out that she had been in Romania with none other than the World Race, a group I've written about several times on here. So now, friends, take a look at the painting that stopped me in my tracks:

Yeah, hmm, Not so beautiful as the first two, is it? Here's the thing, though. While the others are beautiful and I do love them, they weren't my life in Ukraine. I didn't wake up looking out the window at the beauty of an Orthodox church; you really don't see them in the average neighborhood. What I looked out my window at was the painting you see above. Every day of my time in Ukraine, I looked out the window at the monumental concrete ugliness of Communist bloc apartments. Everywhere I went and everywhere I looked, they were there- in their imposing, boxy, grey rigidness. I confess, I hated them.

So why, you might ask, did I buy this painting today? Why couldn't I just walk away? Because those ugly, ugly buildings have come to speak more to me of Ukraine than the magnificent ones in the top two paintings. Whereas when you enter the gorgeous orthodox churches of Ukraine you might see a few people praying to the saints, here is where the people are. They're inside those giant hulking block buildings; being born, growing up, living their lives, and dying. And I want to remember those people, the millions who are lost and aren't likely to find the answers in the splendor of the orthodox church. Inside, those buildings that I dreaded so much are teeming with people who don't know Jesus, and who have no hope for a better life. And I don't ever want to forget that sight- a view that I dreaded so much, that came to symbolize something so different for me. It's not the most beautiful picture on my walls, but it's one I want to look at everyday- to be reminded of a people that deeply touched my life and who are in desperate need of a relationship with the only One who can truly give them hope.

Dementia

My parents left for Colorado early this morning, leaving me on Grandma duty. Grandma duty involves making 3 meals every day, going to her house 3x a day to be sure that she eats the meals, making sure she has all her medications at the right times, making sure she's changing clothes and bathing, etc. Now, I'm not complaining about this duty, or belittling her in any way. It's been hard watching an incredibly bright, intelligent warrior of God slowly lose her memory over the last few years. Even though she has difficulty remembering from minute to minute what has just been said, a change in schedule and caretaker can really throw her into deeper confusion. Over the last few days, Mom and I were at the beach for our church Ladies' Retreat, and Dad was caring for her. Now Mom and Dad left, and I'm caring for her.

Pretty much everything in her kitchen(where she spends the most time) is labeled:

-lunch: turkey sandwich with apple
-dinner: shrimp with potato wedges and watermelon
-to make coffee, push button
-gas has been turned off to stove
-don't eat until Julie arrives and gives meds
etc. ,etc.

This morning, I wrote a note saying that Mom and Dad were in CO and that I would be helping her this week with her meals. Somehow, that wording confused her, and as a result, every time that she reads that note(accompanied with my cell ph. no.), I get a phone call asking why I'm going to be helping with her meals. You see, she doesn't remember that she hasn't cooked in well over a year. So, eight hours after writing the note, I've received seven phone calls.
 
And it made me think about us, as Christians, and how many times we live our Christian lives as if we have dementia. We forget about God's love. We forget about His salvation; that we were saved from the penalty of sin, that we're currently being saved from the power of sin, and that we will be saved from the presence of sin. We have the power to break free from the sin that so easily weighs us down and walk in the freedom of life that He has given us. But sometimes we forget, don't we? We forget that He paid it all so that we can walk in newness of life. We struggle, barely making it from day to day, weighed down with the hardships of living in this world.

And that's why He left us notes. They're all over the place; notes of His power, notes of His love, notes of His mercy, forgiveness, and truth. He's thrown them lavishly around, so that we can't possibly miss them. They're found in the beauty of nature, in the blessings of friendship, in the closeness of a hug, and in the truths of Scripture- written down for us to see. Do you see them?

Open your eyes, and look around. Do you see God's notes of love that surround you, saying, "I LOVE you, more than you can possibly ever imagine- I. Love. You."

Get wiggy with it

So as to keep all parties completely anonymous(other than myself, of course), I shan't share where this wonderful headpiece was discovered. After posting one of the photos on facebook as a joke, however, and receiving the most comments of anything I've ever posted(it appeared to cause some panic), I figured I'd share the series on here. This is what happens when I find a wig- it's irresistible to me. And for the sake of added humor, I'll add in some of the facebook comments.

*oooohhhh myyyyy.

*Oh Anna...i was worried for you for a second haha!

*Phew!..thank goodness its a wig! 

*You look like the maid on the Brady Bunch!!

*I'm so glad that was a joke. I was worried for a sec.   

*lol thats so funny

*ohhh. I was scared for a sec!

*NEVER CUT YOUR HAIR 

*phew!!! that was close.now, just in case this is a test run, read my lips; BAD IDEA!!! DON'T GO TOWARDS THE LIGHT!!!  

*scary, although i think you will look very cute as a grandma one day. this bodes well for your future

*Makes me think of an 80's gymnast...;) You would look cute with short hair, though!

*So I can say that it makes you look about 40 years older? 

*Haha, you are too funny! I Love it!! You look just like Princess Diana! =D

*  You look lost in the 60's

Gathering Intel

When I was at Siloam Homes back in January, I met a middle aged couple that was in Member Care, transitioning from a large agency to a smaller one, and planning to serve from the US. They were fascinating to me for several reasons; the main reason being that if someone were to describe them in one word, the word that most people would likely choose would be "Hippies." Now, hippies are not people that you generally run across very often in the world of missions, so I was intrigued. They both had long hair and piercings(she's the only person in her 50's that I've thought a nose piercing looked great on), and wore heavy wool socks with their sandals. They were truly genuine people and  I really liked them. One afternoon I invited them over for tea(hippies drink tea, by the way, not coffee) and a talk. I wanted to ask them questions, and they had questions for me in return. One question that the husband asked me really bothered me for a while,

"If one of your overseas missionaries were to have (          ) issue, where would you direct her? What resources would you try to get into her hands?"

And I kind of sat there stymied for a moment before I could give an answer. And it wasn't a fantastic answer, either, I assure you.

Here's the thing: I'm relatively young and inexperienced at this Member Care thing. There, I said it. Really, I have no issues admitting that, and I'm not sure that I ever have. As I go along, though, I become more aware of how much I really don't know. Depression? Burnout and Stress? Fear and Anxiety? How to set boundaries with others? Bitterness? Grief and Loss? Loneliness? Self-esteem? Spiritual Warfare? Trauma? Workaholism? etc.? Do I know resources to recommend to people? Do I have those resources myself?

Well, the answer is that I'm working on that. Whereas in January I didn't have much of a list, since then I've been steadily taking material in. As I've said before in my newsletters, my primary responsibilities right now are 1)support raising and 2)getting more knowledge into my head so that I can be better prepared to come alongside of others. And the list is slowly growing. And in spite of my knowledge of how little I know, I'm encouraged by what I'm learning. I'm encouraged by the wealth of knowledge that's available to me, that I can have the time to take some of it in, and that I myself am growing through the process. I'm not looking to be some great counselor or adviser. I'm desiring to be an encouragement, a soothing cup of water, the words that need to be heard in just the right moment. I'm praying that as I take in more information on many different topics, that God will store it away to be pulled out in His timing, and for His glory.