Eager To Oblige

Seventy days. A little over two months. That's how long we've been here, yet it feels like a lifetime ago that we packed up and left. In all of our planning to move here, I always knew there was something deeper, something bigger that God was teaching me. I knew we were about to "jump off" the cliff of security and I didn't really know what it'd be like after we let go of all that brought us comfort, security, safety, and joy. It's easy to think that God will replicate in your new place the life you had in your old place. That you'll, over time, build new relationships to replace the old, and find your way again as the new life becomes as familiar and comfortable as the old life.

But so it seems as if God is doing something new, not just in our hearts, but in our family. We've had so many firsts since moving here. It's hard for me to keep up with all of them.

Two months here have taught me so much more than I learned in the last two years. In the first chapter of Paul's letter to the Romans, Paul writes about his eagerness to fulfill his obligation to share the gospel. As I read that verse, the conviction was overwhelming. Paul was so fully aware of God's work in his life that he was eager to share the good news with others, even if it inconvenienced him.

I want to be like Paul. I want to be so aware of all that God has done for me that I'm eager to fulfill my obligation. God has shown Himself faithful time and time again. He has opened so many doors for us and shown us so much favor.

Even as we enter into familiar things, there is always an air of difference about them. We've played soccer for almost five years now, yet soccer feels different here. As we've transitioned to our new place, I've watched as my boys have grown and changed in their own ways. 

Just as their bodies are experiencing growth spurts, their spirits and emotions are, too. 

There's always an air of expectancy around our house. We sense that God is working in ways we can't even see to build His church. There are days that feel like failures. I allow a bad attitude or the lack of interaction with people cause me to waiver in my faith, yet God never stops showing up for us.

I don't think about what I left behind every day now, but there's always that something with me. That knowledge that the old is gone and the new is here. Everyday I give back the wonderful life that was given to me that I might eagerly fulfill the obligation that I have. 

So many prayers are being answered. Your prayers are being answered. So many conversations are being had with CSU students or neighbors or fellow parents or my Muslim friends all because you are faithful to pray. 

As Paul wrote to the Romans about his longing to visit with them, I write to you about my longing and eagerness to see God build His church here. The old is not being replicated. The new is here and from it, hopefully, if we eagerly fulfill our obligation to share the good news of Jesus Christ, many will become a part of the family that God gifted us with. I long for us to stand together one day and know that we are all in this together. 

We rely heavily upon your prayers. Please continue to lift us up and the work here as often as God brings us to your mind and then some. Know that He is hearing your prayers. Believe me, He is answering them. 

Stories from FoCo: The Hello

As a way to offer a glimpse into our lives here, I've decided to share some portraits of the people we've met and some of the new friendships we're forming. Hopefully, as you read, you can begin to see a clearer picture into our new life.


The Hello

The sun is shining and she is standing. Alone. The thin fabric of her dress lifting slightly as the breeze whispers around her thin frame.  Near her are two small girls in white dresses with purple flowers. Their dark hair pulled back in matching pigtails. Their olive skin in stark contrast to the great sea of paleness.

There are no buses here. Just people, neighbors next door, two doors, or three streets apart, all converging in this place. Every morning. And every afternoon.

Groups form as groups always do. Neighbors who've been so for decades. Strangers, now friends, who've collided over this similar space that is the elementary school, brought together by proximity and the shared experience of raising their children.

The sun is shining and she is standing. Alone.

I enter this space like a moth circling a street light. I flitter from one group, two men on the grass, their friendship obvious by the ease of their interaction, their casual stance, the depth of their conversation. Their comfort great enough that opinions are shared, accepted, rejected. The friendship remains.

The next group, two moms. Younger than I. Their conversation more a dialogue of their kids' activities, schedules, weekend plans that don't involve one another. Their friendship rooted in shared teachers and years of showing up in the same space.

The sun is shining and she is standing. Alone.

I move farther into this space. I see a faintly familiar face. My neighbor--three houses down--stands farther into the sea of paleness and the waiting groups. I move toward her and then I see her.

The sun is shining and she is standing. Alone.

I see the warm light of familiar ahead of me. I am new here. I long for connection, for the warmth of knowing and being known.

But the sun is shining and she is standing. Alone.

My turmoil lasts ten seconds in real time, but inside hours seem to pass. The first step to engaging a Muslim is to say, "Hello." I hear this in my head. The Spirit reminding me of a lesson learned months ago in my before place. My sending place. The first step to engaging a Muslim is to say, "Hello." It is on repeat. But the light is ahead. It is warm. Acceptance is sure. I argue I am not the one. Others are better prepared for this. I have no words to say. I have failed at small talk my entire life. The first step to engaging a Muslim is to say, "Hello." The record of truth plays over and over in my head. I move forward, slowly.

The sun is shining and she is standing. Alone.

Say, "Hello."

"Hello," I say too loudly. Conversations pause and then resume. She turns. Her pink Hijab hiding all but the smooth skin of her olive face. Her eyes are replicated in the two girls in white dresses with purple flowers.

"Hello," she says, softly, curiously.  Silence. Seconds that feel like hours pass. I speak, asking questions, sharing my own brief history here, seeking some connection beyond this shared space.

We are both new. She is two years into this place. Ten years in America. Four children. We share a teacher--2nd grade. We share Africa---she the north, Libya. Me, the east, Ethiopia.

We agree on the unfamiliarity of this new place. She grins. I smile.  We both miss home.

"What do you miss?" she asks, her north African accent faintly evident.

"My friends," I say, and then again "I miss my friends," because I need her to understand the hole that has been left inside of me.  She nods, the pink Hijab fluttering slightly. She understands.

An idea forms, quickly as most ideas do. I look at her, sideways. She is watching the girls in the white dresses with the purple flowers. Her daughters. Their heads uncovered. Still too young for their Hijab.

The first step to engaging a Muslim is to say, "Hello."

"We could be friends." I say it without much thought as I'm prone to do. I mean it as I'm prone to do. I want to be her friend, but not as much as I want her to be mine.

She smiles, revealing the braces that have been working to straighten her teeth. Her face beautiful. She is young. I am not.

She is Muslim. I am not.

She nods, "O.k." The North African accent slightly thicker.

The sun is shining and she is standing.

Next to me.

Our connection different. We are outsiders here. Both different, yet made in the same image.

The sun is shining and we are standing. Together. Inquiring about children, husbands, weekend activities. Friendship forming.
The first step to engaging a Muslim is to say, "Hello."

A Declaration of Glory

“But ask the animals, and they will teach you, or the birds in the sky, and they will tell you; 

 or speak to the earth, and it will teach you, or let the fish in the sea inform you. 

Which of all these does not know that the hand of the LORD has done this? 

 In his hand is the life of every creature and the breath of all mankind." Job 12:7-10

When I stand in the midst of such glory and beauty that is the Rocky Mountains, I wonder what must creation have looked like in the very beginning in all of its perfection? I dare say it would cause me to fall on my knees in awe and wonder.

We worshipped with a body of believers in Arvada, Colorado this Sunday and then traveled to Estes Park and RMNP for the rest of the day. Our goal was to encounter elk and hopefully hear them bugling in the "wild". 

As we made our way into Rocky Mountain National Park (RMNP), we saw these pockets of color. The Aspen trees are already changing color. It really is a sight to behold. Green everywhere and then a pop of color here and there. 

We did a tiny, tiny bit of hiking. Really we meandered down some trails in search of elk, our ears ever listening for their bugle. In all honesty, with the sons of thunder around, listening for elk is as easy as if we were inside a full stadium of football fans.

Rain is scarce here so this trail proved a little challenging, but they are always up for the challenge.

As Zack stands spying out the land, the boys are below trying to find a way to follow him up this boulder. They are persistent in their pursuit of following him wherever he goes.

Creation really does declare God's glory. There in the distance you can see a rainbow peeking through. 

We chose a smaller boulder to climb. It felt like fall sitting on this rock. The wind blowing slightly, the creek below us gurgling, the leaves changing. You can see snow on the mountains in the distance. I've never been to the Rockies when I haven't seen snow. And I've yet to master preparing for the temperature changes in the mountains. Note the boys are in shorts and short sleeves.

Their relationship amazes me. So often, especially more recently, a lot of attention has been given to ethnicity, citizenship, rights, ancestry, etc., in this country. These two are brothers through and through. They're on this rock talking about whatever it is they talk about. It's their conversation; their bond. 

We had one pullover and they decided to share it. Though they fight and bicker, they are fiercely devoted to one another. 

We tried really hard to get a picture together and this is the best result. We are not short on smiles in our family, but we are short on teeth.

Storyline Church in Arvada, Colorado invited us to their worship service so they could pray over us and the ministry of Overland. Church planting is not for the faint of heart. These past two months have grown me in incredible ways and have challenged me. God has continually shown Himself faithful. It's easy in this process to feel alone, like you're in it solo. It was a great encouragement to have another church plant cheer us on and commit their prayers to us. 

Looking for elk in RMNP is a thing. We weren't alone in our pursuit of hearing the elk bugle. There were many other people doing the same thing we were yesterday. That's Longs Peak in the background, one of Colorado's many 14ers. 

We spotted an elk and spent some time watching him as he made his way to a few cow elk bedded down nearby. We watched him for a while and then began to make our way out of the park when we heard the faint cry of an elk bugle. We turned quickly down a side road and made our way up a short trail. And then it came, breaking through the silence---the bugle. And then again. And again. We listened as the elk made its way down the mountain and into the meadow in front of us. He emerged from the woods and we all whispered excitedly. He put on a show for us and then as the sun said good-bye behind the mountains, we headed back home. 

Creation really does declare God's glory.

I really can't tell you the impact your prayers are having. I hope to share with you some individual stories, but know that you are our lifeline. God is hearing your prayers and working in this place on your behalf. You are as much as part of this as we are. Every day this place becomes more familiar and our hearts are more knitted to it than the day before. As we drove back from RMNP, it felt like we were driving home. There are still days when I miss my people. I feel bittersweet about the happenings in your lives, but I know that He is worth the sacrifice of everything I have. 

Thank you for joining us on this journey. 

The Confessions of a Reluctant Church Planter's Wife: Part Three

Life has a way of marching on, doesn't it? Since the boys began school, life has picked up a bit for us. Last weekend, we helped out with a multi-ministry tailgate before the very first CSU football game in their brand new stadium. We met a lot of new people, connected with other campus ministries and watched as the thousands of people filed into the stadium to watch Colorado State play Oregon State. Though many things are vastly different here, corn hole is as much a part of tailgating here as it is at home.  One thought runs through my head when we are on campus. The harvest is plentiful, but the laborers are few. It feels overwhelming at times when I see the number of students on campus, but I know that God has brought us here and is stirring in the hearts of others to come here, too. 

I know that Fall is approaching, but it's been hard for me to really differentiate between Fall and Summer here because the climate is so mild. The weather really is incredible. The sun really does shine a lot, there's little to no humidity, and the skies are usually always blue. 

The other day I saw these mums at the King Soopers, which is the West's version of Kroger. Talk about sticker shock! 

Where are the boy scouts when I need them? 

A big part of our transition here is learning our new culture. We've tried to learn as much about our new city by being in our city. We try to hang out in places where people are. 

Our time here is much  more intentional, especially where people are concerned. We don't have an established church with automatic community and ministries that we can jump into. Instead, we're starting from scratch. We've tried to be intentional about "hanging out" at places where some of our neighbors might be. This past Sunday evening, we went to this local neighborhood pub. It's just a short bike ride from our house. Such a different way to spend our Sunday evenings than what we used to do in Frankfort!

Part of planting Overland means that we seek first to plant ourselves here. Some days the planting of ourselves here feels really slow. I feel so inadequate. I'd never be mistaken for an extrovert and that hasn't changed here. Beginning conversations is hard for me. So hard. I fumble with my words and usually end up saying something so odd that people just look at me like I have four heads. I know I'm exaggerating a little, but that's what it feels like on the inside. I psych myself up, go over what I'm going to say in my head several hundred times when I know I might encounter some person at the school or around our neighborhood. It's not in my comfort zone, but God has been faithful to go before me and help me learn to be myself. And no one has run screaming from me. Haha!

This is just half the section of kombucha in the natural grocers near our house. Personally, I love this store. I don't buy all of our groceries here because it's really pricey, but I can find all the natural stuff my little heart desires here. And, be still my heart, they have fair trade coffee and chocolate for days. 

Anyone who's known me for any time knows my love of baking. It's been a challenge here to learn how to bake in the higher altitude. These were supposed to be chocolate chip oatmeal cookies, but I'll just call them crispy wafers. lol I've done some research and it's a real balancing act to conquer the elevation when baking, but I know practice makes perfect. If anyone is a pro at this or has any suggestions for high altitude baking, send them my way!!

Mail is different here. We don't have an actual mailbox on our house. Instead, there are mailboxes at the end of the street. It's been a fun adventure going down to check the mail. We love getting mail. It's the highlight of our day to ride to the mailbox and find stuff from our people back home or other places.

John Owen turned eight this week. We celebrated with breakfast at a local place here in Fort Collins called the Silver Grill. If you ever get to visit us, we'll for sure take you there! There's also a neat ice cream place in Old Town that he L.O.V.E.S. He was gifted a scoop a month for a year from dear friends who are family to us. All in all, he's rocked this move out West. I worried that he'd struggle with anxiety or be nervous about making friends, but he's really come into himself. He's changed a lot since we've moved. He's gained a confidence that didn't quite show before. It was always within him, but maybe he just never needed it before.

We cannot plant Overland without you. Mostly, we need your constant prayers. Before we left we held many coffee and dessert meetings asking people to "Hold The Rope" for us. I'm thankful God led us to do this because as we've been here, I've understood that necessity of people back home supporting us through prayer. It's going to take a lot of money to launch Overland next year. It's going to take even more prayer! We're in this together! I see more clearly why God led us to have those meetings and to ask people to hold the rope. Overland isn't just something He's doing through us. It's something He's doing through all of us. Thanks for being on this journey with us!