Air Algérie flight

Late last Wednesday night and into the pre-dawn hours of Thursday morning we had terrible weather here in the region.

It's rainy season here in West Africa so having heavy rain and bad storms is common for this time of year.

I remember one night last year during rainy season I woke up in the middle of the night to the sounds of a violent storm raging outside. I love storms. I love them. I really looked forward to moving to Burkina because of the sometimes daily thunderstorms I heard they received during rainy season. Definitely a bonus for a girl who loves the thrill of weather. But during this particular storm last year I woke up afraid. The storm was so strong. The winds were whipping mercilessly against our home, the rain pelting down with incredible force against our metal roof. The windows rattling. The shadows of the many large trees in our yard bending and whipping against the forces at work outside.

The noise was deafening.

I immediately sat up in bed and stared at the useless t.v. sitting on our dresser in front of the bed. That wouldn't help me now. My first instinct was to turn on the Weather Channel or local ABC news and check the Doplar radar and see if a thunderstorm warning had been issued for the area. To see how strong the winds were. Did we need to move away from the windows? Was this tornado weather? Did they get tornadoes here? Would the trees hold? Was it almost over?

My whole life I have always turned on the t.v. to tune into the weather news. To watch the greens and oranges and reds move across the screen. It brings such peace of mind in the midst of bad weather. Weather reports are so commonplace in our American culture, a staple, a built in safety feature. So much so that I had forgotten what a gift it is that we have it.

Until I woke up that night and realized I didn't have it anymore.

There would be no Weather Channel or ABC news to check the local radar. There would be no up-to- the minute reports in the lower right hand corner of my empty screen. There would be no reports on wind speed, rain fall, flood levels, or storm clouds.

We are just in the complete unknown here when it comes to weather and you have to take it as it comes.

I remember feeling really vulnerable that night, as I lie awake in bed listening to the storm rage.

I thought about that night from over a year ago last week, as I was woken up again by a very similar storm. It was absolutely fierce outside. Sydaleigh came into our room in the middle of the night, afraid from the noise. Her and Marvelly were sleeping on the floor in the living room so I followed her out and laid down on the couch with her below me on the floor.

By morning the worst had passed but there was still some lingering rain outside, and it was dark and dreary. It wasn't long after I awoke that I received a call from Isaak saying that an Air Algérie fight that had left Ouaga last night during the storm had crashed in northern Mali.

The whereabouts were unknown.

Survivors unknown.

People from my community were on the flight. Ouagadougou maybe a capital with over 2 million people, but the ex-pat community is very small. Foreigners make up a very small percentage of Burkina's population and it is easy to know or know of everyone.

Everyone took the news very hard.

As the hours ticked by more and more news slowly began to emerge. The passenger list was made public, revealing names of many people who were well known and involved in the community. The owner of our local grocery store was on board with his two sons. A husband and wife who owned and operated a little hotel-the wife also happened to work at our own U.S. Embassy for 30 years in the med unit. The owner of a local home goods store around the corner from my house. Entire families.

I prayed that there would be survivors found. I prayed that not everyone would have perished. That help would get to them quickly....please Lord....

...help did eventually arrive. They located the aircraft just about 50 miles north of the Burkina Faso border in northern Mali.

But the plane was completely destroyed.

Not a single survivor.

The air craft was beyond recognition.

Just remnants remained.

Not long after leaving Burkina the pilot requested a change of course because of very bad weather in the area and poor visibility. Seventeen minutes later their flight disappeared from radar, having crashed in the remote desert.

While I was up listening to the storm rage from inside my home, a pilot was flying 117 other people through it. And having sat awake that night, it's not hard to imagine that it had the strength to bring down a plane. It was fierce. 

While it is unsettling and vulnerable at times to ride out the storms here without knowing the severity and extent of threat it poses....I had no fear of death that night.

Yet it's incredibly hard to think of all those people on board that plane, people from my small community, flying through the darkness and the raging storm....who were fearing death, and would ultimately succumb to it.

It's very surreal. 

When I think about what happened, the people I've seen around town, interacted with...my mind wanders to what it might have been like inside the plane, when they knew they were going down. Were they hysterical? Quiet? Were parents clutching their children as the rain pelted the windows? Were strangers seated next to one another holding hands in solidarity as the plane went down? Did the pilot give any last words? Did believers comfort those around them? Did anybody pray?

Was the name of Jesus cried out to?

I sincerely hope so.....it's hard to think about....entire families perished on that plane.

Following the crash, the country declared two days of mourning last weekend for all those who perished, many of whom were also Burkinabé. A memorial was set up at the airport where friends and family gathered to light candles and lay flowers. The U.S. Embassy is holding a service today. President Holland said a memorial is going to be constructed at the crash site in honor of those who died. Many nations as well as many families and loved ones are mourning as a result of this personal tragedy. So many people left to grieve and continue living through their loss.

I sincerely hope that during that tumultuous flight the passengers felt the presence of the living God in the midst of them. And that those who didn't know Him when they boarded the plane, knew Him when it was all over. And the tragedy that their loved ones are left to face in their absence catapults  them into the comforting arms of Christ.

In the midst of real storms and "life" storms....Jesus has promised to be with us through it all. He beckons us to trust in Him and not be dismayed.

I've faced a lot of bad storms in my life, both those caused by rain and life's trials...and when faced with them God doesn't promise us the benefit of a doplar radar to predict its course or magnitude. He doesn't promise us a smooth landing or that we will even get off the plane when the storm has passed. He does, however; promise to remain close beside us through it all, and provide the strength and peace we will need as we face the onslaught of the winds and rain.  

"Don’t be afraid, for I am with you. Don’t be discouraged, for I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you. I will hold you up with my victorious right hand." Isaiah 41:10

My Grandma Howell has died.

I woke up Sunday morning with an idea. I thought how nice it would be to be able to "talk" to my grandma one last time before she died. Just a passing thought as I got ready for church in the morning.

The last time I talked to my grandma was two years ago. We drove up to Michigan in the summer before we moved to Burkina Faso to spend a few days visiting my dad and his side of the family before we headed overseas. Unfortunately, once we arrived I was never able to see my grandma as I hoped. She had had dementia for a while already at that point and was not having a good week when we arrived, due to certain situations she wouldn't see us.

I was able to talk to her on the phone though. I talked to her about how we were moving to Africa. How we would miss her very much. I told her about how we were already in contact with an orphanage in the country and asked if she would be willing to make anything for the kids and send them to us. She grew very excited at this idea and told me she would love the opportunity to crochet some little hats and blankets for the children and would give them to my dad to send to us. We talked for a while longer about little things, but what stood out to me was the excitement I heard spark in her voice at the idea of making things again. At having some purpose. To be able to put her hands to use and serve. My grandma is a master crocheter and knitter. I have handmade crocheted Barbie clothes from her from 25 years ago that the girls are now using and these clothes don't have one piece of thread out of place. They are not missing a single button and they are in just as good a shape as the day she gifted them to me. She made me a large pink and white afghan when I was just a little girl, and I brought it with us to Burkina. She made such beautiful, long lasting things. She was so talented, that lady.

My idea of having her make little hats and blankets for the orphanage never amounted to anything. Wishful thinking I guess. A dream. Her dementia was progressing and she had already started mixing things up, forgetting people. Soon after we arrived in Burkina her condition gradually got worse and worse and she was in and out of the hospital a lot, until finally she was placed in a nursing home, and then brought back to her house for hospice care these last two weeks.

My dad called me Sunday evening, and when I saw the Michigan area code I thought he was calling to tell me that she had died. But to my surprise, he said that she was still hanging on, and wanted to know if I wanted to talk to her one last time. She was no longer speaking, but he put the phone up to her ear so that she could hear my voice.....

"Hi Grandma, it's Missy....."

It wasn't a long talk. I told her I loved and how she had a new great-grandson, that I was praying for her and I looked forward to the day when we could all be together again. When my dad came back on the line I asked if he thought she could still hear, and he told me she opened her eyes and started making some little noises and moving a bit. She was also able to hear from Joel and Jordan that day as well. She got to hear all her grandchildren's voices.

An hour later she took her final breath.

I can only say through tears how grateful I am to my dad for his idea to be able to talk to my grandma. It was a gift. A gift for my heart to be able to speak to her one last time before she departed this earth. A gift for her heart to hear from her beloved grandchildren in her final hours. To know that she was loved and valued and not forgotten even in our separation. I wish I could have given her more. I wish I could have been closer. I wish I could have been there to hold her hand. But since I couldn't be I am grateful for the opportunity we were given to connect one last time.

(Grandma with Sydaleigh in December 2006)

This is how I have always remembered my grandma, since I was a little girl. She wore her house slippers, over her panty hose with slacks. She's always had white hair, every since I can remember, and it was always permed and styled. Her house always had a recliner or two for her and my grandpa and was filled with delicate little knick knacks on all her shelves and cabinets. Everything was always immaculately clean, the beds always made, nothing out of place.

She was married to my grandpa for over 60 years. My mind can scarcely take in the length of that commitment. Together for so long. So much history. My grandpa did not cope well these last few years seeing his beloved bride decline in health. I can't imagine his sorrow and sense of loss....it must be immense. I hope I am as fortunate as these two to see my marriage span over six decades.

(Our trip to MI in July 2008 to see the family and introduce everyone to the newest little member, Marvelly. There's me and Jordan on the far right. Isaak behind. My Aunt Sandy and the girls next to him. My grandma and grandpa on the left. And my dad and cousin Jason in front on the left. This was the last time I would see my grandma.)

The last few years of my grandma's life were very hard on her, and my dad, as he carried the burden of her ailing mind and body squarely on his shoulders. He sought to love her well and he took care of her with selfless sacrifice and was by her side until the very end. He has been a beautiful and convicting example of love and sacrifice to me in his care for his mother.

She loved to bake and cook. We always went over to their house on holidays and sure enough there would be jello present regardless of the holiday. And chocolate milk. When I cooked my first turkey here in Burkina two years ago I called my mom for directions and she gave me my grandma Howell's recipe, herself having used it for the past twenty some years as well. Me and my brothers used to have sleep-overs at her house growing up and she taught us how to play Skip-bo and Uno and other random card games. We always played cards. We would also play pool as they had a big pool table set up in their basement. I can still remember walking down the steep steps into their basement and smelling the unique smell of their house. Driving in their car to Wendy's to eat lunch. Or Big Boy's for dinner.

Lots of memories together. It's sad knowing there won't be any more.

I will cherish those memories now, and share them with my children who will not grow up knowing her. But I am so very thankful that I have pictures and fond memories to pass on.

She will not be forgotten. And I look forward to the day when I can see her restored and well in Heaven.....

Grief and goodness

The past few days have been heavy with grief and goodness....

Thursday afternoon a dear friendship of mine hit the rocks and we came to the conclusion that it was in our best interest to put the brakes on our friendship and take a step away from each other during this time in our lives. It's hard when you have so much shared history with a friend, to then see that relationship stall out is not easy. And it fills me with sadness, even if I know it's for the best right now.

Relationships ebb and flow. It's hard work to maintain relationships. It's hard work-to love others well. But one thing I have taken away from this experience is that relationships need work and loving isn't easy. And we must put in the effort to invest in other people's lives, or relationships will falter.

I want to get to the end of my life and have loved well. That motivates me. To invest in others. To take the time to pour into a person's life. To be available to meet the needs, however great or small, of the people the Lord has placed in my path. People are what matter. Because people matter to God. We're who He came to save. We are who He created to love, and be loved by in return. And I want to love well on His behalf...even if it's hard and painful and requires risk and being vulnerable. Even it's it's not reciprocated. Even if I'm standing all alone in my efforts. He beckons us to love others on His behalf....even if it leads to grief and pain. He beckons us to love anyways.

Then late Thursday evening I received a phone call from my dad informing me that my grandma had taken a turn for the worse and likely had but a few days left to live.

It is unspeakably hard knowing that I am so far away from family when a crisis and need arises. To know that my family is suffering and I am 5000 miles away from them and can not be there to comfort them in person. My dad has carried the burden of my grandma's sickness on his shoulders for the past few years, fighting for her health and well being, doing everything in his power to see her taken care of well...even in the face of extreme resistance. He has loved her well. In her final days he has been by her side, fighting for her as she fights to hold on a little bit longer. It is never easy to say goodbye to someone, even when you know they are suffering and death would be a welcome relief for their body. It is not easy to say goodbye to someone you have known your entire life. I don't have much experience with death. I have been spared for most of my life from the bitterness of this painful reality. But I have certainly learned a lot about love watching my dad selflessly love his mother and sacrifice so much these past few years on her behalf.

The past few days have been filled with grief, knowing the end is in sight for my grandma and that my family is suffering and filled with sorrow. Praying Jesus is present and His peace would wash over them right now.

But even in the midst of the grief of that day, Friday morning dawned and I saw the goodness of the Lord displayed in such remarkable ways. We saw His care lavished upon us. He met every need and answered much needed prayers, especially concerning Steven and his medical needs. He opened doors at just the right time through unlikely people and even when we were at our wit's end and thought we were out of options in seeking answers and getting help for our son, the Lord came through in BIG big ways that just left us floored and in awe over His goodness and care for us. His provision is unmatched. His timing is always good and perfect. "Weeping may stay for the night but rejoicing comes in the morning."-Ps.30:5b

And we praise Him for he is good! And surprising. And delights in helping us. Even in the midst of sorrow, may we always remember that He is present, and He is good, and will meet every need! "They tell of the power of your awesome works- and I will proclaim your great deeds. They celebrate your abundant goodness and joyfully sing of your righteousness."-Ps. 145:6-7

Today

Today was one of those days.

One of those days that had me and Isaak looking at each other wondering who replaced our kids with demon spawn versions of themselves.

It was so weird.

I blame it on, oh I don't know...the rain maybe. Or maybe kids just act like this sometimes. I'm going with the second one.

My kids act like this sometimes. Usually, it's just not all of them at once. But today, today was weird.

Today was filled with the most spontaneous eruptions. At one point, during dinner, me and Isaak had to ask one of the girls to leave the table to compose herself, and as soon as she was around the corner we started laughing. The whole day was like that. The kids, one after the other would spontaneously erupt and me and Isaak would just look at each other and shake our heads in utter bewilderment and then just laugh.

Sometimes, you just have to laugh. I'm glad to have a husband that I can laugh with when our kids are acting like a bunch of crazies.

I am happy that we have made it to a point where we can laugh instead of crumble. That we have made it through the fog of the last three months stronger than before we started. More at ease. These past few months after bringing Steven home have been a time of huge adjustments for our family. There was not a lot of laughter between me and Isaak for a while. It was mostly filled with tears. Tears from being completely overwhelmed and out of our element. Tears from exhaustion. Tears from seeing our kids struggle with the changes. Tears from our own inadequacy.

But, we've made it through the fog. And instead of crying we can laugh again. We know who we are again. We know who our family is. Somedays are still really hard, like today. But in the midst of the crazy there was laughter. And absolute peace. I thank God today for the laughter. For the spontaneity. For His peace that perfectly reigned even in the chaos. For the rain that filled my yard with mud so my kids could play outside getting filthy. I am thankful today for our leftovers from last nights meal so I didn't have to cook. I am thankful for our impromptu Hot Wheels race in the dining room. For building train tracks. For chasing. For the discipline to be consistent in our parenting even if it's hard. For seeing me and Isaak work as a team.

Today I am thankful that even in the midst of the kids crazy cringe worthy behavior at times...there was laughter, and joy, and peace.

We are making it. In Him we have victory to overcome. We can do hard things....hallelujah through His strength we can do hard things, and thrive while we do them.

Burkina beauty

It was a quiet celebration today.

This 4th of July, we did not celebrate with fireworks or sparklers. We did not gather with friends and have a cook out. We did not eat apple pie and hot dogs or watch baseball. I did not bake my traditional American flag cake.

We did not do anything typically American today to celebrate our Independence.

It was a quiet celebration today.

Today, on Isaak's "day" off (he is working tonight at the Embassy for more of a political party centered around our 4th).....

we chose to drive out to Yako. We drove north and took in the beauty of Burkina during rainy season. We soaked up the beauty of the bush in her lush shades of green. We drove through new filled rivers that used to be roads. Be bought bananas through our window and ate the perfectly ripe fruit from Ghana. I looked out the window and reveled in the freedom and glory we discovered when we chose to follow Christ no matter the cost.

And then we arrived at Les Ailes des Refuge. We went back to the orphanage for the first time since bringing Steven home over two months ago. We visited our dear friends, and Steven was able to return and reconnect with everyone, including his closest friend Guelil. We have talked a lot about when or if we would bring Steven back to Yako to see everyone. We wanted to proceed with great caution for him, as well as the other children and how they would fare seeing him again. We talked to Steven the past couple of days and tried to explain that we were going to go see Mike and Amy and Guelil and the tantes. And he was excited. But then this morning he shook his little finger and said "no", he did not want to go. He was nervous. I can't even fathom all the things that he was thinking leading up to going there. But as soon as he arrived he ran straight to Amy and Becca, giving them giant hugs. He was not interested in talking to his tantes, or even his friends at first....but after just a few minutes he seemed to find his familiar comfort and ran off playing with his best bud. And when it was time to go home he left in peace, knowing that he was no longer staying at the orphanage....but that his home was now with us.

It was a quiet celebration today.

This year the extent of our celebration of freedom came in the form of simply living in the land away from our home country that the Lord has called us. It was the recognition of what it means when Christ says, "whoever finds their life will lose it, and whoever loses their life for my sake will find it," and seeing the freedom that the Lord opened up to us when we embraced that truth. And it came in the form of a little boy returning to his orphanage no longer an orphan. He was able to leave, no longer carrying the yoke of rejection and denial, but having found freedom in the form of a forever family.

Our celebration of freedom, true freedom, was hard fought, by all involved. It did not come without great loses and monumental sacrifices. It was fought by a little boy, who battled for his life and refused to give up, because he had an incredible will to survive. It was fought by his family, in the battle that played out to simply follow God to Burkina, and then to bring him home once who God led us here. A family that warred on his behalf, who refused to give up and quit, so that he might come to experience the kind of freedom you can only find in love. This year, the extent of our celebrating came in the form of a prayer offered over dinner to bless our country, to help her people live in ways that glorify God, and that as a nation we would be a people who would always fight for justice and freedom for all.

Today, I witnessed a beautifully subtle aspect of the freedom that we fought for, that I helped fight for, that my children fought for...something that I may have overlooked if our day had been drowned out with louder more distracting things. Sometimes, it's good to strip holidays down. To make them bare. To not let the noise in. To drown out the commotion. And focus on the subtle. To paid heed to the finer details.

There is beauty in that.

It was a quiet celebration today....but we celebrated nonetheless.

Building forts

In case me and Isaak had any big ideas to actually use our couches this summer, the kids had other plans in mind.....

like building awesome forts.

Childhood.
Making memories.
Having fun.