Sometimes I wish that I could get out of the house more. I wish I could pour more time into relationships, practice my Swahili, learn more about the culture, do something with my skillsets that helps people outside my house, or know more about what's happening at the hospital. Being a full-time homeschooling mom sometimes feels like I live in a cave. Have I seen the light of day today? Yes, off in the distance, way over there, if I try hard enough, I can see the light.
Sometimes I imagine that I wouldn't be functioning with half a brain if I could switch things up a bit. If I could think past the inane conversations about finishing the ugali on their plate, or the frustrating moments of reviewing for the thousandth time what the second step of long division is, or the exhausting exercise of extending grace to my child who took the precious Scotch tape outside to tape cardboard with his friends even though he knows we can't get more of that tape in Kenya... If I could think past all of that, maybe I could be more productive or fruitful or lifegiving.
Despite the long, long hours of days on the homefront, I am deeply committed to my role as the anchor of the family. I know how important it is to be home with the boys, to pour into them, to be a rock for them, to be their safe space and comforter and encourager. I know they are benefiting greatly from my constant presence (which I remind myself of in the moments I want to run away and be alone for even five minutes). I know there is much good coming from the fact that I am a full-time homeschooling mom.
But sometimes I just wish I could get out of the house more and do other things.
Since that's not possible, I find it particularly sweet when the Lord uses my children to bless me and teach me. And isn't it just like Jesus to use a weak and small and less-learned child to remind me of great truths or show me the way forward? And what a mercy that God uses the people around me the most, even though they're children, to grow me when life is so nuts that I don't have time to read Scripture or pray regularly (true confessions).
Here are some gold nuggets from recent moments with my boys...
After attending a building dedication at the hospital, which was hot and long (and boring for the kids who had never been to an event like this before), I left early with the boys after only sitting there for 2 hours. While walking home, I explained to them why this was an important event and why it was good for us to be there. I also explained why it takes the better part of a day to dedicate a building, to which Caleb replied with great insight, "Kenyans are way more patient than Americans." And he is right. We ended up having a great conversation about some of the ways Kenyan culture and American culture show honor and respect differently, and why I appreciate how Kenyan culture does it. It was a beautiful reminder of how we can learn from each other if we take the time to participate in each other's cultures.
Learning about other places and cultures around the world is really important to our family, even when the news is hard to swallow. As the war in Ukraine continues, we've had several conversations with our boys about what's happening and why it breaks our hearts. One day Asa blurted out, "War is the worst thing ever! Well, except for sin." And he is right. We proceeded to talk about sin and the corruption of our hearts and how that's directly connected to what's happening in Ukraine and Russia right now. It was a powerful reminder of the severe significance of our sin - why it's so serious and why it matters, and therefore why Jesus' love and sacrifice is also so important. Sin has led to every war ever. But Christ came to deal with sin, to rescue us from sin, to give the hope of abolishing sin forever. That is really good news, and my 6-year old helped me remember that.
Speaking of current world events, Kai is more faithful than any of us to pray persistently for what's happening around the world. When we pray at meals, he will pray for God "to stop the riffraff in Afghanistan and help the people there" and "to stop the war in Ukraine" and "to please stop the coronavirus forever." That kid remembers what needs prayer, and he is faithful to it. He believes that prayer matters, that it helps people, and that God hears and answers. And he is right.
Kai is also our kid with big questions burning in his heart. A couple weeks ago he wanted to know why God would create Adam and Eve if He knew they were going to sin anyway. Whew, good question. We had a long conversation about that and it was good to think deep thoughts together and to rest in God's insane love for us even though He knew we would break His heart with our sin.
Most recently, Caleb comforted me in a unexpected but powerful way. I was crying after hearing about a death in the family and was feeling terrible for filling the room with my tears yet again (since I had shed many tears in previous weeks due to hearing of several deaths in a row). Caleb hugged me and I apologized for being so sad. His reply: "It's okay, Mom. You're grieving. It's okay to be sad." And he is right. My child gave me permission to cry as much as I needed, and I felt infinitely more free and light because of it.
Moments like these make me forever thankful that I am a full-time homeschooling mom. These moments are birthed out of the immense amount of time I spend with our kids. I will never deny the desire to get out of the house more, or to have more adult conversation throughout the week, or to find ways to use my God-given gifts that remain mostly dormant in this season of life, but I will also never deny how much the Lord uses the little munchkins in my care to teach me and mold me and stretch me in transformative ways.
This life in Kenya has made that happen. I am convinced that part of our call to missions was a call to listen and learn from my children. I hope and pray I do it well.
