There is no time in my life where the phrase, “in acceptance there is peace” has more truth and depth. Recently I have been walking through some past traumas and for some reason am surprised to find relief and freedom in the voicing and acknowledging of the fact.

In John 16, Jesus is laying out a list of warnings to his trusted compadres,  then in verse 12 he says, “I have much more to say to you, more than you can bear.” We find the disciples confused and wondering about the time frame and where is he going. And then halfway through in verse 19 Jesus starts explaining things more clearly ending with, “I have told you these things, so that in me you may have peace, In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world.”

Part of me is so very thankful for not knowing what lies ahead, I think it is mercy. If we had known what Covid would do to our psyche’s, if we knew the fear we would feel about getting sick or the pain of watching loved ones die would we be any better prepared? Possibly. And I think that is why in the beginning Jesus mentions sending the Holy Spirit and then in the closing remark he tells us, ‘sure, you will experience pain and sorrow and heartache…but if you stick with me, I will take care of it all’.

As we await the students to return and our future (I am done here in July) to unfold we rest well at night knowing the truth that we have the Holy Spirit to guide us and promise of Jesus sorting it all out in the end. And because of these things—we have peace (Just as he promised in earlier in chapter 14:27).

Whatever situation you are in may you be able to accept it and then fall back in the comfortable embrace of our Jesus. – Kevin

During our years in Mozambique, we lost six dogs to death. Old age, poison, tick bite fever, etc. We had to give six dogs away, because we went on furlough twice and were away for a year each time. We lost lots of cats, some because the neighbors next to our first house were apparently killing and eating them (these are folks who are so poor they also ate rats), and others were killed by various wild things near our other house. Anyway, it was a trauma zone of pet loss over our two terms there.

When we moved to Namibia, I told Kevin that I wanted a Great Dane puppy, to be companion to the elderly Great Dane who lived at the house and acted as superb crime deterrent in our crime-prone suburb. There were none to be found anywhere in Namibia, until God dropped Pepper in our laps on the very day we officially moved into our house. I told Kevin “I AM KEEPING THIS DOG.”

When we told Charlie we were moving from Moz to Namibia, he was quite upset, so foolish mommy promised him a kitten. Come Christmas, it was time to deliver and there was none to be found! But on Christmas eve, we checked online one more time and there he was – the male Siamese kitten we’d been hoping for, at the SPCA. He was hastily collected and when Charlie opened the box on Christmas morning, his expression was priceless. Percy the cat sat through two years of homeschooling on Charlie’s lap, and slept with him every night. They were inseparable.

After our elderly Great Dane died, we found a companion dog for Pepper at the SPCA, a border collie mix who adores her and can’t stand to be separated from her. I think Georgie is the sweetest dog I have ever had and is very eager to please.

Anyway, we were sad to be parted from them all for a full year during furlough, and when the decision was made to move to Kenya for a year, I must confess that many tears were shed. We didn’t feel the dogs’ situation was ideal, and I felt guilty about that too. Imagine our surprise when someone in Namibia offered to pay a significant portion of the cost of bringing them to Kenya. What had seemed impossible was suddenly an option. We started a GoFundMe to cover the rest, and people immediately jumped in to help. Suddenly, it was a go. Charlie and I kept looking at each other in disbelief. As a missionary, you relinquish certain “rights,” including the right to take your things (and pets) with you. You release a lot. Imagine our delight at having them handed back to us!

The process of bringing them was fraught with issues, including Pepper needing a mircrochip and her being slightly too big to fit in the biggest crate that the airplane door would take. We decided she would be a little cramped. The animals could not travel if they’d had a rabies injection less than 6 months before, and thankfully Kevin had taken them in just before he left Namibia last September. Those vaccines would expire on September 14th, leaving them unable to travel, so we had a deadline!

Georgie dog, Pepper’s companion, completely freaked out when he was tested in the crate, and failed his exam at the state vet because he was too upset. He was taken back again later in the day without the crate and passed. Then the airline said the cat couldn’t come on the same flight with the dogs, thinking it would upset him. Little did they know that Percy runs the house and the dogs. Finally they relented. The caretakers of the dogs in Namibia, the vet (who helped for free) and the agent all worked together to get everything ready, and the agent took them to the airport hours early to work with Georgie to calm him into the crate . She had miraculous success.

In Kenya, we had to get paperwork from a vet who applied to the government for our permits, which were slightly delayed. We hired an agent, who had to work with the state vet at the last minute when a signature was missing and he said that although the animals were already enroute, we could not claim them. The agent sorted it out.

As we drove to the airport, I was in tears, sure that something else would go wrong. God spoke to me, telling me that He had arranged all of it and to “get a grip” or something like that. We came early, against the agent’s advice on timing, hoping that the animals would not have to sit in their crates for hours being processed. And as we pulled into the airport, he called us: “Where are you? We are ready.”

After 13 hours in crates, the dogs burst out onto the pavement, greeting each other and greeting us and racing around. They were so happy. Percy, in his crate, purred and rubbed against the side, relaxed and recognizing our scent. None of them were traumatized, and as we arrived home they explored and jumped around and it was all joy.

Just a few hours later, we got word that Kevin’s dad was in the hospital and not expected to live. Kevin and I looked at each other and said, “that is why He brought them to us – He knew we needed them as we walk through this.” I think it is more for me and Charlie, who has found having his cat a great comfort. I take the dogs out two or three times a day for a walk and to see students, and it helps me get out of the house (I work alone at home), get exercise, and connect with the kids. It is wonderful to see the kids hugging giant Pepper and rubbing sweet Georgie’s face, and they run up calling their names and telling me how much they miss their pets left at home with their parents. The dogs have been great with the small and big kids, and are so calm and patient.

As Charlie and I watched the memorial service for Kevin’s dad this weekend on the computer, we sat on the floor with the animals piled around and on top of us, and it was comforting in a way we couldn’t express. We are grateful for the series of miracles, and it is easy to recognize God’s care for us, a reminder that He knew, and He knows, and He cares for us despite and through our painful circumstances.

Not too long ago we were traveling and came about 6 hours from someplace I lived for awhile when I was younger. Those of you who know me know that I have been a tumbling tumbleweed for much of my life and there is only one place left from my childhood where people I know still live. I’ll be visiting there soon. Anyway, I came out of the hotel last week in the morning and the smell of the air, the color of the sky, the feel of the breeze . . . it brought so many memories rushing back from a period in my life that I left behind. My breath caught in my throat and a big smile spread across my face. I closed my eyes, feeling for a moment that I belonged somewhere.

Rootless is a theme that seems to keep popping up these days. My children feel rootless and even though I mostly grew up in the USA I can identify a little. For them, it is disorienting and confusing. For me, just a sadness mixed with gratefulness for the variety of experiences. This year has been especially fraught, as I moved from place to place for four months, finally upending our plans because I had to unpack my suitcase somewhere. As we prepared to return to Namibia, plans changed and I will be away from “home” in Namibia for yet another year.

It’s ok, really. My head tells my heart this over and over. And it is true. But the desire to be at home, to fold your own towels and open your own closet of clothes, to look out on a familiar view, it peeps around the edges now and then. I haven’t decided yet how to pop that one in the head to keep it at bay. I suspect that it cannot be kept off, not without some lying to myself. Instead, I try to breathe through it, ask the Father to smooth the ragged edges, make my home with Him rather. He does not change, and that reality is better than feeling at home in a house. I am always at home with Him, and He does not change even while my location does. – C

Trappist monk Thomas Merton wrote,  

“Do not depend on the hope of results. When you are doing the sort of work you have taken on, essentially an apostolic work, you may have to face the fact that your work will be apparently worthless and even achieve no result at all, if not perhaps results opposite to what you expect. 

… The big results are not in your hands or mine.… All the good that you will do will not come from you but from the fact that you have allowed yourself, in the obedience of faith, to be used by God’s love.” 

As long-term missionaries, this is a truth that is still painful, yet at the same time liberating. When slogging along for months with difficulties and obstacles, it is easy to think we have somehow failed. Conversely, when things are going well, it is quite tempting to attribute success to our talents and foresight. To get, as the USA midwesterners would say, “The big head.”

Either one is incredibly dangerous. To emerge from a failure sure that “If I had only,” then the results would have been different is to pile a burden that can crush the soul. But to believe that my achievement is solely due to my inspired leadership . . . well, that leads me to a place that I should not go.

While we were in Mozambique, I spent weeks preparing for a ladies luncheon, meant to encourage local missionary ladies. It was one of the big events at the retreat conference led by an outside organization, and I made tablecloths, got a speaker, and spent hours collecting flowers and making arrangements. On the day, the room was a burst of color and as they walked in, the ladies appreciated me lavishly. Wow did I come down a couple of pegs as the lunch was brought in: beans and rice! Everyone grimaced, but ate it with good will. I had not checked the menu for the week, assuming that a special meal would accompany our special luncheon, instead of the food that all of us ate many times a week at home.

Recently, God reminded me again that “it is God who works in you to will and to act on behalf of his good purpose . . . ” (Phil 2:13 exerpt). When he brings a task to mind, I thank him; when a great idea pops into my mind, I remember it is him who put it there. Or try to, anyway. Sometimes my pride gets its little claws into me and I don’t even want to dislodge it! He is so kind, to always let me try again . . . and again. . . -C

If you’re coming over here because you clicked from our newsletter, welcome to our blog. If you’d like to be on our newsletter list, please email us. Fair warning, we’re pretty bad about updating our blog, but it isn’t from lack of desire to inform. More, it comes from a doubt that we have anything interesting worth saying. We aren’t like those missionaries who have lots of pictures of cute kids, or airplanes, or crusades. We work at computers and telephones, mostly, especially when on furlough. Usually when you go on furlough, you stop work on the field, but we are continuing many of the duties of the field just because there is no one else to do them. Mostly, it’s the member care (vital) and AfriGO (which cannot be dropped). I don’t think you want to see a monthly photo of what I’ve put together for the magazine or website, really. 🙂 Occasionally we’ve got some good road trip photos, but not here in the USA. So, what can we share with you? Sometimes some good news – like our members got their work permits that we prayed for!!! Or sometimes an accomplishment, like a graduation or finishing exams. Or our thoughts on living in a foreign country which feels like home to us. But I don’t feel like writing about any of that today. It hurts my heart to be missing that home, where my dogs are right now, so instead I’m concentrating on our joy at a rare Christmas with family this year – and probably snow!! Our thankfulness at one more school holiday with Toby, before we leave him behind and return to that country. Our deep gratefulness at all God has provided for us, and the kind people He uses. -C

At this time of the year, I always feel like I ought to come up with some special spiritual message which has not occurred to any of the billions of people who have celebrated Christmas over the last hundreds of years. Right. Expectations are a bit too high. Instead, this year we find ourselves just kinda hanging on and trying to build a “new life” here in the USA, albeit a temporary one. Last month I cried “uncle” on the constant moving around and we settled in a bit early here in long-term housing. We received an incredibly warm welcome, but still there was that uneasiness over the first week as I struggled to feel comfortable in a new place. The unpacking of the clothes, settling of the bathroom drawers, buying of the groceries. The evident unhappiness of our younger son made it much more difficult as I tried to think of something for him to enjoy. He’ll start school next month and he’s not happy about that either. Really, all of life right now feels disjointed and it isn’t just us. All around us, anger is swirling at the political situation, covid is roaring forward, and we all wonder what the year ahead holds. Some are eagerly anticipating a vaccine and others sure that it spells doom. We are thankful for the care of family, whose love has not wavered for us, and even more especially for our Heavenly Father, whose presence with us is a constant, steady force. He who watches over us neither slumbers nor sleeps. Even so, come Lord Jesus. Come and be with us. We need you.

– C

It’s Graduation Day at
Rift Valley Academy!

Of course, none of the kids are there—the hall that should be filled with grinning graduates and weepy parents is empty today.  Instead, we sit in our living rooms all over the world (literally) and watch with tears and some disappointment.  Not in who the kids are, but in what they’ve lost.  The big senior trip they’ve been saving for as a class, the final dorm parties and long talks with friends about plans, the hugs goodbye and gifts exchanged.  Some of these friends they will never see again in this life because they live across the world.  

Maybe that sounds overly dramatic, but I promise you it is not. All that to say, please pray for these kids. They are moving on, and are doing so with admirable courage and grace. Attending RVA is a special experience which they will cherish, and we are grateful to the people who have parented and taught our son in a way that helped him see the Father more clearly.

Some of you have been praying for Toby for years, and with tears streaming down my face I thank you from the bottom of my heart.  He’s had to face things that are very hard, due to our ministry.  Some things we can’t even talk about.  He’s had malaria 9 times and was on crutches for months once because there was no doctor who could diagnose a simple ligament issue.  He’s said goodbye to friend after friend in our transient missionary community, and endured abuse or aggressive interest because of his skin color. 

He left home (Mozambique) at 14 to go to a school where he didn’t know anyone, and returned “home” at Christmas to a country (Namibia) he didn’t know. Through all this, he has persevered and become the amazing person he is today. 

As he moves on now, to go to a home country that he does not consider home, we covet your prayers for him again.  He goes forth with joy, but many an MK has stumbled in this transition.  

We know often these announcements are meant to prompt a gift for the graduate, but that’s not what this is.  God has provided wonderfully for Toby – the latest gift is an extra scholarship from his college to cover the cost of his expensive travel from Africa back to USA.  We are thankful!  But we do ask for your prayers for him especially over the next few months.  – Cami and Kevin

Ok, what? Kittens? Yup. Back at the beginning of lockdown, I looked in the face of my older teenager who had just had all his dear friends, and senior trips, ripped away from him, and my younger teen who was quietly fearful about the growing covid-19 threat, and felt my own pounding heart as we contemplated the unknowns here in Africa, and I thought “what we need here is some kittens.” Sweet little balls of fur that required nothing but cuddles and pets and dangling strings to make them cavort around. So I asked God for some kittens, and the next day two little terrified puffballs arrived for us to foster. Toby kept them in his warm bed at night, and spent patient hours sitting with them in the day. They, and the succeeding foster kittens, entertained us for hours and brought a lot of comic relief. People have told us we are somehow courageous for fostering kittens and giving them up to the folks who have come, one by one, to adopt a total of 7 little visitors by now. That’s silly. They’ve helped us to cope a bit better during these times. Do you feel the weight of these times? I do. I’ve broken down weeping as I watch the lives and jobs lost, the dreams crushed, the hatred thrown in all directions. The uncertainty weighs heavy. So, we thank God for the purring kitten rubbing against our noses, intent only on receiving our affection. Thanks, God.

For the last few months we have been concerned and praying for you all as you weather the effects and trauma of Covid-19, but now our hearts weep for the situation in America. To watch the anger, pain and injustice is simply horrible. Please know as we deal with our own crisis, yours are not far from our minds and hearts. For both we cry out to our Father for peace, wisdom and justice and mercy to rule.

Here in Namibia we are well. Strange times and still no one knows what will happen in the coming months or even years. There is a general feeling that ‘Africa has been spared’ which we are not sure of, but we can report herein Namibia the government has been proactive and wise. Unfortunately the case numbers of our neighbor, South Africa, are rising rapidly. Namibia’s airport was scheduled to open in July, with flights resuming, but if cases come across the border then things may stay shut.

We as a family are well. We were able to drive 4 hours south to a place called Sesriem where we camped in the quiet desert, watched the stars and climbed some massive dunes. It was 2 nights of beautiful quiet. Things are mostly open in this country, with use of masks and distancing.

We have sailed on this sea of uncertainty and fear over the last few months and as we have been able to return to some of our traditional roles and responsibilities I have been pleading with God to give me new wisdom and direction for our ministry here in Namibia (and Angola…AfriGO…possibly Botswana…). And over the last few days He has been very clear to me that I (we) must shine. Whatever light we can muster from our weak and possibly damaged faith, we need to let it out, speak to others, write, give, act and be all that Jesus is. This was such a relief to me as I have found myself emotionally drained, at times worried and so consumed by the troubles and challenges both near and far, I have been empty. And God knows….so He has relieved me and told me to shine—and relax. Trust. Obey. Rest in the overwhelming fact He is still God. – Kevin

The first two weeks of March, we were all distracted and distressed.  But then I found myself relaxed, busy with daily tasks and checking in on our people, able to focus on things that needed doing and sleeping well at night.  What happened?

It struck me a week or so ago, and I had to laugh out loud.  I’d slipped into “Mozambique Missionary Mode”.  You see, we frequently had “crises” during our years there.  A child would have malaria (or logistically worse, a parent).   Rebels would be operating somewhere near our town, or gangs would roam the streets at night with machetes.  Sometimes we’d hear gunshots.  Once, electricity went out in the whole north (more than 10 million people) for 6 weeks.  An underground cable would break and banks would be offline for a week.    Or, I’d have a personal health crisis, which happened more than I’d like to remember – a torn ACL, two sicknesses at once, crushing back pain, just to name a few.

Anyway, during each event we’d go into our crisis mode, checking in with each other and colleagues frequently.  We’d make sure the pantry was equipped.  We’d check the cars had gas.  We’d talk about what we’d do “If” something or other happened.  We got really good at it.  In fact, when we were in counseling in the USA in 2018, two different of our counselors told us that we were excellent at problem solving, but pretty terrible at dealing with the emotions left over from trauma.  We couldn’t argue – it was how we survived a lot of tough situations.

I found myself back there again recently.  Kevin and I began to problem solve, and we felt confident that we were ready to address this latest crisis.  Watching people in first world countries deal with this crisis has been hard – many of them have no experience with “public upheaval” like this, and yet many nations around the world have dealt with that in the past or deal with that in their present.  Many from my generation have never had their control taken from them in such a big way. 

But feeling sanctimonious about it is not the right way.  While I can be grateful for the ability to compartmentalize and keep working in the midst of it, God calls us to humbly enter into the lives of those around us. The fear, the criticisms, the false information and accusations swirling around, those losing their livelihoods and those who are actually dying from this.  Watching all of it and getting ready.  Doing what we can, and praying for wisdom.  God help us all.