The Return

Sometimes things don't work out the way we plan.  Actually, that happens a lot of the time, and in those moments we have to trust that God will still take care of us and show us what to do.   

This is one of those times.

We have decided to leave Lake Atitlan and move back to Antigua.  

This decision didn't come easily for us-- we had a lot of dreams for what we hoped to accomplish with God at the lake.  We went back to Canada and told everyone we saw about our work and ministry of prayer.  We made display boards that were covered in pictures of blue water and colorful Mayan handicrafts.  It was epic.  We looked like really cool rural missionaries.  We were the kind of people I would have wanted to be when I was young.  

Now let me, Shawn, speak for only myself.  Dave is that epic missionary.  He deserves to have a book written about his ministry and devotion to prayer.  He's amazing. I am different than he is though, and my giftings and personality didn't mesh as well with the situation.  

The isolation was getting to me.  I was scared of the street dogs and didn't have many friends.  It was to the point that I was hardly willing to leave the house and I felt strangled by any unsolicited visitors that came to the house.  I was drowning in loneliness to the point of not wanting to be around people at all (as if that makes sense). 

 I wanted to be more like Dave.  Able to cope.  Thriving in the face of challenge.  But I couldn't.  

I prayed.  I cried.  I journaled, and wrote a novel, invited people over, and even forced myself to walk to the market when I was scared.  I wrote messages to myself on the white-board that said, "If you didn't leave today, you were a success".  I was burnt out.  I was unhappy and unaffective. 

While we were in Canada, I was a different person.  I was brave and vibrant and excited about life.  I stood in the middle of our apartment (that my parents had kindly rented for us) and told myself, "You should enjoy this month here because you aren't going to be happy again for a long time."  And yet, for Dave's sake, I agreed to go back to Lake Atitlan.  

So how did we get to finally making a decision?  I don't know exactly, but somewhere along the way to re-adjusting to life in Guatemala after our time in Canada, I looked at Dave and said, "I can't adopt children here.  I can hardly take care of myself here.  If having a big family is truly our greatest goal in life, we have to leave the lake."  To which my godly husband said, "Let's pray."  

And after a couple weeks of praying... we agreed, it was time to leave Lake Atitlan and build a more sustainable life in Antigua.  Dave could continue the prayer ministry as usual, just in a new location, and I could raise Z (and our future kids) in a situation that would afford me a community and support.

Four days after making that decision we found out we had only six days to complete our permanent residency application (or be stuck waiting four years more!)... we rushed to Guatemala City and miraculously were able to apply in-time!  We could feel God guiding us and advocating our cause.  In the same week we also found a house that will be perfect for our soon-to-be-growing family, and found a new church that welcomed us with open arms and powerful prayer support.  

... and that's my story.  Sometimes it doesn't work out the way we think it will, or the way we say it will or even how we print 700 brochures to explain how it will.  Life is messier than that, and sometimes it takes a bit too long for true feelings and needs to be addressed and discussed.  But in the end, God is still good, still in sovereign, still loving.  And I know that He goes with me.    

I am so thankful.

The front of our house (Zane with the Realtor)

The courtyard

Ashley showing off the kitchen-- a real sink????

The bathroom-- with a tub!  

Upstairs (two unfinished rooms and a patio up there)

Front door 

Front patio

View up the street 

The Quilting Club

The original concept for my newly-released novel, Under the Red Spotlight, was a story I wrote as a pre-teen.  The story was called, Lionheart, and followed a team of “Sundancers”, basically enslaved acrobat teams, to perform in high-stakes competition for the glory of their owners.  The main character was a teenage girl named Aurora and her boyfriend/acrobatic partner Lance, along with their other teammate, Trent.  Aurora’s ultimate victory?  Finding freedom and having a baby. 

For any of you who have read Red Spotlight—doesn’t this sound familiar? 

   

I was fourteen when I fell in love with writing.  I was home-schooled and boy-crazy, not a very compatible combination, since the only boy around most of the time was my little brother.  Writing about romance was the closest I could come to experiencing the real thing.  After the success of my debut story,  Zack, a story about a teenager stranded on a desert island with her boyfriend (a real page-turner, you can be sure), my little sister and her quilting club requested that I write more stories for them, so I wrote Lionheart.

Oh, and yes, you read that right, my little sister and her quilting club... Remember, we were home-schooled. 

The week I finished writing Lionheart, I waited impatiently each week for all the quilters to assemble.  It took three quilting club meetings to read the entire 18,890 word tale of Aurora and her team.  My sister and her cohorts loved it.  I had them write comments on the back page of the manuscript, y’know, so I could use them as endorsements on the next novel.    

“I read your story it made me almost cry I felt as I was there It was the BEST STORY EVER!!  (I hope there’s 90,000,000 and a lot more storys).”  -- Saralyn

Comments like these spurred my young heart on to write more stories, including a sequel to Lionheart in which I killed most of the main characters and subsequently bankrupted the series of fans.  The quilters were not impressed with my calloused abuse of their hearts.  After that, all my stories had happy endings. 

Fast-forward about eleven years. 

I’d married the love of my life, given birth to a beautiful baby, and moved to Guatemala as a missionary... pretty much fulfilled all of good ol’ Aurora’s dreams.  I was in the middle of our seven months of language school and feeling a bit lost in the world of Spanish verbs and nouns and sentence structure.  Life in a different country felt hard and lonely, and I wanted to go home.  Then it struck me—it was time to write another story. 

And so, in the hours while my son napped every afternoon, I crafted a new, more realistic version of my younger-self’s attempt at a novel.  I found comfort in the familiarity of typing English words, and imagining characters and dialogue and storyline.  With each word I was transported back to the days of reading to my sister and her friends as they huddled over their little nine-patches.  Writing became my solace, my friend when I was lonely. 

Under the Red Spotlight was published in November, 2016, thirteen years after its original conception.  My next manuscript is well on its way, and will hopefully go to publication in 2017—and isn’t based on a childhood story this time.  I’m older now, and my writing has grown up with me... but no matter what changes, I will always treasure where this love of writing began. 

Thanks Quilting Club girls.  You inspire me still.   

Home

On Wednesday I will be going home again, for the second time since August.  

Last time I said the word "home", I meant I was going to Canada, the place where our families live and our passports were issued.  This time when I say "home" I mean that I'm going back to Guatemala, where we have a house full of our belongings and a room-full of kids waiting for us to teach Sunday school.  Both places feel like "home", and then again, neither does.  

I think I understand that verse in the Bible a little better now-- y'know, the one about how are citizenship is in Heaven with God.  I find comfort in the thought that there is a day coming when I will really be home, and it will feel like home, and I will stay there forever and ever.  

As our time at our Canadian home comes to a close I am overwhelmed by the love and generosity that has been poured out upon us.  It's been a time of adjustment welcoming new family members, and a time of enriching old relationships.  Our needs have been great, but greater still is the ability of God to provide in every way.  My heart is strengthened by the encouragement of our family and friends.  I am so thankful to have had this time in Canada.  So very, deeply, thankful.  

I face our imminent departure for our Guatemalan home with hope and even some eagerness.  Leaving our family in Canada is always hard for me, but I feel confident that God is with us, and we are walking in His will.  To walk in obedience to the One who loves me most, for me, must always be enough...even when it's hard to say goodbye.  

I'm looking forward to being in my own home again, in Guatemala, and waking to sunshine and avocados falling on the roof.  I'm excited to buy a papaya at the market and show the Sunday school kids the new puppets.  In not too long it will be time to decorate for Christmas, and in January we will start home-school grade 1 with Z!  So much to look forward to, and yet it's still hard to leave one home for the other.  

In all these bitter-sweet emotions I am struck with a deep gratefulness to God, that I have not one, but two places on this earth to call home.  Two places where I am know and loved.  I am blessed beyond measure.  

And so in the midst of the pain of another goodbye, I reach for my Father's hand, and He leads me home.

"All these people died still believing what God had promised them. They did not receive what was promised, but they saw it all from a distance and welcomed it. They agreed that they were foreigners and nomads here on earth. Obviously people who say such things are looking forward to a country they can call their own. If they had longed for the country they came from, they could have gone back. But they were looking for a better place, a heavenly homeland. That is why God is not ashamed to be called their God, for he has prepared a city for them."

 

      -Hebrews 11:13-16

      

From Hospitals to Wedding Bells Z

During our Discipleship Training School Outreach, Dave offered to carry a table for a mom who was struggling to wrangle the unwieldy piece of furniture home.  The road back to her house was long and he had plenty of time to get to know the mom, Ana, her common-law husband, Luis, and their two kids, Miguel and Damaris.  

After that day we visited them other times, including throwing a birthday party for little Miguel.  Sometime near the end of the DTS we found out that Luis was suffering from a cancerous tumor and the doctor was giving him a dark prognosis if they couldn't scrape together the money for surgery.  We prayed for them, but knew that God was looking for a greatest level of response.  

Dave shared the testimony of Luis and Ana's family during the DTS graduation and a generous couple named Mike and Gloriann came forward with an offer to pay for the entire surgery, as well as covering all the expenses for the family post-op when Luis couldn't work.  Dave sat in the hospital with Luis and Ana for days while Luis recovered from the intensive surgery, praying for complete healing.  A couple months later the doctors pronounced Luis as cancer-free.  

This miracle happened almost three years ago.  Since then we've had the joy of getting to know this family better through many visits and having Ana attend our literacy class in 2014.  In May they announced that they were considering getting married and invited us to come to the wedding.  

It took a couple months to get everything arranged, but this week while we were in Antigua we finally saw our good friends commit their lives to each other in marriage.  When we visited Ana at the beginning of the week to find out the plan for the wedding day, we asked her how she was feeling.  

She said, "I feel valued that he wants to marry me.  I feel safe because now if something happens to him I know that the kids and I will be taken care of.  I never thought this day would come."  

The day they married, Dave and I signed the papers in place of Ana's family, who weren't able to be there.  She said, "You are my family.  You have cared about me when no one else did.  Many good things have happened because you came into our lives."  She smiled all day.  

"I didn't think this would ever happen to me," Ana laughed as we walked through Antigua after eating dessert in a restaraunt.  "I will never forget this special night."  

Congratulations Luis and Ana

May God bless your new marriage.   

Z and Damaris walking to the wedding 

The ceremony (they will be having another church ceremony later)

Officially husband and Wife 

Signing in place of Ana's mom 

Luis' Mom signing 

The newlyweds! 

The three amigos 

Walking to the reception, hosted by a friend of Ana's 

Reception dinner, cow-heart soup with rice, tortillas and coffee

We took them for dessert/pizza in Antigua afterwards.  It was the first time they'd eaten in a real restaurant.  

No leftovers here!  

Enjoying a walk through Central Park 

Luis' side of the family

53 Days and Counting...

We countdown to a lot of things in our family.  We countdown to birthdays, Christmas, going to Antigua—and this time, Canada! 

The last time we were in Canada was for Christmas 2014.  That feels like a million years ago, especially considering everything that has changed.  We’ve moved to Lake Atitlan (which is completely different than living in Antigua!), my sister gave birth to her second child, and my brother is about to get married.  We’ve missed hundreds of days of normal life and all the laughter, and conversation, and fun that could have been had together.  We’ve chosen to say yes to God’s call, and the cost of that decision has been high.  Often painfully high.  

We leave in 50something days to spend two months with our precious families and friends in Canada.  The preparations are well underway, including buying gifts, scheduling to visit churches, and hiring a photographer to take some whole-family photos.  I couldn’t be more excited about this trip... and thankful to the God that has made it possible by resolving our residency paperwork in time, and inspiring someone close to us to pay for our flights.  God is so faithful to me in my weakness and homesickness. 

As I’ve been preparing our ministry updates, I’m amazed to see how God has provided for us.  We didn’t have the money to do everything we did in the past two years, and yet God figured it out every time.  We’ve been lonely and discouraged, and He sent us friends to visit and encouraged our hearts with His Spirit.  We’ve been sick, and tired, and hurt, and He’s picked us up and given us strength. 

He’s been faithful.  So very, very faithful. 

In the past two years we’ve seen breakthroughs in both our personal life and our ministry.  We’ve seen healings, a salvation, spiritual growth in the kids in San Pablo and in Z. We've learned about spiritual warfare in both the classic "casting out demons" sense, and in the prayerful rejection of depression, and discouragement.  Prayer is no longer an optional activity, it's a life-source for survival. It's been an amazing two years, it really has.  

As I reflect on my life away from Canada I realize that perhaps it is I who have changed... and I'm thankful for a God who holds my hand and guides me in the way I should go.  It's not the easy way to go, but it's the right way and I am growing and changing and learning more about His loving character every day.  The crazy thing is that I'm sure the same thing is happening to my family member too-- we have so much catching up to do!    

So as we get down into the 40's, and then the 30's, and eventually to the days of actually packing suitcases and driving to the airport... I fix my eyes not on the sadness of missed days and "lost" time, instead I remind myself of the God who loves me enough to bring me to Guatemala-- and then help me get home again for a glorious two months as a family.  

One of the ways God has provided for us is by sending friends to visit-- like the Snyders (Canadians!) in early June.  The Snyders were our leaders during our DTS in 2013. 

Z and Eli eating lunch together.   

Z and Eli found some more friends to come over and watch "Donut Man".  

The fair came to town while they were visiting.  

It was so great to spend time with friends!  

Desmayarse

On Monday morning we packed a bag of toys, a water bottle and a grocery shopping list, and headed to the office of a local doctor.  For the past five+ years there have been four lumps growing on my scalp, and they had finally become big enough as to need removal.  The doctor had told me it would be an easy surgery under local anesthetic, and I could walk myself home afterwards.  I decided I’d bring the family anyway, but we planned to do the grocery shopping on the way home so as to make “good use” of the walk to town. 

We arrived at the office on-time and were told that the doctor would not be there for another half an hour.  Of course.  How silly of us. 

When everything was finally ready and I was ushered into the room they told me that Dave couldn’t come in with me.  He had to stay in the waiting room where a nurse had turned on an episode of “Paw Patrol” for Z to watch.  No big deal.  I put in my earbuds and relaxed in the chair.  Cool as a cucumber. 

“You’ve given birth without drugs,” I told myself, “You’ve totally got this.  You are superwoman.” 

And then, he poked me with the first needle of anesthetic. 

It hurt about 50x more than I expected it to, and instantly I felt woozy.  My vision started to blacken and I knew I was close to passing out... I started panicking.  What was the word for “to faint” in Spanish?  I couldn’t remember it!  I was already passing out when I said, in English, “I’m going to faint”. 

The last thing I remember is the doctor saying, “Que manda?”. (“What did you say?” )

When I regained consciousness, the nurse was ushering Dave into the room and he sat in a chair in front of me, holding my hand and talking to me in English.  We talked about everything—except the tugging sensation in my head as the doctor removed the mass from my skin.  He had to add anesthetic for each lump, and each time I almost passed out again. 

The last lump was the smallest, but it gave the doctor the most trouble.  He had me lay down on the table, which was good because if he hadn’t, I surely would have lost consciousness again.  He worked for at least fifteen minutes trying to dig the lump out of my skin.  The nurse seemed confused by what she was supposed to be doing and kept leaving the room. 

At one point the doctor made a mistake and said, “Uh-oh, disculpe!”  (Uh-oh, my bad)

Dave and I almost started laughing.  Two words you never want to hear a doctor say when he’s operating on your head:  Uh-oh. 

In the end though, he stitched me up and we were sent home.  The shopping trip was forgotten as I stumbled through the streets and finally made it home.  Dave brought the computer in the bedroom so I could watch movies all afternoon and even made me a lasagne for dinner (my favorite!). 

It’s been a long, somewhat difficult recovery week, but surprisingly the feeling that I’m left with is thankfulness.  I was able to get the medical help I needed to remove painful lumps from my head.  Many people in Guatemala (and globally) have to suffer through sickness without any way to get the medical intervention they need.  I am thankful to God for His provision in not only health care, but also for giving me a kind husband to walk with me every step of the way.

Oh, and I also learned to say “to faint”.  Look at my vocabulary growing!  J 

 

Resting at home 

An Answer to Prayer

    In July, 2014 we rode a bus to Jocotenango, a neighborhood about half an hour from where we lived at the YWAM base in Antigua.  We were going to visit our lawyer and find out what paperwork we would need for our temporary residency application.  We were armed with our passports, birth certificates, and Eloisa our Spanish teacher-- just in case we didn't understand what was being said to us.

   We had been in Guatemala less than a year, and had spent most of that time in language school.  We had little understanding of the journey we were embarking on.  All we knew was that we wanted to adopt, and this was the first step.

    Immediately, even in that very first meeting, we realized it wasn't going to be as simple as just handing a lawyer our passports.  We began making trips to Guatemala City every couple weeks; employing every form of transportation including Tuctucs, taxis, chicken busses and walking in order to get around between the immigration office, police offices, lawyer offices (Guatemalan's love their "official stamps"!) and the Canadian embassy.  It was taxing on our finances, patience, sanity, and language ability... but finally on May 9, 2015, the immigration office accepted our papers and we were officially "in-process".

    We and/or our lawyer returned to the immigration office in Guatemala City every single week for a full year.  During that time we made our move to the lake-- effectively adding four hours each way to our travel time.  On one of our visits I nicknamed the immigration office the "unhappiest place on earth".  Each time we'd arrive through the doors and stride across the white tile floor with great expectations... only to be shuffled through the gauntlet of desks and sent away empty-handed.

     Friends and supporters prayed for us.  We prayed for ourselves.  A year of "processing" came and went, and then suddenly, it happened.  The same woman who'd rejected us so many times finally took our papers and wrote something different on them.  She typed a couple magic keys on her idling computer-- and we were approved.

     Of course the process from there to having stamped passports in hand was not simple, and there was more running around to pay bills and get lawyers to sign documents... but we knew we'd already been approved.  The battle was won.  On May 16, 2016, almost two full years after starting this process (and being promised it would take no more than three months-- a laughable statement in the developing world)... we are now temporary residents of Guatemala!!!

    Thank you to everyone who has prayed with us through this time!  Only two years as temporary residents and then we can apply for permanent... and adoption!