“…Because I know whom I have believed, and am convinced that he is able to guard what I have entrusted to him until that day.”
2 Timothy 1:12
We made it. We are here in Rwanda. And by God’s good grace, we’ve already been invited in. Into people’s homes, lives, and even a small group. Grateful for this providence.
But as I sat down on a banana leaf bench on our first Thursday night at worship, I was weary. We had just spent a long beautiful day visiting a ministry two hours outside the city. It was a gift, but honestly, it had been a long two weeks. Car problems, a never-ending visa process, kids, and the major life adjustments that come with a move to Africa piled high on my plate.
A new friend sat down next to me asked how I was doing. For some reason, I didn’t say the usual “pretty good.” I was too exhausted to pretend, I guess. And I knew the more frequently I shared how I was feeling, the less it seemed to well up inside of me.
“Okay,” I sighed. She nodded understandably waiting for me to continue.
“It’s been a hard couple weeks, and I was talking with Darrell the other night and said, you know what, I would totally go home right now. I would gladly pack my bags and head back tomorrow. No problem.”
I paused. “I just want easy, and none of this is easy.”
“I understand,” she replied, and I knew she did. “We have all been there. No judgement.”
Ease. That is what my mind, body and soul was craving because nothing is easy right now. Not even buying milk. Things that used to be super simple, like driving a car, going to the grocery store, or chatting with a clerk behind the counter are no longer that.
I longed to sit on a comfortable couch in a home without bars on my windows. I wanted a dishwasher in the kitchen, a frozen lasagna in the freezer, and to know that when I wake up in the morning I will know where I am going, how to get there and how to pronounce it.
The next day this same sweet friend, whom I had known a matter of days, wrote me this and it was exactly what I needed to be hear:
“Transitioning into life in Sub-Saharan Africa is a huge mental stretch that you really cannot prepare for. You basically get here, go through shock and then the goodness and kindness of the Lord walks with you as you look for the bread, and milk, and vegetables and meat, and navigate the water and electricity shortages.
Slowly you will see beautiful things you have never seen before, and the sun shining through the clouds, and you will get God’s love in your heart for the people and their land and you will be transformed in a way that you never will have been in the U.S.
Good things are coming for you. Right now you are in the dark clouds and seeing the red dirt in your shoes. And tears are the only appropriate response. Welcome to Rwanda.”
Yes, yes, yes. One thousand percent.
My brand new friend gave me exactly what I needed: permission to not be okay. Permission to shed tears over having to go to three different places to get the meat, vegetables, and bread. Permission to dislike lukewarm showers and really, really long lines. Permission to want easy.
I was feeling bad complaining to my husband because truly there have been no major problems and God has been so very, very good and gracious to us here. I can literally list off 20 things right now where I have seen His hand these past five weeks, and here I am crying at the end of every day because—I’m not even sure why anymore.
But guess what? He knows adjusting is hard. He understands. And perhaps that is why He has gently and lovingly paved the way for us because He knows just how strenuous it is to be out of place, to be new, to be a foreigner in a strange land. He very much knows, not just because He is Creator of all—but because He was one too.
Selah.
I know He has good things in store for us here in Rwanda, because that is who He is. And now I know (thanks to a fellow sojourner) that I am seeing the dirt instead of the hills, and when that happens, tears are the only appropriate response. My gracious, kind Heavenly Father is totally okay with that.
Because soon enough He will wipe away the tears from our eyes and the sun will come out, and slowly, slowly, we will figure out how to do life here. One day at a time.
I thought I would have a lot of time on the road to write about our trip. I’m not sure what I was thinking.
My HANDS ARE FULL you guys. Jokes aside. In all kinds of different ways than they were before. And I feel the same way I did when my kids were all six and under, drowning with all the crazy chaotic stories to tell and zero time to tell them.
Most nights, I fall into bed exhausted and uninspired by the day’s events. Not that the day’s events aren’t eventful. By all means they are. They are perhaps, too eventful. And while sometimes the chaos inspires, it is also true that sometimes the chaos exhausts.
Right now, I’m in the “exhausting phase” hoping to one day make it back to the “inspiring” one.
However, I did want to let you know we survived Snowmageddon in Texas. Southern Texas. We were almost in Mexico you guys! There should not be snow there, there should not! And yet there was. And it became another opportunity to trust God, another opportunity to hold plans loosely. I didn’t think I needed anymore practice.
I know some of you were worried about us. And for good reason. It was precarious.
Most of the roads were fine the day we traveled, but one section of the road between Carlsbad, New Mexico and San Antonio, was covered in snow, and we saw at least 20 tractor trailers busted on the side of highway 10 from the previous snow and ice storm. We stopped at three different McDonalds that were not open. No power or no water, maybe both.
We almost ran out of gas because the gas stations didn’t have any. Thank the Lord, we found one that had gas with about 10 miles to E. After ten hours of driving, we finally arrived at the Airbnb we had rented to “weather out the storm” but it didn’t have power. So we slept in the RV, thankful for a generator that could run our lights and heat.
The next day, Darrell got a 24 hour stomach bug. L (Really, the miracle in all of it was nobody else got it—thank you Jesus 1000 times!!)
After two nights of on and off electricity, we had to switch houses because apparently there was a new guest coming in, although I found that extremely hard to believe as we drove through the snowy streets of San Antonio where so many were without power or water.
It is a strange feeling not knowing where you are going to sleep at night.
But another GRACE in it all, was when so many couldn’t or were hesitant to rent out their house because of the black outs, we found a lady who was willing. And it was a beautiful place. I walked in and just cried. It was a gift. It felt like home. We ended up having electricity the whole time, and were able to take baths and wash our clothes. We just had to boil our drinking water. 😉
So yes, we survived the hundred-year-snow-storm in Texas and the below freezing temperatures in Carlsbad, New Mexico. I slept in my puffer for three nights in a row and barely changed my clothes, but we all stayed warm at night in the RV. The kids also wore jackets to sleep a couple times, which, was not so unusual for Lee, since he pretty much lived in his snow pants and jacket in Tahoe, even INSIDE our duplex. I don’t think the kid likes being cold. Or he really likes jackets.
Once we finally got to the Airbnb that had electricity (consistently) I made ALL the kids shower.
As Lee stripped down, I realized he was wearing two-thirds of the shirts he owns. I’m not kidding. He pulled off five or six shirts!! Instead of taking the old one off each day he’d just add a new shirt on top! Easy-peasy. Get dressed? No problem, mom. I’ll just add it on top. 😉 What a kid. At least he stayed warm.
Now we are in Dallas, there is not a slush pile in sight, and it was 72 degrees today.
Glorious.
It’s almost like the whole thing was a bad dream.
And I realized yesterday when it was warm but the wind whipped off the table cloth, knocked over our chips, blew away our trash, and turned over a chair that there are lots of kinds of weather that are not good for RV life.
Wind.
Extreme Cold.
Extreme Heat.
Snow/ sleet/freezing rain.
Rain.
Any temperature under 60 degrees.
Basically, it has to be sunny, or partly sunny, and between 60-80 degrees for the RV life to live its best life.
So here’s to hoping for more of that. Fingers crossed. No tornadoes in the South East, okay? We’re coming for ya’ll next.
Guess what? I am writing to you from a couch. That’s right, a couch. In a living room. It is 9:30 p.m. and there is no sleeping husband by my elbow and my kids are not within 20 feet of me. Can we have a moment of silence?
Thank you Lord for your good gifts!!
That’s right. We are in a house! Thanks to some very kind and generous friends who have a little, (okay, awesome,) casita next to their home in Arizona. 🙂 We get to sleep in real beds, and there is a bath tub, AND my own washer and dryer to use! No more carting my laundry back and forth! Are two moments of silence two too many?
For less suffering in laundry, I think not.
So needless to say, I’m living the dream. I almost don’t even feel like writing about RV life because I am soaking all this goodness in. RV life? What is that? It’s a distant memory. Right now, I have a kitchen, a house, a bathroom all to myself. It’s almost too much you guys.
I’ll be honest though, I almost wasn’t looking forward to staying at our friend’s casita, because I was worried it will make getting back into the RV that much harder. Maybe it will, BUT you know what? It’s pretty awesome, and a break from tight quarters is definitely what the doctor ordered.
God knows.
I’ve been thinking about that a lot lately, how God gives us seasons. Seasons of work, and seasons of rest. Seasons of suffering and seasons of peace. Seasons of poverty and seasons of prosperity. Literally, seasons of light, and seasons of darkness, of warmth and coldness. And in that way, it helps us appreciate each of them. If we always lived in the warmth of the sunlight, without an overcast day, we wouldn’t realize how beautiful and wonderful the sun really is. And we would actually love those cool and rainy days, because they have a different kind of beauty.
And so as we come from a season of cramped space, sand, and driving our dirty clothes to a laundromat, we can bask in the goodness of a season that has the absence of it.
Times like these are the streams in the desert. The oasis in the wilderness. Like the one we visited last week in the middle of Joshua Tree National Park.
This is our Cottonwood Springs. A place of refreshment. A place to spread out and relax. A place to drink deep of couch-sitting, bath-tubing, and a full-size fridging. A place where we can finally get the alllll sand out of our bed.
And so instead of worrying about what “suffering” will come on the other side of this sweet spot, and wondering if the enlarged space will make our home on wheels feel even smaller, I am going to ENJOY this time, knowing that in all of it He goes with us, and in all of it, He is good. And He gives us seasons of rest—so we can do exactly that: REST.
***
Well, I wrote that last week. Last week, and as my eyes got heavy sitting on the COUCH I closed the computer and never returned. I thought what I wrote was horrible. Turns out, it isn’t. I mean, it’s not genius, but it’s also life. And it’s been a whole week since I wrote that, and I’ve almost forgotten how amazing it is to sit on a couch because now I am used to it.
Funny how that works, isn’t it?
Things are such an enormous blessing to us one day–and in a week, or two, or a month, they become commonplace. Ordinary. We take them for granted.
Oh Lord, may we not do so. May we not forget how blessed we are to have the things we have and do the things we do, for as long as we can. They are blessings. All of it.
Today, we went to the Grand Canyon. The Grand Canyon! A massive, mile deep jagged rock canyon. Unbelievable.
Fourteen years ago this month, perhaps this same day, Darrell and I went to the Grand Canyon for the first time in our baby years of marriage. Like with no babies, like when our marriage was in the baby phase. That’s what I mean. Anyway, there we stood today, in almost the exact same spot–with five beautiful young lives standing next to us. What a gift. Our family has blossomed. Our quiver overflows.
Standing there on the edge of a cliff 14 years ago, I knew I wanted children, but I never would have guessed we would be given five of them. So blessed are we. Five energetic, blonde, bustling, creative and crazy kids. And my prayers were answered and we took five beautiful children home too! (That rim is scary and kids who love to run and climb are too!).
But as I looked at the picture of our little family standing there, I am reminded how much has changed in our family and how little has changed in the Grand Canyon. Like nothing. Like maybe one little rock somewhere is a little more worn by the water? Maybe? Probably not.
The Canyon is still there. It is still massive and awe-inspiring. It was here before me, before my five kids, and it will be here after us all. Life is so short.
I guess it makes sense, but the older I get the more I realize it’s true. Life IS short.
So play hard. Love big. Laugh more. Go to the places you’ve always wanted to go. Do that thing you’ve always wanted to do. Hug and kiss like you mean it. Live for what matters most, and what will live on after you. Love people and use things, not the other way around. Take stock of where you are headed and make adjustments if needed. Fear not. Jesus is real, and the things He says about life and love and money really are true. May we all have ears to hear and the guts to obey.
I am going to need to read this to myself in a week, because boy oh boy, I am a coward like the next person in the free-fall line at Six Flags. In fact, I am not even in that line! Haha. I give into temptation, I believe lies, I trust the wrong things and look for my worth every place else other than Jesus more days than I’d like to admit.
But I don’t want to.
I want to believe Jesus and go where He sends me in faith and obedience, trusting in His ever lasting goodness. Yes, I want more of that.
So if it means moving and letting go of the things I’ve held so dear for so long, then so be it. If it means going without a place to call “home” in the U.S. for a few years, so be it. If it means my kitchen is the size of a pack n’ play, there is forever sand in my bed, and hauling laundry is a daily job, so be it.
No it’s not easy. There are moments of heart ache, of a longing to sit on my OWN couch in my OWN home. There are moments when we are all going crazy in a fraction of the space we are used to. Moments when I wonder why are we doing this and what will our future be?
But there is joy in knowing Him and experiencing Him in the midst of the hard moments. There is a peace knowing not only does He lead us, but He is with us. Emmanuel.
Frick fam at the Grand Canyon! No one fell over the edge! Success!
And while there will always be an amount of suffering in following Him (maybe small, maybe great), there will also be places of rest and restoration– like casitas and canyons.
It’s a windy Tuesday and we are all in the RV. It’s pretty cozy, (all those throw pillows are helping. 🙂 I knew there was a reason to bring them). Okay, and screens. Screens are helping too. Everybody is on a screen right now! (Insert a nervous smile, because we are all familiar with what happens after screens, right? WWIII.) No, screens are NOT my favorite, and we limit them, but there is a thing called “necessary evil” right? Maybe this doesn’t apply to iPads, but alas, it’s where we’ve landed after a kind of rough start to this morning and a continual wind that blows sand in your face.
Over all, I would say RV life has been fun and better than I expected, but this morning was hard. Getting back into school after a four day weekend with five kids in a 5×10 space because it’s cold and windy outside wore me out. To say the least. I ended up walking out of the the RV when the eggs fell because I needed air. And patience. Fighting one to get out his school book, while another wanted eggs, while another one kept trying to ask me a question, while my five-year-old daughter kept saying, “Mommy, mommy. Mommy,” only for me to finally ask her what she wanted and her reply, “I love you.”
Sweet girl. I love her too.
If only I had more patience some days. And 15 hands. Those would be great too.
Honestly, today would have been hard RV or not. Some days are just like that.
Getting back into any groove you’ve gotten out of it always a challenge, whether it’s running or cooking or reading your Bible. Or homeschooling your kids.
We’ve been doing the four-day school week, Monday thru Thursday, which I have been loving. It gives us Fridays as a freebie. A full day to adventure, explore, and do some life-learning.
This past Friday, we went whale watching. One of my life goals is to see a whale breach in the water, like in the commercials for Pacific Life. I’m going whale watching until that happens. Mark my words. Well, that didn’t happen Friday. Obviously. Or else there would be a BIG humpback whale breaching at the top of this post and I wouldn’t be writing about a windy Tuesday. But, it was refreshing to be out on the water with the wind in our hair and the sun on our backs. We didn’t see any whales actually, (it’s a little early), but we encountered a pod of 50 Bottlenose dolphins and met another super sweet homeschooling family. The dolphins swam with the boat, in front of, behind, and next to us, even jumping out of the water to give us a show! It was Sea World in the ocean! Such a treat. Even the biologists on the boat said this was an unusual experience. Grateful.
Saturday, I had a chance to speak to a mom’s group at SeaCoast Grace Church and it was fantastic. A gift to fellowship with moms, even if we froze, wore masks, and kept our distance. My heart was warmed all the same. Mostly, the same I guess. I do miss hugs. I am SUCH a hugger. You don’t realize how much physical touch is a love language until you’re not supposed to physically touch people! I find myself apologizing a lot. I do the Elaine from Seinfeld thing where I hit people on the shoulder when I get excited. Sorry. Not trying to spread Covid, just laughing at a joke. And yes, I was one who would reach out and touch the pregnant belly of a mom I was meeting for the first time. Forgive me. For better or worse, I am getting better at refraining.
Physical touch. Physical presence. There is something about being in the presence of people that makes our hearts happy. (Though some space does help, as I realized this morning! ;)). I hope we don’t forget about the soul healing that happens when we get together once this COVID thing has passed us over (Lord, please please may it pass). I remember hearing in high school once that a person needs 12 hugs today. That is a lot of hugs. Pretty sure even though I’m a hugger I’m not dishing out nor receiving 12 of them every day. I should probably work on that.
Sunday, we made it to church! A big outdoor church service and it was so good. We got In N Out Burger for lunch, like we usually did when we went to church and it felt kinda normal, even though we ate on the curb in the parking lot because there is once again no outdoor dining in CA. It was a tradition, church and burgers, that I’m glad we got to live out in our very nontraditional, atypical life these days. We all enjoyed it. Curbside delivery.
Monday was laundry day, among other things. Actually it ended up being pretty full with a zoom meeting, cleaning up the place, and a few in person visits, which were sweet.
And so here we are, Tuesday, super windy and kinda cozy. A day inside the RV is nice once in a while. The kids spend 90% of every day outside, which is amazing. (Thinking I should really track it for a few days and see.) As soon as they are finished with breakfast and have changed their clothes they go outside, scootering, biking, playing in the sand. The world, or the RV park, is literally their playground. It’s pretty dang nice.
As for us, the two adults here doing all the dishes and sweeping and laundry, we are hanging. It’s like I anticipated: high highs and low lows. From Dolphin sightings, to barely a moment to ourselves, to meeting the sweetest old man at the pool, to sand in my bed.
Like last night, for instance, we made a fire on the beach right in our backyard while the kids were sleeping in the camper. We sat and talked as we watch the logs burn slowly and crumble into orange embers, while the clouds above us came and went revealing black sky and tiny diamonds underneath, and the city lights glittered across the bay. It was a beautiful night. And we talked about the ranch and our favorite things from our old house. Fires was one of them. And four wheelers. We talked about good and hard things. RV life and future plans. I loved every minute.
And so, the dying and the rising. The up and the down. Last night was amazing, and this morning was horrendous. For a twenty minutes anyway. We had a do-over and we read the Bible as a family in a mini-family meeting. We apologized and we hugged it out. And we told the kids they can’t be so demanding! Ha. Okay, but really. Lord help us. I know they need us, but how can they need us in a way that saves everyone’s sanity? Praying about that one.
Well, I guess that’s it. We’re alive and well. Grateful for the adventure. Embracing all of it. Excited for what’s ahead. May God go before us and behind us and beside us. That sure helps. 🙂
I can’t believe I wrote absolutely nothing on here about our lovely time in a duplex in Tahoe this fall! It honestly makes me sad because it was a gift of a season our family will always cherish.
Now, however, as of January 1, 2021, we are proud residents of a Thor Four Winds 31E Motor Coach, our new mobile home, and the adventure is truly underway. We have completed our first week in our six-month journey around America.
Actually, we have finished our tenth day, if you’re counting, and believe me, we are.
The kids are all snuggled in their little RV beds, Darrell is snoozing by my elbow, and somehow I find myself awake in the dark and quiet with a mind that is able and willing to string a few thoughts and words together. It’s a miracle! But I’ll warn you, I’m rusty. So get ready for some bad writing. They say you have to get the bad writing out first, in order to get to the good stuff, but I barely have time for the bad writing these days! However, I want to write regularly here in an attempt to document this most-likely once in a life-time adventure we are on. I say most likely, because who really knows anything these days? We may be roadies for life. I mean, that could be cool. Maybe.
But if you were to ask me what I think of it so far, I would say–better than I anticipated.
AND mind you, we have dealt with a clogged toilet, a leaky sink (which has turned into a sink that won’t drain), and a door that wouldn’t shut right. All problems we caused, not problems with the motorhome itself. I think that’s good news?
Still, it’s better than I anticipated. I guess the beach helps with that. Oh yes, forgot to mention we are at the beach!
After leaving Sacramento on New Years Day, we traveled to Fresno for a few nights to visit friends, and have been “resting” in Newport Beach since the 4th. It’s pretty sweet. And sandy. So so sandy. But we are right on the sand, err beach, and the kids play outside our door for hours and hours. I’m so grateful for that. It helps even out the downside like the leaky sink and the ENDLESS laundry. End-less. I guess I could count the number of loads, but it’s easier to count dollars, and we’ve spent almost 40 of those on laundry the six days we’ve been here. Yikes!
The upside? The upside has been connecting with people. Pulling into a spot at the RV park is a little like opening a box of chocolates, you never know what you’re gonna get. (Thank you Forrest.)
Who will our neighbors be today, we ask when we hear the rumble of a trailer coming towards us. It’s a crap shoot, but we have won the RV park gamble more than once. We have met some truly wonderful people. People like Scott from Mississippi who heard we were giving away the proceeds of my book to widows in Rwanda, and he came back and handed us 8 times the cost of the book! We’d known him for 48 hours. How does he know we aren’t going to take the money and run? I mean, we aren’t, but Scott really trusted us–even knowing us for so short a time. His kindness and generosity will not soon be forgotten. Another family across the way with SIX kids (and I thought our camper was full) heard about our trip to Rwanda and gave us money for our trip! WHAT?
It’s blowing my mind, people.
And then there are the people in more desperate situations. We haven’t gotten to know too many yet, but we know they are there and trust that God will also direct us in how to show Jesus to them. How to walk the fine line of letting our kids be “in the world” but not of it. Trying to protect our kids from profane language and speech, while teaching them that Jesus came for the lost, the profane and the kid who pushes you down in the sand. It’s a delicate balance. One which I hope we come closer to understanding on this trip, because it is essential that we do as believers.
We’ve been guests in our friends driveways, homes, and churches and the recipients of amazing undeserved hospitality. I’m grateful.
As for the things I’ve learned about RV life so far? I’m sure this list will grow, (at least I hope it does), but after 10 days this is what I would tell you if you were planning on getting in an RV with 3 or 5 of your kids and going on a 6 month trip:
Buy the good toilet paper. The kind they make FOR RVs and boats–they make it for a reason. No matter what you tell them, the kids will build a nest in the toilet. You will need the kind that dissolves.
Bins, bins, and more bins. Pack in bins. Stackable, packable, fantastic.
When packing to go on a longterm RV adventure, I read you should set out everything you think you’ll need on the trip, and then go through it and pair down again. I can’t remember if I took this advice, or if you really need to pair down two or three times more. We are still overflowing.
Don’t put coffee grounds down the sink. Roger that.
You will never understand how you can have SO FEW clothes and SO MUCH LAUNDRY. All day, every day. I’m tempted to say choose a spot close to the laundry, but really I’d much rather be on the beach and drive to the laundromat every day.
Lastly, don’t underestimate the number of wonderful, generous, good-hearted people left in America. If you’re not convinced, just grab your trailer and come on down, they’re sitting by their campfire next to us.
Well, I think that is it. I better get some shut eye myself. Because if there is one more thing I’ve learned about Rv life it’s that every day is a full one.
