Seasons

The end of August.

 Another season coming to an end. 

A good friend reminded me again this morning at church....this time we are living in is just a season. I need that reminder a lot. 

  Seasons come and go, but our Lord stands fast evermore. The question for me is: Am I making the most of this season I am in? Or am I wasting it by wishing it were different? I don't want to look back at my life and have my most prominent emotion be regret. Regret that I didn't enjoy the varying seasons of my life more. 

 Here is the thing with seasons, you can't pick them. God designed them to be what we need to sustain life here in this world. And He designed to come at set times. Those times might vary from place to place depending on where you live, but they do come. Each in its own time. And then they pass and it is time for the next season. I want to live in full enjoyment of the season I am in, in every sense of the word and in every facet of life.

  I do actually have favorite ones... the absolute top is Spring. Bursting with fresh hope and new life and beauty. And then Fall next with its cooler weather and all the accompanying coziness that surrounds that season for most of us.  But there is so much to enjoy in every season if I take the time to listen and hear and see and observe.

  In my children too. I love the baby seasons. Innocence and trust and wide eyed wonder. But every stage of growing up has so much joy to be found. The excitement of trying new things, the maturity and discipline that comes from the hard stuff. The comfort of deepening friendships. Each one beautiful in its complexity.

    I have found the "lesson of seasons" is seen so clearly in a garden. It was the most exciting thing to actually have a successful garden this year. It looked beautiful, and grew like crazy, and produced well. Until it didn't. Until the cows got in and trampled a lot of it. Until the caterpillars invaded and stripped tomato plants. Until I got too busy to properly tend and prune and tie up and cultivate.  And then the season was past, and we pulled it all up. And I see so many life analogies in that reality.  And then I see grace. Again.

  God's grace that gave the life to begin with. And His grace in blessing our lives with it this year. And Im reminded that's its not all dependent on my performance, because Im going to fail. But His grace never fails. And always outgives my expectations.

  May I live in this season and await the next with an expectant and thankful heart.

Where to begin...

 The year is 2020.
The month is April.
I turned 40 last July.
It has been 2 years since my last blog post.
I am blogging from a laptop for the first time in 8 years.
The world is currently in quarantine.
We are not living on our homestead at this time, due to another flood 16 months ago.
Our third child is set to graduate high school in another month or so.
 I started a soap business (sort of) at Christmas time.
  Any of these topics could be their own post ( or series of posts), but I'm really rusty in blog speak. My thoughts feel too complex and weighty to begin to separate and address them. This used to be the place where I could come and sort things out, but once you lose the habit of something, it takes awhile to figure out how to begin again. One thing I've come to understand is, you can't go back, you just have to move forward from where you are.
 So here I am.
Starting over.
 I don't know how any of this will look as I dig in. I'll probably take time to refresh the face of my blog. I don't even know how much time I will have to give, but I feel the need to do this for my own spiritual growth, as well as for my kids' future benefit. Especially my girls.
 I don't know if I still have any followers...I would be pretty surprised if I do...but if I do, please know this is not about the life of a person who has it all together. This,...whatever this is or becomes,...is just a scrapbook of grace. God's abundant grace that takes my own broken pieces and makes them over again as He sees fit. So that I might be useful for His kingdom.
 " We have this treasure in earthen vessels, that the excellency of the power may be of God and not of us."

A Spring Moment

I wish there were enough pictures and words to accurately portray the beauty of spring in our woods. It's the smell in the air when I get up and go outside. It's still cool enough to need a jacket but I didn't grab one, so I just stand and shiver for a minute while the rooster is growing and the hens are cackling and the dog is barking her crazy head off. The cats come rub against my legs (two of whom have just had litters of kittens 😬)...and I'm reminded that they need to be fed. The laundry on the line and the garden that is starting to produce...and all the unfinished projects of course...all pull at me. But I take a minute to just breathe and look up. And the incredibly blue sky is a stunning backdrop to lush green treetops. Everything is green now, or almost everything. Our new road is revolutionary. Truly. Everything is just a little bit easier to manage having that lovely long expanse of mud free walking, and I rarely walk down it without thanking the Lord. Yes, I'm fighting sand and red dirt now, but that's ok.
 I hear the birds singing and twittering, and I soak in the view and think...God made all this and entrusted it to us. Not just our little piece of land, but the world as a whole. What a privilege! And what a responsibility. I can hear Him so much more clearly outside, surrounded by the reality and beauty of His creation. It's  peaceful in this moment. The clamor of pressing needs and responsibilities and worries all fade and I hear "Be still and know that I am God". And I also hear ," Be careful for nothing but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving, let your requests be made known into God, and the peace of God that passeth all understanding shall keep your hearts and minds through Christ Jesus. "
 And I know that it's true.

Will there be mud in Heaven?

I'm surrounded by mud most of the time.
There is mud outside.  Huge swampy puddles that we have to navigate around and through.
There's mud on the porch. And muddy boots. There's mud on the rug. And in the kitchen.
There's especially mud in my laundry. And in the shower.
Basically, it's everywhere.
Some days, all I see is the mud. When we go to town (aka church), it's a process of wearing mud boots up to where the truck is parked, switching to our church shoes in the middle of the road while juggling the 50 million things that must go with us, and then do ??what?? with the muddy boots....
It's a constant challenge to keep from sinking. Literally and figuratively.
 I asked Ed one day last week if he thought there would be mud in heaven.
He said "yes". I say "no".
I think there will only be perfectly moistened soil. And lots of grass. And flowers. Who's with me?
  I've been trying all week to get a blog post written. Not just in my head but actually on paper. Or more precisely, on my new Kindle fire. But it's just been one of those weeks. Run out of phone data several days too soon, issues with our solar power, issue with our water system, mud. You know, death by a thousand paper cuts, or something equally dramatic.
 And then we come to yesterday. Sunday. Where I was reminded yet again that our enemy's tactics are pretty much always the same. And have been since the beginning.  Deception. Distract us from the goal. Discouragement. ( Text taken from 2 Sam. 15:1-6)  Why do we find it so easy to forget?
 I'm sure many of you have seen the movie War Room.  I've been attempting to do something similar with a bulletin board and notebook ( although the privacy and quiet are a little harder to come by) . One of my new years goals was to renew a dedicated quiet time. Not just fit it in wherever I can through the day. It hasn't been a perfect success, but that being said, the reminder for me is this. That this war we engage in, the struggle in the midst of the mundane. Is for our hearts. Our minds. Our thoughts.
I need this reminder daily. Even hourly. It's embarrassing how easy it is to find I've spent all day mentally rehashing a conversation I wish I had gone differently. Or what I'm going to do about _____. Or even complaining to myself. Embarrassing.
  I started recording things in my prayer notebook too. Not journaling, but relevant Scripture, some quotes and even thought provoking questions. And they remind me. Of how big my God is. How small my problems are. Who my enemy really is. ( And no it's not the mud.) And what my weapons are to fight with.
  My list of "To Do"s , the obstacles that seem to lie in front of us, the weight of responsibility that sometimes threatens to overwhelm...
  " Martha, Martha, thou art careful and troubled about many things...but one thing is needful. "
 I only need to have one item on my To Do list.
   Sit at Jesus' feet and talk to Him.
 You can't even see the mud if your eyes are closed.

M.K.s: Then and Now

So I recently stumbled across a paper (thanks to my sweet Dad) that I wrote my senior year of high school. It was a project for speech and, I confess, I was cringing a little when I re-read this old paper (that I will actually share with you here) due to its amateurish writing and my very obvious youth. But it triggered a whole host of thoughts and emotions that I felt should be written down, which then turned into this blog post. Please bear with me in this somewhat-awkward-but-very-real, trip down memory lane.

                          M.K.s: A Paradox not a Paragon
                                 
  Today I want to discuss how missions relates to everyone in general and M.K.s in particular. First of all, What are M.K.s? Well, M.K. stands for "missionary kid" or a little missionary. Missionary kids are people just like you. They aren't aliens. I admit, sometimes they do look a bit strange - even talk weird - but they are human. They have feelings just like everyone else. They laugh, they cry, sometimes they even get scared and lonely, but most of all they love. They love God and they love people.
  As people, in many cases, they act just like you would. They aren't superhuman, they do make mistakes - plenty of them. In other cases, if their actions are different than yours, consider how they grew up. For example, if they are ecstatic over peanut butter and kool-aid for Christmas, just overlook it.
 M.K.s are also paradoxes. Not paragons - paradoxes. They can fit everywhere, yet they can't fit in anywhere. They get to go the most, yet they also get left behind the most. They have lots of friends, yet they often go friendless. living in the midst of a lot of people, loneliness is no stranger to them. But - in spite of all that, M.K.s are very privileged. They are allowed to see and participation God's work first-hand. They get to travel and a get a broader perspective of what life is like for others all over the world. They get to learn new languages - and use them in the U.S. so no one knows what they are saying. They are given so many opportunities to learn, even if they don't graduate when everyone else does. They get hands-on training - better than a college class-room can give.
  Okay, so we know a little bit of who they are, but what do they do? A question frequently asked is, " Don't you get bored with nothing to do?" Well, hardly! There is plenty for a missionary kid to do. They live over there just as you do here - well, almost, anyway. What I mean is, life is made up of certain basic activities, and M.K.s do those basic activities too. Perhaps a little more or less than you do, but they still do them. They work, have school, and play by turns. They witness and sometimes even suffer persecution. One of our personal friends was talking to a Muslim priest and he said something the priest didn't like, so the priest punched him in the mouth and knocked his front tooth out. That's not a common occurrence but it does happen.
  Last of all, let's look at what M.K.s need. Just like anyone else they need a lot of prayer. They are subject to so many pressures and Satanic attack, prayer protection is essential. Many times, even all times, prayer decides the success of how an M.K. spends the rest of his life. Did you know that only a small percentage of all missionary kids return to the field?
  They also need love and support. This goes a long way with them. They accept the fact that they won't please everyone or be liked or approved of by everyone, but if they know that they are loved and supported by their family and friends it really helps. It makes decisions easier if they know that they have support no matter the outcome. And they do. God is always there. He provides love, and if they are following His will, support too. Don't pity them, they don't need your pity. But a little understanding will go along way.
 In closing, I want to say that M.K.s don't have a corner on God. God is there for any and everyone who will accept Him. M.K.s sometimes have a more balanced perspective than others, but that doesn't mean that others can't get it too. God will use anyone, any time, any place if they will just trust and obey. You can be a missionary right where you are. If I've don't nothing else, I hope I have caused you to think and helped you see things from a different perspective.
                                                                            
- by Jessica Rogers -


 so....yeah.  I felt it deserved a re-write or an update. If you still feel like reading that is..

     M.K.: A Paradox not a Paragon (20 years later...)
  What is an M.K.? I'm not sure anyone ever truly knows what these strange creatures are who call themselves missionary kids, least of all themselves. 
  I wrote that little paper 20 years ago now, right before graduation. having spent very little time on this side of the ocean. Fast forward about a year and half and I was married to a wonderful man from south Louisiana. Thus began my life in a culture that was, in many ways, more of a mystery than any I had ever lived in before. I my paper I noted that we are a paradox of ideas. Walking contradictions. I felt this more than ever as I tried to adapt to my new life. That is one thing we do a lot of: try to adapt to the situation you are in without looking like an idiot, or making any grave social faux pas, while also appearing relaxed and at home. Marriage and parenting added fathoms to that concept.
        I never would have imagined that I would spend the next 20 years in just one country, America. That I would not get on another plane for 10 years, that even then it would just be to another state, or that it would scare me to death. ( What happened there?) I never imagined that "Cajun" was a foreign language ( aren't we saying the same words?) or that the most complicated culture I would ever learn would be my own. (I still haven't figured out what the secret southern code is for who you hug and who you shake hands with. Anyone? a little help please...) I never anticipated how hard it would be to be the one left at the airport gate waving goodbye to Mom and Dad and siblings, wondering when I would get to see them again. Or how much I would miss traveling and all those mission conferences. Don't get me wrong, I love my life in all it's surprises and adventures since being married. We've certainly had plenty and I wouldn't trade a day of it. It's just that the adventures weren't ones I was expecting, and the biggest surprise to me was not that life changed...but that it stayed the same and I didn't. I couldn't. God was taking me a different direction.
 I won't lie, it was a scary thing when I first thought I was losing my identity as a missionary kid; and while we often are more than willing to challenge the status quo, and think outside the box, we still instinctively shrink from fundamental change. Now where do I fit in? How do I identify myself? 
 In many ways I'm still figuring that out, but the simplest answer is this. I find my identity in Christ. and I fit into His Kingdom. We all do. That is where we all find our ultimate belonging. And my mission field is right here, where I live every day. Just like it's always been, regardless of geographical location.
  In re-reading my paper, I was struck by something I wrote then but didn't really understand. And that is this: as much as we are different, we really are< all of us> the same. I understand this better at 38 than I did at 18. We all struggle to fit in. To know who we are. To feel comfortable in our own skin. We all feel the same emotions: joy, pain, fear, loneliness, love...the same God is above all, and in all and through us all...
 I'm also pretty sure we can't claim a more balanced perspective. Maybe a more multi-colored one. But to claim balance indicates perfection, and we are far from achieving that. I also hope I'm not being presumptuous in saying "us" in reference to missionary kids. I realize each person's experience in as unique as they are. These are just some observations from my own life as well as that of siblings and other family and friends over the years. 
 I may never have the privilege of traveling overseas again, though I hope and pray that I will, but I know that I'm still an M.K. My parent's are missionaries and always will be, regardless of where they live. And I'm learning about a whole new phase called 'Being a Grown-up Missionary Kid with a Family of your Own'. Who knows. I may write an update in another 20 years.

 (P.S. A huge shout out to all the spouses of all missionary kids everywhere. We couldn't do it without you.  I know I certainly got the best, and I thank God for the privilege of living life with him every day. )

JESSICA