My Dad

I wrote this just after Father's Day this year, with the intent of posting it immediately.  But in the hustle and bustle of packing to return home to the U.S., saying goodbye to friends, and ending the school year, this little gem got put aside in a notebook.  I found it this morning and so am posting it in my better late than never style that comes so easily.  It's about my Dad.

My Dad is a force.  Some of you might know him...some of you might have been ticketed by him, or possibly even arrested by him. :)  I am no exception when at 15-years-old I was busted driving without a license.  That'd be a ticket, baby.

That is one of the things I love most about my Dad--he's loyal, trustworthy, and full of integrity.  He can be intimidating and surly at times, but cuddly and witty at others.  He gives the best hugs and makes the best steaks on the planet. When we were kids, he was our biggest cheerleader at gymnastic meets, basketball games, and swim meets.  He would yell shouts of encouragement through the stands and attempt all forms of clapping routines while his kids were out there.

I find that I get some of my favorite anecdotes and most of my sarcasm from my Dad.  He's quick to laugh, and just as quick to praise.  I can't count the life skills I've learned while watching CSI with him--but I'm sure they will serve me well if I'm ever abducted by a random stalker while jogging in a remote wooded area after falling down and hurting my ankle.  And though I feel I know quite a bit of trivia, I've got nothing on my Dad who could probably put Alex Trebec out of a job on Jeopardy.  It may not seem like much, but these TV watching moments are among my favorites of time well spent with my Dad.

My Dad is a hard worker, something my brother and I value and appreciate as adults and hope to pass on to our children.  There was a time we didn't think my Dad would live past my third grade year, but he's a fighter.  Many hours have been spent cutting wood, fixing fences, untangling necklaces, patrolling highways, mowing the lawn, and yes, even many hours behind a desk...but always, always working.

If I could pick some of the best things to pass on to my kids, it would be the hugs, hardworking ethic, loyalty, wit, and sacrificial way he has blessed me in my 40 years of life.  There have been many sacrifices through the years so that we would never want for anything, and also many sacrifices so that we could have some of those extra things that were just for fun.  Road trips in the car with a giant cooler in the middle and my brother throwing my toy kissing game out the window, or summer vacations in July with no air conditioning.  Watching him start a fire in the fireplace, get groceries for my Mom, take us on a trip to Disney, and the way my Dad can drive for hours are some of the fun memories that will stay with me forever.

My life has been blessed by my Dad and I will be forever grateful for his love, support, encouragement, and example.  I love you Dad!  Happy Father's Day 2013.

Just a glimmer of blessing

I was blessed today.  Not by anything anyone did or didn't do, as the case may be, but simply for the myriad of ways that I could see God working in the small details of my day.  I was able to tackle many things on my to do list--sometimes that paves the way for peace.  I was also drinking a good strong cup of coffee--sometimes that paves the way for peace too! :)

A special friendship

A few posts ago, I wrote about saying goodbye.  It was a post that was spurred on by our second son having to say goodbye to his friend, his best friend actually, Hunter.  Hunter and Jonathon have been in the same class for two years, and while they haven't always been the very best of friends, the past 12 months has cemented their friendship.  They giggle over fort making, cat chasing, playing tag, sleepovers, and can banter back and forth about Minecraft for hours.

In February Hunter's family received the shocking news that Hunter has an osteosarcoma, or cancer in his outer shin bone.  Hunter and his Dad left Peru suddenly, but not without one final sleepover for Jonathon and Hunter and a sweet, but unsure goodbye between the two boys.  There were many tears shed at our house, selfish tears from Jonathon that his best friend was leaving him, and very sweet, sincere tears over the seriousness of Hunter's sickness.  We explained things the best we could without scaring Jonathon and promised that once Hunter felt up to it, we could connect the boys by Skype and they could talk all they want about Minecraft or whatever.

As we knew Hunter was undergoing chemo, we also knew that he would be very sick and lose his hair.  If you know anything about chemo, they basically take you to the brink of death and then nurse you back in hopes that it will kill/contain the cancer so it won't spread.  I had remembered my Dad going through chemo when I was in third grade when he was diagnosed with cancer, so I was able to relate a bit to Jonathon and we continued praying each day for Hunter.  As Jonathon waited for what seemed like an eternity, finally the boys were able to "see" each other through Skype and continue their friendship across seas...the one difference this time was that Hunter had no hair.  I prayed that it wouldn't bother Jonathon or Hunter--that neither one would feel uncomfortable, but would just jump back into their friendship as if they were next door...and that's what happened!  It makes my heart smile just thinking about it.

After a week or so of talking almost every day, Jonathon decided that he wanted to shave his head to match Hunter. We had briefly thrown out that idea even before Hunter lost his hair, but if you know Jonathon, and how much he loathes haircuts, I was positive that he would never in a million years make such a decision.  So you can imagine my shock, when Jonathon came home from school and told Hunter over Skype that he was going to shave his head!!  Jeff and I were overjoyed that he would show such solidarity for his friend and promptly went out that night to buy razors to do it.  The whole ordeal was a mere 2 hours, in which Jonathon sat quietly (also rare for him) and contemplated the decision he was making to show support for his friend.  Jeff was inspired by Jonathon's decision, and he too shaved his head that night; we prayed for Hunter throughout the shaving, remembering the battle he is fighting.  Through all this, we want this to be about Hunter, his battle, and this friendship---if people can look at Jonathon and be reminded to pray for Hunter, then that is what we want.  Curiously enough, Jonathon even inspired a couple of the teachers at their school to shave their heads for Hunter!!!

I'm so proud of my son and his loyalty to his friend.  We do pray for Hunter daily and know that through the sickness, the pain, the hair loss, and the uncertainty, we have a Sovereign God who is faithful, loving, and in control.

We love you Hunter, Tom, Sara, and Penielle!!!!

Gearing up for the end of the school year...already?!

It's the middle of May...and I'm counting down the days until the end of school!!  Actually, I'm counting down the days I have left of making lunches.  And it's 21.  Yeehaw!  This year, we are headed back to the U.S. after school gets out, in fact we leave the day after school gets out--no monkeying around for us, we are excited to be going home for a few weeks! We have a 7-week visit ahead and we are already making lists of things we want to eat, see, and enjoy!!

Here in Peru, the end of the American school year marks the beginning of winter since we are in the Southern Hemisphere.  So while some of you are enjoying the warmer weather, we are breaking out the jeans, sweaters, and scarves and packing up the shorts, tanks, and flip flops.  I don't welcome winter, it's not my favorite season of the year, so this year I count myself fortunate that I get to enjoy the Peruvian summer and the U.S. summer.  It's the best of both worlds!

The end of the school year also means more goodbyes.  Some of the boys' classmates are leaving and returning to their home countries, while others might transfer schools, or their parents will be transferred to another country.  It's not easy for me either, as many of my sweet friends are also moving on to other adventures and jobs...I will miss them dearly.

So here are a few fun "Fall" pictures as the kids spend time with classmates, friends, and each other.

My toe is controlling my entire body!

I'm sitting here with my foot elevated, trying to figure out how one simple digit can cause so much pain!?  I clipped my toenail last week and some of the skin was attached and it ripped down the edge of my toe.  I thought it would heal quickly, but it has turned into a huge pain in the toe, literally.  Our mission Director, who happens to be a medical doctor, did some minor surgery on it--he lanced it, hoping to draw out the infection, and then he cut part of my toenail off.  It is a nightmare right now.  I can barely walk and am just amazed at how one toe can affect my entire state of mind.  Boo hiss toe.  I'm supposed to travel with Jeff this weekend and can't imagine how I'll even walk through the airport, but this is Monday and I guess I have until Friday to see if it heals at all--pretty sure I can't send my husband off to run a marriage retreat as a single.  That just won't do.

The man in my park

I run.  I'm not going to be breaking any records, and I might be getting slower every day after turning 40 last year...but I still run.  I started running a few years ago and have my ups and downs as far as motivation, discipline, weight, and time go.  Some mornings I just choose sleep, but at least 2-3 times a week you'll most likely find me struggling on that slight incline at the park across the street from our house.

Two days ago, when I got out to the park at about 5:20am, I noticed a large black lump in the middle of the grassy area.  I was hoping against all hope that it wasn't a dead dog (or a live one for that matter), and when I got closer I realized it was a homeless man who had either passed out or just chosen to sleep there the night before.  It was chilly out, not cold, but definitely cooler than past mornings and as I began my run and passed him, my mind started wandering.  What if he wakes up?  What if he's dead?  What if he's drunk?What if he asks me for something?  Should I go in and find some bread and juice for him?  What if he then comes everyday for food?  He's not a dog, it's not like he would keep coming back each day....but what if he does?

As I continued on my 10 laps, I was faced with not only the questions, but a small sense of compassion for this man.  It's not his fault, he wasn't born homeless, so is he a victim of circumstances?  Is his homelessness a result of a mental illness?  Does he have people who are worried about him or looking for him?  You see my view of a homeless person is jaded by the stereotypes our culture has made.  They are viewed with a lens of mistrust and judgement that isn't necessarily truth.  And yet, the compassion doesn't typically win out--am I compassionate enough to leave him food, or does my mistrust of him negate anything helpful I could do?  My mind conjures up every possible scenario that could, but probably won't, take place.  I heap the guilt on myself when I think of Jesus' love of strangers and am faced with the obvious truth that I don't have that kind of love.

Am I a simply a product of my culture or can I break through the stereotypes and reach out to the lonely, the homeless, the widowed, the orphaned and the lost?

Sharing is not my strong point

I'm not a good sharer.  I don't like to share. Go ahead and judge me now.  I don't know if it's because I'm a first-born, if it's because I'm a girl, if it's because I'm a type-A organizational freak and I don't like people touching my stuff.  I don't know why, but sharing is like the plague.

Having four kids hasn't helped in my sharing deficiency.  I drink coffee because I don't have to share with my kids.  I enjoy a glass of wine because I don't have to share with my kids.  I'm selfish.  I know this.  I wonder how I got this way and there are times I do try to move past it and consciously do something about it, but it's hard.  Like super hard.

I don't like to share my computer because my kids think it's funny to add 50,000 widgets to my desktop and make it unorganized.  I don't like the kids to use my bathroom because who likes potty on the toilet seat or toothpaste on the mirror? I don't like to share my drinks because inevitably there are floaties that wind up taking over the entire glass.  When I eat chocolate, I want the whole thing and not just a bite.  When I have a brand new sharpened pencil, I want it to stay that way and I want the eraser to be clean.  I'm so weird.

The irony is not lost on me, my kids get in trouble for not sharing.  We teach our kids to share with each other, with their classmates, and sometimes even with strangers.  For me, this is a "do as I say, not as I do" kind of thing.  I am working on my faults and trying to let go of some of my perfectionism, but man, it's tough.  What are some of the things you have to let go?

Driving in Lima is craaaaaazay!!

If you were to see me driving in Lima, I would appear somewhat crazy as I whip out my cell phone to snag a photo of the traffic.  I snap shots at the stoplight, the drive-thru, stopped in traffic on the freeway, going through an intersection (while Jeff is driving of course), or even passing a vehicle.  This many years in Peru and the sights we see each and every day never get old to me.

4 lanes, turning left to squeeze into 2 lanes.

Robot in the middle

It's a car full of produce

I actually had a green light to go straight.

I couldn't even guess what he might be transporting

If two lanes won't work, try three!

produce

We were completely stopped at a round-about. Completely. For a long time.

And I get a sticker that says I'm a terrible parker...it literally says, "I park horrible".  

Sometimes it's light traffic around the round a-bouts

Anyone want to hop in?

Care for a banana?  Anyone?

I love Sundays...no traffic!!

Most people hate Lima traffic. Some days I hate Lima traffic.  But honestly, most days I'm just so happy I survived driving in Lima traffic that I want to do a little motor vehicle jig to celebrate.  Consider a city of 9 million people (possibly more) and an infrastructure that can't support said population and here's where you arrive.  I've never seen such variety in vehicles.  I wish my grandfather were alive so I could send him pictures of cars that he hasn't seen in 40 years sharing my road!!

Probably should stop for her

No huffing or puffing could blow this thing down!

And the buses.  Don't get me started on the buses.  You've got big buses, Coasters, Combis (similar to a really ugly and dented up 15-passenger van...but smaller.  Most of the time my knees don't even fit in between the seats, and I'm not tall by any means.  Sometimes I've had to stand up...in a combi...with a low roof.  Which technically means I'm hunched over with my shoulders/back literally touching the ceiling.  I've braced myself with my back on the ceiling before...can you say that?

So many people on this late bus--jam packed in there with not even any standing room!

So why do I actually, for the most part, enjoy driving and riding the buses?  My love/hate relationship with driving here is the challenge and inconsistency it brings--it's never the same and never dull.  My love/hate relationship with riding the bus is similar--it's inconsistent (I even have gotten charged different amounts on the exact same route), never dull, but most of all it's a glimpse into the lives of the real people here.  Where are they going?  Do they have enough money to get where they need to go?  Do they get tired of being squeezed in together like cattle?  Did it take them forever to find their way around the city like me?  Do they know all the bus lines and where the streets intersect?

Most days I feel like all you need to do to drive here is honk your horn and wave your left arm out the window to indicate you are going to: stop, turn left, turn right, park, blow through the stoplight, move into my lane, cut me off, flip me off, or possibly and quite rarely, give me a thumbs up.

Seems like a million goodbyes

It might be exaggerating, but I think one of the hardest things about living overseas are the goodbyes.  You would think the first time would have been the hardest, the goodbye at the airport 11 years ago (2002) when we took our 15 month old by the hand and walked through the gate to come to Peru.  But I can honestly say, that every goodbye in the past 11 years have been tough, and they never seem to get any easier.

Saying goodbye to Papa-2003

Saying goodbye to Ama 2003

Saying goodbye to Tio Jeremy 2003

Cousins at the airport-2003

What is it about saying goodbye that just makes you want to weep at the thought of the loss.  I think for me, it's the idea that everyone will be continuing on with their lives in the U.S., the country where I was born and raised, and my life will remain standing still.  The trends will come and go, and my closet will remain the same (yes, I still have a few things that I brought with me 11 years ago).  The four different seasons will come and go, and Peru will still only have a rainy and dry season.  Nieces and nephews will grow and win awards and play on sports teams, and we'll miss all their achievements and games.  Siblings will get married, grandparents will pass away...and here we'll be.  It's not realistic to think we can jet back home on a whim, not even for something as important or special as a wedding or a funeral.

Jonathon pulling his backpack with Ama 2006

Saying goodbye to the Krohns-2006

The boys are excited to have rolling backpacks-2006

On the plane, headed to Peru after furlough-2006!

Recently our son, Jonathon, had to say goodbye to a good friend.  His best friend.  Jonathon is one of our more sensitive children, and any sort of change in routine or disruption in normal, daily life is extra hard for him.  When I told him in the car, that his friend wasn't going to be coming back I just wanted to wrap my arms around him and let him know that I have been in his exact shoes.  It's never easy no matter how old you are.  He'll make more friends, we all do, but those special ones that bring us joy and make us smile or laugh, and know just exactly what we like and who we are...those ones can't be replaced.

Trying to stay occupied in the airport

I don't ever doubt the decision we made to come to Peru, but the impact that goodbyes have on our family isn't something that everyone can understand.  And so we bear this burden together, it makes us stronger and closer as a family, and we know that while it doesn't get easier, we can choose to be thankful for such wonderful friends and family that making leaving so hard.