Our last days in Mali

Some of the memories of our last days in Mali...

When Silas climbed into the suitcase as I was packing, I had to take a picture because it reminded me of years ago...

when he was just a baby and we were packing to go to Mali. He doesn't fit like he once did. :)

 

About three days before we left our goat had a baby. I was so thankful because I was afraid we were going to miss it. It was a blessing that the new little one came before we left. His name in Max.

This was the last morning the kids were at the house. They spent the night with friends so it was only Brett and I for the very last night.

I wanted to get some pictures our yard and house, just for memory sake, since we won't live there again.

D getting some love with the dogs, whom we miss terribly (but are well taken care of with friends).

Our sweet Caroline

Miss Burkina

Both Brett and I went to take the boys to their last day of school. On the way Kenan randomly started to sing. As we drove down the road, our whole family joined in and sang, "Our God is greater, our God is stronger, God you are higher than any other..." The next song they chose brought tears to my eyes, "You give and take away, you give and take away. My heart will choose to say, 'Lord, blessed be Your Name."  It was such a beautiful moment.

Silas and Anise on his last day at L'ecole Samuel

And we left him like we did many mornings, him running after us trying to leave. Joy of joys. And do notice that he is without shoes. He apparently was taking them off as soon as he got to school in the mornings so the last few weeks of school he went barefoot.

Saying goodbye to friends was no fun. These are our neighbors who have been so kind and gracious to us over the years.

The boys and their best bud, Joel

Fitting that the last picture I have of them all together is on the trampoline because the very first pictures they have together are on this same trampoline many years earlier.

Me and my dear, dear friend without whom I would have been lost the last few weeks as we packed up (not to mention many other times throughout the years). Words can't even express what Alison and her family mean to me. We will miss them immeasurably.

And before we knew it, the days were gone and we were in Bamako ready to fly out. We left with smiles on our faces, even if they were only watermelon smiles.

Looking back

I am generally one who always looks back. I want one more goodbye, one more kiss, one more moment to etch in my brain. Because we live in a country outside of the US and travel back and forth on a regular basis, there are a lot of chances for last looks and just one more of whatever lies before me. I purposely try to not hold the lasts too tightly because as we read early on in our work, often your “last” ends up not being your last or focusing on it just increases your desire for it rather than satisfying your want. So I actively try not to focus too much on the end and goodbyes and all. But I do. I always look back. I always want to save an image in my brain to store away for later. One good, solid last look.

As I went to bed tonight, it hit me that tonight is the boys last night in our house. While I have known the day was coming for many weeks, it actually hit me, in the heart wrenching way, tonight, after they were already in bed. I didn’t look back at them. I didn’t make their last night memorable for me or them. I just laid with them and gave them kisses like I normally would. This was surprising to me as it is not my natural tendency to do such a thing. But then I realized, I haven’t looked back on much at all. When I cleaned out the room I used for HIV a few weeks ago, I took everything out and walked out. No looking back.  I walked out of our office the other day, leaving it completely empty, I just closed the door. No standing there remembering all that has taken place there and the lives that have filled those walls. Nope, I just walked out. When we drove out of the hospital compound two days ago, my eyes were focused ahead and I waved goodbye to the few workers at the gate like I would see them tomorrow. When I said goodbye to teammates I have worked with for 7 years with whom I have poured out my heart alongside them, it was just a quick hug. Nothing dramatic or memory worthy.

I can’t look back. It is just too painful.

If I really focus and process what is going on, I’d be in pieces. I am forced to leave a country I don’t want to leave. I am leaving friends whom I still want to see on a daily basis. I am leaving a life I love. A life my kids love. The only home my boys know. I don’t want to do it. And if I took in all these lasts, I couldn’t take it. I’d be on the ground on my face in tears. Brett was talking to someone awhile back saying that we have been sewn into the fabric of Mali and we are currently being ripped out. That is how it feels. I am perfectly happy to stay the string attached to the fabric but against my choice I am being ripped out. It hurts.

On January first of this year, I was spending time in prayer and read the devotional “Streams in the Desert”. It said, “Today we stand at the threshold of the unknown. Before us lies a new year, and we are going forward to take possession of it. Who knows what we will find? What new experiences or changes will come our way? What new needs will arise? In spite of the uncertainty before us, we have a cheerful and comforting message from our heavenly Father: ‘The Lord your God cares for [it]; the eyes of the Lord…are continually on it from the beginning of the year to its end.’” and for some reason that struck me so deeply that it made me a bit uneasy for the year to come. We always stand at the threshold of the unknown, each passing year, and honestly each and every day. Yet, this time it was different. So when we were pulled out for safety reasons in January, I thought, “Oh, this is it. This is what I didn’t expect, the hard times that were coming.” But then I got pregnant in July and realized that no, in fact, that was what January 1^st was all about. This was the incredible unknown that caused me a bit of anxiety because adding a fourth child to the family was never part of my plan. The Lord was teaching me about His plans vs my own and while up until that point I was living the life I had always planned for and was happy to have achieved it, He was showing me that His ways were greater and He had more for me. In July, I couldn’t have fathomed a more life changing situation. Yet, October came and met us with one of the greatest losses of our lives. I am hoping that this was what January 1^st was about and there isn’t something else around the corner. At least there is only December left.

Today, as it is 4 in the morning as I write, I will face my last day in Koutiala. My last day in the first (non apartment) house that we lived in as a family. The place where I grew up a lot. Where the grounds are seeping with memories of my boys and times we shared as a family. Where the dirt on the wall is an imprint of a moment in the life of my kids. I want to embrace it and take it all in. I just hope I can bear it.

Changes

For those of you who don’t know, in October, we were let go by the CMA, our sending organization to Mali. It came as a shock to us, our team, and the Malians we work with. The reasons were vague at best and honestly we still don’t understand why there had to be a complete break. We feel as though we are a foster child that (unknowingly) became too difficult and thus was sent back to the orphanage without warning while all the while we thought we were part of a family, that even if things were tough, we’d work them out together. To say that this has been a shock would be an understatement. This is the greatest loss Brett and I have jointly shared as a couple. (We’ve lost loved ones, but it has always been harder on one of us than the other. This, however, has knocked both of us to the core). We are grieving a tremendous loss. I actually went to bed the first night after being fired wondering how I would even get up and start the next day. I couldn’t imagine doing it when everything I hoped and dreamed for had just been lost.

BUT.

His mercies are new every morning.

He is faithful.

He is good.

He has surrounded us with His love.

He is our shelter, our refuge. There are days when His presence and love for me has been so real and present that it felt like His arms were physically around me.

He is HOPE.

He is grace and mercy.

He is all we need.

So we move forward with this knowledge, trusting that His plan is greater.

Fall Festival 2013

We did our yearly fall festival which was fun as always. Lots of the same games but still fun.

We ended the night with hot dogs and roasting marshmallows, though not many were into it. The kids were off playing while the adults were cooking the marshmallows so we decided to stop. :) All and all a good time had by all.

Fall and Announcement

I love fall and even though it is blazing hot, I try to get into the spirit. :) We carved pumpkins yesterday and I thought it was good a time as any to announce to the internet world that we have a little G.I.R.L. pumpkin joining our family in March!

This was a very unexpected surprise that has rocked our world but we truly see God's hand in it and are very excited for what this little girl will bring to our family.

Silas at L'ecole Samuel

While I am a bit behind in posting this, I wanted to make sure I noted Silas' first day at l'ecole Samuel. He was very excited with the idea of going to school.

Getting love from his brothers before he went to school.

Being silly

Here he is at school with the other ex-pat kids who joined him this year. We told him he is to watch over the girls and take care of them. :) The two, though, do a great on their own so it isn't really needed. :)

He was still smiling even as we started to leave which I was happy to see. 

S is definitely our strong willed one and it has been a bit of a challenge to get him there but he really does well once he is there.