Triplewarmth

What do you call all the best things in life crammed into one, forty-eight hour time period?

A weekend with family, of course.

Fall is my favorite season, and there's almost no better place to enjoy it than in the timber. This weekend we donned our coats, work gloves, and boots. After making the difficult decision of whether to hop onto the tailgate of my sister's pickup truck, or to ride in the back of my dad's homemade trailer, we headed off across the pasture to the woods.

We climbed over barbed wire fences. Competed to see who could throw black walnuts the farthest. Practiced our sword fighting with sticks and twigs. Looked at cool fungus. Admired the beautiful colors of fall. Caught a very cold toad.

Oh yeah - we also hauled wood. Did I mention that's what brought us to the timber?

There's an old expression - he who cuts his own wood is twice warmed. This weekend we got to snuggle together near the warmth of the fire in the wood stove, to feel the warmth from within and from the fall sunshine overhead while hauling logs out of the timber, AND to enjoy the warmth of being with a family that loves each other very much.

Triplewarmth - it's a very good thing.

These are the times I know my heart will long for once we're in Guatemala. However, I already find myself longing for Xela, too. It is amazing how God can make a place feel like home before you've ever even lived there.


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Going Out With a Bang

 

We had a blast this past weekend... literally. But, I'll get to that part in a minute.

Mark was able to take a day off on Friday, so we all packed into the Jeep Thursday night (good practice for when we make the long drive to Guatemala) and drove the 4 or so hours to his childhood home.

These things are becoming increasingly bittersweet.

We ate. We talked. We ate. We played cards. We ate some more. You know the drill - just a regular weekend together with family. We did our best to soak it all up - the beautiful autumn colors, the smiles, the playful teasing. (They won one hand of canasta, and we won the other, for those of you who are curious.)

We know that God will put new friends into our lives once we get to Xela, but nothing can replace the deep and wonderful relationships we have with our families.

In this case, we're not the only ones feeling the impending changes that are just around the corner. Not only are we moving, but the senior Farriers (hah!) are also planning on moving next year - all the way to the Gulf Coast of Alabama.  I hate to get maudlin and sentimental, but these really are some of the last 'lasts' we'll ever have at the only home that Mark ever lived in as a child.

You know how they say that you can never really go home again? For him, that is especially true.

So, we reflected and celebrated all of the changes our extended family will soon face in the only way that we know how - by blowing stuff up.

My father-in-law has been a certified pyrotechnician for the last 20 years or so. We have also (at various times) been certified and helped out with fireworks shows. That, too, is something he and the rest of us are giving up. After the sale of the bunker, he still had a few odds and ends left over, which we used to truly 'have a blast' for the last time together. (At least, in that particular way. Don't worry - there are plenty more good times, meals, and card games ahead of us!) I must admit - it was a lot of fun getting gunpowder on my fingers and dropping shells into mortars again. I even got to use a fire extinguisher!

Seriously, people - if you're not cherishing your family time together, you really should be. Just some free advice, from someone who's come to realize just how true it is.

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It's All a Matter of Perspective

This is really happening. We're really going to move to Guatemala. Like, to live. Holy cats, Batman! How did this happen!?

Of course, there is a whole lot of backstory, and a whole lot of years of God wooing us and working on softening our hearts. But, the long and short of it is that He called us - quite clearly. So clearly, in fact, that we kinda had to give up arguing and do what He said. I believe it's called 2 by 4 communication. (You know - He made it as clear as a 2 by 4 upside the head.)

Anyway - despite our weeks of, "are we?"s, we knew it was really real once we told our families. Up until then, there had been very little risk. Very little challenge. Very little pain.

It was not easy to tell our parents that we were going to move to a kindasorta dangerous place. It was not easy to tell our parents that we were going to short circuit the plans and dreams they may have had for us. Most especially, it was not easy to tell our parents that we were going to take their grandchildren from them.

And, in case the subtext isn't getting through, 'not easy' doesn't even begin to cover it.

They were absolutely wonderful and supportive about it, though, which was further confirmation of:

1.) the fact that God really is calling us to do this. (For real, God? I mean, if my parents said 'no,' then we'd have to honor that and back out right now. Right? Right?!?)

2.) the fact that our parents are truly spectacular human beings, and deserve all the good things that life has to offer.

Good things, for example, like frequent visits and close geographic proximity to their grandchildren - precisely the things we are taking away. Oye.

I was praying about this a few nights after we made the announcement to our families. I was crying out (or, just crying/whining maybe) to God. Our conversation went a little something like this:

ME: But, God! How can you ask us to do this!? How can you ask us to take our children away from their grandparents? I know we're only committing to two years, but what if You call us there longer? What if it's five years? Eight? Maybe even longer? Isn't that unfair to do to them? They love us, and they love our kids. Family is an institution that YOU created. Are you sure you want us separated like this!?

GOD: Oh, Andrea. [I think He has to say this to me a lot, by the way...] I am truly sorry that your family will have to be apart for a short time. But, surely you understand that your brief separation from loved ones is for a purpose. It will help ensure that I don't have to have an eternal separation from those whom I love and am sending you to. Are you willing to spend a few of your years for their eternity? I promise - I will be with you through it all.

<sigh> You can't exactly argue with that, can ya?

I am learning - little by little - what it means to have an eternal perspective. Yes, I always rejoiced at the fact that my salvation through Christ's sacrifice granted me an eternal victory and life with Him. However, He is starting to teach me that part of that prize includes a responsibility for the eternities of others, as well.

Eternity is a long time, folks. Longer, even, than a few years of painful separation from the people I love so very much. Longer, still, for those who might spend it in agony and separated from God, if I am unwilling to go where He tells me to go, and do what He tells me to do.

Guess it really is all a matter of perspective after all, isn't it?

If anyone comes to me, and does not hate his own father and mother and wife and children and brothers and sisters , yes, and even his own life, he cannot be my disciple.

-- Luke 14:26