YOLO

This morning, Jon teasingly invited Ruby to go to work with him. She wagged her tail. I responded by promising to take her on a run if she stayed home with me. She wagged her tail. Jon made a counter offer. To which I reminded her that she would miss her run if she went for a car ride with Daddy. She looked contemplative, torn, a little confused, but continued to wag her tail. Jon said in a Ruby voice, "Oh well, it will still be the best day ever."

It's a running joke in our home that for Ruby every day is the best day ever. We laugh about it, because maybe it's her little pea brain that lets her live every day to the fullest, maybe it's her failure to understand time in the way we humans see it, or maybe she's just the only one of us who really gets it. In every pant of her tongue and wag of her tail she exudes YOLO ("You Only Live Once" for those of you over the age of 16, without texting teenage children). 

I'd been impressed by her optimism before, but this morning when she continued to view life through such rose colored glasses in spite of such disappointment, I was in awe.

My recurring epiphany that joy is not contingent on one's circumstances appropriately resurfaces today, as it would be the 29th birthday of my dear cousin Kevin. Before his life was cut short ten days ago, Kevin, like Ruby was contagious in his happiness. It seems his outlook on life was to not waste time on the unnecessary, but to capture every moment and make it more beautiful.

Team Spears running the Crater Lake Rim Half Marathon.

As his Facebook page fills with tributes, I wish he had heard all the good he brought into the world.

 "I will forever remember the feeling of you laughing while you had me in a hug."

"Kevin was genuine before all else - he had a way of loving and accepting himself that helped me and others to do the same."

"During your short time in this reality you made lasting impressions of an old soul on many great people. I am inspired to continue living and working to create a world you would be proud of." 

"Once, years ago, Kevin stole my journal and wrote down poems for me - ones that he had memorized and kept close to his heart. Timeless as always, deep and meaningful, these words he gifted me are too beautiful to keep to myself. The last line he wrote, "written in love by Kevin Spears". But what didn't he do in love?"

"As I look at this photo, I realize I have never seen you without a smile, living life to the 

fullest each and every day."

"My dear, sweet li'l bro and best friend passed away suddenly yesterday. I had just talked to him on the phone for an hour right before it happened. For that, I feel so blessed. In that last conversation, he sounded so happy and full of love and passion for life."

Enjoying God's creation with Kevin.

Not a moment of Kevin's life was in vain if he inspired those of us who continue on, to do so with a smile. We will be better people for having loved him.

Habits of Happiness

Uncomfortably Comfortable

Through the open windows, the sweet morning sounds of the sparrows, the cicadas, and the passing train ride in on the fresh cool breeze. It is glorious, and I am oh so content. 

Did you catch the key words there? Open windows. Cool breeze. IT'S FALL!!! 

Maybe not officially as the calendar goes, but if we can't wear white anymore, and the kids are back in school, and the pumpkins are beginning to reclaim their prominent position in everything commercial, then it's fall enough for me. And it's my first fall in four years! That's right people, I haven't been in the US for this leaf-changing, cinnamon-scented, chilly-enough-for-a-jacket season since 2008! Oh, how I've missed it...

But now that we've opened up the house, and the temperature has dropped to the 60's for two nights in a row, and Angie's settling into middle school, I'm beginning to worry I'm getting a little too comfortable in this first world.

I started to get concerned when we visited Bolivia a few weeks ago. The weather wasn't nearly as miserably hot as it could have been in August, which rarely obeys the norms for the last "month of winter" that it really is, and usually creeps back into the mid-high 90s. We stayed in the guest room of some missionary friends' lovely home, so we really lacked nothing of consequence. But the buzzing mosquitoes, public transportation, smokey air, shortage of fancy plumbing, and sharing a bed with my daughter instead of my husband started to make me dream of home...

Now that we're back in the states, where autumn will soon paint the trees with the oranges and reds it has saved all year for such a time as this, and even the most humble home has so many luxuries, instead of feeling guilty about having too much, I've decided to feel grateful.

Grateful that this year I can ask the tap for cold or hot water, and it will oblige.

Thankful for the softness of clothes, sheets, and towels fresh from the dryer.

Relieved that I can flush my toilet paper.

Appreciative that I have candy corn, chocolate chips, ranch dressing, Papa John's, Chick-fil-a, and Target at my fingertips.

So glad that opportunities abound for Angie to follow in her mama's footsteps and play tennis to her heart's content.

Giddy because it's football season and my team rocks, even if I'm too cheap to buy tickets to the games now.

Content with the home we can make our own, because it is.

Overjoyed that family surrounds us in all directions.

Many of you have asked how the trip to Bolivia was for Angie. She did great. She enjoyed the things she'd missed, and was ready to return to her new home in Kentucky when our visit was over. Her weakest moment came right after we'd stopped by her old school and her friends had been so ecstatic to see her. 

"I wish we could live in Bolivia again," she thought out loud as we walked back to the house.

"No, you'd miss your grandparents, your cousins, snow, tennis, and you can barely speak Spanish anymore." I teased her. 

"Well, I wish we could have both. Like if Bolivia and the United States were side by side," she motioned with her hands just how close she desired them to be.

Don't we all wish we could have the best of both worlds. I'd prefer the changing seasons of the North mixed with the simplicity of South America. I'd choose the impossible combination of U.S. efficiency and the Latin priority of relationships. I would move all my friends and family from both continents to the same city. And I'd merge my ministries so I could take veterinary students from Santa Cruz, Bolivia and Auburn, Alabama to treat chickens together at an orphanage.

But in the meantime, since life is not a smorgasbord to order from a la carte, I'll choose to focus on all the beauty God gives me every day whether in the colors of the leaves, or the kindness of His people.

Hello and Goodbye, Bolivia!

Of the past five nights, Angie and I have spent three in transit, reclining as well as we could on buses and planes, finally getting back to our cozy beds last night. Today, as I wade through a sea of laundry, emails, grocery and to-do lists, I pray she's staying bright and alert through her first day of middle school. But even if she's a bit drowsy as they train her on such important sixth-grade skills as opening her coveted locker, I'm confident she'd say it was worth it.

Angie's best friend Maria, on her first day of school this year in Santa Cruz.

Going back to Bolivia, if only for a week, was a great way for Angie to visit old friends and stomping grounds, such as her school, her orphanage, and our church. She can be introspective, but not on demand, so I can't be sure how it affected her to see some of the poverty, and the despair of the kiddos she grew up with. But more than reverse culture shock I think what she experienced might be called reverse language shock. Returning to your mother tongue after a nine month hiatus, turned out to be more difficult than we'd anticipated. Don't worry, we'll try to be more intentional about maintaining her Spanish, it's just that her English still isn't perfect... Now, sometimes the poor kid can't figure out how to express herself in any language!

For me, it was an awesome opportunity to touch base with all our Latin ministries; see how some of them needed encouragement, and see others growing. My next prayer letter shares about lots of these updates, but to tide you over until September, I'll say that our final adoption follow-up was a success! 

Sunday, was one of the busier days of our trip. I started the morning with a long jog with my dear friends. Then we had the treat of attending La Viña our sweet little Vineyard church, with the sweetest part being the company of our first-time guests, Moira and her husband Ariel. Moira is the vet I carried the ultrasound machine down for. It was awesome to see her and her husband flipping through the pages of my old Spanish Bible I'd left with her last fall. And when the message brought tears to her eyes, it gave me hope that maybe they'll get involved and give in to the Lord's loving pursuit of them.

Enjoying church with vet friends at my side and sponsor child in my arms...

After church, Moira and Ariel joined us for lunch and then came to our VetRed party. A little get together with quesadillas, empanadas, and an assortment of other goodies was a great way to catch up with many of the people I worked with in Santa Cruz for three years. And it was wonderful to be able to connect some students, vets, and university faculty with each other in hopes that they'll continue to share in ministry even when we're not around.

VetRed Gathering

Oh, here comes Angie off the bus, time to stop daydreaming about South America and get back to the realities of life in Kentucky. Bolivia, we'll be praying for you and missing you. Vaya con Dios siempre. And know that you are loved.

Angie's First Mom

“Nice to see you again, Bolivia,” Angie said nonchalantly in perfect English as our plane touched down in Santa Cruz, like she were talking to an old friend.  An old friend she’d grown up with, but had been separated from by many miles and worlds of difference, for nine months.

Visiting Talita Cumi yesterday.

Later, the same day, while squeezing lemons into fresh lemonade, she just as casually shared story after story of her life before—with her other family--to Heidi Janecke. Heidi was one of my closest friends when we served in Bolivia, as she’s my CVM colleague Bill’s husband. But her ministry goes far beyond supporting her veterinary missionary man, she has been integral in the day to day operations of Talita Cumi Children’s Home, where Angie lived for a year between her other family, and her current one--us. During the more than 12 years Talita Cumi has served Bolivia’s children, Heidi has seen more than 500 kids come and go in countless fashions. But only one has come back to share their story with her in English. The beauty of this moment was not lost on Heidi as Angie poured out some of her most vulnerable memories in her newfound comfort, confidence, and language.

Their conversation ranged from Angie’s incredulity that people would force their five year-old children to cook dinner, to her curiosity about why her birth parents left her all those years ago. To this, Heidi wisely responded that maybe her parents didn’t have enough money to take care of her, maybe her mom was trying to do what was best for her. And later, when Heidi recounted this exchange to me, I started to wonder about Angie’s biological mother as well. I’ve heard innumerable stories about the family who raised her, but about the family who first left her, none of us really knows anything.

Maybe her mother was in a desperate situation; young, poor, unprepared… Maybe she was honestly hoping to give her baby a better life, opportunities she could not herself offer. To this new mom I’ve invented in my head, the sweet, scared, overwhelmed girl, who wanted all the best for Angie, I so wish I could show her the young lady she’s become.

Would she have imagined in a million years that her daughter would be growing up with two gringos, in a Cape Cod house in KY? Would she guess the path her childhood would take; from the abusive home, to the orphanage, to a family in the US, then back to the orphanage where she’d teach the other children English. Could she have known her baby would go from sometimes sleeping on the streets in Santa Cruz to regularly serving the homeless in Louisville?

Angie tutoring one of the home's newest kiddos for her English test today.

Heidi says we’ll get to show Angie's birth mom all of this in Heaven. But I pray she can sleep in peace tonight, wherever she may be, resting assured her beloved child is loved by sooo many. Overcoming so many obstacles, growing into a compassionate, educated, gorgeous, well-rounded, daughter of not just both of us, but of her Heavenly Father as well. To Him be the glory, for this miracle story only He could write. A page turner I can’t seem to put down, and can’t wait to see unfold….

Huge Answer to Prayer!!

Last Thursday night, I posted this status on Facebook:

"Huge prayer request friends -- Angie and I go in for an interview tomorrow morning at 9:30 with immigration. Lord willing, afterward, she'll be a U.S. permanent resident!"

By Friday morning there were a lot of likes, and quite a few comments, as we went in for our meeting with a very nice immigration officer. As nice as he was though, he did not grant Angie permanent residency, on the contrary he actually had some doubts and told me he'd need to research it further, and he'd let me know in a couple months.

I was, of course, dejected, and made a comment on the status above that we hadn't gotten residency that day. But most people didn't notice my comment, and many MANY people continued to "like" and even comment throughout the weekend, as if the interview were still in the future. Honestly, it got a little annoying. I don't think I've ever had 133 people "like" anything I've posted, let alone something that was so frustrating and disappointing. But for some reason, I didn't just erase the status, as would have made sense. 

This morning, the immigration officer left me a voicemail, which reignited fresh hope, and I dropped to my knees in prayer as soon as I heard his message. When I opened my eyes, I immediately saw the file containing some of the documents we'd been looking for! 

I'll spare you the laborious details of the following hours (during which I ambushed the nice man on his lunch break) and instead show you the result:

Angie Was Granted Her U.S. Permanent Residency!!!!!

I think that warrants some caps and bold font. It's been a long road, Baby! One where we moved back to Bolivia for four months to fulfill the requirements, and have been filing paperwork since our return last December.  One where no local lawyers would touch our case with a ten foot pole, so we navigated the muddy waters on our own.  And one where we made some mistakes, including a $1500 error in timing our trip back to visit Bolivia last month. 

But now the horizon looks pretty clear, the citizenship and Jon's adoption of her, seem like smooth sailing compared to the obstacles we've already overcome.

On Sunday, we leave for the trip to Bolivia we had planned for July. Thank you so much for your prayers, even the ones that came after the interview, when I thought they were useless. It just proves that God is timeless, and His timing is not always ours.

If you read my last post, you might be wondering if I revisited my knees to thank God for His goodness, as I had so easily sunk to them in petition. I did, but it was hard to stay down there, as I'm light as a feather with relief, and feel much more liking leaping for joy than holding still!!!

If you're interested in supporting our work in Bolivia, or here in the US, please partner with us here. As always, we covet your prayers.

Trial or Triumph, You Choose

A single missionary friend of mine, is single no more. As a seasoned traveler to orphanages in Mexico, Argentina, and Bolivia, she was equipped for most adventures, but are any of us really prepared for the metamorphosis when two start to become one?! 

In her recent state of confusion, she sent me this note, "How do I know that my relationship with God is in good balance while at the same time, having Joe in my life? What have you learned about both (having your spouse AND God) being priorities, but keeping God number one?"

At first glance, it was my instinct to remember how strapped I was for time when I brought another person into my world, first Angie, and then Jon. It was easy to focus on the balancing act of making time to be alone with God, when you can't even find time to go to the bathroom with the door closed. Scheduling was a very real challenge, but then I remembered that the closest I've ever been to God may have been in the first few months of doing life with Angie. And that's when I noticed this line a bit later in my friend's message, "I am enjoying the added peace, love, and support Joe has brought to my life..."

Maybe it's not so impossible to make room for God when life get's full, as it is difficult to seek Him with the same passion in the absence of desperation. Why don't the words pour out of us as freely in praise of all His wonders, as they do in cries for His comfort and rescue? Why do we find ourselves on our knees so much more in the desert than in abundance?

One year ago, I was navigating the fresh waters of matrimony, while Angie was drowning in a sea of unwanted change, as she wrestled with leaving her native land and losing the exclusive rights to her mom. She acted out mostly with words, albeit words who's marks were sometimes hard to erase, even with the understanding that she didn't mean most of them. 

Two years ago, she hadn't quite honed the art of self control, and she dealt with the ongoing changes of being part of a family by busting holes in her door, leaving claw marks on my arms and chunks of my hair on the floor, cutting the walls, and slicing gaping holes in my window screens. 

This year, you could almost call her reasonable. She makes mistakes, says things she shouldn't, thrashes about sometimes, but you can talk her down now, her fits are shorter, fewer, and farther between. She's learning what it means to live with people who love her.

Guess, in which of these times I was closest to God. In which year did I shed more tears, each one like incense rising to the Lord? Of course, when my knees were the most raw from the time spent pleading for a reprieve from the wildness and violence.

“You’re blessed when you’re at the end of your rope. With less of you there is more of God and His rule. You’re blessed when you feel you’ve lost what is most dear to you. Only then can you be embraced by the One most dear to you." -Matthew 5:3-4 TM

"The Lord is close to the brokenhearted; He rescues those whose spirits are crushed." 

-Psalm 34:18 NLT

"My ears had heard of You, but now my eyes have seen You." -Job 42:5 NIV

A couple weeks ago, I spoke at a Christian Camp about the rubbish we fill up our lives with. Like the child who can't hold the next gift you have for her, because her hands are already full with what she thinks is the good stuff.

"...everything I once thought I had going for me is insignificant—dog dung. I’ve dumped it all in the trash so that I could embrace Christ and be embraced by Him." Phil 3:10 TM

I shared about emptying ourselves of all the credentials we wear so proudly, and the possessions we cling to so tightly, to have room to embrace Christ and be embraced by Him. And at the end, a missionary to India asked, "so what's it like when you've let it all go?"

I think I spouted off something about greater intimacy with God, but I'd been about as transparent as one can be with strangers in this workshop, so why put on airs now, "I don't really know," I admitted, "I tend to fill up my arms again as soon as God helps me empty them." 

After all, the humility/pride I get from freeing myself up to embrace Christ is accolade enough to keep Him at arms length. The feeling of significance found in the praise of men, the security in the riches of this world, and the lightness of companionship are enough to convince anyone to seek worldly prosperity over the deprivation that draws us into His lap. 

Job had heard of God when his cup was brimming over with treasures, but he didn't truly see God until he had lost everything. 

Would I choose the closeness with God I had when I wept in my bed alone while my child raged against me, or the relative peace and happiness I cherish now with my dear supportive husband and the more docile daughter? Would I ever take a season with the Lord alone on my knees, when I could be frolicking and laughing with my family?

Am I strong enough to wish for more adversity? Am I capable of coming to the end of my rope, without tragedy taking me there? Would you ever trade a day of ease and pleasure for one marked with trials and suffering that lead you to Jesus? 

Until we're there, may we at least, appreciate the closeness we have when we're allowed  pain, and "when troubles come your way, consider it an opportunity for great joy." -James 1:2. 

Newlyweds No More?

Celebrating our first year of wedded bliss!

Marriage is one of those strange strange creatures you cannot completely fathom until you've captured it. Even then, it is an elusive beast to wrap your head around. Although it's as common as the flu in January, just like motherhood it's extraordinary in almost every way. In one of my favorite books on the subject, "The Meaning of Marriage" Tim Keller quotes Stanley Hauerwas,

 "...we always marry the wrong person. We never know whom we marry; we just think we do. Or even if we first marry the right person, just give it awhile and he or she will change. For marriage, being the enormous thing it is means we are not the same person after we have entered it. The primary problem is...learning how to love and care for the stranger to whom you find yourself married."

Growing together on the high ropes course at family camp in the California Redwoods.

One year ago, Jon and I started changing each other for better or worse, for the rest of our lives. We've changed in some monumental ways. Where I was repulsed by hunting before, now I cook and eat the game he brings home, and maybe even look forward to restocking the freezer as deer season approaches. Jon now often cheers for UL with nearly the enthusiasm of those of us who truly bleed Cardinal Red as opposed to his natural UK blue. We've also changed in almost undetectable manners; now I separate the lights from the darks in the laundry, and he puts the toilet seat down. We've rubbed off on each other in negative ways. I start my day much later than I used to, because it's just about impossible to get out of bed when he's snoozing there all warm and cuddly. His diet now includes many more simple carbs than it probably ever has. But we've sharpened one another as well. Because of his influence, I'm gentler and calmer with Angie even when I'm not feeling gentle or calm at all. He's becoming more direct and more open about what he's really thinking. I might be a little more patient, he might be a bit more driven.

I wonder sometimes why couples who've been married fifty years can still be two such unique individuals. Why haven't they basically morphed into a male and female version of one another; two perfect fusions of all the good qualities each offers? If Jon and I could combine our passion and unflappable-ness, our energy and clearheadedness, fervor and tenderness, ambition and persistence, our perseverance, tenacity, thoughtfulness and charm, all on their best days, we'd be a duo to be reckoned with for sure! 

So I pray that we will continue to improve each other by watching one another reflect Christ in various ways for decades to come. Softening one anothers' edges where they need to be softened, sharpening them where they need to be sharper.

The happy-couple-pose in a two-person kayak after we sunk the one-man kayak in the middle of the lake,
 in one of life's impromptu crash courses on relationships. 

I'm reading Ann Voskamp's incredible book One Thousand Gifts where she quotes C.S. Lewis as saying,"If you think of the world as a place intended simply for our happiness, you find it quite intolerable: think of it as a place of training and correction and it's not so bad."

 It made me realize why I've been so pleasantly surprised by this first year as a wife. Many people think of marriage as an arrangement simply intended for their happiness, and thus find it quite intolerable. But as a 32 year-old tying the knot for the first time, I was fortunate enough to come to it with a little more realistic perspective. I looked at marriage more as a place of training and correction, as Tim Keller says "a way for two spiritual friends to help each other on their journey to become the persons God designed them to be." And as a result, it has exceeded all my expectations. 

Now, to see if it can get any sweeter, as we embark on year #2 determined to stay "newlywed" for a long long time....