We have not been here (in this blog-space) writing things out very much this summer. It annoys me that there hasn't been space and time to write much because writing is a lot like running for me, it provides a method/vehicle that allows me to process my crazy. Lawd knows all about the copious crazy up in this house.
The neglect of the blog began in July when we were trying to figure out how to leave our home for five months. We were busy planning and trying to tie up loose ends at work and home. We put stuff into one room, we tried to decide what things to hide and what things to leave out when renting out the house. I confess here and now in this public space that I hid a few things. When I sat down to imagine what items a renter could break that might make me melt down in white hot rage and/or utter despair, it really came down to two things: the Vitamix Blender and the treadmill.
I'm not that great of a sharer.
There I said it.
I left other options, though. There is still a $19.99 Oster that is awesome at making already liquefied items stay at least as liquefied as when you begin blending, and a driveway to run in place.
We made lists and tried to explain in writing why each and every person staying in the house will get to spend a night or two or twenty surrounded by mosquitoes, without electricity and maybe even water. I thought the manual of instructions Troy wrote was over-kill. I wanted to say, "This is your life now, people. Embrace the suck.", or, "You get to pay rent to lie awake sweating your butt off. More expensive than a gym membership, but SAME results. See, you don't even need the treadmill! You.are.welcome."
My partner in life is much kinder and far more gracious. He wanted to write a manual to explain the infrastructure and how it all works (or doesn't) and help the renters and guests understand how to be smart with their battery power. If you ever need a merciful friend, you know whom to call upon.
Here I sit, all cool, comfortable and dry, typing all of that out and thinking about the soupy hot sleepless buzzing-bug-filled nights and feeling more than a little bit sad. I love that miserable place so much.
The point of all that ... First it was too busy getting ready to go and now it is to busy going and ever since we got packed up and left four weeks ago, everything is too disjointed and unorganized and there hasn't been great wi-fi and and and.
(People, middle America doesn't have as much Wi-Fi access as you might think. Branson, MO is pretty much an unwired technology-free-wasteland.)
I wish I could go back and write the things that were wonderful and glorious and painful and mind-numbing from the month of July. That stuff is blurry already as we've been speeding full force into this five months of America time. This photo below was used to jog my atrophied and aspartame soaked cranium - so with this, I am trying to say something about the month of July, to catch up just a little.
Chelsea, thank you so much. We were blessed by your love and service this summer.
Another July happening...
Rachel Burton showed up on the scene. Born in Texas to Jimmy and Becky Burton (for new readers, they are two+ years in Haiti working at multiple things - including teaching this crew of kids).
Last night on our way home from Branson we stopped to meet the newest Burton. Here are the five current and one former Heartline Academy students along with Abbi and Rachel Burton ...
We're not certain how we can possibly be worthy of this much goodness and provision, but the 4 Burtons will return to teach and live in Haiti again in January.
The five remaining students count their blessings and the days until then, they truly love their teachers and love learning under their direction.
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We get emails from Geronne and Jenny that make us smile. We get to hear about the random, exciting, mundane day to day things and sometimes the emails say, "Please tell the American that I need to go to a funeral/the market/my friend's house tomorrow, I would tell her myself but she doesn't speak Kreyol." The system works surprisingly well. Geronne emails us in Kreyol, we email the person standing next to her in English. Voila! Everyone is in the know.
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Troy and Paige are all registered for their respective classes. They have one single required (for new incoming students) class together. Troy's plan is to head to class and see how long it takes before someone asks Paige why the creepy old-bro always sits near her and talks to her. They already had a fun moment during their test and registration day when the registrar asked Troy for his license and he said, "Oh, sorry, I didn't know you needed it", she replied, "I don't, I just wanted to see how you are old enough to have a daughter registering with you."
Made me reeeal proud hearing that story. That there my baby-daddy! A daddy, who is just a baby.
Troy's two classes are part of his long-range planning that will someday allow him to get further into formal dentistry stuff. (That's fancy academic talk right there, try to stick with me.)
I have so much stuck in my head that needs to be let out...
...But I also have a Midwifery paperwork deadline that will require miraculous and merciful supernatural strength to meet. So wish me luck, vastly reduced ADD, the discipline of an Olympic athlete, and a very nice Fed-Ex customer-service person on Monday morning.
Until next time, Kenbe fem.
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Reposting from facebook - currently in search of:
Waco, TX friends and acquaintances that are not registered or unregistered sex-offenders: We are looking to hire a math teacher/tutor for five age Kindergarten to sixth grade students. (They all use Math-U-See curriculum.) This position could be 3 or 4 days a week depending on the tutor's availability. The pay is lucrative, you'll be famous, powerful, and held in high esteem. Only not all those things. Just the last one. PLEASE, if you know a student at Baylor or a graduate of 8th grade or just someone that LOVES doing Math morning, noon, and night and LOVES being asked to explain things dozens and dozens of times, send them our way, stat!
(This is a one semester job, but the rewards will last a lifetime. Or the memories will. Or something.)
Maslow's Hierarchy of needs photo - posted on Twitter today by @mdcounselling - and Brene Brown