This is about pain.

Hello friends and prayer warriors and family.

I haven't shared about ministry in awhile. It's still happening, and I'm still blessed to do it. Even days after we found out that we lost our baby, we were doing programs. We were glad to have something other than sadness to think about, and the Lord opened up our eyes to amazing things he is is doing in South Africa. One of our first programs was in Gautang, at this place called Vastfontein Community.  These guys actually worked with Kurt and Cathy good friends and fellow ministers of ours, for many years in Japan. Since they have had such a long running time of ministry there, they were excited to connect on this continent. As he shared stories of the lives a lot of these children are living, taking care of younger siblings, starving, having to grow up incredibly fast, as the miracles that came by out of obedience to God in seeing needs, I was so moved.

Recently, we worked with a school in Cathcart, which is in the Eastern Cape. Our host shared with us this- I just copied this section from my weekly letter to my supervisors.

"He shared from his heart how much it hurts to see how the culture of ancestor worship and the methods of “becoming a man” are ruining so many lives. He told us how young men, usually around 16-17, but sometimes even as young as 12 go into “the bush” where they go to this school where they are brainwashed about what it means to be a man, and then they get circumcised by someone who is not equipped to handle this kind of surgery, and then they come back as “men.” Then they are free to have sex and do whatever they want. And it's a common situation for young girls to get pregnant, but the father will deny that it's his child, because that would dishonor his ancestors. He shared that about 50 young boys died last year due to infection caused from the circumcision, but they all flock over there to get it done, not noticing any connection.

It break their hearts how they see people who say that they are Christians, but walk around with so much fear of their ancestors. It's easy to blame why something goes wrong. I didn't sacrifice a beast when I was supposed to do it! Now I must sacrifice 3 of them. And a cow is a lot of money.

There are definitely a lot of strongholds here. "

It's so hard for the Christians there to  see others suffering, the kids they teach, and live with, and when they try to encourage them, what they hear in return is, "Oh, you are just being racist. You don't understand my culture. And they just want to shake them and say, your culture is killing you! You aren't respecting ancestors, you are selling your soul to the devil and he is laughing at you!

There is so much pain going on. It's good to be aware, and for me to share with you guys how you can pray for these things.

So often people come to our car when we are stopped and say, "I'm so hungry. Do you have any food?" There are so many people out of work, and so many people living off of a small grant that is given from the government when a baby is born. It's not enough for one person, but whole families somehow exist on it. 

And as I look for food to give and learn about the cultures and learn lines and find places to sleep, I carry this burden of my own. 

I finally shared on facebook about losing my baby, and a good friend said that it was unfair, and as I was thinking about that, I wrote this-  it's not about fair. It's not a justice issue. God didn't owe me this. One of my struggles has been why did he let me get pregnant in the first place, but it doesn't bother me anymore. I see that a lot of good has come out of it, and I don't hold it against God, or my womb, or anyone.

When I say it doesn't bother me anymore, that should probably have read, it doesn't bother me right now. Because I know this is not something you get over. I know I've got some hard times ahead of me, but I'll get through them.

Another facebook friend asked me if I had any insights or thoughts as to why some families go through this loss, and some don't. I wrote-  I think he takes the weak, the ones who might not seem so strong, and shows His strength through us for the world that doesn't have hope to see it. A host in Germany who actually lost her baby a few days after she was born wrote me and said, "And hard as it is: we can help other mums to go through it. We can show that we belong to Jesus not only in good times but also in the heartbreaking ones."

I think that goes for a lot of suffering. I read in a little book by Barbara Johnson that suffering is like a cake. If you take a big spoonful of flour and shortening, it will be disgusting. Stomach turning. But the Lord is putting all the ingredients together to make something beautiful, in His time. No, these ingredients do not make sense now. We just have to wait. 

Here's a quote from Barbara Johnson- "I find that people who trust God with their suffering have an invisible aroma of a freshly baked cake, that draws people to them. As Paul puts it, "all things (all the ingrediants of pain and suffering) work together for good to them that love God." When we believe that nothing comes to us except through our Heavenly Father, then suffering begins to make a little sense to us- not much, I admit, but a little bit, and that's all God needs to work in our lives, just a mustard seed of faith."

What is unfair is that so many don't have hope, food, shelter or love. Lord use us to lift this unfairness off the face of this earth. As Christians, our pain pulls a closer to His arms, and to each other for comfort. We cling to the promise that blessed are those who mourn, for they shall be comforted. 

Our pain awakens us to the pain of others and this enables our hearts to feel what the Lord feels all the time. He is constantly feeling the pain of the world, and the separation of those he loves. He is the hero in search of the lost sheep, and he won't stop until he finds them.  I better stop already, this is a novel now!

Lots of love you all,

Katie

My baby is not an angel! Isn't that great?

There is a comforting thought, or just an expression that there isn't a lot of thought put into, at least by Christians, that babies that don't make it out of the womb become guardian angels. That babies or any close family member that passes away changes into this.

I don't begrudge non Christians who say this. A lot of them don't know better.

I'm sorry for the possible offense that may occur, but I'm not sorry for speaking the truth.
The biblical truth is this. Humans are humans. Angels are angels.

We humans are weak creatures created from dust and a rib. Angels are powerful, huge messengers and warriors and worshipers. Probably other stuff too, but that's enough for now.

Anyway, that's not what I want to focus on. I heard some great teaching yesterday, and it touched me so deeply. I will try to share, and I pray that it will make sense and touch someone else the way it touched me.

There is this thing that people believe. In order to be accepted by God, I have to be good. I have to make myself better than I am. The Isrealites were in captivity for 400 years to the Egyptions. When they were lead out of Egypt, they had no idea how to be a people. When Moses went up Mt. Sinai, the Lord said to him, I am The Lord YOUR God. Not The Lord The God. Yours. Personally.

He was personal. He chose this people that had done nothing for him, that didn't yet know what to do for him. He gave the rules as a sign of the acceptance that he had already given. Rules are for family.

At that first passover, he was saying, "I don't just want to be your law-giver. I want to be your Savior. Do this weird thing and just trust me. Paint that blood on your doors and trust me.

Being accepted and chosen is what so many of us long for. And even as Christians that have a lot of head knowledge, it is still possible for us to be steeped in a lie that if we were better, we would be heard more, we would deserve to be heard more, would be loved, would be acknowledged.

He already chose us. We don't have to do anything. What we do is stand in awe of the grace, and act out of gratitude. That's where the works come in.

And here is the big beautiful, wonderful thing. A baby can literally do nothing but exist. Grow. When those arm buds begin to separate into limbs, they dance. When that umbilical cord brings nutrition, they eat. All they know is to expect and receive.

The Lord chose them! They get to enter into heaven, no strings attached because they exist. Because the passover lamb was just a symbol for Jesus, and his death redeemed all of mankind.

An unborn baby can do less than the thief on the cross, and this life is cherished and glorious forever, beyond what we can think and imagine!

I choose to celebrate the life my baby is living. I know I will have emotional days, but that's okay. Mourning is okay. Crying is okay. It's natural and good.

Thank you Lord that Vuyo is a person in your kingdom. Thank you Lord that a part of my husband and myself is in heaven. Thank you that I am accepted because of what You did, and that I have the hope of meeting him or her.

Mourning the baby I didn't meet.

Mourning sneaks up when you don't think it will. It's honestly harder for me to look at ultra sound pictures than to look at newborn pictures. It's harder to see baby clothes at stores than to see actual babies. (You still can't get me to stay away from babies, are you kidding? It's like you don't even know me at all.)

In the last week the emotion has sneaked up on me harder than the weeks right after finding out that our baby couldn't grow. It just smacks me against the walls of my small pitiful heart. I cry and squeak and wish that life was still there so badly.

I didn't get to hear a heart beat. I didn't get to watch or feel my stomach expand. I didn't get to see any movement on that screen. I just saw a black spot. But I signed up for all the email updates I could find, to learn what approximate fruit size my baby was at that week. I thought I had unsubscribed to them all, but then yesterday I got the "Congratulations, you are at week 12! Your baby is the size of a plum!" update email. And it hurt.

In my diary, I keep a running prayer of prayers for my life and ministry.

Here's the last few-

"Let your spontaneous love flow out of me to all others."

"Show me how to love as you have loved me."

"Teach me how to be a Mother."

"Lead me through balancing family and CP work."

"Heal my broken heart Lord, as I give this dream back to you."

 I know that tears are one of the methods the Holy Spirit uses to cleanse our hearts. I think we need to share our hurts and not feel ashamed of the pain.

My good friend Naomi is going through a really difficult time, and she is sharing her journey through a blog. It's very powerful and a beautiful depiction of having faith. I encourage anyone to sees this to check it out, and lift up her family in prayer.

Thank you for asking.

Hello.
Boy, how do I start this. I do really want to thank those that asked how I was. Especially around a month ago. That was a really hard time.
The strange thing is, the emotions are not so close to the surface. There is a memory of the excitement, the fear, the immediate loss, and the numbing as the disappointment floats closer to the surface. All my life I have wanted to be a Mom. From the beginning of July till the beginning of August, we were expectant parents. We nicknamed our baby Vuyo. That's a Zulu name and it means "Happiness."

We were not planning on this. We were taking measures to avoid pregnancy because, well, we are touring in a car in South Africa! It didn't seem like a thing we would want to try to make work. We were living in California, waiting for our Visa's to come through, in a time of chaos and indecision and wondering when it was going to happen, while getting into a routine there. A routine that we were really enjoying. Regular office hours. Long term hosts. Weekly zumba classes. In sunny, gorgeous, hot Southern California. This was the life!

Then I finally got my visa, and my husband had to go to Sweden to get his. While we were apart, I took my first test, and I was barely feeling the ground under my feet. Whenever I was walking somewhere, I would just whisper the words in my head, "There is a life inside of me, growing." I wasn't smiling, or joyful, or dancing. I was in quiet awe.

Days after that, I was on a plane to Germany, to be reunited with my wonderful friends there, and wanting to just blurt it out to everyone. I wanted to dance and shout and hug and cry with all of my friends there so badly. But I had always heard that you wait until the first few months until you tell. I got to a Doctor, and found out that I wasn't a few months along, I was just a few weeks. So, darn it, I couldn't tell anyone. I looked at that beautiful picture, that black tiny smudge so often. Dreaming of when it would look more like a person. Dreaming of so many things.

The next Dr.'s visit revealed that the baby hadn't grown. It was never going to grow. It's called a blighted ovum, and it's one of the most common ways miscarriages happen. The egg sac grows, but nothing inside of it does. I had to have a D&C, I had to spend 2 nights in a hospital because that's a normal waiting time for a simple 20 minute procedure like that in this country. I came back home (our office was also our home for our first month and a half of tour) and was thrilled to be out of that lumpy bed. And I hated my stomach for betraying me. I sometimes couldn't stand to touch it. Sometimes it still hurts, how much I wanted that baby. We hadn't planned on it, but we knew beyond a shadow of a doubt, that since the Lord had allowed this life to happen, He would take care of it. He would provide the support.

I was excited to see how the support would come, how cradles and car seats and clothes would be donated. I was planning on where to put the crib and where to put the changing table. Now the emotions come. Now my heart remembers that it isn't done breaking.

Now when people ask us if we have a family, either I lie and say, "Not yet." Or I am honest and tell the truth. We have a baby in heaven, and we know that we will meet him or her someday. We didn't lose our Happiness, we just have to wait to say hello in person. My husband whispered hello to my stomach, and prayed with his hand there every night. I prayed and prayed that everything would be alright, but the thing I prayed the most fervently for was that our baby would know truth, and would be guided by that truth, by the love of God, and would know that love personally. That prayer was heard.

I was Marten's first girlfriend, first kiss, first love. He never had his heart broken. And neither did our baby. We know we will have a family someday. In His timing. We still feel that loss. And mission life is discouraging, with cancellations and money struggles and all the frustrations that come with that.
We do need to be lifted up and for some literal breakthroughs to happen so that bills can be paid and we can not feel like all that we are capable of is failing.

We are on the road again, and are so thankful for the support we have recieved. From the people who messaged me and said that the Lord had put us on their hearts, and had prayed extra hard for us. For the few people we told who have held us up. And when we go back to Walkerville, there is a memorial tree waiting there. Denise bought it, took this picture, and painted the name on.
Her love and support made my heart feel so safe and protected. I am so thankful for her and Abigail and their love.

The bible verse listed is Psalm 30:5. For his anger endures but a moment; in his favor is life: weeping may endure for a night, but joy comes in the morning.

Amen.