Fear of flying...or how i ended up here

I have a fear of flying. 

Like a really big fear of flying.

You might call it a panic. 

My mom will remember a day years ago when I called her from the airport refusing to get on the plane that was supposed to take me back to school. She unapologetically bought herself a ticket, forced me on the plane, and flew to Lubbock right next to me. 

While I haven’t had another full blown anxiety attack on the jetway since, it never gets easier.

So it’s a little ironic that I write this entry from a tiny economy seat on a flight headed to Mexico. 

So...I thought I would final try to put into words the question I’ve answered a lot recently.

How did I end up here, right now? 

This wasn’t part of my life plan and it’s certainly not comfortable or easy for me.  

When we arrived back in the US, I was in full take control, project mode. I researched neighborhoods and schools, I gathered information about soccer programs, tennis coaches, and the best Mexican restaurants in our area (I’m still researching that one). Career wise, I updated my resume, reconnected with old colleagues, and interviewed with hospitals.  

I really thought I had it under control...until I admitted I didn’t. 

I’d been in talks with a large prestigious hospital group. I’d met with the hospital ceo, the specialty physicians, and toured my future clinic. On paper, it was exactly the right thing. I would have my private practice with autonomy but support from the hospital for the business side. I’d have a built in referral team, marketing team, and staff. I’d come home with a more than comfortable paycheck. 

So I was surprised and initially dismissive by the growing ache in my heart as I sat down to agree to final terms and sign the paperwork. “I’m just nervous,” I told myself. 

But over the course of an afternoon at the clinic that ache grew into a full blown panic, one that brought back the same feelings of that refused flight. 

Thoughts were hitting me so hard

-what am I doing? 

-why am I here?

-this isn’t right.

I made up a reason to need more time and left. I broke down in tears-partly angry at myself, partly confused, and partly relieved. Over the next week I wrestled with all the feelings. 

The thing that kept repeating was

 “there is something more.”

In the midst of my personal crisis, I attended a conference where I heard speaker after speaker talk about being called by God. They talked about letting go of our plan and following Gods plan, of dreaming Gods dreams, not our own.

My favorite truth (and now daily inner mantra) is the realization that we can’t be brave and safe at the same time. 

Think about that. 

I don’t necessarily mean physical safety, although it certainly applies there. I mean the feeling of comfort and safety in my life. 

I want to be brave, I think we all do. 

But being brave requires having something to be brave about. 

A knight who is well trained isn’t really brave until he steps out to fight the dragon.

The most talented singer isn’t really brave until she performs on a stage. 

I am not really brave when I accept the easy life even though I know deep down that’s not who I am. 

I must be willing to step out and take risks in order to be brave. 

And so, I said no. 

I said no to the high paying, move-in ready job that wasn’t me. 

And in total free fall, with no plan, I faced my anxiety.

But God knew. He always knew. 

I am loved and supported by some amazing people who were willing to walk with me as I follow God one step at a time. It’s more than I could have imagined and I honestly have no idea what’s ahead. 

Just in the past few weeks, I have served with a homeless clinic in the city, taught health education at a prostitution center empowering women to make life change, and brainstormed with public health researchers about human trafficking prevention. 

And today, I pushed myself on a plane to encourage and learn from some of our international church family. 

I’ve had a few encounters with some  physicians from my “old life”  where I got the cordial smile “oh that’s interesting” but the eyes that said “she went off the deep end and now she’s one of those crazy Jesus people.” (maybe one person even actually said those words).

I admit it. It’s weird. It’s not normal. I never thought I would here. 

But every day...

I am so grateful I said no. And I am so excited for what God has in store. 

I believe that 

every 

single 

one 

of us have a place in God’s dream. 

Some of us ARE meant to be clinic doctors. Some are meant to teachers, or mentors, or encouragers, or advocates. The hard part isn’t usually figuring out what our gift is. Most of us know that deep inside already. The part that requires being brave is DOING it. 

Getting on the plane when we don’t think we can.

Following the path that isn’t part of our original plan.

Make the decision that’s right and not always easy. 

So, long story longer, that’s how I ended up where I am. 

I haven’t done it all with grace, and I’m sure I have many stumbles ahead. But i know that if I focus on the truth, God will do the rest. 

Live justly.

Love mercy.

Walk humbly. 

Malaysia, truly Asia

Moving is never easy. It doesn't seem to matter how many times we've done this, it's always hard. Prolonged goodbyes wrapped in emotions topped with an endless to-do list makes for sleepless nights and big anxiety.

Now that we are here in the homestretch, the logistics are taken care of. The container has been sent off, immigration clearance is done, school is finished, even the doggy passport is stamped and ready to go. 

But arrangements aside, it's the nostalgia that is taking over. This move is so bittersweet for us. In all honesty, for the first while living here, I could never imagine missing anything about Malaysia. My, how times have changed. The life we've made here is a happy one. While I am very excited to be going back to Texas, I am just as sad to leave.  

So, in full list making mode, here's what is heavy on my heart today

1. I will miss all of our travels. We've gotten to see parts of world I couldn't have pointed out on a map before. The places, cultures, foods, and people we've gotten to experience have forever changed us. 

2. I will not miss immigration and border crossings. 4 passports later, the excitement of passport stamps has faded to the point that I get frustrated when an officer turns to a new page instead of squeezing a stamp in somewhere else. I look forward to going to soccer practice without having to clear customs. 

3. I will miss living on the equator. Every day is beach weather in Malaysia full of sun and warmth. After living in Norway, it was a nice change to switch to sandals and shorts every day.  

4. But I will not miss being hot ALL the flipping time. Watching the boys sports? Trying to avoid heat stroke. Morning run? Only if it's still dark. Just out of the shower? Already sweating. Beach weather is nice...at the beach. I can't wait to get back to seasons. 

5. I will obviously most definitely miss Batu Batu, our perfect little island paradise. Only 2 hours from home, full of staff who became friends, and a perfect place for adventurous boys to wander and play, it will forever be my favorite place on earth. 

6. I will not miss Legoland. I know, I know, how could I say that?? But if I never ride the dragon roller coaster or eat another terrible hamburger again, I won't be missing out. It just goes to show you can get too much of a good thing. 

7. I will miss my medical students so very much. Not only did I have a job working with some great friends, but I got to get to know some really amazing doctors-to-be. I never expected to learn so much from them, laugh so much with them, and care so much about them. 

8. I will not miss the food. I know many will disagree with me on this one because Malaysia is known as the food capital of the world. Every single conversation will come back to food at some point. But century eggs, durian, fish head curry, and anchovies for breakfast just aren't my thing. 

9. I will miss our bubble. Our house is less than 5 minutes from my work, the boys school and Micah's work. Most of the boys friends all live in our same neighborhood. Every time we go to eat at the same restaurants, they know our order and we will chat with at least several friends who've come to the same place. 

10. I will not miss the driving. Malaysian driving is terrifying. There technically are rules, but the standard is not to follow them. Motorbikes driving the wrong way on the highway, cars completely ignoring stop signs, big trucks parking wherever they see fit...it's frustrating at minimum and death defying at most. 

11. I will miss our friends. In creating our life here, we've made more than just friends but an extended family. People that love your children, people to  cry to when you're homesick, people to walk through life with. Maybe it's the circumstances or maybe it's the type of people who end up in an expat world, but we've found some keepers for sure. It doesn't matter where we move to or where our paths lead, real friends we've made here are here forever.

So while it's great to be headed back to our roots, it doesn't make it any easierto leave. God has blessed us with an adventure of a lifetime and I know the plans He has ahead for us are good. 

Thank you, Malaysia. You surprised me. I tried really hard to hate you, but you didn't let me do it. I am truly grateful for that. ❤️

Fear of home

Day two of jet lag is the worst part. You might not think so, but trust me on this one. 

Day one, you've got excitement and adrenaline to fuel you until you finally decide to sleep and all the exhaustion just crashes down, pulling you into eight plus hours of easy rest. But then by night two, you've settled in a bit and although you've felt like you absolutely cannot hold you eyes open for one more second at some points, when you lay down to sleep during what your body thinks is midday, you lie awake despite your best intentions and worries of tomorrow's fatigue.

This is when the big thoughts hit me. 

Until this point, thoughts about summer holidays at home tend to be milestones to countdown to, romanticized ideas of relaxing and family and...Mexican food. The most worrisome thoughts I have come from a logistic front. What to pack? baggage allowance? Flight times? Necessary details but not overly concerning. 

But now, tonight, ten hours before the last leg of our journey, I think about what it means to be going "home"....and the fear starts to creep in. 

Here's the thing, we've been living abroad for nearly five years now and a lot has happened in that time. 

When we left, Owen was 3 years old. Still a baby really, not yet with a true identity of his own. He relied on us as his world, and while he still does of course, now he is nearly 8 with friends and opinions and his own personality. 

When we left, Tyler and Barrett were little boys...who have now grown into full blown tweets/teens and our relationship with each of them has evolved. I can talk (and argue) with Barrett like he is an adult sometimes. It's kind of a twilight zone feeling sometimes.

When we left, Micah and I were stable and predictable and supportive. While all those things are still true, our commitment and encouragement for each other has reached a new level. It has had to. Many a time, we have been the only lifeline for each other. My love and admiration for him has skyrocketed with each episode of homesickness, or expat frustration, or breakdown due to fear of the unknown. 

When we left, I was worried about my career. I am a doctor. It's who I am. What will I be without that?!? The answer is, I am  still figuring that out but I am truly loving the journey. God has placed opportunities and paths in front of me I would have never ever even considered (I mean, me? Teach? Seriously?) I have discovered a self confidence I never had before. I have found a new shift of priorities I never had before. Is my house 90% furnished from ikea? Yep. Do I care? Okay, honestly some days I do, but most of time I can remember that those things i spent a lot of time thinking about before are not so important in the big picture. I am not the same fearful girl leaving for a long vacation that I was a few short years ago. I long for travel and meeting new people and cultures and working to make a difference. 

And to add to the complication, the thing we call home hasn't stood still either. People have lived their lives. Our house isn't the same. Some old friends have drifted away. Time hasn't stopped because we left, and sometimes, I know that sounds really strange, that's a hard concept to grasp. Especially for the older boys, they hope/expect things to be exactly as they remember them. It's hard to watch them go through the grief of realizing it has changed. Normal life events tend to take on an accelerated pace in these summer visits. It can be difficult. 

So here I lay, wide awake when I should be sleeping, scared of what comes tomorrow. There will be happy moments of reuniting, comfort, and love. But there will also be moments of tears, disappointment, and missing "home" when we are home. 

This life we live right now can be wonderful and thrilling but it can also be lonely and scary. I wouldn't change it for anything, but i will hold my breath a bit to see what's in store for us this summer. 

I am fearful. 

Of what we've missed. Of accepting what has changed. Of what's to come. 

But that's not a bad thing. 

Although it definitely doesn't always feel that way, fear is not a bad thing. We talk about it like it is, but fear is simply anticipation of the unknown. It's our response to that anticipation that can become the problem. If we try to embrace the opportunity and trust in God, the outcome can be great. We don't have to suppress fear. We only have to have hope and faith bigger than our fear. As my mentor has taught me, you can "feel the fear and do it anyway." Growth and change can be (and dare say, usually are) good things. 

There is much ahead, this summer and in life, and I look forward to fearing it all. 

Today

Today. 

That's all.

I'm not even sure how to actually describe it but here it goes...

Sometimes life throws days at you that you don't expect....And sometimes the lessons you learn from crisis are beautiful. 

This morning i had just dropped the boys at school and was headed to work...thinking to myself that I needed more coffee and was not super excited about the day. All the usual grumpy thoughts are flowing "Micah's traveling", "I'm always running late", "I wish I had been able to sleep better last night." 

And then I came to an accident. My training instinct kicked in as grumpy thoughts gave way to adrenaline. Long story short, I worked for 30 minutes to revive a worker who had been hit trying to cross the highway. 

I failed. 

I was shaken, sweaty, dirty, covered in tiny glass shards and feeling helpless and exhausted.

While I've been in these situations before as a physician, there's something different and surreal about doing it outside of the hospital, kneeling on gravel to do chest compressions and praying the ambulance arrives. Groups of people are staring and whispering all while I am robotically doing the only thing I can without success. It's horrible. 

As the day has moved on, those moments continue to replay in my head over and over. While sadness (and fatigue) persist, I've realized something else. 

The man who died today was a foreign worker in Malaysia. For those who may not understand what that means, it means long, hard work for very little pay all of which gets sent home to their families. It means sleeping in a makeshift kampung, metal containers set up as villages. It means immigration hassles and no legal rights. Don't think of it like foreign workers in the US-that would be luxury for many of these people. 

In the part of Malaysia where we live, money is being poured into new construction all around. We see these foreign workers very regularly but it's very much two different worlds that don't mix.  Our typically experience to see these workers daily piling onto buses or very often running in this exact spot (and many others) across the highway. I've probably grumbled at them myself for making me slow down as I drive by. Today could be any day, every day in Malaysia.

But when it happened, something changed, and it wasn't just me. 

A friend, with no medical background, immediately followed and was by my side. Another ran down the road to direct oncoming traffic out of our way. Others took over cpr when my fatigue caught up. Another started calling ambulances (it's not such a simple process as 911) and working to find an AED. Others took my teaching at work and made sure I had time to recover. Others drove my car back to school and made sure we were cleaned up and okay. Another waited at the roadside for a forensics team to arrive. Many others have offered support, prayers, and condolences throughout the day. 

What I saw today is that people cared. In the end, it doesn't matter. We are all the same. It didn't matter that we came from different worlds. It didn't matter that we didn't know who he was. It didn't matter how it happened or who was at fault. It didn't matter that we might be putting ourselves in harms way. We saw someone in need and we tried to help.  

It would have been easy to keep driving. In all honesty, I thought about it. But when I looked at his friends who were scared and had no idea what to do, I knew I had to stop. He is someone's family-maybe husband, maybe father. He is working to provide a better life for someone he loves. 

Just like I would. We are all the same. We may have been placed in different circumstances and places in the world, but at the core, we are all the same.

Much of what is happening in the world right now is very difficult for me to accept.I've been struggling. I am pained by the discrimination, the indifference to people in need, and especially the justification that can follow. It seems to be everywhere. 

But today was different. 

Today I saw tragedy but I also saw hope. I saw good people. 

Sometimes the loud voices of the world focus so much on the bad, it's easy to lose sight of the good. We see all the hate and anger and fear, but underneath all of that the quiet voices of love and goodness are constant. It's there. 

So today. 

Today, I grieve for the family and friends of the deceased.

But today I am also thankful for the opportunity to see hope. 

Hope can and will grow. 

Hope is exactly what I needed today. 

Never

I've always been a planner.

As a teenager I used to meticulously write down goals and deadlines for myself. My first year in college I planned all four years of my courses in the first week. In medical school I kept a constant countdown to milestones like exams and breaks. If something happened differently from my plan I would breakdown. It was devastating. 

Here's the part where I would like to say I've changed...but that need for control in knowing what comes next is still very much alive.  

My life has turned out nothing like I could have ever even imagined. My plans were very typical-have a family, be a doctor, live my happy live behind a white picket fence. 

Today, I am sitting on a unspoiled beach on a tiny island in Malaysia, that doesn't even show up on a map. Our arrival was full of hugs and gifts from friends and sweet "welcome home!" messages. Micah and the big boys are off scuba diving and Owen is playing at the bar with his best friend-a twenty something year old Indonesian guy. We drove to the port yesterday, passing monkeys and motorbikes on the way after leaving our rented, modern, (leaking!) house and spending the day teaching epidemiology to medical students. 

Never. If you would have made this life a multiple choice answer, I would have missed the question every time. Never did I think I would end up here. Never did I think my boys would have the travel experiences and "norms" that a part of our day. Never did I think I would meet the people that have taught me so much about the world. Never.

It's amazing. It's better than anything I could have imagined. 

And so, while the planner in me is still there, what has changed is my reaction. I've learned to roll with the punches and look forward to life's surprises. When things don't go according to plan, I have learned to take a deep breath and steer another way. 

It's not always great. It's sometimes lonely and hard. But it's always worth it. Letting go has allowed me so very much. 

The boys love to talk about their futures. Barrett in particular is a lot like me in making plans and goals. My advice for them has evolved through this journey. I tell them not to figure it all out now. Don't get set on anything. See it all. Do it all. Find your passion. Because that's where you'll find God's plan. 

What it's easy to forget is that it's never really our plan to make. We can try to control it, but it's not ours to control. It's ours to live and make the most of. Happiness, for me, is in listening to God. He speaks to me through my emotions, through my opportunities, through the people I love. When I stop fighting and dwelling and relax into following God's path, life is good. 

So what's next for me? Well, today I plan to go paddle boarding and finish a good book while the boys play football on the beach and jump off the jeti. I'm happy with that plan for now. What comes next will be. 

Many are the plans in the mind of a man, but it is the purpose of the Lord that will stand. Proverbs 19:21

13 things I want you to know at age 13. (Otherwise known as how I make sense of life)

It’s been a crazy week in our home – lots going on at work, deadlines in my master’s program, end of the year busyness for the boys, and world events as they’ve occurred have left me physically and emotionally exhausted. On top of it all, my first baby became a teenager and tomorrow heads off for a week on his school trip to trek, white water raft, and volunteer at an elephant sanctuary in Thailand. Today, feeling a bit overwhelmed and emotional, I’ve been taking some time in the middle of it all to try to process. Time is flying by and especially in weeks like these I sometimes feel like I’m just trying to keep my head above water and don’t take time to enjoy the moment, my kids, my life.

Parenting is hard. There’s no way around that. Parenting a teen will probably get even harder.  Barrett and I swing from extremes of laughing together to wanting to strangle each other…sometimes all within a few minute period. I don’t have it all figured out by any means, but I try my best to instil in him the things that matter. Today as I’ve been thinking, it dawned on me that these worries and struggles are the same things I want to teach him.

So I’ve complied them into a list for him of things I hope he will think about, focus on, add to, question. I can’t wait to see where God leads him in this life.

Barrett: 13 things I want you to know at age 13. (Otherwise known as how I make sense of life)

1. Think for yourself. There will always be persuasive friends and people with loud opinions.  Listen to them, but then educate yourself and make your own decisions. There’s no right way for everybody. Find your path and do what you know is right.

2. God’s plans are not the same as your plans. I think you know this one already. We are really good at making plans only to have them redirected. Be flexible, expect the unexpected, and listen to God. His timing is always best.

3. Trust is earned, but kindness and respect are not. Sometimes in today’s world, those things get confused. We don’t trust someone so they become an adversary. We don’t have to agree with someone or even know them to be respectful and kind. Every person deserves that.

4. Fall down, and get back up. We all fail. We all make mistakes. God’s mercy is new every day. You will be stronger for the obstacles you meet along the way, you just have to be willing to try again.

5. Don’t give up what you want most for what you want now. This is a hard one. Sometimes whether it’s how we spend money or time or friendships, we want something in front of us so much that we forget our real goals. Hang in there. Make sure your decisions are the same ones you’ll make tomorrow.

6. You always have to flush the toilet. Every time. Maybe this shouldn’t be a rule for teenage years, but for some reason it continues to be necessary to say on almost a daily basis.

7.  Laugh at yourself sometimes. You create your own happiness – it’s a choice. Don’t get caught up in seriousness all the time. Have some fun.

8.  Lead with the truth. Even when it’s not good news.

9. You can only be brave when you have something to be brave about. It’s easy to get comfortable but that comfort leads to complacency and closed mindedness. You have to try new things, go new places, meet new people, think new things. It’s scary, but it’s worth it. Just go.

10. Be a gentleman. Hold the door. Be polite. Say please and thank you.  

11. Clean clothes after a shower are a requirement. Clothes that pass the “smell” test don’t count. If you have to smell it or cover it with cologne, it’s time to wash it. While we’re at it, remember the shower itself is also a requirement.

12. There are good people in the world. And they aren’t good based labels like religion or nationality or skin color. Judge people for who they are not their labels. We are all the same and we’ve experienced the love and kindness of so many different people around the world. Spread that same love wherever you go.

13. I love you. Always. No matter what. Bad days, bad grades, mistakes and all. It will never matter. I love you. I am so proud of your huge heart and whoever you will become. Whether it's Norway or Texas or Nicaragua or Paris, we are always your home.

Come to think of it, this list kind of works no matter the age. I continue to be a work in progress and you will as well. Continue to make the effort…despite the chaos, despite the negativity, despite the sadness, despite the changes, despite the anxiety. I am so grateful for the child you are, the man you are becoming, and the person you are making me. Happy birthday.

Namaste

Namaste: My soul honors your soul. I honor the love, light, beauty, truth, and kindness within you because it is also within me. In sharing these things there is no distance and no difference between us. We are the same. We are one.

This is how you say hello and goodbye in Nepali language. With every person you meet, you are saying "I see you as God's child, just like me." I love this so much. I found this to be such a good representation of our Nepal adventure.

The people of Nepal have seen more than their share of hardship. Less than one year ago, the earthquake that hit central Nepal killed more than 8000 people, totally devastating some entire villages. Every person we met had an earthquake story to tell. One told us he was out trekking and had to run to find shelter in a cave. Over the next week as he tried to get back to the city he was without any food. Another told us of the primary school that collapsed. He spent more than a month sending food and water into a crevice to try to feed the children that remained trapped below the rubble. Even now, the damage is obvious. Buildings lay in crumbles, houses have lost walls, some roads are impassable.

Besides the natural disaster they've weathered, even more hardships exist. An electricity shortage in the country leaves most buildings with power for only about 8 hours a day. We became used to sudden power outages and even luxury hotels offered hot water for showers for only specific periods (usually 2 hours/day). An expat from Pakistan we met told us how much more difficult it had been in the winter when no heat was available.

Water itself is an issue. In one town, water flows only once every four days. We visited on a water day and saw women filling huge water jugs to last them for cooking, bathing, and washing.

 A recent petrol crisis has also left a major fuel shortage. Lines for gas were 50+ motorbikes long. Only a ration of fuel is given and when the station runs out for the day, many leave without to try again tomorrow.

Roads are indescribable. There is literally one road east to west in the country which winds through the mountains along a river. The roads are barely one lane wide with huge trucks trying to pass each other into oncoming traffic. Mix in livestock wandering into the road, people riding onto the top luggage racks of buses, gatherers walking carrying huge loads of firewood, and construction that directs you off-road onto dirt and needless to say, we saw multiple wrecks. I am beyond grateful for our driver who safely got us to our destinations.

In the jungle, there are even more concerns that are almost incomprehensible to me. Many small villages exist near the national park where wild animals remain a real problem. 20 tiger attacks occur every year. Just let that sink in. Every year, more than 1 person a month is attacked by a wild tiger. I am speechless. That number is actually a big improvement from the past. We learned that tigers often mistake people gathering wood and vegetables in the jungle for deer or other prey. Crop and livestock fields have towers in the middle where a farmer sleeps at night with a fire underneath to scare away predators.

Despite all these difficulties, the people of Nepal were BY FAR the nicest and most welcoming people I've ever met. They are friendly, loving to share their culture and stories and asking about ours. As male children are quite revered in the culture, I felt like a celebrity at times with people blessing us, hugging Owen especially, and asking to take pictures. I'm pretty sure we are all over Nepali Facebook this week!

The beauty of the country is breathtaking -- how can you not love Everest and the Himalayas-- but it was the people that I absolutely loved. We have such different experiences and perspectives, but we are the same. The more we travel, the more I understand that we are all God's children. The elephant guide, the drum player, the woman carrying water, we are all worthy and deserving of respect. I love that my boys live that. Barrett's life-plan of the week is to live in Nepal leading expeditions. Their horizons are so wide, I can't wait to see where they end up and how they serve God.

 I have a tendency to get caught up in my little world. My problems seem big. I convince myself that my efforts or money or circumstances have earned me something. My selfishness and sense of entitlement shine instead of God's light. How can I be true to my beliefs, to what God has required of me if I don't afford the same mercy and love to others as God has given me?

I have a confession, I am not an adventurous girl. I prefer comfort, safety, a beautiful beach and a fruity drink. But I have three incredibly important boys in my life that want and need more. I want them to become men who see who people are, not what they do or where they
are from. I want them to trust God and turn from fear. I want them to know that we are all the same. Namaste.

"a new command I give you: love one another. As I have loved you, so you must love one another. By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you love one another." John 13:34-35

PS I can't highly recommend a visit to Nepal enough. It is safe, friendly, and beautiful. Despite some of the difficulties, Nepal is warmly open for tourists. Putting money into rebuilding their tourist industry is a helping hand to rebuild the country. If you are interested, I am happy to share our hotel and guide recommendations with you.

One year

One year.

One year ago today we were living out of 3 suitcases in a hotel eating breakfasts at the buffet and doing laundry in the sink. The boys were navigating their way through the first day at school full of complicated schedules, multiple uniforms, and new expectations. Micah was beginning his job with new responsibilities and staff. And I was holding my breath as I learned to drive on the other side and prayed that we would find our place.

Sometimes it feels like we've still just arrived. I find myself still telling people "we are the new family." But then I look back at where we started and I can see how far we've come.

A year ago I would never have imagined having a job that I enjoyed and challenged me so much. A year ago I would never have imagined that the boys would take off to friends houses on their bikes as soon as they got home from school. A year ago I would never have imagined our new favorites--an Indian meal, a quiet secluded island, a comfortable and loving church in a strip center above a restaurant.

This reflection is so needed for me right now.

Guys. Let me let you in on a little secret.

This year has been HARD. Like, crazy hard. Everything feels so difficult and I am truly exhausted. We've had some great moments and experiences but we've also hit some bumps in the road. Housing problems, illnesses, frustrations, homesickness-sometimes it's felt more than overwhelming. We've had to change the way we live. We've held on tight to each other and drowned whoever was struggling in love as we dragged them along. It's been an adventure, to say the least.

There have been days that feel never ending. I can't possibly make it through. Yet, here we are.  The moments we've experienced, good and bad, have led us to today. Today one year later.

God is amazing. He has provided every challenge, smile, frustration, hug, tear, and peace. Even when I think I've figured it out, He throws something unexpected at me. I am not the person I was one year ago. What God has given me has changed me, made me grow. I am becoming...

I don't know how to finish that sentence. I honestly have no idea what I am becoming. I have no idea what this next year brings. But God does. He leads me, and I follow.  He accepts me as I am, in my bad days and good days. He gives new grace every day and I desperately accept.

So bring it on, 2016. I don't know what struggles and joys lie ahead but I trust in Him and remain faithful. I am grateful.

“But blessed is the one who trusts in the Lord, whose confidence is in him. They will be like a tree planted by the water that sends out its roots by the stream. It does not fear when heat comes; its leaves are always green. It has no worries in a year of drought and never fails to bear fruit.” Jeremiah 17:7-8.

Called to love

Warning....I am not typically one to chime in on political discussions. But I feel like this issue has much deeper roots and honestly, I need to process my emotions here.

I have to admit I've really been struggling this week with recent events. The horrific attacks on Paris that have influenced a firestorm of media attention about refugees and religion and safety have shaken me. I am having a hard time making sense of all of the feelings and opinions out there. This is where I'm coming from...

It's scary. I get it. I do. When we moved to Malaysia I thought about it all the time. I'm a Christian in a Muslim country. I'm a minority. I stick out like a sore thumb. I worried about whether I was wearing a cross necklace or shorts. I worried about being in crowded public places especially with my kids. I worried about stopping at hawker centers (outdoor food courts) with all the eyes staring at us. It was unfamiliar. It was different. It was terrifying.

As a American and even in Europe my knowledge and exposure to different religions and cultures, especially Islam was minimal. Muslims were people in long dresses, chanting in tongues, and admittedly maybe dangerous. What I knew of Islam came mostly from the Western media, post 9/11, and the war on terrorism. In retrospect, my exposure was biased and narrow.

But the life that I've found is very different. We've been welcomed here. White, American, Christians welcomed in a Muslim community. I have found kindness in the small village we have begun to serve, sweet in offering for us to join in traditional celebrations. I found have it in the families, stopping to smile at my crazy boys. I have found it in my medical students eager to learn with the same altruistic attitudes I've had. There is no hate. There is no fear. I live my life openly. I wear a cross. I share my faith. I serve in God's name. I am a Christian living in a Muslim country.

I sometimes ask myself why we are living this nomadic life. The mountains in front of me are huge sometimes. And then I remember the necessity. I don't want my kids to know that fear. They don't see differences in color, language, culture or religion. They see people. I wish we could all see that.

I can understand the fierce protective reaction and fear of threats in light of the world today.  What I don't understand is how that fear becomes big enough to overshadow compassion. When we come to God, he doesn't ask for background checks. He doesn't judge where we've come from. He doesn't question our authenticity. He opens His arms and loves us. He comforts us when we're scared. He welcomes us with mercy.

I hate labels. I hate how we use those labels to make assumptions and judge. Let's be clear. These attacks have been carried out by terrorists. Period. They may hide behind Islam but they are not Muslim. It doesn't matter what they call themselves or what twisted verses they proclaim. They could call themselves Jewish or Hindu or Christian and it wouldn't change. Their ill intents have nothing to do with religion.

And yet we place people in desperate need of help in the same category. We ask them to wait at borders without homes or schools or safety while we figure out if we should be scared of them. This isn't a liberal argument or American argument or even a Christian argument. This is about humanity. We are all the same. "Do unto others as you would have them do unto you." Are we comfortable being treated, in our most vulnerable moment, in this way or are we simply so far removed, in our privileged state, from truly understanding the struggle? Even in the face of fear or uncertainty, we are called to love.

God is love. Whoever lives in love lives in God and God in them. 1 John 4-10.

My Singapore hospital experience

Several people have asked me about medical care in Singapore. Since I've gotten an up close and personal tour, I thought I would share a few things I've seen with my medical friends.

Singapore is known for its excellent healthcare. It has been a model for efficient and quality service. There are public and private hospitals and both are meant to be very good. I was in a private hospital, so I can't speak to the differences in the public system.

1. In the ER, the MD evaluation is almost more like a triage. Patients are called into a proper doctor office for evaluation. The ER is primarily staffed by house officers, basically graduates that have not chosen a specialty. Residencies are not required. The physician decides how to disposition the patient-either discharge, observe, or admit. Then the patient is moved to that area. The doctor I saw immediately decided I should be admitted and I was moved to a bed.  I was admitted directly to the GI specialist who gave orders for initial labs and IV fluids.

2. The admission nurse brought me a list of rooms and prices and asked me to choose my room. It was like a hotel list with room sizes and amenities ranging from double room to extravagant presidential suites. I ended up in a basic suite where my specialist was already there waiting for me, even though it was 11 pm on a Sunday night. (He told me he lives across the street from the hospital). The whole process from door to done took less than 2 hours.

3. Being a private hospital, a deposit or insurance was required on admission. I asked what happened if you are unable to pay and was told you are discharged to the public hospital. Every test was discussed associated with a price. Every test from routine bloodwork to colonoscopy was a choice with agreement on the price. It reminded me a bit of a car mechanic. The mechanic calls to tell you what they found and how much it will cost to fix each thing. It was odd but honest. Luckily, our overseas insurance takes good care of us and we had no concerns.

4. That being said, few tests were done. The only bloodwork I had done was on admission. No cat scan. Only the basics. When I would ask something specific, my doctor relied on the good ole physical exam to lead his decisions.

5. Back to the room choosing, the first night I heard a baby crying. I asked the nurse about what I heard and she told me the woman in the next room had just delivered. So there's obviously no separation of wards. Not sure how I feel about that-a brand new baby next door to a terrible infection and common nurses caring for both. Infection control is obviously a necessary priority.

6. The nurses on the ward work as a team instead of assignment to a patient. Each nurse has a role-medication nurse, vitals nurse, discharge nurse, etc. The medication nurse wears an orange construction looking vest that says "do not disturb" and makes rounds dispensing all medications from locked cabinets in each patient room.

7. This may be related to my suite, but my experience was like staying in a hotel. Food comes on tableclothed trays, coffee maker and hair dryer in the room, even high end toiletries in the bathroom. Amenities including reflexologist, masseuse, and acupuncturist are available as well (I did not partake.)

8. On discharge, patients are expected to make their payment in full. No billing. No outstanding debts. Private local insurances aren't a thing here so there are no insurance company talks, except for pesky expats like us. Prices are prices and are non negotiable. Simple.

Overall being the hospital sucks but this was the best of a bad experience. Maybe my experience is specific to my quirky, sweet Dr. Leong, but I felt very lucky to be cared for here.  It's a different system, but it seems to work well. Singapore is small, so it's difficult to argue that some aspects could be applied on a larger scale, but interesting to see there might be another way.

Mile 10

My favorite teen show was Beverly Hills 90210. You might remember that Dylan McKay had some recurring family drama that left him living in the Beverly Hills Hotel for much of the show. I always thought that seemed so exciting and glamorous. Let me just say that Dylan did not have three young children. He did not accurately portray the difficulty of homework, laundry, or living with no space. Annoyances of loud nights, housekeeping schedules, and full parking lots were not adequately expressed. I'm disappointed, Dylan. Hotel living is not all it's cracked up to be.

Luckily, as of today, we've graduated to "house camping" as we like to call it. We have 4 mattresses to sleep on (3 that we needed to buy here and 1 borrowed from a new friend), a plastic card table and 5 metal folding chairs, a tv, and another borrowed twin mattress functioning as our living room couch. Our sea shipment is continuing to float somewhere off the African coast and will not arrive to us for another month. The house itself is mostly ready. We are waiting for mosquito screens for the open bathroom windows (and so are sleeping covered in Bug spray with citronella candles everywhere), ongoing electric issues when we try to run all the air conditioners at the same time, and setting up internet. My frustration is high and patience is low. Regardless, we have a secure space, great neighbors, a pool in the yard, a kitchen and a washer/dryer. Things are slowly looking up.

I apologize that this post is sounding a little whiney and pitiful. I readily admit that these are first world problems. I know how lucky I am. I constantly remind myself that we are healthy, safe and happy. We have a place to sleep, food, a great job and school, and family and friends that we love. I don't equate my situation to any real hardship.

 But this is the hard part. It's like a marathon. I started out excited and full of adrenaline and determination. Now, 10 miles in, I'm questioning what I'm doing. I'm exhausted. I'm beat up. I can't see the finish line......but I know it's there. I have to remember how great it will be at the finish. It's worth it. A friend once told me that the transition and settling phase is the sacrifice we make for this life. If that's true, then I will happily continue to pay my dues.

So I keep pushing through right now. I am leaning on God and my faith in his plan.  I am not strong or brave or good at this part. But I don't have to be. I only have to be faithful.  I am not a believer in the saying that God never gives you more than you can handle. He absolutely does. He gives me more than I am capable of time and time again. And He does it to remind me that I need Him to handle it. I am not in control. I can't do it alone. So I remain joyful even when I'm frustrated or scared or stressed. These trials are temporary but His love, and my faith in it, are eternal.  My work is keeping my eyes on Him in the middle of race. Some days it's hard work. It's never ending work. It's the only work that matters.

Consider it pure joy, my brothers and sisters, whenever you face trials of many kinds, because you know that the testing of your faith produces perseverance. Let perseverance finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything. James 1:2-4.

First impressions

Today marks the 1 week anniversary of our recent closed eyed high dive into Malaysia. It's been a whirlwind but I can say that I think we're holding our own. With the boys now at school and Micah starting work today, I've been left alone with my own thoughts for the first time. It's crazy, a little scary and a lot overwhelming. I wanted to try to organize the huge whirling mass of experiences and first impressions in my head. So here goes...

The trip
The travel was generally easy, other than the stress that comes with a family of 5 living out of a hotel for 2 weeks now. Flying on the heels of another air tragedy, my anxiety was at a high, but I made it onto the plane, which I consider a win. The boys were troopers, as they've proved they always are and took full advantage of their bumped class status. Tyler repeatedly came back from the plane toilet heavily scented as he was impressed with the complimentary cologne. Owen enjoyed every button a million times over, reclining his seat, closing his window shade, raising the pod divider, etc. The electrical system functioned well under strain. Barrett enjoyed the air sickness bags, as is his reponse to total exhaustion due to marathon movie watching and refusal to sleep. Luckily, it only began the last few hours of the final flight and passed that evening.

The area
So I must admit, I was a little (very) on the fence about Malaysia. Singapore, yes, no problem but this just over the border thing had me worried. I had read and heard some expat remarks about the border town stereotype that left me uneasy. We have only just begun to explore, but so far it is amazingly beautiful. It's quiet and green and warm. We've seen monkeys on the side of the road like squirrels, pass a coconut plantation of endless palm trees just next to the school, and watch the harbor boats sailing by. I can't complain. I still do have a level of uncomfortableness from a health background. Raw chicken, barefoot stores, mosquito armies, stray dogs have me seeing salmonella, hookworm, dengue fever, and rabies. That takes some getting used to.

The food
You can smell it when you step out of the airport. It's a mix of salty sea air and spices. It's powerful. It's very tasty. Considering that we are without a kitchen, we've been solely eating out. The older boys have been adventurous finding favorites with mango curry and laksa. Owen is a but pickier, true to form, but has found rice and noodles are always options. The biggest change coming from Norway is the price. A dinner of all five of us runs about $30. Crazy!

The school
The school is a British establishment's international campus. It's huge, like college campus huge. Multiple buildings, boarding options, a pool, track, climbing wall, art and drama building, etc. It is very proper with strict uniform requirements, merit and demerit systems, and house affiliation (as in House of....we are Hunt as opposed to Seymour, Chichester, or Merlin). Honestly, it feels like we might pass Harry Potter at any time. Fun fact, the school was actually the inspiration for JK Rowlings' Hogwartz. All that said, the teachers and kids are friendly and welcoming and the boys all came home smiling. They have a long day, until 4:30, but have private instrument lessons, sports, religious education, and design technology as a part of their school day along with the academics including Mandarin Chinese. It's intense but my boys do best with structure and clear guidelines so hopefully it will be a good fit for them.

 The house
The house is perfect for us (and I will make sure to credit Micah with the housing choice. He's 2/2 folks). It's a brand new house so right now there are several small kinks to repair, but nothing major. It has a lot of outdoor space and pool and a neighborhood park next to us. It also has 2 kitchens and a maids quarters (the boys are currently calling that the time out room as that has been its major function thus far). Concrete and modern, it is polar opposite from our Norway house, but it will be a comfortable home. Many of the school families live in the same neighborhood so the boys will likely have close friends. I am anxious for our furniture to arrive so we can begin enjoying it.

The people
This has been my biggest surprise. I suppose i grew accustomed to the eye diverting non small talking of Norway, so smiling, nodding, and speaking to strangers has caught me off guard. We look different here, of course, so there is a lot of staring, but somehow it's not at all rude. People have been very friendly and helpful for the most part (and we tend to look pretty in need of help at times). The expat population is close knit and have already included me in gym class, coffee morning, and grocery store expedition offers. I appreciate the hospitality.

Overall, we're off to a good start. I am relying a lot on my Norway experience. When moments are difficult, I can remind myself that it was so hard in Oslo in the beginning as well. We are just at the beginning of this adventure, I know there is so much more to see and learn. Not everyday will be easy. I won't always love it. Sometimes the sacrifice is really glaring. But I also know that there will be moments when I will say "oh, okay God. Now I get why I'm here."  Patience and persistence, trust in Him. That's my mantra. Now, I need to go repeat that a thousand times before I venture out to drive to pick up the boys again. Time to be brave.

Goodbye Norway

I'm really bad at goodbyes. I feel like I can never find the right words or setting or emotion. So it often ends up coming out as an awkward blubbering mess.
This change has proved true to form. We've had our time for goodbyes with friends and school and activities and teachers and I cried through them all. I may or may not have cried in the middle of pizza with my family. It's pathetic.

With all of that checked off the list, mistakenly I thought my tears were under control at this point. Then today, with all of our possessions headed off in a truck that hopefully makes it onto a Malaysia bound ship, we turned over the keys to our house. Spending our last night living out of a hotel room, I realize that I hadn't prepared myself to say goodbye to this place, this country, Norway. It's different this time. We left Texas knowing it was still and always will be home. Our house, our neighborhood, our country remained intact. Leaving Oslo is different because those deep roots aren't so secure. We don't know if we'll be able to come back or when. It feels more permanent.

But then as I've talked to God this afternoon and prayed, I found some truths that are pulling me up. We may be physically leaving Norway, but my experience here has become a part of me that will continue to grow. I am changed. I define myself in a new way. It is not leaving one place for another, but an acceptance of all that I am.
I have learned things from amazing people, visited amazing places, had amazing experiences, and I've been blessed to live this adventure with Micah and my boys. It's been incredible. I take pieces of each of these things and molded together, they have made me who I am. My memories are more than thoughts or photos, they are me. God has laid out this beautiful path and as I'm trusting in Him and brave enough follow, I am finding my plan. I am thankful for each good bye and each tear. “How lucky I am to have something that makes saying goodbye so hard.”

A change of heart

Some of my family members might tell you that I have a history of being bad at change.
At age 6 we were relocating from Missouri and I distinctly remember wrapping myself around a bed post and telling my parents they could NOT make me move. Nevermind the fact that said bed was moving as well. Not the best choice, but that’s where 6 year old emotion gets you.
As an admittedly self-absorbed teenager, I dug my heels in when we moved after I finished high school into the city…almost 30 whole miles away from my life! To be clear, my bedroom did get relegated to the “sun room” which was a non air-conditioned former porch at the back of house. You would have been bitter too.
Micah and I’s biggest conflict in our decision to move to Norway was taking our kids away from home. He (who had never moved at all as a child) claimed it was no big deal. I (who moved 5 times in 10 years growing up) argued that he had no idea what it was like and how hard it was to be new.
So it’s pretty ironic that now, we have chosen to relocate our family yet again to a whole new world. I wanted to continue our adventures abroad. I hoped we would have another opportunity to extend our time.  I looked forward to all the places that have become possibilities. So what’s changed?
I’ve been inspired by our adventures.  We have delved into Norway, taking in as much culture, experiences, people as we could possibly fit in. We’ve explored with excitement all of Europe. We haven’t counted down days or wallowed homesick (at least for long). We’ve lived every minute and I’m proud of that.
I’ve been inspired by my boys. I came across a blog post about third culture kids recently that read “I love that they look at a map and see friends instead of stereotypes.” That’s it. The boys have unknowingly been exposed to so much and they have no idea of any underlying attitudes, fears, or labels that may be related.  They love different – in themselves and in others. They have learned as we’ve traveled and they’ve learned from the kids from all over the world who have become their best friends. Their world is without borders.
I’ve been inspired by my friends. When it feels like I’m a million miles away from home, and believe me those moments do exist, I can rely on the family we’ve found here. These friends are brave and smart and giving. They understand what it’s like to be away from home on Thanksgiving or not understand the language or be waiting with anticipation on your sea shipment to finally arrive. The connection is forever and strong.
I’ve been inspired by God. Just when I got to the point that I was finding my Norwegian groove, God threw me yet another curve ball. It was unexpected and my first reaction was similar to my childhood examples. “Hell no, we won’t go!” But as I relaxed and prayed and really listened, I understood that as much as I try to make it, it’s not my plan. God leads me and I will follow. His world is amazing and beautiful and wonderous and He’s letting me experience it. I am full of praise.
I spend these last few days in Norway grateful for my memories and my growth and my family’ strength. It doesn’t mean that I don’t have many a sleepless night right now filled with anxiety and worries and sadness that goodbyes are coming soon. But they aren’t filled with regret. New adventures await and we are ready to jump in.

Timeout to focus

I’ve been writing a lot these days as part of my master’s program…like “quality collaborative contributions on 5 out of 7 days” plus intensive research papers every 2 weeks and final submissions every 12 weeks. It is consuming. It is exhausting. It is worth it (I tell myself).

But as I sit in the Bekkestua bibliotek (to avoid procrastinating by working at home) trying to write about public health strategies for disease prevalence in Central America, I realize I haven’t REALLY written in a long time. I haven’t had the time to reflect on myself. Okay wait, let’s be honest, I haven’t MADE the time to reflect on myself, my mission, my motivation. I’ve been stuck examining the trees and have been missing the beautiful forest surrounding me.

I’m a juggler. I’ve got a lot of projects and commitments going on right now, as I know a lot of us do. I run from working at the school, to working on my schoolwork, to leading the parent association, to planning medical mission work, to planning travel, to finishing my medical continuing education (you would think my master’s program would cover that but the state of Texas disagrees with you) on top of my priorities of being a wife, a mom, and friend. I’m not complaining here, it’s just that I find these moments when I let all these things in my life take over and I find myself running to keep up. It’s in these moments that I realize I tend to feel overwhelmed and stressed and far from God.

So, today, I’m changing that. I might not be able to change it tomorrow or next week I might find I feel like I’m drowning again, but today I am putting aside all the deadlines and emails and papers and STUFF, and reminding myself of my focus. I'm taking a timeout. So with Nicaragua on my mind, today I choose to remember how grateful I am for my experience and growth there. Here it goes….

My trip to Managua this summer was different. I always find it awesome that no matter how many places I travel and how sure I am of what to expect, God always challenges me and shows me more on each trip.

Our group partnered with three churches in communities in need of help. I was able to hold medical clinics arranged by the local groups for the communities they served. These clinics are absolutely my FAVORITE thing to do in life. Absolutely nothing makes me feel fuller than laughing with the kids and holding hands listening to people. What really struck me here though was how accepted and a part of their community I felt. Some of that was logistics, my clinic was only one of many projects so I was often left to my own accord apart from my American group. But so much of it was the people. They were welcoming, loving, willing to share their homes with me. I was in awe.

The first day was very busy. I saw patients in a concrete shell of a room without electricity or water. After, I headed to the pharmacy on the back of a vespa with the pastor to pick up medications. That night was 4^th of July and the church surprised us at the end of the worship with homemade fireworks and a version of Celine Dion singing God Bless America. I laughed and cried at the same time. What amazing people!

The second clinic was in a different outdoor church structure where the church had invited community families, many of whom were gang members, to be seen. They were sweet, grateful, intelligent, hopeful. Our trips to the toilet consisted of walking down a dirt path through mango trees, past roosters and chained pit bulls to a home in the barrio. We ate together (mmmm, gallo pinto is my favorite!), we watched world cup football, we played. It was a beautiful day.

The final clinic day was spent caring for residents at a senior center. After I finished there, we took a bus (a shelled out van with a young boy yelling destinations out of the window) to another barrio to meet up with the rest of the group. We spent my last evening dancing and singing with the local kids together, making friends for life.

Despite language barriers (better described as my completely fumbling Spanish in which I mistakingly called a friend “gorgeous” for a day instead of “brother” and answered “only at night” when I mistook being asked if I was “married” as “tired”) the connections I made with people I respect and love were strong. It is so humbling for me to spend time with these people. I let go of my selfishness and judgments and find myself. I find myself content. I find myself real. I find myself seeing God clearly.

In all of my chaos, I  still have no idea where my path is leading, but I do know that continuing to step outside of my comfort zone, to force myself to see beyond my bubble, to be brave when I don’t feel like I can,  is to follow God. “Spirit lead me where my trust is without borders, let me walk upon the waters wherever you would call me. Take me deeper than my feet could ever wander, and my faith will be made stronger, in the presence of my Savior.”

Home from the pharmacia. Completely normal, right?? He wanted me to drive....maybe next time

New friends. Miss them all

Clinic smiles

Morning coffee, beautiful country

My sweet friend Matthews. We had lots of giggles and games this trip

This girl. My heart. She's a keeper