A New Kind of Normal

I think I'm figuring out this new season of life. It's not normal. It’s abnormal.

A few months ago I realized that I’ve been trying to fit abnormal into normal since our return to the States. Maybe because we were back to our native country I thought things were going to fall into place like they had before.

There was a time in our lives when normal fit. Normal meaning ordinary, the usual, the expected. Life was regular and routine. For 30 out of 35 years of marriage Dennis and I had a reasonably structured life. When we served in local church ministry, our life generally revolved around the life of the church. Friday was a day off. Sunday was always a big day. Then we began the week all over again. 

I think this is true for most people. There's a pattern to life that keeps repeating itself week after week. You find a rhythm as it relates to your job, family, and the activities that you add into life. This becomes your normal. 

For the first 30 years of married life, we had four kids at home, eventually getting down to just one while the others were off to college or getting married. Highly organized or not, kids brought routine to life. It was as simple as packing lunches, helping with homework, and bedtime rituals. Routine came as life coordinated with school schedules, extracurricular activities, not to mention, church and community life.

Then seasons changed. Our youngest went off to college. God led us out of local church ministry. We moved to Europe where we served in missions for three years. The role called for frequent travels. Rather than thinking of life as week to week we worked life around trips, maintaining as much routine as we could in between travels.

In many ways Europe prepared us for the current season. It's been almost a year and a half since we moved back to the States as Dennis took on his new role with Global Partners, the mission arm of our denomination. We still travel a lot. Dennis made “1K” status on United, and I'll catch up to him on our next trip. That means we've traveled over 100,000K in the past year. We travel farther and longer now. Airports and planes are fast becoming a comfortable place. I settle into my window seat and I sigh a good sigh. Ah, a familiar place. I know what to expect. I can have my most creative moments at 35,000 feet. And, I’m always reminded of a Sovereign God who loves me and cares about the people who live below. A gift of the abnormal.

Where life once focused on a particular body of Christ, now we don’t even have a home church. We are rarely home on Sundays. On any given Sunday, we could be in another state, or somewhere in the world. Our lifestyle revolves around our travels, and that dictates where we might be worshipping. Another gift of the abnormal. It is a blessing to be able to serve and worship in a diversity of churches, seeing firsthand how God is moving in different parts of the world. I can feel at home wherever I am in the body of Christ. Maybe we come close to echoing John Wesley's journal entry: I look upon all the world as my parish, this far I mean, that, in whatever part of it I am . . . Yes, whatever part of it I am in, that is my church home. 

Thanks to technology, we can skype, email, text our kids from anywhere in the world. It really is an amazing thing. A gift in this age, time, and season of our lives.

So, I’m learning what this abnormal looks like. It's a new kind of normal, and what a gift it is! 

Australia–Thoughts from 35,000 Feet

Something about being 35,000 feet above the earth reminds me of God’s Sovereignty. I get this view a lot these days. About every single time I fly the words from the Psalmist come to mind: When I consider (the moon, the stars, the ocean, mountains, the activity of man below) . . . what is mankind that you are mindful of them, human beings that you care for them? It really is an incredible thought. That God, Creator of the universe, is mindful of us. It's comforting and assuring, but mostly it gives me a sense of His love and honor.

Even now, as I create this post, I’m sitting by the window seat (always book the window seat) as we make a return trip from time spent in New Zealand and Australia–meeting with church leaders in both places, encouraging and equipping missionaries, connecting with family serving in New Zealand, and reconnecting with familiar faces from a trip to Australia 17 years ago.

Seventeen years ago. 

I'll never forget my first glance of Australia from my window seat as our plane made its descent into Sydney on July 4, 1996. After the long 14-hour flight from LA, the coastline that edged the city was a welcome sight.

Dennis and I had often talked and dreamed about taking our family on a short-term mission trip. We hoped to instill into our kids a sense of the world beyond the context of our own little world in Holland, Michigan at the time. Dennis is a risk-taker more than me, but I’ve always said that I have that extra portion of faith that enables me to step out of my comfort zone, trusting God in the unknowns. I would have never met Dennis had I not taken a risk years ago when I uprooted myself from my upbringing in rural Pennsylvania to go to college. It’s a chapter in my life story when I took a risk on myself, and the risk forever changed my life.

Risk-taking, adventure, stepping out, trusting God–whatever you want to call it, it was something we wanted to give to our kids. Upon Dennis’ resignation from a wonderful staff pastor position of nine years, we sensed the timing was right for such an adventure. Originally we thought such a trip would be no more than a couple of weeks, but as it turned out, it was ten and a half months later when we returned to the U.S. Seven and a half of those months were spent in Australia–three months in Queensland, two months in New South Wales, six weeks in South Australia, finishing out our time in Melbourne.

As I gazed down on Sydney that July 4^th day, there was part of me that wondered what in the world we were doing. We had included our four children in on the process of the journey. I can remember gathering around our bed, three on either side, kneeling in prayer as we anticipated and prepared our hearts for the adventure that was before us. At the time, our son Josh was sixteen–a sacrificial decision for a teenager about to enter his junior year in high school. Jamie (14), Joni (12), and Julie (10), though somewhat naive (as we all were in some ways), felt the weight of such a decision. Just like Josh, they felt the inner tension of leaving friends behind, life as they knew it, knowing upon our return that home would not be home anymore.

What kind of impact would a trip like this have on us, on our kids, I wondered. What would be the significance of such a trip for the Kingdom’s sake­–not only for our kids, and us, but also for the body of Christ that made up the Wesleyan Church of Australia? In more ways than one, God made it clear that “down under” was where He wanted us. Upon initial contact with the Australian Wesleyan Church, we were overwhelmed by a quick and sure response that it wasn’t a question of whether or not we should come, but when and how. Lots of details and preparations later, we boarded a plane in Grand Rapids, MI, with a beautiful send-off from friends and family.

Seventeen years later. 

What is man that you are mindful of him?

Troy and Jenni Beer. We met Troy when he was dating Jenni back in 1996. When Dennis ask Jenni's Dad, Stan Baker (at the time District Supt. of the South Queensland District), for names of young men he could mentor during our time in Australia, Stan gave him Troy's name. It was the beginning of a relationship we still share. Troy and Jenni married, then soon came to the states while Troy worked on his Master's degree. Troy came on staff at Spring Lake Wesleyan (where we formerly pastored following our time in AU) as worship pastor during the 18 months they were in the U.S. and then moved back to AU to church plant. What a joy to stay with Troy and Jenni and their four children during our days in Brisbane this time around, and to worship with them at Axis Church where it is obvious that God is on the move and transforming people's lives. 

What is man that you are mindful of him?

Tim and Stef Hibschman.  Early on during our years at Spring Lake Wesleyan, Tim and Stef came on as year-long interns. They ended up serving a couple years in Australia, thanks to rubbing shoulders with Troy and Jenni at SLW. Currently, we get to serve with Tim who now fills the role of Director of Member Care and Development with Global Partners. In fact, Tim was in AU with us on this visit to encourage and care for our missionaries, as he does so incredibly well. Invest deeply, those interns may come around to serve with you some day. :)
   

What is man that you are mindful of him?

Greg and Linda Luckey. Greg and Linda were a part of Spring Lake Wesleyan church and greatly engaged in the surrounding community, but God began working on their hearts for the country of Australia after connecting with Troy and Jenni. Their whole family made the move to Australia several years ago. Their kids are grown now, but Greg and Linda remain in Australia, serving along side of Troy and Jenni at Axis Church. What a delight to catch some time with them and be in their home.

 
 And, last, but not least. 

Clint and Jamie Ussher. Our Jamie married Clint eleven years ago. It's quite the story, but Clint and Jamie would have crossed paths on that 1996 trip. You see, Clint is Australian, and his family was deeply engaged at the Everton Hills Wesleyan Church in Brisbane. They met again stateside a few years later, and well, now we have two grand-daughters part Aussie blood. Currently, they are launching a church plant - The Well - in Christchurch, NZ touching a city that has been devastated by earthquakes over the past few years. 

And, somehow I think there will be more stories to tell when it comes to that adventure we took 17 years ago.

So thankful for wonderful visits in NZ and AU, the connectedness of life, and the God of the universe who is mindful of man.  

ChCh

You can’t get any more down under the world than New Zealand–anything that’s inhabitable anyway. 

Dennis and I flew into Christchurch (ChCh) 10 years ago as a tag-on to a couple weeks of ministry in Australia. We figured we were as close to NZ as we were going to get, so as a 25^th wedding anniversary gift to ourselves, we made a holiday on the south island. A rental car and daily road trips later, we had made our way around the south island from ChCh to Queenstown (where we had the adventure of taking a helicopter up through the valley to our starting point for white-water rafting), to Milford Sound (where it snowed in January - NZ’s summer!), full circle back to ChCh where we enjoyed the city and beach. All along the way, the novelty of sheep grazing on hillsides became commonplace, and I wondered where the Hobbits might have lived or what mountain tops might have been the roamings of Frodo Baggins and Samwise.

Today I’m sitting in The Addington Coffee shop in ChCh while Evee, our 6-year-old granddaughter is in her class at school, Iris, our 3-year-old granddaughter is at Kindy, Jamie, our daughter is at work in the social work job she loves, and Clint, our son-in-law, gets some mentoring time with Dennis. This time we sandwiched a holiday visit to the south island between Global Partner connections on the north island and an M retreat in Cairns, Australia. Little did we know ten years ago that we would have family living on the south island of NZ!

It’s been so fun to enter their world - walking Evee to school, clad in her blue-plaid skort that matches her light-blue polo shirt, the school uniform worn by all; dropping Iris off at Kindy, a colorful large room filled with activities that would take more than a day to explore; seeing Jamie off to work in a fitting and fulfilling social work job that she loves; watching Clint in action as he gives leadership to The Well - a church plant that launched in February of this year - and having the opportunity to see the reality of The Well gather on Sunday morning.

This time, though, Frodo and Sam are not on my mind, but the devastation of earthquakes. I've tried to imagine what it must have been like to experience the quakes and survive the aftermath. And, there is always the question of when it might happen again. 

Clint and Jamie moved to ChCh when the city was still feeling daily tremors from the February 2011 earthquake. The tremors have diminished, but the rebuilding efforts are still going on. We took time on our first day here to walk through the Central Business District where there are parking lots where tall buildings once stood. Shipping containers have been creatively turned into shops. A pavilion was made out of pallets for local businesses and venues. Thousands of homes have been demolished, no longer suitable for living. It's been said by some economists that it could take the NZ economy 50 to 100 years to recover. Amazingly, life has continued on, and others like Clint and Jamie have moved to ChCh for various reasons.