Reading

I have been reading again, and some good ones are "Invisible Girls" by Sarah Thebarge and "Hands Free Mama" by Rachel Macy Stafford. Not that I am a mama, or haven't told you there is a bun in the oven (there isn't), but I want to be more intentional. the "xoxo before you go" is something I want to do with all my loved ones before they leave...the "looking in their eyes" as they talk to you...I need to get this into my life before the mama part.
Just finished "Culture Making" by Andy Crouch. I didn't agree with all of it, but much of it was quotable.
“The essence of childhood is innocence. The essence of youth is awareness. The essence of adulthood is responsibility.”
“Culture is what we make of the world. It is the name for our relentless, restless human effort to take the world as it’s given to us and make something else. We make sense of the world by making something of the world.”
“We don’t make culture, we make omelets. We tell stories. We build hospitals. These specific products of cultivating and creating are what we call “artifacts,” or “goods,” are eventually, over time, become part of the framework of the world for future generations. “
“To diagnose culture, we can look at these and say 1. What does this cultural artifact assume about the way the world is? 2. What does this cultural artifact assume about the way the world should be? 3. What does this cultural artifact make possible? 4. What does this cultural artifact make impossible (or at least very difficult)? 5. What new forms of culture are created in response to this artifact?”
Family is culture at its smallest—and most powerful.
“When someone goes to another culture in pursuit of economic or political opportunities, we’ve traditionally called them “Immigrants;” when they do so in pursuit of evangelistic or religious opportunities, we’ve called them “missionaries.” But as the wheels within wheels overlap more and more in a mobile world, most of us have some choice about which cultures we will call our own. We are almost all immigrants now, and more of us than we may realize are missionaries too.”
“A worldview comprises a cultures answer to four crucial questions: who are we? Where are we? What’s wrong? What’s the remedy? Culture helps us behave ourselves into new ways of thinking. The risk in worldviews is that we will start to think that the best way to change culture is to analyze it. Culture is not changed simply by thinking, the only way to change culture is to create more of it. Creativity is the only viable source of change. “
“Cultural power is the ability to successfully propose a new cultural good/artifact. Where have we successfully proposed a new cultural good/artifact?  Where are the cultural contexts where our cultivation and creativity bears fruit? With whom am I sharing my power? How am I making it possible for others to cultivate and create culture?”

Seven Months Married

He called me today at work to tell me how much he needed and appreciated me. I saw something on my face today and tried to wipe it off until I realized it was a crinkle wrinkle. The thought passed through my head that there are many things I am never going to do in my life--one of them becoming a superstar singer--but my daughter might. I've never thought much like that before. Maybe baby time is creeping up on me.
Caid and I have finally finished writing "Thank you" notes from all three weddings. Addresses unknown do not count. My name is officially Rachel Ferguson now--according to the government. Yes, these things took me seven months to accomplish. I do have excuses if you want to hear them.
This month we slid down the "knee injury" slope, almost to an end. The physical therapist was like "Get outta here--I don't know what to do with you--you are healing perfectly and better than anything I could do." YESSSSS.
I had an epiphany. I was feeling stressed and moody towards Caid one day, when the thought came, "If you are stressed and things are hard, it is a clue your spouse is probably feeling that too: time to give extra grace." Simple, yet hard-hitting.
I've been reading a lot: Books reading, and went barefoot for a week (check that off my bucket list) 7 days no shoes. Caid's reaction? ): "That is a great idea, honey—and I will support you 100%. With my shoes on."
This month was a hard one for my pride. Circumstances and people have shown me that I have some real rough patches and God has some big construction projects on my heart. I am a tally-keeper, when I need to be a let-it-goer. I am a projects over people-er. I am a get-er-done-r when I need to be training and delegating.
After seven months, I have come up with the "Caid and Rachel Argument Process"
1. Something happens
2. I blame him (in my head), he blames me (in his head)
3. It builds
4. It explodes
5. We take turns explaining our blaming
6. Anger happens
7. We remember (and say) we love the other
8. We sort it out (Why are we feeling hurt? why blaming? what responsibilities weren't done? what decisions/actions need to be made? What just needs to be let go of because ****happens?)
9. We remember the other person is an amazing person (They didn't set out to hurt me, they still love me, they are all I need/want)
10. We remember that after God, this is my most treasured, valued relationship and I will do whatever it takes to make it beautiful and growing

We get so tangled up in the day to day things so quickly. I constantly go back to a scene from "Modern Family" where the Real Estate Dad is staring as his blond wife and saying, "Sometimes I just forget that she is a person. An amazing person."
We got to go to a "Need to Breathe" concert (close enough to our month-a-versary for me to say) for our seven months together. I thought tickets were a little pricey so ended up buying them last minute from a crusty guy on a bicycle right before it started. Caid thought that was pretty great. And so we took a selfie.

My Super suit is Showing

The idea: Walking in Their (lack of) shoes—go one week without shoes to start conversations about Living Stones and Trek for Transportation on June 7th—Let’s walk so they can ride!

The idea failed. But I enjoyed myself. I can count on one hand the number of conversations I had about the Trek because of my bare feet, but I had a week that I lived intentionally.

It was me trying to connect the disconnect I feel between here and there (Brazil). I missed how I felt in Brazil, and I didn’t know how to bring that feeling here. What does a missionary do when they return home? Where is home? We are in some unlabeled middle. And the ambiguity is stifling.

I felt like I had my missionary supersuit on under my clothes, and it itched. But not wearing shoes made me feel like...some of my supersuit was showing. I was, once again, slightly off, slightly unexplainable, slightly different (and if that isn't part of being a missionary, let me know).  

Day 1 without shoes: No one noticed. Went shopping and out to eat. Not a word.

Day 2: Spoke in church about the Trek. No one said a thing about me doing it barefoot. Finally, one of the kids asked me why I didn't have shoes on in Sunday school. I was elated. Another kid piped up, “I noticed too, but didn’t say anything because I didn’t know if I could or not.” You can. You please, please can. 

Day 3: Went to work and grocery shopping, and still nothing. After walking with my client (She has CP, and loves being pushed in her wheelchair to the park) on (mostly) roads for two hours, I realize my feet are NOT tough. 

Day 4: I conclude the barefoot experiment, as is, is a failure. Half-way through the long rough road walk with my client, I realize I won't make it home this way. I bemoan the fact that we have made our world so HARD to those being "natural." And then I look next to me and realize life wouldn't be possible for my client if we hadn't made the world so hard. We come up with a compromise--I pull her along by the arm rest while walking in the grass beside her. My client is elated, giggling and moving her hand toward mine to hold it--the first time she has ever done that. We walked, giggly and grassy, home. 

Day 5: First person asks me about my feet--a co-worker. 

Day 6: The mailman and a second co-worker ask me about my feet. But I realize that all three times, they ask with an explanation:

"Are you doing that "natural walking" plan?

"Are you protesting or whatever like that IUPUI coach did?"

"Is it national barefoot day?"

They all projected a reason for my non-conformity. Everyone else either didn't notice, or didn't feel comfortable addressing why something was out of the ordinary. 

Day 7: I run into Aldi to get strawberries and the cashier laughs, "No shoes? I like that." 

Day 8: I had planned to go to the Trek barefoot, but Day 7 walk with my client--even walking in the grass--led to me burning the bottoms of my feet--do you have any idea how hot the sidewalk/roads are at 2pm? I admit I really do like my shoes. 

Walking in Their (lack of) Shoes

The idea: Walking in Their (lack of) shoes—go one week without shoes to start conversations about Living Stones and Trek for Transportation on June 7^th—Let’s walk so they can ride! A 4k run/walk to raise funds to maintain the vehicle for Living Stones.

My sisters commented, “But isn’t that just bringing attention to you, not them?” ouch “Maybe it is. Maybe it is just me trying to connect the disconnect I feel between here and there. It rubs me that I am here and not there. And there they don’t have shoes. They don’t have vehicles. They don’t have what they need.”

It is about me. I miss how Brazil made me feel—like I was making a difference. Like I was on the ground floor of something really important with kids I really loved. And I want to be there again, feeling that. And I don’t know how to bring that feeling to the USA, in this lifestyle, in this culture.

I live on less. I give. I serve in local ministries. I am involved with my church. I am involved with helping people. But it isn’t the same. What does a missionary do when they return home? We are still working for and with Living Stones, but we are in the US. And we don’t know if we will be “official missionaries” yet, so we aren’t on furlough. We are in some unlabeled middle. And the ambiguity is stifling.

We are working normal jobs, living normal lives, but I feel like I have my missionary supersuit on under my clothes, and it itches.  No one else is really sure what to do with us—are we just going to leave again? Do they still support us? Do they just treat us like their normal friends since we are living like everyone else? How am I not normal?
***

Day 1 without shoes: No one noticed. Went shopping and out to eat. Not a word.

Day 2: Spoke in church about the Trek. No one said a thing about me doing it barefoot. Finally, one of the kids asked me why I didn't have shoes on in Sunday school. I was elated. Another kid piped up, “I noticed too, but didn’t say anything because I didn’t know if I could or not.” You can. You please, please can.