Once a Month DIY: Homemade Sweetened Condensed Milk

This simple recipe can be such a life saver. Typically most of the ingredients are probably already in your kitchen. And making it yourself can save you a ton of money!

I love the simplicity of making sweetened condensed milk because…well, we go through it a LOT! Every week we are making coffee creamer, and so we seem to go through this stuff quickly.

Here is what you will need:

-       1/3 Cup of Water

-       1 Cup of Powdered Milk

-       4 Tbls Butter

-       ¾ Sugar

-       ½ Vanilla Extract

Directions:

I always add the butter to the water and microwave until boiling (but I suppose you can do it over the stove too).

Then add the powdered milk and whisk until it thickens, slowly stir in the sugar and vanilla extract and continue to whisk until it’s a thick and creamy consistency.

Voila!

It’s THAT simple! And it can be stored in the refrigerator for up to a week (but I don’t think it’s ever lasted a whole week in the Kemp household)

Once a Month DIY: Hand Washing Cloth Diapers

Cloth Diapers. I used to be so disgusted with the thought of cloth diapers. But then slowly, ever so slowly, my opinion began to change.

My friends talked about all the money they were saving, I read up on the different kinds of cloth, I saw how cute a lot of the patterns can be. Soon I was starting to think about doing it myself.

Just before we moved to France I ended up getting a LOT of cloth diapers…for FREE! Forget the one-time expense of getting a startup stash which, let’s face it, can be a pretty penny! These were absolutely free. I have roughly 45 cloth diapers (pockets and pre-fold covers) plus tons and tons of inserts. I’m in cloth diaper heaven here!

My amazing (and free!) stash!

And with my stash pretty much complete, I decided that once we got to France I would indeed begin cloth diapering!

And much to my chagrin, I discovered that we had shared laundry facilities….that you need to pay to use. Which wouldn’t necessarily be a bad thing, but I also knew that it was going to take us awhile to get a bank account, get some Euro’s out and get change for said laundry.

In the meantime, I still wanted to start cloth diapering! I was ridiculously excited and impatient to begin. I don’t know what had gotten into me. Maybe it was the cute designs? I’m not entirely sure. But I decided that I would figure out a way to do it without needing French money or coin laundry.

Thus began my hand washing adventure!

It’s actually not as disgusting or difficult as I first thought (and as most of you probably think). It’s pretty simple. I think the hardest part was prepping the brand new diapers that I had gotten. And that’s just because it took more effort since I had to wash/rinse multiple times.

Items I use:
- Tub to wash them in
- Plunger
- Detergent
- Drying rack/clothes line
- Cleaning agent for tub when finished washing

So here is how I hand wash my diapers:

I start by doing a cold rinse (because I'm not using a washer, I actually rinse out and semi wash out the poopy diapers before throwing them into the hanging diaper pail).

And I use my handy dandy plunger and plunge the diapers about 50 times.

Then I drain the water

 (I remove the diapers from the tub just to be sure all of the icky water gets out.)

I then add my detergent and do a hot wash (currently I'm not sure what I'm using. I just bought a detergent that I thought didn't include any perfumes or softeners or anything else. It's kind of difficult to know when you don't speak/read the language. Just sort of have to take your best guess.).

Soon though, I'm hoping to start making my own detergent so I know exactly what's in it!

And again, I plunge the diapers about 50 times. Sometimes I'm full of gusto and will do it more!

If they seem extra stinky or have been sitting for longer than 2 days, then I will let them sit a few minutes and then plunge them again another 50 times or so. Just want to make sure they are good and clean (and don't smell like pee!).

I then drain the icky water again and begin a cold rinse.

 I will again plunge about 50 times (it's a great way to develop those arm muscles!). 

Sometimes I will do a second rinse. It just depends on how sudsy the wash was to begin with and if the diapers still smell a little soapy. Better to do a second (or even third) rinse than having stinky/residue/leaky diapers!

I didn't post a picture, but after I'm done rinsing I get all of the water out of the diapers (sometimes I will roll the diapers up into a towel to get it even more dry before hanging them up).

Then I clean out the tub and sanitize it because it's actually what I currently have to bathe my toddlers in. And I don't want them to contaminate the diapers the dirty diapers to contaminate the children! Yuck!

And then I line dry them (the diapers, not the children)!

And voila! Cleaning cloth diapers by hand!

It's a lot of work, but it can be done. 

And it saves money, so I think it's worth it. For the time being anyway...until I'm too pregnant to be bending over an infant tub in a shower stall!

(Little guy likes to help....and by help I mean pull all of the clean diapers onto the floor so he can trample them and eat them).

I have since gotten an actual drying rack for the diapers (and other clothes I hand wash), so it makes drying a lot faster (because I can hang up more than 5 diapers and inserts at a time!).

We have also been able to open up a bank account here and have since been able to get money out. However, it's very expensive to wash clothes here. So even though we have the option to use coin laundry, I'm still opting to hand wash simply because it's a lot cheaper.


Any questions or comments or other ideas, please let me know in the comments section!

Green means Go, right?!

I’m just going to be honest. Today was not great. We went on an excruciatingly long walk. Right in the middle of the kid’s naptime. I thought for sure we’d be back before they needed to nap. But no, I was wrong.

We managed to lose our map after being gone over an hour.

And then there’s the embarrassing alarm incident.

We were in a grocery store and I was going to walk outside and wait for Phil. The kids were getting a bit loud, and if you’ve ever been to France you will see why that’s a problem. In America kids are loud. We try to quiet them, but they get even louder. It’s usually just expected. You may get sideways glances from young people without kids, or old crotchety folks, but for the most part you will just get sympathetic looks from people who know that raising little hellions isn’t always easy.

Well not so in France! Apparently there is something in the milk here that makes children behave ALL THE TIME in public. So for a child to start whining and yelling and carrying on, well…it’s a pretty big deal.

So I decided to take my rowdy duo outside.

I wondered about the door. It didn’t open automatically like all the other ones did. There was green writing on it. But I can’t read French. Naturally I assumed green writing meant it was safe to go through. After all, green means go, right?! So I pushed the door open.

Loud horrendous beeping!!! People gawking awkwardly. I knew my face turned a few shades of red. I could feel it. I looked sheepishly at the cashier standing there. He just shook his head no.

I said sorry. In English. I hadn’t yet learned the word in French. Why didn’t I learn the word in French?!

I turned and tried to nonchalantly walk out the correct exit with the alarm still blaring and people still looking at me like I was a giant blue rabbit pushing my litter of bunnies around in a buggy; not really sure what to make of it, but kind of puzzled by what was happening in front of them.

I walked outside, across the parking lot and to the side walk before the tears started flowing. Phil eventually followed suite (I didn’t even bother waiting for him. I just had to get out of there) and wanted to know why I was in such a foul mood.

I blubbered that I was going home. He seemed to still be puzzled and then I half yelled that I just got really embarrassed and wanted to go home! Ah, he finally got it! The alarm incident was ME!

Phillip has a way of turning sour situations into something much better. I’m not going to say that he is always a glass half full kinda guy, but when it comes to me he always tries looking on the bright side. Or at least helping me to see things from a different perspective. He doesn’t like when I’m upset or sad and always tries to make me laugh.

So the entire walk home he made jokes. Jokes about going through the wrong door. And every time he would say “too soon?” And it was too soon. At first. But by the time we got home, I could clearly see how comical the whole situation was, and I even stopped tearing up when I thought about how embarrassed I was.

I’m grateful for my husband who always has my back. I wouldn’t be able to do this without him. He is my rock and he is my biggest fan. He works so hard to take care of me and the kids and to show me how much he loves me. He goes out of his way to make me laugh and to be sure that I am happy. How did I get so lucky with such an amazing man?!

So while the day started out as not so great, it turned out to be a pretty okay day. And all of the credit goes to my love!

This Guy: The Best thing that has ever happened to me!

Yeah, we are that cute!!

The Hardest Part about This Whole Thing

For the past 2 years I have been blessed to stay home with my kids. It has become my life. I absolutely love it. Yes it gets challenging and frustrating, and there are times when I would like to be alone (or even just pee alone), or I feel like throwing a tantrum like my kids. But overall it is such a blessing to get to be the one to get my kids out of bed in the morning, take care of their needs and wants throughout the day and tuck them into bed at night.

Being a mom and staying home with my kids has always been something I’ve wanted to do. It’s my dream job. I wouldn’t want it any other way (on most days).

So naturally one of the hardest things for me on this endeavor to France to learn French is that I have to put my kids in the nursery. The culture shock is hard, missing people from back home is hard, the unfamiliarity of this country and not knowing the language yet is hard. But it doesn’t compare to how difficult it has been for me to drop my kids off with strangers in the morning and pick them back up in the evening.

I don’t know what they do all day. I don’t know what they eat. I don’t know how they nap, if they cry, or how they are feeling all day long.

What I do know is that someone else is taking care of them. I know that I miss them like crazy and I can’t stand not being the one to tend to their wants and their needs.

Indeed it is good that they are there, because it gives me the opportunity to learn French in an intensive classroom setting. I get hours a day to study and learn and practice. It’s useful and it’s beneficial. The kids are also getting acquainted with someone else taking care of them, learning some French, playing with other children. It’s all good. It’s all nice. But I still don’t like it one bit.

There is a light at the end of the tunnel though. And much sooner than a year from now when we are done with language school and making our way to West Africa. In January I am going to be having baby #3. And because of that, I have the option to stay home with the kids and hire a language tutor.

This is great news! And for more than my selfish reason of wanting to be the primary caretaker of my babies; Saving!

Not having to pay for 3 kids to be in the nursery is going to save us quite a bit of money. And we’ll be able to use that money to hire a great tutor (as well as save up for baby/children's expenses! Apparently children can get a bit pricey...especially the whole processes of delivering one!) that will help me continue to learn French well.

But in the meantime, I’m struggling just a little bit with missing my babies.

Once a Month DIY: Homemade Diaper Wipes

Today starts my brand new Once a Month DIY Projects. Now, I’ve never really been the type of person to do it myself. I much prefer someone else doing it for me, or just buying things that are ready for me. I have a patience problem. A commitment problem. An energy problem. Lots of problems. My biggest problem though is that I’m a dreamer. I will come up with awesome ideas and plans, I will buy the materials and be motivated to accomplish it…for about a day. And then reality hits. I have to do this? Oh jeese…that looks hard. I’d rather [insert any other activity here].

And then the materials sit. And then the guilt ensues. I wasted my money on that! Why did I buy that? I should have known I wasn’t going to do that.

But alas! Things are changing around here. The dreamer that I am is slowly…ever so slowly, turning into the doer. It’s probably because I’m really just out of alternatives at this point. I’ve got to get creative because I’m living in a place I’m not familiar with at all. Heck, I don’t even speak the language yet! It’s hard to find the things I want or need. It’s hard to do a lot of things.

And so, I’ve decided that once a month I will share my DIY projects.

"Projects" is a loose term. Some of them aren’t projects at all. More like….ways of doing things. So it’s not much, but it’s a start.

This first one is a project though!

Once a Month DIY: Homemade Diaper Wipes

Diaper wipes can get downright pricey! We seem to go through a lot. Our potty trained toddler uses them, our diapered toddler uses them. Sometimes the kids will sneak and just plain ol destroy them (Why? Why do they do that?!) so that they aren’t usable at all. Pricey.

So I got out my handy dandy google machine and learned how to make my own wipes.

Here’s the list of things we use:

-Roll of paper towels

-Baby Oil

-Water

-Baby soap (whatever kind you so desire)

-Sharp knife (to cut the paper towel roll in half)

-Container to put them in

It’s so simple it’s mind boggling. I also love that there is soap on them- it just seems to make cleaning up diaper messes so much easier!

Here what to do:

For half a roll of paper towels (that’s what fits into our container. Plus, it’s easier to have half a piece of paper towel than a whole one) I use:

·         1/2 cup of water

·         1-2 tbls of baby soap (I like mine a little more soapy because I feel like it cleans better)

·         1 tbls of baby oil

• Mix it all together.

• Put the entire half of the paper towel roll into your container (I often use a round tupperware container that fits it perfectly).

• Pour the water mixture over the paper towels and let it sit for about 10 minutes.

• Turn the paper towel roll over and let sit another 10 min.

• Remove the cardboard from the middle and pull up the paper towel from the center.

• Viola! Ready to use!

 

(This is the container that I regularly use)

What I LOVE about making my own is that I know what’s in them, they are softer, and I can use whatever scent I so desire.

When the kiddos are sick I like to use soothing vapor baby wash. I don’t know why. Maybe I believe it will help. And maybe it does help?! But it doesn’t matter. I get to choose!

Maybe someday I’ll be brave enough to use cloth diaper wipes. But for now….I’m sticking with my homemade paper towel ones!

You can put your homemade diaper wipes in a round tupperware container like I often use, in a plastic zip lock bag or an old wipes container (I also use an old wipes container. I just fold my paper towels accordion style until no more will fit into the container, and then I pour the mixture over it like that. Takes a bit longer that way, but then it makes it easier in the long run because they come out of the container quite easily).

Also, because there are no preservatives in the homemade ones, only make enough to last about a week or so (which half a roll usually does for me). The fresher, the better!!

Crying over Boxed Milk

I knew it would be different here. I knew we wouldn’t get some of the same foods we get back home. I knew the living situation wouldn’t be exactly the same. Once we got off the plane, I knew the ease of shopping would be long gone (at least for a while). I knew the language would be different. Obviously.

I knew all of these things. Prepared myself for them. Anticipated it.

What I didn’t expect was it to affect me the way it did. Our first trip to the grocery store was the first of many moments that affected me in a strange way.

Now, I’m not typically a person that cries at the drop of a hat. In fact, I rarely cry in front of people. So when tears started welling up in my eyes at the grocery store, I felt so silly.

The reason I almost started crying: boxed milk. Yes, that’s correct. I cried over boxed milk. Now, I knew that milk came in boxes. I’ve been to countries where milk came in boxes. Drank that milk. Put that milk in my coffee. It was never an issue before.

But suddenly it wasn’t at all what I wanted. Suddenly my comfort zone felt like it was being pushed to the limits. Boxed milk doesn’t need to be refrigerated. It can sit out. Once opened, it can still sit out. Now I don’t know about you, but the thought of leaving milk sitting out, the thought of drinking warm milk or giving this milk to my kids…that just pushed me over the edge.

And Phil wasn’t very helpful. Poor guy. He didn’t realize the craziness that was going on inside of me. He was trying to be practical. You see, there was regular milk there too. It was smaller and more expensive. But it was there.

But my poor unsuspecting husband made us get the least expensive warm boxed milk. It wasn’t until we had gotten home, away from the people, away from our new friend that drove us to the store and showed us how to shop in France, that I finally couldn’t hold it in any longer.

The tears came. The sobs. I couldn’t stop. It was like the airport incident all over again. Phil was speechless. Eventually I told him I was crying about the boxed milk.

He laughed.

And then I laughed. You know, it IS funny. It’s funny and it’s ridiculous. They were sincere tears over something that was so different, something that didn’t matter to me back home because I didn’t know any different, but something that obviously struck a chord inside of me here. But in that moment I realized that it was more than just the milk. It was me adjusting to this newness. This differentness. It was me missing home and what I’m accustomed to.

But it was pretty funny. Crying over boxed milk.

(The detestable boxed milk...that you can leave out. But I refuse to do that!)

(The very next day we went to the store and Phil said I could get some regular milk!)

Since moving here only days ago, I’ve realized that we are just going to have to do things a little bit differently. And slowly I’m adjusting. I’m certain there will be more tears over important and even silly things. And I’m sure that there will be more laughter about that as well. It’s the nature of where we are and what we’re doing.

And with that….here are some more things that we are doing just a little bit differently:

Bath time…er…I mean, shower time?

There are no tubs in this apartment. 3 bathrooms, 0 bath tubs. Now…I have 2 small kids that absolutely LOVE bath time. Not only do they love baths, they despise showers! So this is quite the adjustment. I’ve tried numerous things- moving the shower head lower, so they can take little toddler showers. No go.

Putting a wash cloth over the drain, so they can take mini baths. No go! The water still drains and they really don’t like sitting in 2 inch deep water. I guess it’s not the same!

We’re working on getting something that goes into the shower that they can bathe in. If you have any great suggestion- let me know!!

Along with the bath time for the toddlers is bath time for the new baby. Obviously the new baby isn’t here yet, but I like to look towards the future. Our sink is about the size of two bowls. Not even a newborn could fit in there. So without a bathtub and a sink that is too small….I’m not entirely sure what I’ll do when this new little one shows up (probably cry about it).

Tiny sink! I don't think this picture does it justice, but it really is just SO small. No room for a baby in there!

Meal time!

We have no highchair for the little guy. I tried putting his food on a blanket on the floor, hoping he’d sit there nicely and eat. I was wrong. He doesn’t sit. And then Jaelyn felt like he was getting a privilege she ought to have- so she insisted she eat on the floor as well. That turned into a fiasco when I heard my husband say “Jaelyn, don’t let your brother step in your bowl. Pax, get your foot out of your sisters bowl”.

My solution: tying him to the chair with a bandana and letting him sit on a stool!

Handsome guy eating dinner...all tied down!

Along with mealtime is portion sizes! My goodness are things tiny around here! We have gone through 4 of those boxed milk cartons since we've been here. And we've been here a total of 3 days. This bottle of juice...not a single serving like you would find in the States! 1 liter is not big enough for a family of 4!

I’m sure there will be many many more things that we just do differently here. But these are the things I’ve come across in this first week.

Bon Voyage!

Well we did it. After years of dreaming and learning, and months of planning and anticipation, we are finally in France. This is just the beginning of our journey, but it’s as exciting as ever.

I woke up this morning and looked out Jaelyn’s bedroom window. Mountains! And this is our home for right now. We are indeed blessed.

But…let’s back up a few. I need to share about our journey here.

Our first flight was the long one. I anticipated a smooth trip to London because we were flying at night, and I figured the kids would probably sleep a good portion of it. We had great seats, with plenty of leg room (no one in front of us), and Pax even had his own infant seat that pulled down from the wall. Again, I thought he’d do great because he could sleep in that.

I must have forgotten how much my kids hate the car and being strapped in their carseats. Seriously, after our last trip back from Texas my kids would begin whining and melting down after just 10 minutes in the van. Poor things were traumatized!

Pax ended up falling asleep about 2 hours into the flight. But continued to wake up constantly. Probably mostly due to the fact that he is a tummy sleeper (with his little tush up in the air), and was unable to turn around in his seat.

Jaelyn was wide awake and didn’t want anything to do with sleep, even after they finally turned off all the lights on the plane- about 4 hours into the flight. Eventually she did fall asleep, and slept until we landed.

Neither Phil or I got any sleep. So…that’s always a great start to a new day.

We arrived in London and after waiting 30 minutes for our stroller, we were informed that it had gone to our next flight. Great…two kids, 3 carry-ons, running late to the next flight and NO stroller.

We had to go through security again and this time it didn’t go well at all. They insisted on taking EVERYTHING out of the diaper bag and small cooler I had for the kids’ drinks. It was 8:45 a.m. and the gate to our next flight closed at 9:00 a.m.

I asked the man attending to our things how far the gate was, and he informed me that he’d tried to hurry so I didn’t miss the flight. Well hurry he did NOT! At 8:50 I sent Phil and Pax to the gate so they could try to get them to wait for us.

I grew increasingly impatient with the man that insisted on taking his sweet time, knowing that I had minutes to get to my flight….which happened to be on the other side of the airport.

By 9:05 he was finally done. He took the small ice pack I had to keep their milk/drinks cold, saying that it was a liquid and I wasn’t allowed to have it on the plane. Even though I had clearly had it on the last plane.

I wondered out loud how I was supposed to keep the kids’ milk cold, but was more frustrated by the fact that he had made me late to my next flight.

I grabbed the bags, picked up Jaelyn and tried to get to the other side of the airport as fast as I could. It was then that my body decided to have an emotional breakdown. I couldn’t stop the tears. I must have looked so ridiculous! A pregnant lady carrying several bags, a toddler, half-running through the airport and now sobbing! What a sight!

I made it to our gate and found Phil and Pax waiting by the desk. The lady had graciously waited for us!

We boarded our flight to Switzerland with everyone gawking at us. But we made it! So I didn’t really care.

And when I sat down I couldn’t keep the tears from coming. I had bottled up all of the emotions of saying goodbye and actually leaving, waiting to have a quiet moment to cry by myself. But now, I was sobbing on an airplane packed with complete strangers…and my family sitting right next to me.

The flight to Switzerland was just over an hour. Pax, however was completely overtired and wouldn’t wait an hour to have his meltdown. I apologized profusely to the lady seating in front of us- the seat that he kicked in frustration and anger through the whole flight He FINALLY fell asleep as we were landing. And he slept hard! I had to carry him through the airport to baggage claim (because we still didn’t have our stroller). He didn’t wake up at all!

We finally found our stroller, just hanging out several feet from the baggage area. I was so thankful to finally be able to strap the kids in and not worry about having to carry them around.

We managed to get 9 of our 10 suitcases. But then there was the task of getting 2 carts to push them on and figuring out how to get the bag that was missing. In another country. Where we don’t speak the language. And we don’t have their money.

That took us about an hour to accomplish. Which was unfortunate because the taxi bus to pick us up arrived at 12 p.m. By the time we were heading out of the airport, it was just after 1 p.m. I was certain we were going to be stranded in Geneva- still 2 hours from our final resting place.

But by the grace of God, our driver was STILL there! He was a sight for sore eyes. And once again, the tears came unsuspectingly. And once again, I’m certain I looked ridiculous. This time pushing a cart full of suitcases AND pushing a double stroller. How I managed that, I’m still not sure.

With both kids fast asleep, we loaded up into the van (which I guess is a taxi bus!) and headed to the school. It was a beautiful drive! And I wish I could have stayed awake to see it!

The kids and I slept nearly the whole way there! And we arrived at the school in Albertville around 3 p.m. Tuesday afternoon.

I wish I had some pictures to show of our trip, but…I unfortunately forgot to put a memory card in the camera. Go figure!

We are so blessed to be here. And we are even more blessed by the place that we live in. It's quite amazing!

More on our home in a later post  though (with pictures this time!!).

Oops, we did it again!

Our 3^rd little bun is currently cooking in my oven. I can’t say that it was a complete shock, because for some reason I just sort of knew. When I was finally able to take a test, I already knew what it would say. In an instant it read “pregnant”.

I was elated. Scared beyond reason, but absolutely thrilled. It’s weird how you can experience two almost contradictory emotions at the same time, about the same thing.

I am so excited to have another baby. I love kids. I love having my own kids. I adore being a mother and I’ve always wanted to have a big family. Having three kids is going to be so much fun!

But I’m also terrified for a number of reasons. First, having 3 kids is going to be a lot of fun, but having 3 kids under the age of 3 is going to be ridiculously hard! Secondly, we will be living in a foreign country without family or friends to lean on for support. I’m not thrilled about having my baby in France, mostly because I’m unfamiliar with how they do things there. And it’s scary to think of moving to Africa with 2 toddlers and an infant.

I can only imagine the difficulties of raising a small family in a country I’ve never been, in a culture I’m unfamiliar with, and a language I’m just really beginning to learn. Not to mention that we won’t know anyone when we get there. What.were.we.thinking?!

But nevertheless, this is happening. It’s real. There is a tiny person growing inside of me, squirming around and pushing against my abdomen. It’s amazing. It’s a miracle. And I’m beyond blessed.

And I’m pretty certain I’ll never run out of things to write about for my blog! Of course, I may not have the time or the energy, but I’ll surely have stories!

Baby Kemp #3 is due to arrive on January 21^st, 2015!

Without a Home

As we packed up our belongings and said goodbye to Texas, we also said goodbye to our home. To a place we could call our own. Driving across the country, we began to realize that we were nomads. We had made plans to stay with different family members and to be on the road in a new place every single week. The idea behind this decision made sense at the time; we were going to be visiting family and friends and saying goodbye to many people. Some of these people we won’t see again for years.

But it’s hard. I think, mostly for me, it’s hard because of the kids. I have always strived to make them comfortable, to provide a stable and consistent home life, to have structure and routine. But that’s almost impossible when you are living at someone else’s house, when you have to almost fit yourself and your kids into other people’s schedules, when your babies are sleeping in a different place every week.

It’s hard because people that don’t have children also don’t have homes that are baby proof. No fault of their own, of course! But it makes things just a little bit more difficult as we have to constantly be redirecting the children, telling them not to touch that, and physically moving them away from areas that might be a little dangerous. And can I be just a little selfish right now and say that, as a pregnant mom, it’s utterly exhausting! I miss my own home that was completely baby proof, where I had the option of sitting down for a few minutes while the kids roamed around and were able to play anywhere without the potential of harming themselves.

As a mom of two active little ones….I miss our baby proof home.

But then I have to think about what’s really important. Sometimes I like to believe that getting what I want and not being so exhausted is really important. But again, that’s really just me being selfish. What’s really important is to be able to visit with our families. For the kids to know their grandparents and their grandparents to get to build special bonds with these two precious kids. It’s important for us to get to see our supporters and thank them in person for what they have allowed us to do so far, and what they will allow us to do in the future. It’s important to visit with friends that we haven’t seen in a while. It’s all so very important because these people mean the world to us and it will be years before we get to see some of them again.

So yes, it’s hard. It’s hard not having a home. It’s hard without a routine for the kids. It’s hard sleeping in someone else’s bed every week. But oh is it worth it! We are certainly cherishing the moments we get to visit with the people we love.

Will You Trust Me?

As our last days in Texas are drawing to a close, the reality of leaving the States has really hit hard. These last few months have been a serious test of faith as doubts have laid a heavy burden on our hearts. At first it appeared that the doubts were about God's calling on our lives. But through prayer and wise counsel we have realized that the doubts are really about our own strengths and abilities. It's a unique position to be on the verge of something so completely life-changing. Many have experienced these moments months, weeks and days before getting married. Is this really who I should marry? Will I be able to spend the rest of my life with this person? These moments also happen for new parents, or even second and third time parents. Will I be able to take care of a tiny helpless little person? Can I add another member to the family without losing my sanity and without neglecting my other kids? Will I have enough love and attention to go around?

Everyone faces these types of situations, these questions and doubts. We have to choose to embrace the uncertainty of it, relying on God to calm our anxious hearts and lead us in the right direction. Even if that direction is hard and uncomfortable and not always what we want to do at that time.

For me, the reassurance of God's plan has come through a number of sources over the last few months. When I was in the throes of terrible doubt and questioning whether or not we should even continue in this direction, God was using people in my life to let me know that this IS what we should do and that He was not abandoning us. Why does it sometimes feel like we are all alone in this journey, when God is always right by our side?

In one of my previous posts, I wrote about how different songs tend to be my theme song for a period of time. Well lately my song has been Oceans by Hillsong. When I was telling my very amazing friend about my struggles and not being sure if we should even go to the mission field, she told me that God often uses songs to tell her things and suddenly the song "Oceans" by Hillsong popped into her head. She said that she had to look up the lyrics because she didn't really know that song. And when she did, she said she immediately knew it was the perfect lyrics for me right now.
In that moment I knew that God was giving me the reassurance that we were headed in the right direction. And I felt like He was asking me "Will you trust Me?" But, like Gideon, I needed another sign. I told God I wasn't convinced and I continued to beg him to change His mind.

Then, while in chapel one Friday, someone spoke about the struggle they had gone through on the mission field. It was a long story, but the final point to his message was that God wants you to focus on being, not on doing. He has the resources and can do this.
Again I knew that God was telling me that He would take care of me. If I would just choose to follow Him and trust Him, He would take care of everything.

Unlike Gideon, I still was not convinced. I think it was more stubbornness. This isn't what I wanted to do anymore.I kept thinking of all of the difficulties. Of raising a family with no support. Of being in a foreign country and not knowing anyone and not understanding the language or the culture. I couldn't stand the thought of our kids not seeing their grandparents and uncles regularly. My heart was already breaking and I just didn't want to continue. But I still felt that tugging and God asking "Will you trust Me?".

And then one day something from our home church in Indiana popped up on my newsfeed on facebook. It was a sermon called God Has Bigger Plans For Your Life Than You Do. He talked about how taking a risk for God can be really scary because we can't see the outcome. But if we will just trust God and follow Him, the blessings He has in store for us are going to be amazing. Just like His blessings for Abraham.

That really convicted me. And as if that weren't enough, ANOTHER thing from that church popped up in my newsfeed. This time it was a blog. It was about Clarity vs. Trust. Again with the trust thing, God? Yes, of course! If it's going to take me fleece after fleece after fleece to fully and truly know that God was indeed calling us to this mission field, then yes, another message on trust was absolutely necessary. God knows me.

I know I have written about my struggle with going before. And I hope I'm not being redundant as I go back and forth with knowing what God has called us to but being uncertain about it at the same time. But in an effort to be blatantly honest about this journey, I must admit that I often feel bipolar with all of this. It's a daily battle. And I have often felt alone in my struggle because I haven't heard other missionaries in this stage talk about how they often just didn't want to go. 

But it doesn't really matter if others have faced these same struggles at the same time and same stage as I have. It is through these struggles that I have been drawn closer to God. It is because of these struggles that I have been praying more earnestly, more passionately, more honestly. And it is through these struggles that God has shown me how much I desperately need Him. He is also teaching me about trust. And trusting in God is so important.

So yes, I will probably continue to have this daily battle of not really wanting to leave. But I know that we will leave. And I am trusting that God has something far better in store for me and my family. So God, in answer to your question, Yes. Yes I will trust You. Yes I do trust You.

And ya know what...I'm kind of excited too.

Interracial Marriage

My hubby has been asking me to write about my own perspective of being in an interracial marriage for quite some time, so….I decided to give it a go.

I must be honest though, and say that I don’t really feel like there is much to write about. I mean, honestly I don’t have anything to compare it to. Phillip was my first boyfriend, my first kiss, my first everything. I’ve not been married to a white guy- so really I have no comparison. Being in an interracial marriage is normal to me.

With that said, I’m certain I have learned a multitude of things from being with someone from a different culture. But I also believe that any marriage consists of two different cultures coming together and learning to live and live well together. Unless, of course, you’re marrying your brother or sister, in which case you would be coming from the same culture and….gross! But the chances of that are pretty slim, I’m guessing.

Here are the things I have learned from my marriage (which just so happens to be interracial):

1.    Different does not mean bad, or wrong: There are a plethora of things that Phillip does differently that I do. At first it drove me crazy! Why do you stay up all night and sleep in all morning?!  Why won’t you use a flat sheet?! That’s my favorite part of the bedding. How can you stand putting barbeque sauce on EVERYTHING? Is my food so bland? And what do you mean, you aren’t a coffee drinker? I don’t even understand what you’re saying. What I have learned is that it’s just different. It’s not a bad thing. And over the years, we have sort of taken the best from both worlds. We both now stay up late and get up early. Okay, so that compromise is actually pretty silly, because that means we really don’t get much sleep. But…it’s just different…not wrong! And he compromised and now sleeps with a top sheet. Though, to be completely honest, it always ends up in a crumbled mess at the bottom of the bed. But, it’s there! And as far as the food thing goes, Phillip has taught me the importance of spices. He still uses barbeque sauce on everything, but it’s not because my food is bland! And coffee…well, let’s just say that I converted him!

2.    Expectations may not be met: Everybody goes into a marriage with their own expectations of the marriage, their spouse, and their own role. What typically happens is that we don’t let the other person in on our expectations, and so when those expectations aren’t met…well, dangerous things can happen. You can quietly brew to yourself about how you married such a jerk, you can take it out on your spouse by showing your frustrations and annoyance, or you can just talk through it. At first I chose the first two. Because I didn’t realize what was happening. I didn’t understand that I was feeling frustrated with him for not meeting my expectations….my unspoken expectations. In the course of our 4 years together we have had to hash out some of these things. It’s not easy, but it’s necessary. We both need to know what we expect from each other and what we expect from ourselves.

3.    Uniqueness doesn’t keep us together: I honestly believed that because Phillip and I were so unique (ya know…the whole interracial thing), we had one up on every other “normal” relationship. I took pride in how different we were and believed that our difference made us special. I really don’t know why I thought that way. Maybe it was the newness of it all. Maybe it was the romantic in me. After all, we were going against the grain, defying society, our parents, the norm (okay, we weren’t really doing any of those things, but it seemed like it to me). The uniqueness of our relationship wasn’t going to keep us together. The Grace of God would.

4.    Time is relative: Before I married Phillip I thought I was always late. And maybe I was late to places on occasion. But what I have discovered in my 7 years with this man and his family is that time has become relative. My first experience with this was the first time I went to his family’s church. Church started at 10:30. We were leaving the house a few minutes after 10:30. And it wasn’t just down the street. Oh no…it was 20 minutes away! My other experience with this is the movies. I love getting to the movie theater early. I need to pick my perfect spot, settle into my seat with all of my snacks (that I…uh, snuck in) and watch every single preview (the previews are the best part!). My first experience with seeing a movie with Phillip’s family…we left the house at about the time the movie was starting. Of course, we made it just in time to see the start of the show. BUT I missed my precious previews. I didn’t get to stop at the dollar store and buy snacks to sneak in. And I wasn’t in my perfect spot!

Over time though, we have adapted to each other. We are typically late (fashionably late, of course) to places- which has gotten worse since we’ve had children. BUT we are always early to the movies!

5.     I’m not going to change him: It’s true. Most women marry men believing that she can change the annoying/frustrating things about him. And most men marry women believing that she will never change. Both are flat out wrong! We can’t change our men. Of course, that doesn’t mean that God can’t. And if it’s something that seriously needs changing, then that is God’s domain. It’s taken a lot of complaining and mounting frustrations for me to realize that I’m not going to change Phillip. But ya know what…those annoying quirks have a way of coming full circle. What I mean is, when we first met, those things were kind of cute. I didn’t mind them so much. It made me laugh. But then, after some time, it became more and more obnoxious. Like nails on a chalkboard that just starts to grate on your nerves over time. But then…somehow, someway, it becomes funny and cute again. And then after some time…. Full circle. It’s a cycle I like to call love. The point is, I’m not going to change him. And that’s okay.

6.    He’ll miss it when I’m dead: In the same way that Phillip has annoying qualities about himself, I also have annoying things about me (shocker, I know!). Every time I do something that is completely bothersome to Phillip (unintentionally of course. Always unintentionally), I like to tell him that when I die and he’s telling stories about me at my funeral, he will share these little frustrating nuggets of my personality with a smile of adoration and fondness. He will tell them that “Sarah used leave half empty cups of coffee all of over the house. And she always had to smell her food before she’d eat it”. He’d also say that I would never put the clothes away after I folded them and we constantly had to dig through baskets of clothes to find something to wear. He might also say something about how I cry at the slightest hint of an argument about to take place, or make jokes when I’m nervous, or accidentally use “baby talk” at awkward and inappropriate times. These are things that are annoying to Phillip, but I know he’ll miss it when I’m dead.

7.    He’s my number 2: We have a running joke about how we are each other’s number 2. But it’s also very true. God is my number one. He is the most important thing in my life. Phillip is my number two, and the children are next in line. Of course, in my fallen human state I often get these out of order. I have a hard time with not putting the kids before my husband. I know this is wrong and I try desperately to realize when I’m doing it. But it’s hard. They are so needy and I have to do almost everything for them. Phillip is pretty independent, and doesn’t require my constant attention. But that doesn’t mean I can neglect him. It’s important to remind myself often that he is my number 2!

8.    We make adorable babies: I’m not gonna lie. Mixed couples tend to make the cutest babies. Call me biased, I don’t care! My two kiddos are the cutest in the world (again…I may be biased). And any other children we have will fall into that same category.

9.    Kids bridge gaps: It doesn’t matter what kind of relationship you have with parents or in-laws (and sometimes with interracial marriages, there are family members that largely object), once you pop out that first grandbaby those relationships will start to mend. Kids are the saving grace to those relationships. No wonder God said children are a blessing!

10.  Take everything with a grain of salt: While it’s true that in our 4 years of marriage we have lived in places that seem to be full of mixed couples and thus have not experienced many snide remarks or sideways glances, this will not always be the case. And, in fact, when we first started dating we did experience a lot of opposition. But it was mostly from people that just didn’t understand, hadn’t been face to face with a mixed relationship and were just concerned about the unique issues we would most likely face. In my young naïve mind, I felt like everyone was against us because I was white and he was black. I felt like I was rebelling, going against the grain and that through our relationship we would take on the world and change everything. Looking back now, I can see that people, mainly family members, were just concerned. They didn’t want us to experience unnecessary heartache and setback. If I could go back, I would learn to take their comments and concerns to heart, though with a grain of salt. It’s important to hear the concerns of our parents and those closest to us, to understand where they are coming from and why they feel the way they do. But it’s also important to not put their biases (if that’s what it is) on your relationship. Some of their concerns may be valid, but some of them may not.

This, of course, is for all relationships, not just interracial ones. The concerns of our loved ones are usually pretty valid. They can see things differently than a newly love struck couple can.

As I read back through these, most of them really have nothing to do with being in an interracial relationship, but can apply to marriage in general. But again, I have no other experience to relate it to. I guess I would say that being in an interracial marriage is probably pretty similar to being married to someone of the same race, but you are just more aware of your differences because you clearly come from different cultures. Most people in same race marriages have many differences, but may not realize it's a cultural thing because they don't associate the same race coming from different family cultures.

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But I will say that one of the most important things to us as a couple is to share our cultures with our children. We want them to know that they come from two different cultures. We want them to know the good and the bad of both. We want them to know why it’s so neat and unique that they are here in this world, because there was a time when a white woman and black man getting married and having children would not have been allowed. We want them to know their identity from both races, but to ultimately find their identity in Christ.

We also want to teach them the importance and uniqueness of different races, but not to have a bias against different skin colors. Our children will also be in interracial marriages one day, so it’s important that we set a good example.

Pillow Prayers

I must admit that I don’t often have quiet prayer/devotional time during the day. Since my kids are up around 6:30 am, I find it difficult to get up before them. With an active 2 year old and 9 month it is nearly impossible to have a quiet moment when they are awake. Nap times…well, I try as best as I can to get them to nap at the same time. But honestly, it’s touch and go most days. When they actually do nap at the same time, I will admit that I often choose to clean up from the whirlwind of the morning’s activities.

I used to feel so guilty about not taking quiet time during the day, or about not giving God my first moments of the morning or the downtime I had during the day. I would get so frustrated as I would attempt to get a few moments of reading or praying in, only to have one of the kids wake up early from a nap, or my husband need me to do something, or whatever other hundred things would distract me from my spiritual duties.

And then the other night, as I laid in bed and poured out my heart to God, I realized that just because I don’t get up before dawn, or spend all of my quiet day time moments praying, it doesn’t meant that I don’t give of my time to God. What I realized in that moment is that I do what I would call “pillow prayers”. As I lay my head on my pillow, exhausted from the relentlessness of the day, I give God the rawest version of myself. I may be exhausted, yes, but I’m also brutally honest in those moments. Maybe because I’m so exhausted.

These pillow prayers are my honest cries and pleas. I share with God my daily hurdles, my frustrations, the aggravations I felt, the moments when I wanted to lose all control. I share with Him my daily joys, the pleasures I get from raising two babies and being a wife to an amazing man. I share with Him my struggles of wanting to go to the mission field, but also desperately not wanting to go, of being excited, but also uncertain. My pillow is usually saturated with tears (and yes, maybe a little snot too. You know how it is!), but like I said, it’s raw emotion.

And it’s in these moments that I feel God’s presence. It’s often a sort of peace. A peace that usually just lulls me to sleep. I remember when I was younger being warned about not praying in bed because you will probably fall asleep. But honestly, why wouldn’t you want to fall asleep talking to God? To me it’s one of the best ways to fall asleep. I’m certain that I often conk out mid thought. But I doubt that God really cares.

So, if like me, you find yourself feeling guilty over not having time during the hectic days to sit and read and pray, give yourself some grace. God does. Of course, we do need to make the effort. That’s not what I’m saying. But sometimes, at night, when the lights are off and you’re completely and utterly exhausted, it’s the best time to pour your heart out to our Creator.

I'm sure that as the kids get older, and the the chaos of raising two little people starts to mold into a more stable and predictable routine, my ability to have quiet time with God during the day will begin to develop and evolve. I'm not saying that it's not important to be disciplined and you shouldn't make those moments a priority. I absolutely think that you should. What I am saying is that there will be seasons in your life when it's so challenging and almost implausible to do that at the same time every day. And that's okay. I believe that God understands. And I believe that He cares more about you simply communicating with Him, and not necessarily that you stick to a rigid schedule. So if you find a time and place that allows you to give yourself completely to God, even if it happens to be in the middle of the night, when you wake up to feed your hungry infant, by all means do that!