The Postcard

We received our first postcard in the mail yesterday!

In our most recent newsletter, we included this postcard for people to mail back to us. We were overjoyed to find this beauty in our mailbox yesterday. The first one! The simple act of writing a short note and dropping the card in the mail means so much more to us.

Here's a special shout-out to Glenn and Marcia Veldheer - THANK YOU!

Four years ago, Everything Changed

Last month, I picked up Michael Pollan's small, very practical, guide to eating called "Food Rules." It condenses much of the information he's learned as a journalist documenting our current food system into a pocket sized eating guide. He basically boils down how we should eat into seven words, which comprise the three sections of the book: "Eat Food; Mostly Plants; Not Too Much."

It sounds so simple. But when we move in and out of a grocery store, and begin to pay attention to what we ingest that merely poses as food, it actually becomes a little more complicated; hence the need for 'Food Rules," and the middle two words- "mostly plants." However you look at it, Americans especially are dying because of our eating practices, with many food related diseases hitting poor people of color the hardest. When 75% of healthcare costs can be traced to what we consume as food, we know we have a problem.

A few years ago, Joy and I didn't think too much of what we ate. We would eat cheaply, shopping at the local grocery that carried the lowest prices. We felt the pinch of eating on our wallets, not our stomachs. We got into a pretty good routine of recycling through the same 14 meals, usually high in meat, starch, sodium, and sugar and low in greens and vegetables. When I was in grad school, I did one of my field placements at an inner-city food pantry. I witnessed the way that poor quality food given for free exacerbated already existing issues in poor communities. The Director at the time conceived of a network of community gardens that aided as both a teaching tool and food distribution model that introduced a variety of healthy foods grown locally in low access neighborhoods.

I remember sitting down with him at the beginning of my internship. One of his first questions was, "What do you eat?" I simply said meat and potatoes, and I don't eat vegetables. He quickly retorted, "We can change that. You just haven't had vegetables prepared well enough to enjoy."  The next week, he took some day-old Panera Bread, broiled with olive oil and salt, and walked to the garden and picked fresh tomatoes and swiss chard. Once the greens were cooked down, we had an open face sandwich that was so simple and so delicious that I went home and made it for my wife (except I added a fried egg).

Over the next year, Joy and I began to pay closer attention to our food choices. We realized a few things. First, we knew nothing about where our food was grown, processed, or killed. Second, there was no color variety on our plate. Third, we had no idea how to actually cook. Fourth, Joy was pregnant with our first child (Justice) and knew that the nutrients she consumed were going to our baby. But, the whole process of re-learning to eat seemed so daunting. And so, we decided to purchase a share in a local farm. We'd pay upfront for 20 weeks worth of veggies and produce that we'd pick up once a week at the market. We'd talk with our farmers, ask for recipes and cooking tips, and explore throughout the week different ways the food could be prepared. Some meals were fantastic and others were not so great. We planned our meals around the foods we received at the market, making sure we'd have a variety of veggies we had to try.

I wasn't trying to lose weight. I have always been a relatively small, skinny person. But over those 20 weeks I lost 20 lbs. I dropped three inches off my waist, and I was feeling better, more alert and less sluggish. I didn't take a pill; I didn't jump on the newest guaranteed diet. But when it came to the most important human act for living in a body, everything changed. From what foods we bought to the time we spent preparing meals, from the way we budgeted for groceries to the appreciation for the gift of food, from the way we felt/looked to the dreams we began to collectively have about growing our own food, everything changed.

We realized that eating well is a lifestyle, not a fad or a diet that comes and goes. How and what we eat is passed down to us from our families, our traditions, and our culture. The decision of what we eat is formed by habits of eating. When I explain my move from "meat and potatoes" to "Eat Food, mostly vegetables," I can only conceive of that move as a transformational cultural shift in my approach of the most mundane thing humans do. It was retraining my eating habits, and it couldn't have been done without being a part of a community where eating well was practiced daily.

Eating healthy is a lifestyle, not a once-a-week salad at lunch. 

How many of our churches speak of complete transformation and redemption while maintaining a culture that eats salad once a week? The proclamation of the Gospel is that God, in Jesus Christ, has fundamentally changed the way we see and work in this world. Because of the Cross and Resurrection, everything has changed. And yet, I get the sense that churches seem more interested in providing an experience of faith once a week than creating a culture of faith that re-orders how we live entirely. Our missional friends at 3DM write it like this:

A discipling culture is about encouraging and cultivating the development of a missional lifestyle (faith at the center of everything we do) rather than missional events (faith at the center of the events we organize).

I believe this is an important distinction. We must be able to move beyond inviting our friends to church (even though this is important; an entry point to a new way of living) and become the community that opens our very lives to our neighbors in compassion. The first approach assumes that God's place rests only within the confines of church activity. Faith is cordoned off for a particular moment during the week, but it doesn't really require much more than showing up. But showing up doesn't retrain our prior habits of living.

The latter approach recognizes the work of the Spirit moving in us and the world to redeem all brokenness and sin. This approach re-orders our life to make room for the Spirit to change us. It is what we call the process of discipleship, learning to be more and more like Jesus. It is habit training, culture forming work. And this approach might very well change the way we relate with our neighbors, spend our money, play with our kids, eat our food, engage in acts of hospitality, befriend the poor, and reconcile cultural differences.

In short, the missional lifestyle changes everything.

Family

Living far away from our families is hard. For both of us, we have been away from home since we went to college, so being physically distant from our parents in nothing new. But there are certainly parts of this move that are different and feel brand new.

We've lived in Hawaii all of 9 months now and have already missed several family events, namely the funerals of both of Eric's dear and precious grandmothers. We're missing some major life events of our closest friends, and we know there are more special occasions coming in the next few months.

Moving to Hawaii we knew this would be the case. We knew in our minds we would miss some important times, but our hearts are feeling it afresh. Perhaps the addition of a baby and the cuteness of toddlerhood is accentuating the emotions we've been feeling. My heartstrings are pulled more by daily life happenings than by the big events. Yes, we are deeply sorry when we are absent from major family gatherings. We see pictures of family gathered from far and wide and wish we could teleport ourselves in, catch up with our cousins, hug our aunts and uncles. We do want that. But on an almost incomparable level is an aching for our children to know our parents. Both Eric and I have had grandparents in our lives with whom we have meaningful, formative relationships. We want that for our children.

I know that we have chosen to be here and we consciously made the decision to move our ohana away from our larger extended family. Despite the heartache and tears, we know this is the right decision and we have peace that we are walking with God. We certainly do not regret our move. However, I sense that our silence on this issue communicates our feelings incorrectly. By not showing our emotions, or talking about the pain and sadness, we have communicated that we're unaffected. And this is not true. We desire for our parents to see our children grow and develop, and we pray for the beginnings of deep meaningful relationships to be formed. We miss grabbing coffee "just because" with some of the people we care most about. And while I wish we could share a lunch with my mom today, or build a sand castle with papa, we cannot.  It's likely I'll shed tears over this for years to come.

So we talk on the phone, and we FaceTime regularly. Like anything else in our lives that is important, we find time and make sacrifices for this. We're currently 6 hours behind the time zone of our parents, so it's not always convenient. But it can work, and we make it. Sometimes we call for a 5 minute show-and-tell. Sometimes we talk longer while my toddler runs in and out of the room. Sometimes we sing songs, and sometimes we end up sharing a meal via the internet because that's the time when both parties are home.  And we try to take lots of pictures.

While furlough (Summer of 2015) extends beyond visiting family, it is one aspect we are especially looking forward to. By then, Justice will be almost four and Micah will be walking and learning to talk. It's hard for us to think our kids will be that big the next time papa sees them. We've wanted our blog to be a place of honesty, so we thought it appropriate to share a little behind the curtain. But it's also a matter of prayer.

We believe we are growing a supportive broader ohana here in Kona, and we pray that continues. We know we will move closer and closer to our neighbors as relationships deepen, as 9 months turns to 2 years, and as 2 years turns to five. We know that our children will cleave to this place, to Kona as their first home, and will adopt much of its culture and language as their own. As missionaries, we invite this into our lives. Our children will identify more with Kona than with Michigan or Virginia. And that's okay, but we also know the love of those that radiate from Michigan and Virginia, and we don't want them to miss that either. So please continue to pray for us as we navigate past loss and toward new possibility, as we try to hold together family relationships and navigate new ones.

A Letter to the 2 Year Old

I attended a meeting of moms this week. Before we got started, a few of us were chatting about our kids. I said something like, "She's two, so some days are normal and some days are...." I just couldn't find the word. One of the other moms piped up right away, "Oh, I understand. Irrational, ridiculous, nonsensical . Don't worry, she will become human again around 3 1/2."

I've been thinking about what that means, so I decided to write a letter to my daughter, and it was a pretty fun exercise! You know my track record, if I don't write it down I will forget. And as I finished the letter I realized just how ridiculous she is, in an endearing way of course. I guess life with a 2 year old has become normal.

Here's a piece of that letter (and a pretty accurate picture of my life):

Dear Justice, 
You are growing in your imagination and creativity! I was at a moms group this week where kids your age were described as irrational and nonsensical. The other moms reassured me that you will return to humanness around age 3 1/2. While this sounds about right, this current stage of complete ridiculousness is so funny! So I thought I would share some of what you're doing.

You treat your stuffed animals and dolls like they are real. They use the bathroom, often wear diapers, sleep and wake, and you nurse them. They have blankets, they cry, and you rock and comfort them. Right now you are singing "Amazing Grace" to Sheepy as you put her down for a nap in your bed. Your favorites are Fleece Bear, Sheepy, Silly, and Baby Jack.

You love your apron, wear shirts as "pony tails" and "long hair." You like hats and sunglasses. You jump over any line you see, you use crawling, walking, skipping and running almost equally. Oh, and flying. You fly like a butterfly every night after a bath or shower. You have started reading books to me (and all of your animal friends).

You almost always dress crazily, you love to hula, and you can make any sentence into a song. Oh, and you talked on the phone to Papa this week.

You like to be silly, like pretending that Daddy works at the "Juice Shop" instead of the "Coffee Shop;" or asking Daddy to take the monster out of our car when he goes to work. And you are completely serious when you let the lions in our house, but make the tigers stay outside. Most of the time, you don't like tigers. Your pancakes are 18 different objects and animals with each bite you take and you frequently request "cow's milk" as your beverage of choice.

You are crazy-enthusiastic about life. You believe us. You challenge us. You share with us. You want desperately to play with your brother! He's in for a wild ride!

Anniversary

Three years ago we were pregnant with our first child. It was the HEAT of summer in the south. I was participating (as a student) in a writing institute for teachers and Eric was attending a missional community conference in another state. And we forgot our anniversary. It's a little funny.

Here's to many more absent-minded years. I imagine the memory failure only gets worse.