africa

Celebrations

Maybe you’re like me and you have been going through your Facebook feed of pictures, events, and celebrations you shared throughout the year 2019.   I am recalling all the good things that we celebrated this year and couldn’t be more grateful.  

The profile pictures that are selfies or with loved ones.  Memorable vacations or your proud parent moments.  Whatever you hold dear to your heart usually becomes the highlight, the shout out, the statement of the hour, day or month.  I honestly can’t come up with one perfect moment this year.  The top ones are usually the ones not captured on film.  Many moments this year were celebrated with James and Blaire getting married.  I think the moment I cherish the most is when Blaire and I laid on her bed the day before her wedding. We just had an emotional family breakfast and her bedroom furniture was being moved out of my house and into her new house.  We held hands and cried.  We laughed and recalled great memories.  Knowing our relationship would change was difficult but I celebrated her new life as a wife. 

The ten days being shown around California by Jacob and Rachel was memorable since I wanted to love the state that claimed their second and third year of being a married couple but also knowing they were moving back to Michigan later in the year.  We laughed, we swam, we tasted wine and ate great food. 

The moment we surrounded Scott the night before his long awaited race in Boston can’t be captured by a camera.  We presented him with a binder of letters and pictures celebrating his running career and his ultimate goal achieved in Boston!  So precious as we saw tears stream down his face and I could feel the relief and pain and dedication and pride all rolled into one moment. 

Celebrating both my parent’s birthdays is always precious and not taken for granted.  Family weddings and welcoming new babies to our growing family.  Scott and Jacob launching their new company and seeing the highs and lows of being a boss, leader, mentor.  Proud moments of when Zoe steps up to be kind or when we have a good hair day.  They aren’t captured on film but so important to our story of 2019.  I guess I haven’t thought much about the last decade since we are turning the calendar to 2020 in one day.  I have a word for the new year but a word that comes to mind for the last decade is HOPE.  Scott began his crazy marathon training ten years ago!!  He has run 20 marathons and not slowing down.  When we decided to run for a purpose it changed our lives for sure.  Not long after in 2013 we got to bring Zoe home and for a few years in a row one of us has had the privilege to visit Africa and serve the people there.  Raising money for clean water has been a family mantra for sure.  A drive to make our actions count.  Running has definitely defined us in the ’10’s for sure.  

Pain hit me in the beginning of this year and getting a procedure on my foot gave me hope.  It gave me a change in attitude and later in the year made me get a handle on my health and eating habits to be the best me for 2020.  This is the year Scott and I turn 50.  I’ve been experiencing some pain in the same foot again and trying to stay positive.  I had hopes for a half and full marathon by May and I might have to settle for just one half.  Stay tuned.  But, if I head into 2020 focused on just me, it will be a sad year.  God has shown me through Scripture and well, obvious signs around our house, my word for 2020 is SERVE.  I’m expecting I will be able to serve in areas that won’t be captured on film and hopefully go unnoticed.  A friend posted this quote talking about Scott’s company. ‘To serve is beautiful, but only if it’s done with joy and a whole heart and a free mind.’ (Pearl S. Buck).

Celebrate the hurts, the struggles, the victories, the milestones and just every breath.  

1 Samuel 12:24 says, ‘Fear God and serve Him faithfully with all your heart; consider what great things He has done for you.’

Happy New Year!

Mental Marathon

 

Here I go again. I don’t like repeating this training pattern but it seems to just find me. I begin each training season with vigor and enthusiasm and lately (like in the last five years) I get injured, life happens and I don’t complete my training schedule as well as I set out to do. 

That time has come yet again and believe me when I tell you that I have been downright discouraged. My next marathon will be my 7th and maybe my hardest. I mean I once trained for a half and ended up running a full but it was in my city with 1000 teammates running along side me and many more cheering from the sidelines. That can make anyone move. I ran two marathons in two months once and was injured for both. After the first I decided to take the two months completely off to ‘heal’ before running the second in Disney. This one again, was along side some great teammates and it wasn’t my slowest. I’m not writing this to brag or anything. It definitely is not the results I’ve wanted but who says what a marathon should look like anyway? I know that when I run I feel more vibrant. I know many people who run to bring clean water to Kenya and that can motivate the walker or runner, young and old. I have found that each marathon experience helps you alter, change or repeat what went great or was detrimental to your race.  Usually that means what I should do the week leading up to my race and what food will work best for my performance.  That isn’t in my game plan right now.  I just have to find a way to finish this thing.

Someone once told me they would take up running when they see a runner who smiles. Well that is what I do when I run. I do love the sport and it creates a high like no other. Runners greet one another along a trail and we encourage each other since we know we each run for a purpose. There’s a story behind every race. What brought you there? What motivates you? What keeps you going when everything hurts?  

My husband and I have planned to run a few international marathons and the Berlin marathon is next up. I’ve basically suffered an inflamed toe, that caused me to change my gait to resist the pain and as a result I got bursitis in the opposite knee. I rested, and got discouraged when even walking hurt. I’ve since got cortisone shots and anti inflammatories in my system that was just to get me through 14 days in Kenya and I’m happy to say I feel great! God is faithful!  I have three weeks to train at home and mentally prepare myself to just finish. I guess in hindsight, planning this trip to Kenya wasn’t the best idea due to the timing of the trip but as I’m flying home and looking at my pictures I’m feeling quite the contrary. In the last two weeks I have felt many emotions but one I have experienced before is purpose. I ran on rough, rocky, hilly and dusty roads in Kenya and although the miles were few the very act of getting up early and running alone has propelled my spirit to answer the ever popular question, why? And so I will tell you why. 

I run with the purpose to bring clean water to the Pokot region in Kenya. Why? They’re well being starts with water. I have met these beautiful people and will forever have their wonderful smiles and exuberant spirits in my heart. One day I was running a mile long road completely uphill. I stopped to walk from time to time (I will blame the crazy elevation). I was turning around to repeat my mile long trek uphill when I had to walk and noticed a lady walking in the opposite direction. As I passed her she calmly says to me, ‘pick it up’. I smiled and instantly began to run again. As I came down the hill I ran along side her and stopped. I told her I run in America to bring clean water to her fellow Kenyans. She smiled and thanked me. She told me her name was Anne. That interaction just validates why I need to complete this marathon. First of all, I told Anne I would but I also told many children I met at a few orphanages. Everywhere I turned I would see girls young and old carry water on their heads to their homes. Tears would well up in my eyes when I would pass dried up water beds and there were many. Or worse, the sight of watching children draw water for their families in dirty, contaminated waterbeds. 

Another great moment I experienced was when we pulled off to the side of the road to witness a brand new water well that was completed and celebrated just two weeks prior. We got out and spoke to the few women who were drawing water together. This well is closer to their village and providing healing to everyone who is able to use it. I pumped the water, which was not my first time, but it still gives me chills. Our leader then told me that this well went in because of the money raised from our annual 5k. My family ran this race this past June. I felt proud and humble at the same time. 

I recently heard that the limitations we feel while moving our bodies are in our heads and we can push past them.  Luckily, I also believe in the power of prayer and so when I am weak He is strong. Our running community should celebrate their ups and downs, their successes and injuries and as our race season approaches you better believe I will be repeating my new mantra  ‘pick it up!’

When I am Weak

It’s a verse I overlook if everything is going great.  But on a day that I feel like a failure I take notice.  2 Corinthians 12:9 says,

But he (Jesus) said to me,’My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.’ Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me.  

Who wants to boast about their weaknesses?  I started this blog hesitantly over 5 years ago because I was entering a very helpless and unknown and downright scary journey.  Adoption was never on my radar.  I hate putting this in print but I didn’t want any more kids.  That’s just the point.  I.  Me. My plan.  That’s my weakness.  Selfishness.  Can you relate?  As a mom, you give so much.  When I gave birth to two kids when I basically wanted to, it was fine.  My timing, my agenda.  When you give your life to God you gain so much more and I grew up knowing it, saying it and memorizing it.  Now was the time to live it.

April 12, 2013 was the day Scott, Blaire and I sat in a small, stuffy court room that looked more like a classroom.  There were maybe 20 people in the room with agents and lawyers and the female judge sat at a desk at the front of the room.  We weren’t called first but when our name was announced we moved to the first row in front of the judge.  She wasn’t especially warm.  I tried to listen and concentrate on every word she said but I have to admit my mind wandered to all the time it took to get to this very moment.  I couldn’t let emotion take over.  I had to focus on her words and concentrate. She was concerned about how we would continue to teach our child about her heritage.  Again, feelings of weakness, or in this case, inadequacy rushed over me.    We told her other families in our church and community have adopted.  We jumped through so many hoops to get to this point.  We didn’t know how this whole life change would play out.  She said some more things and Scott spoke mostly.  She congratulated us and we were officially parents of a three year old.  The following two weeks played out with me staying in Ethiopia with my new daughter and staying in a very dear friend’s house with her family.  I had a cold and was homesick and all the while trying to basically get my new daughter to like me.  ‘My grace is sufficient for you.  My power is made perfect in weakness.’  Zoe remembers a lot.  She remembers eating certain things in Ethiopia.  She remembers games and we show her pictures to remember.  I sure hope she doesn’t remember how scared I was.  How weak and helpless I felt.  I hope she didn’t sense the uncertainty I felt bringing her home to our family and friends.

I recently read a great quote by Jess Connolly in her book called Dance Stand Run. ‘Abundance is on the opposite side of obedience’. Read that again.  Now who doesn’t want abundance?  In following the call to adopt my amazing daughter Zoe we received abundantly.  My biological kids will say the same thing.  My family will attest to knowing Zoe is seeing God in action.  Is she perfect?  No, not at all.  Today marks her 5th gotcha day and every year I remember a different aspect of God’s perfect story He had for us.

I’m always amazed at how God protected Zoe.  You know when your mom instincts kick in? Well, I would wake up in the middle of the night scared for her.  The sweating, shaking, waking up your husband, kind of scared.  The whole process was put on hold.  Our first court date, that came unusually quick, got postponed and we were back in the waiting game.  So, seeing updates and pictures of how our daughter was progressing on the computer every month from our agent wasn’t satisfying this mama bear.  I knew she was in God’s hands but I didn’t know how she was treated day to day.  I would pray when she cried that the nannies would take favor over the others and really care for her.  Is that wrong?  That was my heart.

The weakness reared it’s ugly head again when Zoe joined our every waking hour back in Michigan.    I figured I had been a mom before so I had skills.  I found myself in a bit of a depression the first summer with a little girl who was so sweet but defied my every command.  I coveted my free time.  I coveted my morning coffee and reading time.  I didn’t want to watch Mickey Mouse playhouse again and sing kid songs.  Ok, I lie.  I do like the kid cd’s but it was all a big adjustment for me.  My daughter is inquisitive, and cheery in the morning.  She likes to be in every conversation and always wants to join in family hugs.  She makes us laugh and has quite honestly, given me purpose in my life again.  Yes, I have weaknesses but I rejoice that I’m not struggling through my days but relying on the power of Jesus Christ.  That’s the strength we have to love others.  Even a child that was birthed by another wonderful human being.  I have to mention that in my daughter’s birth mom’s weakness, she found strength to allow her baby to have life to the full.  Thank God for adoption.  Thank God for Gotcha Day and Thank God for Zoe Ayame Clode.

 

The World Is At My Doorstep

As far back as I can remember I have heard about missionaries.  Not sure what your perception is of such people but I have always had the utmost respect for them.  Whether it’s a couple as old as my parents who have been in Africa for most of their adult life or a young family who sacrifices two years to missions, I feel it’s all good.  Some of my most favorite books are about brave souls who give up the American comforts to serve those who are the least of these.  I remember a time in my life that I wanted to be a missionary.  my first taste of travelling to another country and serve people who spoke a different language was when I was 19 and I went to Mexico.  In fact, my husband asked me about 12 years ago, ‘Where do you see us in 10 years’ and I said with great conviction, ‘I see us on the mission field.’

Fast forward 12 years and we have not sold our belongings, packed up the family and moved to a remote area of Africa to ‘become missionaries’.  I do believe that you don’t, in fact, have to go to the deepest areas of Africa to serve others.  I have a mission field and it’s called Rochester, mi.

Last week, God gave me a beautiful picture of this mission field as I worked alongside some amazing women from Zoe’s public school.  They were from India, Mexico, Italy, Brazil, Japan, South Korea to name just a few.  We held the school’s 2nd annual International Festival and I was excited.  I decided we would celebrate Zoe’s heritage and set up an Ethiopian booth.  I focused on children of Ethiopia and like in my old high school fashion I waited until the last week to prepare.  I did order a flag and many little flags and a beautiful authentic dress for Zoe to wear with plenty of time to arrive before the festival.  However, how I was going to transform a 10×10 tent to look like an Ethiopian house was a bit stressful.  The night before the festival I spotted a well used box of burlap in my basement and imagined that draped over the tent to make it look like a real hut and it turned out perfect.  My husband helped me set up and I was ready.  The daytime was split up into hour blocks for each grade to come through and ask questions and talk about your country.  The kids were fascinated to see other kids who had very little be very happy in these pictures.  It gave them a great perspective and I loved sharing with them.  This was not my favorite part of the day though.  I must say, when I walked around and learned about other countries and these wonderful people’s culture I felt like walls were down and barriers were broken.  Some couldn’t speak English very well but a smile and love goes a long way.  The children in Zoe’s class alone represent about 10 different countries.  This is incredible to me!  God has brought the world to my doorstep.  Zoe loves to share that she was born in another country.  Being born in Canada makes all our family aliens.   Canada isn’t far from here but it’s still different.  There is growth through an event like this.  Kids don’t have to feel different just because they don’t speak English and have different colored skin.  Sometimes when we hear that a school is culturally diverse we shy away from the unknown.  Zoe tells me that at lunch time her friends bring homemade pasta, samosas and eat with chopsticks in her cafeteria.  Awesome!

A proud moment for me was Zoe’s first day of school this past September.  She just left her old house and school of three years and made some neighborhood friends but walking into her school she carries a confidence that much prayer and open conversation has built up in my eight year old.  Some day God might call me to a different mission field.  I’m always asking and want to only live in His will.  I’m certain that He has shown me that my front porch light is on for a reason.  People need to see Jesus’ love right here in my city as I walk Zoe to school and see moms at the gym.  It’s pretty exciting to think that conversations around my kitchen island is just as important as serving someone around the world.  Look up and see who is around you.

The term, ‘life on mission’ gets me out of bed in the morning.  It makes sense of the mundane tasks and gets me out of the Michigan winter blues.  Looking at every relationship and encounter as important as we are to Jesus is also a great perspective.  Walk out your front door and encounter the world.

The Water Walk

They say a trip to Africa can take weeks to process.  Although jet lag allows for some early morning rising, I have been trying to put my thoughts in print to make sense of what I witnessed. My husband and I just returned from 12 days in Kenya and even though this wasn’t my first trip to Africa each visit steals a part of my heart and emphasizes the theme ‘water is life’.

Since this was my 6th time on African soil I’m not sure that makes it easier but quite possibly my experience has become more urgent to unleash.  So, to the curious, the supporters from afar and to the person who feels a tug to go in the near future, what you have heard about Africa is real.  Specifically the people of Kenya, are beautiful, loving, grateful and full of life.  A mother’s love for their young is an instinct all mothers share and so on this trip I found myself relating to the God given priviledge of a mother’s love when the going gets tough.

My Water Is Life picture was first taken on my first trip to Tanzania back in 2009. We were introduced to the water crisis back then and trying to make a difference by supporting well drilling. Little did I know how much it would change the trajectory of our purpose and life goal.
Our new awareness of a lack of what we take for granted in American was not going away anytime soon. This propelled us into a life of running and raising funds to see this problem eradicated in our lifetime. Fast forward to raising our kids to join us in our efforts to adopting a child born into similar circumstances in Ethiopia.  Africa is apart of the Clode household and now we were given the opportunity to join 14 other souls who shared in a passion to see a change.
The most impactful moment for me was not just seeing but doing. Poverty is  everywhere. Our guide drove us out to a remote area and we waited for women to gather around their source of water for the time being. This can change as the pools dry up and a quest for finding a new water source is high priority.  Some walk a mile and some walk five miles.  On this day we found a group of women and children gathering around two pools of muddy, disease ridden, stagnant water that would cause any North American mother to shudder.  Since this area had two pools one was kept one for animals and bathing and the other was for their drinking water. No difference in my mind. We had a local translator and began telling the woman the purpose of our visit.  We are finding new regions to place a well and after our assessment this area could be a candidate for clean water.  Clean water changes a village dramatically.  A water well goes in and a village is established.  Community is what we were all created for and everyone relies on each other in these parts.  A well will lower the percentage of typoid and malaria among the people.  When a well goes in, our organization plans to establish a church and a pastor.  We have seen a school go in and the children can be educated.  Their livestock is healthier and hopefully their journey is shorter so the task of fetching water allows for more time spent with family.  The danger of encountering snakes and bees is lowered and miscarriages are fewer.  Water really is life.
After we established a relationship with this village we explained to them that each team member wanted to experience the tough trek carrying water from the watering hole back to their village.  They were surprised and curious to see how this would go down.  Maybe some of us looked weak, or their perception of the white man couldn’t hack the challenge but they lead us to their water source all the same.  The girl that was partnered with me took my water jug and walked down a muddy hill to the waters edge to dunk the can into the murky water to fill it up.  This village mostly used 20 L vegetable oil cans.  Some areas use Jerry Cans used for gasoline but we mostly saw the vegetable oil cans and the kids had smaller ones.  Since I was wearing running shoes and my girl filled my water can for me I did not experience the act of getting upclose and personal with the smelling, fly infected, muddy water.  My team took their shoes off and imitated what these women and young girls did possibly three times a day.  Once we were assembled in line to follow the path back to where they lived I lead the group.  My water jug was one of the biggest and I was determined to try and walk without falter.  I had done this once before in Tanzania with clean water and I had a rolled up scarf on my head to cushion the can.  Only a couple of women used the cushion so I did not.  There was no lid on the can so water was sloshing out the top and pouring down my face and shirt.  I kept my lips pursed as to reject any water to enter my mouth and I stayed focused on the rough path.  There are thorny bushes all around, their livestock of goats and sheep and camels were also close by  and I didn’t want to fall.  I was walking through low bushes so I had to duck with 40 lbs on my head.  I wasn’t so much thinking about how good I was performing but we all felt a responsibility to not drip water out of the cans because these women were counting on us to carry back as much water as we could.  By this time, it was about noon and the sun was shining in the big blue sky.  We were hot and all I kept thinking of was what job do I do at home that remotely resembles this act of love.  Nothing!  After about 3 minutes the ladies motioned for us to stop and take a rest.  I didn’t want to but I guess they do this too.  My shoulders were aching and I thought if I stopped now I wouldn’t get that water jug back on my head.  We got started again and we switched it up by carrying the jugs on our shoulders or by our side.  We stopped a couple of times and did not talk much to each other.  Many were moved to tears.  Our men in the group also helped which was quite a sight since this was not a job for a man.  The village men are happy when a well is put in because if it’s closer it frees up the women to be home more.  IMG_3861.jpg

We walked 3/4 of a mile to the village and celebrated our quest.  It was midday and these kids had to eat.  Some girls drank their filled water bottles that looked like orange juice but it was water that is literally making them sick.  Trust me when I say it was hard to drink our own water at any moment on this trip.  We take water for granted and every human being should have the access to clean water!

I would be remiss not to mention the living water Jesus talks about in John 4.  A woman comes to the well alone because she has been ostracized by her village because of her adultery.  Jesus doesn’t discriminate and tells her about the Living Water that only trusting in Him brings.  Ultimately, this is the true water that gives life; life eternal.  Through our organization Hope Water Project, we want to share the life that only Jesus can give.

This crisis shouldn’t cause guilt but thankfulness.  Their plight should propel us into action.  We got to witness pure joy over something we don’t think twice about.  We cried, we laughed and we sang together.   When we realize that people are the same all over the world we form a bond and get along.  They appreciated our visit.  May we never go to just observe and do nothing.  They are counting on us to be God’s hands and feet.

May We Never Lose Our Wonder

Zoe got a new bike the other day.  She didn’t know how to ride her last bike but it was too small and Scott had hope. In her mind she was convinced that she could already ride a bike. I’m more of a skeptic. She has shied away from little hills and doesn’t like to go very fast. I always have to pop her balloon and deflate her excitement and anticipation. Scott is much more diligent to teach her. It was a family affair for the purchase of the bike. My sister was visiting from out of town so I went off with her while Scott immediately took Zoe to the park with her knew Trek.  She was grinning from ear to ear. About 39 mins later Scott shared with the family a video on WhatsApp. She was pedaling on the grass for a few seconds. You can hear Scott’s encouragement. ‘Pedal, pedal, keep pedaling. Don’t stop.’  I watch it over and over and wish I was there. My daughter’s ‘first steps’ if you will. I missed it. What am I missing out on because of busyness. I’m missing doing her homework with her. Reading the Bible. I have a front row seat to Zoe Ayame Clode’s wonder and I’m distracted. I’m selfish and I’m choosing the wrong things.
Summer vacation started a week earlier than public school for her and she is excited. She has a trip to NYC coming up to visit her brother and sister in law and she loves the pool and just wants play dates all the time. I’m in ‘building a house’ mode. I’m checking off lists for our up coming Kenya trip. I’m busy. I hate that word. Busy means you are missing out on the good stuff. The stuff that’s important. Yes I have deadlines for the new build but I’m losing my wonder for what’s important.

Zoe is my shadow. She finishes my sentences, she witnesses how I interact with store clerks, restaurant servers and strangers on the street. She hears my phone conversations and watches what I eat. I’m her internet. I’m her source of knowledge for the most part. I cannot miss out on these years. It goes by too quickly. We had a good reminder of that fact just last night when Scott and I babysat our friend’s three little kids under 3 so they could have a date night.  Wow, what a trip down memory lane. I forgot the energy needed for that age. I forgot about the fact that sitting in a chair and wanting peace and quiet is non existent. These kids found wonder in catching ants and swinging on swings.  They found wonder in playing with rocks and having a new friend over.

A new book has grabbed my attention called Look and Live by Matt Papa . It’s about seeing Gods glory all around us. Nature is one way to be reminded of the beauty God created for us.
The heavens declare the glory of God.
This book reminds me that lately I’m too busy for treasure. I’m too busy for beauty. It goes on to say ‘familiarity breeds apathy’. That stops me in my tracks every time I read it. I had to look up the word apathy to break down the weight of its meaning. It means lack of interest, enthusiasm, or concern.
Want to read that again?
Zoe doesn’t know the meaning of apathy. Every day she wakes with anticipation for a new adventure. Where did my wonder go? To quote my book again, ‘Look to God, really look. Linger long enough to let your eyes adjust. See if He isn’t as magnificent as what the Bible describes. Examine if He might be that treasure you are seeking.
I’m challenged to live out my summer with wonder.  I was reminded of three year old Zoe getting up close and personal with a caterpillar and our family dog she loved.  I attached the picture that screams WONDER to me.  I will not run my daughter around to the point of exhaustion without some fun inserted on her behalf.  Sometimes we do this by running them to soccer and baseball too but that really is another topic.
As I embark on my up coming trip to Kenya may I never lose my wonder. May I look into the eyes of every human I come across with wonder that God created them with love and for a purpose. This might lead to a segment on Humans of Africa.  Filling me with enthusiasm and passion for each day.  Stay tuned.