Tanzania Post #1 of 250,000 TZS.

  I’ve spent a lot of the last 48 hours converting the cost of things in Tanzanian Shillings (TZS) to dollars.  It makes my brain hurt.  Brian says, ‘oh, it’s easy.  You just multiply everything by about 3/4.’  (Have I mentioned that math and I have a hate/hate relationship?)  So, needless to say, I will likely be carrying around a calculator the first several months we’re there.

 

  Brian returned from his trip with even more excitement than when he left.  The trip served as confirmation for many of the things we were already thinking, and also helped to assuage many of our concerns.  Not that it doesn’t, in some respects, still seem completely insane – but God has been good to grant us peace in place of fear and trust in His plan. 

  Of course I’m still trying to catch and assemble random pieces of information that escape Brian’s sleep deprived mind.  Eventually everything coming out of his mouth will start making sense again – I hope?

 

  We learned quite a bit more about what our purpose there will be, and also a lot more about the organization.  It really is uncanny the way their current needs align with our skill sets.  More on that later – lots of exciting things to share.

  The pictures and stories tell a tale of another world so unlike ours.  A world completely disconnected from the U.S. view of normal and what we feel entitled to.  It’s all a matter of perspective I suppose.  Clean water.  Safe food.  Access to healthcare.  Provision to care for our children.

  But through the poverty, the pictures also show an incredible beauty.

 

 

Beauty in the children.

 

 

Beauty in the culture.

 

Beauty in the land.

  I pray that God would give us the skills and the resources to serve the best and the most we can.  The eyes to see need and pair it with hope.  But I also pray that amidst the things we will see that cause pain, that we won’t miss the beauty in the people that we serve.

 

 

  Where to from here?  Brian and I will begin raising support for our time there as soon as we can.  We have a lot of logistical things to work out, and we have to try to draw up a budget the best we can.  We have to get the house ready to sell, and get ready for baby Popp #2 who will be here in three short months!  Lots of excitement!

It’s also been such a blessing to be forced to recognize our dependence on God.  We are confident he will provide as he sees fit.  Hope to post more soon!

reasons, not excuses

We went to our monthly foster parent support meeting early this week.  They are put on by our agency, and it’s a great way to meet other foster parents.  Since it is Foster Care Awareness Month, they put on a little open house dinner-ish thing for the foster parents.  It was very nice of them.  I really enjoyed it.

A couple of our closer foster parent friends were there – (they are the ones that had X-man’s brothers, and they are who he moved in with when he left our house.).  They had a couple of little boys with them who had been placed with them the night before.  Intake had actually called us with these boys the night before, and we had to say no because we currently only have one twin bed open.  (Anyone know where I can get some bunk beds real cheap?)  We sat down for dinner with them and Zee piped up, “Those are my cousins!”  I really was thinking he probably had them confused, but then one of the other boys said, “Hey look!  That’s Zee!” 

What are the chances?  We are two hours away from where they are from, and their cousins just happen to be placed with a couple in our agency who we know well?  CRAZY! Their cousins also have two siblings in care (about ten minutes from where we live).  So if Jae and Zee’s brother and sister end up moving in with us, there will be 8 kids from the same family in foster care in the same town.

 

If that’s not an example of the cycle of poverty doin’ it’s thing, I don’t know what is.  (By the way this is a great book about the cycle of poverty, and is very helpful in understanding where a lot of these kids come from.)

 

Imagine that you grow up in a small town, or a big city for that matter, and your family is poor.  Not by any choice of your own – maybe both your parents work as hard as they can, but can’t make ends meat, maybe your dad is into drugs, maybe your mom is really depressed, maybe they are both gone all the time, and you’re really not sure what is going on.

And then there’s the abuse.  Everybody is stressed out and no one knows what to do.  Maybe sometimes your mom hits you, maybe sometimes your dad touches you, maybe there is never anyone there to get you ready for school, maybe all three.  There’s no food in the house, and you’ve pretty much had to figure out how this world works all on your own.

You’ve never left the town you were born in.  You live in a poor neighborhood, and most of the people around you are in about the same situation.  You don’t really have any role models, no one to look up to that seems to have it together.  Since you’re in a poor neighborhood the schools are no good – most of your classes don’t even have textbooks, and most of your teachers don’t have college degrees.

So what is it that tells you life should be different than this?  Who is it that helps you to change?  What will motivate you to live a different life?  How do you know that any of this is wrong?

 

These aren’t excuses.  But they are reasons.  This is the cycle of poverty.

It doesn’t keep me from ever getting angry at bio parents whose children are hurting on account of their decisions.  It doesn’t keep me from venting, or wanting to point fingers.  But it does help to realize that when it comes to their kids, 99% of people do the best they can with what they know.  I don’t want to act like I am responsible for being where I am.  I don’t want to feel entitled enough to act like that person I described couldn’t have easily been me.  I feel so blessed that it isn’t. 

I don’t know where Jae and Zee’s mom came from.  I don’t know what she’s been through.  I don’t know if she had anyone growing up to tell her that there was more to life than what she was experiencing. 

The truth is, I was in the middle of a post venting about their mom’s lack of effort.  And sometimes, I really feel like I need to just because it is so difficult dealing with the aftermath and these boys’ broken hearts.  Instead I should pray for her though.  And love her.  I’m challenging myself, while being realistic, not to judge their mom and to do my best to support her.