Waiting to Exhale
2021 felt like two years wrapped into one. Part of that is that we brought it in amid warm summer days in Brazil and ended it amid snow in Idaho.
But more than the changes in weather and location the bittersweet passing of 2021 brings to mind the many losses that came our way. In March as a pandemic wave hit our state and overtook our health care system, I awoke day after day to pleas for prayer for healing as loved ones lay sick in overcrowded hospital hallways. Some of them recovered, others did not.
One Friday night in March our colleague and friend called, overwhelmed, because her husband was sick, but no public hospital would admit him, and the private hospital wanted thousands of dollars she didn’t have. Neither did we. God answered our prayers! He got better at home. Others didn’t.
Around that time Marci was nearing the one year anniversary of her Dad’s death. She was in Brazil; her family was in the United States. Our kids were doing their best with online school, but Daniel could see things were only getting worse in 2021. He told us even if things got better next year, he didn’t see how his life would change much for the better in Brazil. He wanted to return to the States. After mulling about sending him back alone for a year, we decided it was best for all of us to return a year earlier than we had planned. And so we we came back. Marci in April, and the rest of us in June.
Home assignment for missionaries is a bizarre dance. After building a home elsewhere, we tried to set one up here, but boxes sat in our garage for months, unpacked. We constantly try to remember what we have here and what we have in Brazil. No wonder my in-laws ended up with so many extra plates and silverware from garage sales over the years.
After processing all the losses in Brazil, they continued along in America over the summer. Not one church service went by without someone asking for prayer for a sick loved one. Some people recovered. Others didn’t.
In Linton, North Dakota Marci and I had lunch with our missions director at a local restaurant. Over some fleischkuechle and pie he asked about our year. I told him I thought I would exhale some after being back, but I didn’t. That was October, which seems like ages ago.
Now in December I think back to what stands out in 2021. There are vignettes of grace amid the losses. Our kids dipped themselves in the Herreid pool, laughing with old friends. We watched fireworks on the Fourth of July and learned how to play cornhole. I stood with my sister in front of the mayor’s Christmas tree in Kansas City, reminiscing our family traditions from when we would visit there each December. Huge globs of snowflakes fell heavily Christmas morning in Idaho, as the glistening white mountains greeted us each day and six cousins who have never lived near one another giggled into the night.
And there are the blessings of partnering with God’s people in God’s mission. After being sent out, we can return and share about where God is at work and how he has been faithful in using his people to proclaim the good news of God’s kingdom, whether in Brazil or America. It has been a joy to reconnect with brothers and sisters all over the country, knowing that their prayers sustain us in all years, whether they feel long or short.
As we closed out worship this past Sunday we got to be part of a tradition of the church in Idaho where each new year is marked by a word. I chose the word, belonging. Marci chose peace. Daniel, companionship. Monica, courage. And Olivia, friends.
As you close out 2021, perhaps you might ask what word comes to mind for your 2022. Whatever it is, may God bless you and keep you, make his face to shine on you, and be gracious to you in 2022.
Happy New Year!