My bad week and big idea: Yet to be named

The week before last, was a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad week. Remember this book we read as kids? After studying for a week and half, I bombed my chem exam. By bomb, I mean 56%. I down right failed that baby. Mr. Man had to pick up another guy's shift at work, and I was left studying for hours on end while the boys tore up the house. The drive home from my exam was surreal. I cried and cried. The ugly kind of cry where you don't care who sees you and you feel like I failure. I went through all of the dramatics. "I quit. I mean it. I'm done." After my tears, my friends, family, and Mr. Man talked me back to reason, and I hired a tutor. $30 an hr. Are we rich? Absolutely not. But Mr. Man works his tail off to provide. My tutor, turned out to be a God send. Literally, I feel it was divine intervention. She lives in my town, and is a fellow believer. She's amazing, and so sweet. (Side note: Chemistry aside, she also babysits, and we've been looking for a sub, double plus!)

I'm not much of a crier. Don't get me wrong. If I watch a sappy commercial, or see one of those "Like if you believe he's a hero" pics on Facebook with the paraplegic solider, I will be bawling like a baby, but when it comes to people and relationships, I just don't cry. My mom would say it's because I "cried everyday" until I was 12, but I think that's a slight exaggeration. The past two weeks, I have been crying at the drop of a pin. My BIG meltdown was on my birthday. Now, before I tell this story, I must say, I had been struggling with Chem, been juggling the boys by myself while Mr. Man worked 13 days straight (12 hr shifts) and trying to keep my head above water. On my birthday, Mr. Man arrives home with a cake for me. All I wanted for my birthday was a yellow, butter cream icing cake. My house is divided on the icing issue. Half of the boys love the butter cream icing, while the other half sides with Kevin favoring the whipped icing. Well, Mr. Man, bless his heart, had just finished a 12 hour shift and ran by Walmart and grabbed my cake. He swears up and down he asked the toothless lady behind the counter three times if it was butter cream and she assured him it was. However, one glance at this cake, and my 4 year old could tell it was whipped icing. Commence 1 hour cry festival. My mom and I often say we say things to our husbands that we'd never forgive them saying to us. I cried and cried. I went from cake, to how he never listens, and how he purposefully got the wrong kind, and by the end of my emotional rant, I was convinced my husband didn't love or care about me.... because he bought me the wrong kind of icing. A few hours later, a few phone calls with my girlfriends later, I apologized to Mr. Man after his nap. I say all of this to explain my state of mind lately.

This wreath started it all. This woman in my neighborhood always decorates her house so nice. I bought some items at a craft store and made this wreath. I really enjoyed it, and thought, "Why not make these for a little extra money?" 
Reasons why Suzzy needs some extra cash:
#1. To send support $ to my Zimbabwe missionary friends
#2. To pay for my sweet Chemistry tutor that charges $30 an hr
#3. To help out Mr. Man who works so hard for our family
When I first toyed with this idea, Mr. Man wasn't too keen on my grand plan, however, when I have my mind set, there's usually little one can do to deter me. Maybe it's my way of making up for my youth. Growing up, I was so insecure, I would never try anything out of my comfort zone. I was scared that I would look like a fool trying anything new, and so I would just say, "I don't like it" and stand on the side. The adult me is starkly different. I will try anything, and if I look dumb, well, I firmly believe that after experiencing the labor and delivery room saga, there's nothing that can embarrass a mom. I digress. After researching *obsessing* my idea, googling, pricing, and looking at endless pictures, I decided that I was going to start making wreaths for money. Today, I went to hobby lobby, 4 kids in tow, and spent at least 2 hrs picking out everything I would need to start up my side business. I must say, my boys are pretty extraordinary. I asked them what they liked and didn't like and gave them tasks to find me certain items. When I came home, this is what I had: 
 

 I also bought about 20 wire frames to make wreaths, and I spent a scary amount to buy this stuff. When I say scary, I'm talking atleast 2 weeks worth of groceries for us. As I was unloading the last bag, I heard Mr. Man stirring. (He works nights) I organized my items, and waited until he was done with his shower to go talk to him. 
"Well, what's the damage he asked." I tried to gauge his mood. 
"Um.. a scary amount. Way more than I anticipated." 
"Uh hu.. well, what's the return? How much profit do you think you can get?"  =) This is my husband. Mom calls him Hinestein, because he's very frugal and very wise with money. He followed me out to our dining room where I had my loot spread out on the table. He asked me about costs, time, supplies, etc, and said, "Well, I guess that's not too awful bad." Phew. 

 "You're not brave, unless you're scared." I don't know where this came from, I know it's from a movie, but this line has stuck with me. After I saw my receipt, I was scared. In fact, the boys and I loaded up the van, and we proud over the supplies, and my wreaths. Proverbs 16:3 says, "Commit your plans to the Lord, whatever you do, and you will succeed." I prayed this as the boys and I head to Chick-Fil-A for lunch. Will I become rich off of wreaths? No. Is that my goal? Not at all. But if anything, this journey has taught me that I am blessed beyond belief to have a husband that supports all of my crazy ideas, that trying and failing is better than not trying at all, and that if you've been praying for the Lord to send more support to certain missionaries and He's been silent, it MAY be because He's already sent YOU.

I've saved the best for last. Next month, my 2 Mamas are coming to town: my Mama and my Mama in Law. and guess what they're going to help me do? Oh, yes, put wreaths together. They've been carrying on back and for on my Facebook page about how much work I already have lined up for them, but in all seriousness, these women are live savers. On a completely random note, I am at a loss for a store name. If you have any suggestions, I'm all ears. I was thinking "All Glammed Up", but it's already taken, as is "Mom's fun money." To my Mama's reading this, be brave. Be willing to step out of that box. You will never do anything great if you listen to opposition. Be confident. Be adventurous, and remember, you're only brave if you're scared. <3 Suzzy

 

Emmy Lou and her black eye liner, lesson on not judging a book by it's cover

Last Spring, I received a page of pictures and name of girls that would be on my team. Scanning through, I spotted this one girl with a smirk on her face who was wearing black eye liner. "Oh, no!" I thought. "She's going to give me trouble." I prayed for Emily and the other girls on my team. The day the girls arrived, I helped check them in, and we counted their spending $ and put it in an envelop. Emily brought quite a bit. As I counted, Emmy seemed rather embarrassed than prideful and explained, "I just have a really generous church family." Hmmm, not the reaction I was expecting from Ms. Eyeliner. 

As bootcamp wore on, I realized I had completely misjudged Em. Emily was patient, kind, and selfless. She was always quick to give a hug or comfort one of our homesick girls. And for the record, she said she just sometimes likes to wear black eyeliner. =) Em was also one of our resident French braiders. Before I left for Zimbabwe, I prayed the Lord would put a girl on our team who could French Braid. At the time, I had long hair down my back, and knew a braid would be the easiest solution for the humid Florida Summer and bucket bathing. All Summer long, after bath time, we'd line up and Emily and Chelsea would braid hair. Never once did I hear them complain. 

 The only time I saw Emmy really cry, was the night we learned we would be traveling all of the way to Zambia to catch our flight home. No one was emotionally prepared to leave early, and I think the stress of having to drive 20 hours in a cramped van really got to everyone. As we stood in a circle crying and praying, Emmy asked the Lord if we could maybe have a vehicle with some leg room. See, in Zimbabwe, a "bus" is just a normal van. The first 13 hrs, we road like this:

Once we hit the Zambia border, we were dropped off *abandoned* and left to walk the mile to the border, and then take taxis to the bus station. We arrived at the bus station, and guess what we saw? Oh, yes. A charter bus. Not only a Charter bus, but a Charter bus that played Christian music for the entire duration of the trip..mind you it was the same CD, and at one point it got stuck and played the same song for over an hr, BUT STILL! AND the LEG ROOM was unbelievable!

 On our journey to and from Zimbabwe, we were often stuck in airports for hours *days* at a time. I knew two members of our team needed help with meals. I asked Emmy if she minded helping. I only had to ask once. From then on, every meal Emily would check on others to make sure they had enough money for food or ask if anyone was low on cash. She did this until we left to go home. While stranded in Kenya on a 23 hr layover, we were broke and hungry. Emily paid for half of the team to eat dinner that night. 

FAST FORWARD to TODAY! Remember my post about Sipho? And how we had found a surgeon and just needed the money? Well, my sweet girl sent her birthday money and other donations $120 over the cost of the surgery. This is not to take away from the glory of the Lord, but this kind of generosity brings tears to my eyes. Emmy, my girl that I completely misjudged by her picture has opened my eyes to the true meaning of the words "Joyful Giving." I really pray I haven't embarrassed Emily by this post. My heart is just so full right now, I just had to share! Love you Emmy Lou!

 

 2 Corinthians 9:7
Each one must give as he has decided in his heart, not reluctantly or under compulsion, for God loves a cheerful giver.

  Proverbs 19:17
Whoever is generous to the poor lends to the LORD,
and he will repay him for his deed.

Acts 4:32 — “All the believers were one in heart and mind. No one claimed that any of his possessions was his own, but they shared everything they had.”

14 Hour Trips to the Grocery Store, Zim Part II

At the end of the Summer, I received an evaluation from our head male leader. I'm pretty sure we weren't supposed to read them, but I did. Claimet rated me high in everything except for "would make a good missionary." I think he meant as in staff, but maybe he was referring to my "crazy white woman" episodes. Before you judge me, trying taking 13 teen girls across the world, and see if you don't go a little crazy when people start grabbing at them. Bobbi and I were in charge of cooking. This required food. We asked Sipho if she minded taking us to the grocery store. She told us to be ready at 3:30am.

3:15 am, Sipho knocked at our door. We took a "short" 1 mile walk, and then stood at the end of the road waiting for our ride. A red van appeared and we climbed it. It was around 40 degrees outside. The van had no heat or insulation. Just a metal frame with seats. Every time we hit a bump, the windows slid open and we'd have to close them. Bobbi and I huddled together for most of the trip, shivering and laughing at the insanity. Around 6am, we arrived outside of town. We would walk the remaining 3 miles. 

  Praise the Lord, when we finally arrived in town, we found a bakery open. I treated Sipho to breakfast and we sat and ate our sweetbread. Sipho hurried us along telling us we had to be back at the bus station by 9:30am. We made a mad dash to the "grocery store." If you ever find yourself shopping in Zimbabwe, here are a few tips: bring your own bags, or buy some before you do your shopping, and expect to leave your purse; no bags allowed in the store. After our shopping, we flagged down a taxi cab who drove us and all of our groceries back to the bus station. Sipho said she was headed to the restroom and asked if we needed to go. Bobbi and I glanced around, and told her we were fine.

As we stood there waiting for Sipho to return, a man came holding a baby and asked if I wanted to hold him. "Oh, how sweet!" I thought. I held the little boy, and Bobbi snapped a few pictures. The man wandered off for a while, and I stood there holding the baby. He finally returned and asked me for money. I told him I didn't have any. (In all honesty, my money was kept in my pouch around my neck, down my shirt. I wasn't about to reach down my brazier to give him a dollar.) Another man walked up, and the two persisted, until we flat out told him, "NO!" And Bobbi and I turned the other way and ignored them.

  A short while later, some men walked up and asked us how much money? We were confused. By the time we saw Sipho walking towards us, I wanted to run and hug her like a child would their mother. We told Sipho what had happend, and she just laughed. "Oh, girls. They thought you were prostitutes. Next time tell them they have to ask me first, and they'll leave you alone." Spent 5 hours in a 15 seater van with about 25 other people with the windows closed. 4:00pm, Bobbi and I arrived back at base, with full bladders. We must have looked traumatized, because the girls told us to go rest, and woke us up with dinner ready. God Bless those sweet girls.

Our next 2 trips into town weren't nearly as exciting as the first. The TMI van had been repaired by now, and we didn't have to wake up before the sun. We left around 8:30am or so after breakfast and devotion, and drove about 45 min to the end of a dirt road where we stood by the highway waiting for a car to pick us up. This trip we hit the jackpot; we got to ride in a semi. 

 The truck driver was apparently a Dolly Parton fan, because we listened to her for about an hour or so before he switched to a mixed pop CD with singers like Rihanna and Taylor Swift. We were able to do our shopping, take a cab to a gas station, and our sweet trucker picked us back up. We had brought one of our oldest girls along with us that day. She had heard of our 1st experience, and kept telling us how fun this was, and couldn't understand.

In Zimbabwe, there is no such thing as personal space.

Our meeting spot for Mr. Trucker

Did that just happen? Zim Part I

One day, I'll have to sit down and really write about my missions trip to Zimbabwe. Until then, I'm going to start featuring, "Did that just happen?" stories from Zim. A little background info first:

Our trip to Zimbabwe took days.We got lost in London. Missed our connecting flight in South Africa, and ended up being stranded there for 5 days..and by "stranded" I mean put up at a plush hotel, hot showers, and free food. The day we were SUPPOSED to fly out, our airline went on strike...more of that story later. We begin in our very first African country.

One of my girls, decided to have a go at the squatty potty. It was a bit of a novelty since we had just touched down in Kenya. Just as she was beginning to "squat" she lost her balance, and bladder control. We grabbed paper towels, cleaned up, and left the "water closet" quickly. 

Ever since I was a little girl, I've wanted to feed pigs scraps. Maybe it was all of those times of watching Charlotte's Web, but whatever the case, I was pretty excited to feed these pigs. Our first night, we quickly cleaned up dinner and headed to the pig pens. It was fairly dark outside, so we took a flashlight and some of the staff kids to help us find our way. We reached the pen and I excitedly ran over and poured the scraps into their pen. Bobbi was behind me with a flashlight and called for her to hurry. She came over and shined her flashlight...to see that I had accidentally thrown the scraps on a big pile of pig poo, which they were now eating..along with the scraps.

One Sunday, we went to a nearby church. The service lasted about three hours. Some of the sermon was in Ndebele, other parts were in English. Near the end of the service, one of the pastors stood up and said something about asking, "Sista ....to pray." I bowed my head, when I felt Bobbi's elbow. "He said you! You're supposed to go and pray." Panic set in. I could feel my face getting redder and redder as I walked up the stairs. I'm not even sure what I prayed, I know the Lord took over as soon as the prayer started, but before I began, a lot of, "Um, yes, thank you, that's nice..okays" came out. After I said "Amen," I prayed my jello legs wouldn't give out until I reached my seat.

 During our visit at Victoria Falls, we came across a sweet Mama Ape who had just given birth to her baby. Proud Daddy was walking back and forth in front of Mama, but he let us get close enough to get these shots. Baby was nursing, and mama, well, mama was apparently eating her after birth. They say placenta is full of iron.......

Our trip home from Victoria Falls was a bit tense. The owner of the bus and his 7 yr old niece accompanied us on our entire trip. However, our drive back, he informed us that he had not agreed to all of this driving, and that once we arrived in Bulawayo (3 hrs from the base) he would be leaving us there. We then made a quick detour into the bushes to a small number of hut houses. The owner ran in, and came back into the bus carrying a large cage of chickens. Sure, he did abandon us in a dangerous city.. at 9 o'clock at night, but look what he gave us:

 Eventually, we did get a ride home. Sweet sweet Annie sat the entire ride holding the chicken. It occasionally squeaked, but for the most part remained quiet.

I love MONKEYS! From the time we arrived in Zimbabwe, I had my eyes peeled out for monkeys. There were a few that roamed around the TMI base, but they were too scared to come around humans. I think this was because the base threw rocks and other various items at them to keep them out of the garden, but I loved those sweet furry things. When we were at Victoria Falls, we got to feed a couple of monkeys before the park rangers yelled at us and told us it was illegal. 

We had just arrived at the border of Zimbabwe and Zambia. It had been a long night of driving in squished van, not including several stops for engine trouble, and a road side potty break. Suffice to say, my girls and I needed something to raise our spirits. That's when I spotted them. I grabbed a few lolipops and ran out to feed the monkeys.

Pretty soon, one of his friends came along and wanted one too!

A few lolipops later, the girls began yelling at me to stop wasting the candy, so I told my new friends no more. This is when they climbed onto our luggage trailer trying to rip into our food box. I started screaming. Who knew monkeys could be so aggressive?

Luckily, we had Abby with us. Abby was a laid back, no drama 17 yr old. I credit her brothers for toughening her up. Abby took a blanket and hit the monkeys off of our food trailer until they went away. I didn't feed monkeys for the rest of the trip.

 

Feet, ugly little dresses and goiter

Feet have always grossed me out. A few years ago, I received a missions pamphlet about "foot washing" in Africa, and all most fainted. I laughed that of all of the ways to serve the Lord, that would be one I would skip. Last year, I helped lead "Zimbabwe Footwashing Team." Obviously, the Lord has a sense of humor, and He can use ANYONE as a vessel for HIS work! 

  Last December, Mom felt the Lord calling her to sew little dresses for the Zimbabwe Aids Orphans. Mom's never sewn a day in her life. She had fabric donated to her, and each morning, would call me to tell me how ugly her dresses were. We often joked that the little African girls would be fighting over who would have to wear the "ugly dresses." (as you can see, they were quite cute, but it was still fun to tease mom) The dresses, along with shoes, a few soccer balls, flip-flops, new shoes for all of the Zimbabwe staff, shirts, leggings, gloves, hats, and handmade blankets would be going over with the February Zim team. I text Claimet to ask if there was ANYTHING else they needed, after all, these 2 extra duffel bags were $400, and were gonna get our money's worth. Claimet replied that August 2012 would be his 20th wedding anniversary with Sipho, and that he'd like to renew his vows with----a wedding dress. 

Huh?..... Did I just read that right? "All right Lord," I thought. "A wedding dress for our dear Zimbabwean friends." I told Claimet to pray about it, and waited to see what the Lord would do. Fast forward to February... the 2 duffel bags safely arrived at the Gwanda base. (A blessing in itself, for ZIm customs is known for stealing and taking anything worth value) However, our wedding dress was still lacking. 

 To outsiders, this may seem like a frivolous request. However, to this couple, love has sustained them through famine, economic collapse, HIV, the death of a son, daily poverty, and illness. Claimet met Sipho through missionary work. He wrote her a letter to propose, she waited a year to say yes. Claimet is a gentle giant. Sipho laughs a lot, and always praises the Lord. They both felt called to run an Orphan Aids base, and help those in need... In my eyes, they were the ones in need. About a month before the Summer team was to leave for Zimbabwe, the Lord provided a wedding dress. It was given by one of my girls who went to Zim. 

Okay, so it didn't exactly look like the picture, but Sipho was overjoyed, and so were we.

 Which brings me to my next subject, goiter. I was up late studying (cramming) for a nutrition's exam, when I came across "goiter." I yelled, "That's IT!" Sipho had a large lump in her neck. I wondered if it was a tumor or some odd African condition. Somehow, the protruding neck issue had gotten lost amongst the shoes and dresses, but here, right in my textbook was an explaination. Sipho had an iodine deficiency... and once goiter appeared, only surgery could repair the enlarged thyroid gland.

 What does this mean? Essentially, Sipho lacked Iodine or table salt in her diet. Her thyroid gland overcompensated by growing larger to try to absorb more. Overtime, it's grown so large that's begun making breathing difficult. Once again, I felt that nagging feeling to do something. "All right Lord." Mom called tonight, and we began talking. The Lord put mom on a webpage for a Christian organization with a surgeon in Zimbabwe who performs pro-bono work. Mama wrote, and I prayed. The same God who delivered the Israelites, also safely delivered those sweet little dresses and shoes over in February. The same Lord also provided a wedding dress for a poor Zimbabwe couple. I'm fairly certain, the same Lord is very capable of providing a doctor to help Sipho. 

 20"Now to him who is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine, according to his power that is at work within us, 21to him be glory in the church and in Christ Jesus throughout all generations, for ever and ever! Amen".- Ephesians 4:20 & 21