YES! I did it!

I REALLY don't like talking on the phone, for any reason, ever. Not even with family and close friends. I can do it, I don't sound freaked out and usually don't stumble over my words. I even leave coherent messages on answering machines. But given the choice between talking to someone in person, texting, fb messaging or email... or making a phone call - I will NEVER choose the phone call. 

My husband doesn't get that, not at all. So, sometimes I have one other avoidance option - I get him to make the necessary phone call for me!

He usually rolls his eyes and sighs big... and then does that little service for me, because he loves me!

When you add the complication of trying to make a phone call in French - well, I can become a world champion procrastinator...

Several months ago, I decided I decided it was time to start looking for ways to volunteer, outside of my church or a Christian school, in my local community - wherever that might be. It was one of those New Year's resolutions from a few years back - before we left Niger for home assignment. I had been convicted of my furloughing introvertedness:  when home from Africa (our place of service, at that time), I'd literally quarantine myself within the Christian community. I couldn't... didn't... do that for four year chunks while in Niger; I figured I had that right and I had justified it by my very real need need to rest, recharge and rebuild. 

January 2013, I realized that MY "reasonings" were hogwash - and simply excuses for me to avoid ministry and give in to my nature that is perfectly content at home, not talking to or interacting with people, except on MY terms. In fact, I was convicted that my "self-fulfillment" in that sense was nothing less than sin.

So, I made that resolution and by God's grace... and a few friends and family members who help keep me accountable... I've actually followed through and maintained this practice for a significant chunk of time - volunteering at a Pregnancy Resource Center and at a wildlife rehabilitation center while back in Michigan. 

Then we moved.

It was easy to get involved in our church, Christian school and the studio ministry - for the obvious reason: THAT was why we came to Quebec - to encourage Jesus followers here and to hopefully encourage others to become Jesus followers.

Finding ways to get involved in our communities, outside the Christian communities, however, has taken a little bit of time.

Tori gave the first accountability nudge, without even realizing it! We hadn't even been here a month, I was still unpacking boxes, and she began begging to find out if there was a wildlife rehabilitation center in our area. She loved working at the A.R.K while back in Michigan (and usually requests the possibility of a shift or two when we are back in town for vacations). We did find a place to volunteer - only they only needed help from April to September. We contacted them in October. I left my name and contact information - and hoped to hear from them the following spring.

I was content to let the volunteering stay on the back burner until April - I was starting to experience the full impact of plunging 6 kids at once into a non-maternal language school system, and homework not only felt overwhelming; we were drowning in it. But Tim kept telling me about a guy he worked with at the studio, an older gentleman that volunteered, working with kids after school to do their homework. He kept saying I'd be good at something like that. That wasn't the direction I really wanted to go. I was doing enough French homework with MY OWN kids! About that same time, a refugee family (from Congo by way of Burundi) started attending our church. The idea of helping refugees sounded a lot better than homework, and the arrival of Syrian refugees was all over the news. 

So I looked on line and found a center that coordinates volunteers, filled out the application, went in for an interview, had my police check and thought I'd see lots of opportunities to help welcome newcomers to the Belle Province. Except there were none of those opportunities listed, at least none that I found. 

So I started to sign up for one-shot opportunities, to at least dip my big toe into the water and test the temperature.

I'll never forget my first volunteer experience here in Quebec. It was helping with a 5K cross country up near the military base. All the other women who looked to be about my age got to stand around and hand out bottles of water as runners passed their table. I was recruited with the 20-something crowd (Really people? Can't you see the gray roots and wrinkles?) to run up a mountain and then stand there all morning, cheering and directing runners to follow the race/right path. I stood right next to a sign that warned of the prolific presence of black bears in the area. I was a little nervous most of the morning.

Would I do it again? Possibly... ah... probably.

Tori and I did hear back from the wildlife rehab center - and volunteered there, averaging 1-2 shifts/week throughout the rehabbing season this past spring and summer. We are both looking forward to returning next spring. It is funny how in serving and caring for animals, I get an opportunity to serve, care for and love people who are passionate about wildlife and the environment.

But I knew that would be coming to an end with the beginning of a new school year...

So, I finally decided to take a peer counseling training course, thinking I could get involved that way. The first session was offered over the summer, while we were traveling - so I registered for the one slated to begin in the fall. I received my certificate in October, and am officially signed up as a trained volunteer with the "Maison de la Famille" as a peer counselor.

But what does all that have to do with using a telephone... the subject with which I started stream-of-conscious-ing way back at the beginning of this post?

Well, I picked peer counseling because it is something done in person. No one told me, until I was already signed up and given a client to contact - that THAT FIRST CONTACT was done by phone.

Yikes!

Today - after much fear, trepidation, procrastination and finally, prayer - I made the call.

I was able to understand and be understood.

And I've set up my first actual meeting.

Score!

Not just celebrating my phone call,
but the success my football team has experienced this season as well!

Don't expect me to say that it wasn't nearly as bad as I thought it would be. Because it was. I feel like throwing up just thinking about it, and knowing that it will be a part of every helping relationship I have through this organization.

That, however, isn't a good enough reason for me to consider not being involved... not trying to serve this community... not taking His love into this world with every tool and talent God has given me.

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How are you giving back? 

Are you seeking ways to be involved, even though it may not feel natural or comfortable for you?

How are you involved with people outside of your Christian community?

photo credit: classic_film Mary Tyler Moore, The Dick Van Dyke Show, 

"Empress Carlotta's Necklace," 1961 via photopin (license)

photo credit: loungerie Salvador Dalì - White aphrodisiac telephone (1939) via photopin (license)

photo credit: puffclinty Malcolm Willis Getting the Crowd Going via photopin (license)

Five Minute Friday ~ Journey that includes Physicians and dentists, Panic attacks and Pretty amazing grace... "Oh my!"

Might as well start off by saying that I'm not setting a timer, not watching a clock, not worrying about keeping this to five minutes... although in the spirit of Five Minute Friday, I will skip the overthinking and editing that is normally a part of my blog posts.

Of course, if I did watch the clock... took the time to overthink... went back to edit... 

Chances are? 

I'll never hit that post button.

So without further ado, here it goes.

This journey began 12 or 13 years ago... and if I'm honest - a season of burnout. Still not sure of the exact mechanism... the why or the how... but somehow a combination of 

• stress due to my stage of life - busy misso mama with home and ministry responsibilities...
• parenting many children in close succession and the wear and tear of successive, close pregnancies and long term nursing -physically- on my body...
• medications instrumental in preventing malaria, but that did bad things to both my mind and body...
• stress due to high expectations that I had for myself as an overseas missionary...
• through the roof stress in co-worker relationships, both perceived-by-me AND real...
• rising tensions as well as physical dangers and threats in our neck of the woods...
• a downed high tension electric line that resulted in persistent and long power outages (while living in what has, at times, been described as the hottest capital city in the world)...AND
• an out-of-the-blue tree nut allergy suddenly emerging...

plus some other things that I'm forgetting as well as a few that I'm choosing not to list...

All of these mixed made a powerful cocktail that knocked me off my feet for what felt like a long season.

I began experiencing panic attacks. 

At first it was hard to distinguish an attack from an a reaction to tree nuts - heart racing then pounding then actual palpitations, difficulty taking a deep breath or breathlessness, a numbness and feeling that both my tongue and throat were swelling, extreme nausea, a fear of being alone (in case it was a real, physical issue) but an even greater terror of anyone seeing me in said state, cold sweats, physical trembling all over. 

Getting rid of the tree nuts was an easy solution, except that it didn't stop the attacks. 

Then, I started to figure out specific triggers: an angry disagreement with my husband, a sick child, a need to take (or give to one of my kids) a new medication where I didn't know what sorts of side effects would be experienced... but I still experienced mad symptoms, feeling like a cat perched high on a tree branch and I didn't know what to do or how to let anyone help. Still, no real relief.

For out of the blue and no reason I could determine, I'd be blindsided by an attack. Although, I guess, in theory, it is hard to be blindsided when those attacks were happening on an almost daily basis.

We went to our doctor. She said cut out all caffeine and get at least eight hours of sleep at night, but that brought no improvement. I changed malaria prophylactics, but if that helped, it wasn't immediately evident due to the long half-life of the medication - or so I was told. After another major episode, an injection to reduce that fight-or-flight response and a resulting bout with cellulitis, our doc referred me to a cardiologist. (Totally parenthetical, but visiting a cardiologist in Niger was enough to bring on a panic attack all by itself as they'd have me remove my shirt in the exam room and then walk to the procedures/imaging department, through the hallway filled with other waiting patients, for the actual test. It didn't seem to bother the local women, but I wasn't a local woman.) He first did a 48 hour heart monitor/EKG and then wanted to follow up with an ultrasound of my heart. His diagnosis was pulmonary hypertension. Not encouraging - and it wreaked havoc with finding medical insurance coverage for our family, specifically me, for the next decade. He said absolutely no more pregnancies, no caffeine, lots of rest, minimal stress - and come back in six months to see if anything had changed. Not long after, we learned that Mary Michelle was on her way... I ended up going to the States for that delivery.

It was finally an expat missionary nurse who helped me take an initial step on my journey to "recovery." She recommended a medication used by psychiatric patients, at a low dosage and one that I could buy over-the-counter in Niamey. At first, I took it regularly; then I gradually weaned myself off and used on an as-needed basis when experiencing an panic attack. I carry that little bottle of pills in my purse everywhere... still... even though they are long expired.

After a decade of these attacks

• no more malaria prophylactic, 
• no longer living in the excessive heat, 
• not having been pregnant for almost several years and not having a nursing baby for almost as many, 
• a lifestyle where I try and get regular outdoor physical activity, rest and sleep (even when I'm sure I don't need it),
• avoiding excessive caffeine intake - even when I'm sure I do need it (or at least want it), 
• quiet introvert-recharge-time alone at home - without the continual come and go of visitors as was so normal during our years in Africa.

I just went through two full years without even the hint of a panic attack (literally... October marked two years) - including an international trip where I had changed handbags and didn't have my purse placebo with me.

Until I went to the dentist a little over a week ago. 

I needed work done on both sides of my mouth: a small cavity and a chipped/broken molar way in the back that I'd waited way too long to have repaired. As is typical, the dentist (a young guy, with a man bun - all of our girlies think he's really nice... and hot!) used a topical med to numb my gums before injecting the anesthesia. I must have swallowed a little because my tongue and throat lost sensation and what feeling I did have resembled the swollen feeling I'd get back before we figured out the tree nut thing, back when I had regular panic attacks. And I had a stupid attack right there in the dentist office. Thankfully, after about 10 minutes and realizing that I was able to breathe just fine, gracious, kind and concerned dentist and hygienist/helper, and finally, some water to rinse the topical out of my throat, we were able to continue with the procedure on the back tooth. I did, however, opt to return the following week for the little cavity as really, all I wanted to do was escape back to my house.

I went in yesterday for that little cavity, knowing that I needed him to look at the back tooth again. I thought I had a little morsel of glue stuck under my gum that I'd tried and tried to tease out using dental floss - but had had no success. He found that and removed it pretty quickly. But when he looked a little more closely, he saw that the repair he'd done had actually cracked and a chunk had fallen out and wedged itself under my gum line as well. No wonder I couldn't chew on that side of my mouth all week! 

So... a subsequent repair, lots of digging around already tender gums - which we decided to do without anesthesia this time because we wanted me to be able to truly feel if it had been repaired. Of course, that meant I also got to truly feel the work being done as well. I'll suffice it to say, "Ouch!" and I did come home and cry cause I couldn't even when I wanted to while in the dental office. My mouth is still sore today. But the problem now seems to be fixed and no more dental appoints scheduled until my next cleaning - in a year!

As he started to work, as we moved from discomfort to downright uncomfortable to flat out painful, my heart started to race and pound and I feared another attack. Then a small still voice deep inside whispered, "Listen to the music."

It was no longer the pop music of the local station that had been playing while I was in the waiting room. It was praise and worship music - in English - and frankly, that doesn't even exist in Quebec City! It was like I was listening to a Christian radio station back in the States. And it played for the entire time the dentist was working on my teeth.

I didn't expect that. And while my heart continued to race, my one hand was clinching the arm of the dentist chair, my mouth hurt something fierce and I had to keep reminding myself that I could breathe just fine (during the instrumental parts), I was able to lay there while he worked and concentrate on words of praise and worship.

Grace is like that, - often showing up in the most unexpected places.

I don't know?  Perhaps the dentist himself... or his hygienist... picked out some music that they thought might specifically help me this time, after the panic attack the week before? The week before, while waiting for the attack to diminish, we'd actually had a pretty incredible 10 minute conversation about our time in Africa, faith and belief in Christ, why we'd gone in the first place and how I'd found out about my allergy/started experiencing the panic attacks. Then, the dentist left the room for another 10 minutes while the anesthesia took effect and the hygienist and I continued to speak. She'd attended a parochial primary and secondary school and had friends who'd done overseas charity work, so she continued to ask specific questions about our work and life in Niger.

If it wasn't that, perhaps the Holy Spirit did some miraculous thing and I heard the music that I needed to hear instead of what was really playing (although I don't tend to lean towards that sort of explanation - a bit too mystical for my comfort). I don't know if one of the receptionists changed to an internet station instead of a local station. 

What I do know is that when I needed that calming influence, God - or God through others - provided! THAT. IS. GRACE-IN-ACTION!

Time off... together, enjoying being outside on a beautiful day. and lots of physical activity... always helps when I'm starting to feel the pressure mounting. While back in the States for a training seminar last month, Tim and I took a day to visit DC. I've included a few of my favorite photos from the day, and our 14+ mile monumental metropolis trek!

In this journey we call life, grace catches us off guard, when we least expect it. In fact, I'm pretty sure it is much more prevalent than we even begin to recognize ~ for "every good gift and every perfect gift is from above, and cometh down from the Father of lights, with whom is no variableness, neither shadow of turning." James said that. Or, to quote Paul, "I besought the Lord [much more than] thrice, that it might depart from me. And he said unto me, 'My grace is sufficient for thee: for my strength is made perfect in weakness.' Most gladly therefore will I rather glory in my infirmities, that the power of Christ may rest upon me. Therefore I take pleasure in infirmities, in reproaches, in necessities, in persecutions, in distresses for Christ's sake: for when I am weak, then am I strong."

Five Minute Friday ~ Because ~

 Because ~

• It has been two such crazy, busy weeks...
• I'm working on taking care of some physical things that have been put off for such a long time...
• I've got four girls in high school and high school schedules are insanely crazy and...
• We, as a family let it get that way (the insanely crazy bit)...
• I'm teaching something I've never taught this way before in a new school and the learning curve is more like a vertical straight up...
• Friends need me to prioritize praying for their very real and very big needs...
• Temperamental internet frustrates, even in America...
• I like to snuggle my littles who still like to be snuggled...
• There's a bug collection due in just a week or so...
• Fall's happening right now, I love this time of year, I've missed so many Falls while overseas, and it has been gorgeous outside on so many recent days so I'm soaking in God's marvelous creation in this season...
• Of what's happening right in front of me as these kiddos play, need help with homework, learn responsibility around the house, have birthday parties, forget their instruments or their lunch, need my computer to do their French...
• The food doesn't cook itself, neither have I yet trained the dishes to take care of the kitchen...
• I don't get paid to do this...

It's been a week since I last looked at this blog.

I've missed it, because writing is a big part of how I process life. 

But sometimes? 

Life just gets in the way and that's okay

...just because.

And now, a post script in which I take off on a total rabbit trail...

Anyone else remember when parents said "...just because," being completely frustrated, and then swearing you'd never do the same to your kids?

How many understand better now the beauty of 

...just because?

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Linking up with Kate for Five Minute Friday.

Why we're ALL glad to have a stainless steel salad spinner... even though TECHNICALLY, it is not a necessity of life!

Living in a developing country, buying fruits and veggies from the market... well, it made grocery shopping day a bit more complicated because we couldn't just bring everything home and stick it in the fridge until we were ready to use it. 

First of all, our fridge struggled to keep things cold enough to actually keep for more than a day or two.

Secondly, most of our fruits and vegetables had to be washed and then soaked in solution of mild bleach water to prevent bacteria or other parasites from making us sick. Amoebic dysentery is not fun...

That also meant that each leaf of salad had to be first individually washed (at least we did), soaked and then individually dried... It was time consuming.

Then during one of our furloughs, I had a brainstorm. I'd take back a salad spinner. I started shopping garage sales, Goodwill and Salvation Army, looking for one. I found it, packed it and took it back to Niger, excited to try it out.

Shortly after we'd resettled into life in Niger, I pulled it out to show my house helper how to use it. She was pretty excited, too... and informed me that I should have brought one back a long time ago... or had my mother send me one!

Only problem?

She broke it the very first time she used it.

She felt awful... When she was there, she helped prepare the salad as always, drying the individual leaves.

When she wasn't (which was often, since I tended to go do my shopping on Saturdays when she didn't work), I had another brainstorm.

The kids weren't so impressed with this one, however.

Because it involved wrapping the lettuce up in a large beach towel, walking outside and swinging that towel around until most of the moisture was forced off the lettuce by centrifugal (or perhaps more accurately, centripetal force from the perspective of the water droplets on the lettuce and the lettuce itself) and absorbed by the towel.

It worked really well... unless one of the kids let loose of the towel. Then said child had to gather the high-flying lettuce (before the goats got ahold of it), re-rinse, re-bleach and re-swing once again.

Just ask them what they thought of the whole process...

When I saw this...

...for sale on Amazon, I went ahead and splurged. We had enough bonus points that it didn't cost anything extra.

My children are thanking me!

Not to mention the fact that it makes throwing together a salad fun, simple and quick.

first photo credit: LeafLanguages via photopin

Wordless Wednesday ~ Camping on the shore of Mishigami

 

M&M had a nasty cold and was croupy... so here we are steaming her. Hot water and tea tree oil is an amazing combo and can be accomplished, even at a rustic campground!