TulipGirl

This morning I woke up and it was a little chilly. There is a window in the walk in closet and I stood in the sunshine to warm up; soaked in the rays of sunshine.

Ants were climbing over the dishes I didn’t do last night. (Yes, I do go to bed with dishes in the sink – but not anymore. I know they are an invitation to the very few creepy crawlies to be found in my neighborhood.) I did dishes while coffee was brewing, pouring boiling distilled water over them as the final rinse. Our tap water has microscopic buggies which require drinking distilled water and using boiling water for sterilization. I rarely do dishes – my boys long ago assumed that responsibility. But without a dishwasher and with learning the sterilization procedure, I’ve once again assumed that routine. Our house still has the bare essentials, so no dishes by candlelight. But doing dishes with the windows open and the smell of coffee brewing? Still lovely and peaceful.

[Addendum: I’ve since learned that pouring boiling distilled water over dishes is an unnecessary step, and the water in our area – while not potable—is actually treated and has many fewer microbes than most tap water.]

[Addendum 2: We have a dishwasher! It’s blocking the middle of the laundry room for now, but ours is one of the few houses that can accommodate a dishwasher and in the next few days should be hooked up. Our laundry room is off of the kitchen, and so I’ll have a trilogy – dishwasher, washing machine, dryer – in there. The placement is odd – six feet or so from the sink. But still – a dishwasher?! What a treat!]

It seems so surreal to actually be in Africa.

Even though we were told in June that we had been assigned this post, even though Hubby has been studying Swahili and I’ve been studying logistics of living in Kenya, it still seems so amazing, so bizarre.

We arrived in Nairobi late on Thursday night. Very late. Thankfully, we were met by someone and didn’t have to try to navigate immigration, customs and the way to our new home alone. They had hired two vans for us — one for our family and one for the luggage. We had packed light enough that it took only one vehicle for both us and our baggage. [Sidenote: No matter how light you think you pack, it is never light enough when you are hauling it around NYC and London. If you are flying overseas, double and triple check the luggage allowance. In spite of my research, we were charged an extra bag fee. Only one, however, because we packed light enough to shove one bag into another and reassign a checked bag to carry-on. In the future, part of my wants to pack much lighter. Another part of me wants to take as much space and weight as I can because who knows when your shipments will arrive?]

If you try to google map our address in Nairobi, you won’t find us. It’s not yet on the map. And our street name is just like a dozen other street names in our area of town. To complicate matters, there is construction and constant detours in our area of town. All the resulted in the driver of the van being unable to find our new home. A very late night call to Naoma (who is our social sponsor, and a true gift) resulted in the driver finding our house and we walked into our new home about midnight.

We had the immense blessing of having our house ready before we arrived — and readied for our arrival. I heard that workers were here almost until we unlocked the door, fixing the hot water tank, checking electricity, repairing the generator, installing furniture. . . (And Naoma and her visiting family filled our pantry with necessities and our fridge with a delicious meal!)

And so, we arrived in Nairobi and arrived home.

Home.

It still seems a bit surreal, living in someone else’s world.

I can already feel that this place will be home.

To summarize the past couple of months. . .

January:

First, we had a kajillion more appointments — doctors, dentists, chiro, immunizations. . . you name it. It seemed like every day had a new appointment, in spite of my attempts to get these all done last summer / fall.

The second week of January, the boys had the Icebreaker speech and debate tournament. Anyone who has attended one, knows how these tournaments consume your life for that week.

The third weekend, I went to New Orleans to see my grandmother and uncle. One day I need to write all about my grandmother. . . but for now, I feel like Kenya is so far away that I needed to visit as much as I could.

Then the last weekend of January was the Capital Challenge tournament, another week full of long days, fabulous speeches, good times with friends and very little sleep.

Which brings us to February. . .

In the first week, we had our walk-through for the packout, a dear friend and her two boys came to visit overnight, and we went up to Pennsylvania for one last good-bye to Hubby’s relatives.

The second week we had our pack out. Oh, wow. What a sense of RELIEF when that movers were gone and the house was (mostly) empty, save for the usual trappings of a furnished corporate apartment and what could fit in our suitcases. It no longer felt like “home” as it had for the past nine months, but just an apartment. (Moving hint — some one told me to buy little dot stickers and color-coordinate for the move. I did it and it seemed to help — green was go in the UAB, yellow was slow in the HHE, and red was stop and leave in the apartment.)

That weekend, my parents came to visit for one last farewell. (Hint to FS families — it is wonderful to have visitors AFTER pack-out! Much less stress. . .) It was such a dear time with them and the kids and was just. . . great.

Hubby’s testing date for Swahili was moved up, and so our date to leave DC was sooner than we expected. Thankfully everything was able to be expedited and appointments in various places moved up. Hubby passed his Swahili exam with flying colors on Tuesday, 2/14 and we left DC the following day.

Part of Hubby’s training included meeting with various organizations in NYC before we could leave the States. It was such a great little buffer (for me, anyway. . . not sure about Hubby) to be able to leave behind DC and have a little time to transition away before arriving in Kenya.

We had three amazing days in New York City. I had never been there before. . . A friend recommended a place to stay that was just amazing, right near Central Park. We walked all over the city, the boys and I, when Hubby was at work. Thanks to my parents, we even got to see a Broadway show — The Lion King. Very appropriate, don’t you think, for where we’re going? We had a late flight out of JFK airport, and honestly, that day was long and bitterly cold. By then, we just wanted to be on the plane.

The flight from the US to Kenya is really long — so long that we were offered a stop over in London. We decided to take a few days of leave then, as well, and so had a mini-vacation in London before the last leg of our trip to Kenya. We stayed near Paddington Station (which I recommend now) and so easily walked and took the tube everywhere. The boys were amazed at all the history they saw. We loved walking along the Thames, seeing the Tower, visiting Westminster and walking under umbrellas in the London fog and rain. We recited A. A. Milne when we went to Buckingham palace, and of course had fish and chips. We attended evensong at St. Paul’s Cathedral. While not found in the usual tour guide for London, some things our family enjoyed was watching Japanese game shows with wry English commentary and visiting charity shops for unusual t-shirts.

Soon, I hope to put pics up of all these wonderful side trips and moving memories. Still, our internet connection is slow and my blog images have been a bit wonky. We’ll have to see when that happens.

One year ago today, 7-year-old Lydia Schatz died after her adoptive parents disciplined her to the point of death.

Lydia was a vivacious little girl, adopted from Liberia. People who knew her say she had the most heart-warming smile.

I sit here crying. Heavy-hearted. February is a difficult month for me: mourning Lydia and Sean Paddock, facing the reality of abuse within the church and Christian families.

Lydia’s adoptive parents, Kevin and Elizabeth Schatz, are currently in jail in Butte County, California. They are awaiting trial. (See records here: case numbers CM032009 and CM032008.) Later this month are scheduled the trial readiness conference (2/17/11) and the jury trial (2/28/11). They each have been charged with murder, torture, and cruelty to child by inflicting injury. The murder charge is related to Lydia’s death, the torture charge is related to her sister (also adopted) who was hospitalized but recovered, and cruelty charge related to a biological son’s injuries.

Lydia died from rhabdomyolsis, a condition related to kidney and heart failure from toxins released when muscle tissue breaks down. Lydia’s muscles broke down as a result of repeated beatings over time, though her death was proceeded by an especially long “discipline” session.

Lydia’s parents used a plumbing supply line, which is recommended by Michael and Debi Pearl of No Greater Joy Ministries in their book “To Train Up A Child.” Both plumbing supply line and TTUAC were found in the Schatz home and the older children have attested to those methods being used in their home.

While death is not a common result from the implementation of TTUAC, this is not the first time that a child has died when parents have carefully and consistently applied the so-called “child training methods” espoused by the Pearls. In February 2006, 4-year-old Sean Paddock was killed. How many other unreported cases of quiet abuse are happening under the influenced of these harmful, unBiblical teachings?

O LORD, you hear the desire of the afflicted;
you will( strengthen their heart; you will incline your ear
to do justice to the fatherless and the oppressed,
so that man who is of the earth may strike terror no more.
–Psalm 10:18-19

Compounding the tragedy is the professed love of these parents for their children, the desire to nurture their children through homeschooling, the commitment to seek out help in parenting.

Further compounding the tragedy is that Lydia and her sister Zaraiah were adopted. Her parents needed to provide love, security, attachment. . . and instead beat them with a plumbing supply line. Sean was a foster son in the process of being adopted.

Sing to God, sing praises to his name;
lift up a song to him who rides through the deserts;
his name is the LORD;
exult before him!
Father of the fatherless and
protector of widows
is God in his holy habitation.
God settles the solitary in a home;
–Psalm 68:4-6

We need to remember Lydia. We need to remember Sean.

We need to remember the children who need families, who are in families.

We need to speak for those who cannot speak for themselves.

We need to open our eyes to the abuse within our own communities.

May God have mercy on us all.