Farewell

Dear Ricky,

My thoughts fight for expression…expression that looks like nothing more than a jumble of words on a page.  I’ve started and restarted this letter to you eight times, who knows if this will be the last.  I’ve never written to you before.  What should I say?  What will be my last words?  What would have been my last words?

Do I tell you all the things I miss so much about you?  That list would go on forever.  Do I tell you all the new things God has brought me to?  That story would seem unreal.  As my best friend, I want to tell you everything.  I want you to know me again.  Would you still love me? 

How do I describe the impossibility of comfort?  An emptied box of tissues litters the ground at my feet.  The safest place in the world is in your embrace.  I’ll have to wait.  Be strong.  Smile.  Be thankful.  But not comforted.  It’s like being thirsty and never getting a drink.  How do I marry this new and beautiful life God has made for me with this unfillable longing for comfort?  Yes I find comfort in Jesus every day.  It should be better and in many ways it is…but it’s not the same.  My uncle calls with his sweet spirit and soft voice and I fear that I’ll melt like a pile of snow melting onto the carpet…he’s an echo of you.  But even for him I put on the brave face as best I can.  It’s only you with whom I can completely surrender to this sadness.  Hold on.

My burdens are many – unknown to most, understood by few – and yet I seem to reach the end of each day with a sense of joy and peace.  Evidence of grace.  My life seems to be nothing but evidence of grace.  I never could have, nor would have, put these pieces together in such a way as this.  I hardly recognize myself, my life.  I love that the testimony of God’s presence is so boldly evident, such a contrast to the person I was/am.  So unmistakable.  The impossibility of so much hope could only come from Him.  I am constantly surprised by hope.  And yet you live with Hope every day.  What is He like?  Were you surprised too?

Two years have passed since last we were together.  I’ll replay those days anew for many years to come.  But I must look toward the future too.  And so farewell, my sweet Ricky.  Until we meet again.

Love,

Me

“To him who is able to keep you from falling and to present you before his glorious presence without fault and with great joy—to the only God our Savior be glory, majesty, power and authority, through Jesus Christ our Lord, before all ages, now and forevermore! Amen” (Jude 24-25, NIV).

Someone is Listening

The Land Between. This title describes how I’ve felt at many times during this past two years. Between the past and the future. Between despair and hope. Between confusion and understanding. I could go on. Oh wait, I did. It’s called My Second Year.

Ironically, Pastor Jeff Manion wrote a book about my life…I mean, the lives of so many people who’ve experienced a tragedy in one form or another. Apparently I’m not alone. Not only are there dozens of stories in this book but a close friend, who also felt similarly, gifted me a copy of the book.

While soaking tonight – yes, I love to read while I’m in the bathtub surrounded by water hot enough to make my skin turn red – I read two things that struck me. Of course I should have already realized these tidbits but they were new to me today. First, Jesus called the weary to come to him for rest. That’s not the revelation. That Jesus existed in the beginning and knew that we would need such comfort was the new revelation. I started thinking about how God’s heart must have broken with the Fall and he was already reaching out to comfort us. Every day for all eternity – past present and future – he is ready for us…calling to us to find our comfort in him.

In a related vein, Manion points out that even though God already knows our situation and knows that we need comfort we should continue to go to him because…we need to speak. Yes, isn’t that what My Second Year has been about? It’s been about expressing myself as I struggle through this land between. For me the land between has been not only grief but a reshaping of my whole self – breaking down walls, building compassion, and showing grace. Something about putting words and voice to these struggles and triumphs offers comfort.

I think about the fact that after My Second Year, I won’t have that place for my voice where I can pretend that all 14 public followers, and I have no idea how many closet followers, can hear to my voice. Yes, the practice of journaling must continue. Journaling helps me sort things out in my head and that doesn’t always need to be, nor is it a good idea that it is, a public event. For some reason, though, I find little comfort in the idea of private writing. There is something about knowing others are listening that brings the comfort.

Back to The Land Between, the idea Manion was offering was that in our communication with God we can be assured that someone is listening and that this is not a one-way conversation. Manion (2010) said, “…the very act of voicing our trouble to God begins a conversation in which we have opened ourselves up to his care, his mercy, and his provision” (p. 79).

As I prepare to close My Second Year, pray that I find comfort in this conversation with God that far exceeds the comfort I’ve received in expressing myself through this blog. And pray that I continue to be surprised by hope.

Surprised by Hope

Year two is almost over, which means My Second Year is almost over too. The blog will be retired on November 22, 2010 and, while it will still be available online, I won’t be adding more posts. My Third Year as a “next blog” doesn’t work, as discussed in the post of the same name. Yet becoming a missionary to East Africa and sharing stories about how God is moving there surely deserves public expression. To that end, and to the end (kinda) of the many weeks of intense planning, I’m very excited to reveal the next blog.

Surprised by Hope was created to encourage, demonstrate, and testify to the many ways we can be surprised by hope. It’s not a personal blog about grief and healing, as was My Second Year. Surprised by Hope is intended to focus on Christ-like, hope-filled ministry to the men, women, and children in East Africa. Don’t be surprised to find stories about the people I meet and the places I go, discussions about education issues or politics, tools for helping missionaries expand their reach, or testimonies about finding Hope in everyday life.

Surprisedbyhope.org serves as a portal to three main segments of the site.

• The blog button focuses on field ministry. In other words, its primary purpose is to report what is happening while I am on the field in East Africa and to provide ministry-related updates. Don’t forget to sign up as a “Follower.”
• The artisans button focuses on the groups of handcrafters in East Africa who hope to increase sales as a means of providing for their families.
• The giving button focuses on the many ways – financial and nonfinancial – that we can work together in this ministry.

Take a look at the website, know that it’s a work in progress, and join me in bringing the surprise of hope to today’s East-African culture.

“Show me your ways, O Lord, teach me your paths; guide me in your truth and teach me, for you are God my Savior, and my hope is in you all day long” (Psalm 25:4-5, TNIV).

Sadness Still

Not surprisingly I’m feeling sadness still. It’s like I think that if I can find just the right words to describe how I feel the sense will dissipate. Well, it might. I feel desperate for comfort and wonder if it’s even possible. I wonder if spending time with someone who’s been through my situation before would be useful, but wait, I don’t know anyone who has. More isolation.

Difficult is not the word to describe the ability to bring to mind significantly detailed and very specific feelings and memories from the day the police showed up at my door. If I’m not careful a wave will wash over me. I sometimes struggle to choose this new life instead of choosing the depths of sorrow, particularly when these details feel so fresh. I finished brushing my teeth and bounded into my bedroom only to find it empty. Sigh. I sometimes teeter precariously. Then I think of what can happen if I choose darkness. I believe it’d like trying to stay away from Tom’s chocolate cake. Once I have one piece I may as well eat the whole thing. Lots of extra energy is required to stay on the right side of that teeter-totter.

What I describe is nothing anyone would ever notice by talking with me and honestly it’s hard to put into words only because I don’t know the words that best describe this feeling. I do know that even though I feel like I’m drowning…I won’t. I know that even though I feel sad, tomorrow is a new day. I know that even though I feel alone, I’m not.

Thank you for all the gentle people who are walking beside me, who don’t pretend to know how I feel, but who are just there. I’m sorry that is all you can do, I know you would do more if you could, but it is enough. The rest is mine to carry…for now.

Half-time Missionary

Not surprisingly people ask what it means to be half time in East Africa as a missionary. Who ever heard of that before anyway? Well, for me it means that I have a son still in college who depends on me in some ways. And I have a son whose father died two years ago and who, even though he may not want to admit it, kinda needs at least one parent nearby sometimes. I have much freedom because he is very independent but, until he graduates, I will share my time with him and with the people in East Africa.

What I’ve found so far is that preparation for ministry in East Africa is very time consuming while I’m at home. I’m arranging meetings, developing ministry programs, preparing curriculum, designing blogs, planning logistics, thinking about how to manage the holidays, doing research, reading about culture, helping develop resumes, and three more pages of details literally sitting on my desk next to my computer. Every item on these lists are related to mission work. I’m not sure how this pans out to be half time. Maybe it would be more correct to say that I am a full-time missionary living half-time in the field.

However my life is defined, it has been given over to the people in East Africa and developing those relationships stays at the top of any list I make. Whatever it is that will help them grow in the Lord and prosper their families is the work that I will do to the best of my ability. Sometimes that work is best done in America, sometimes I really should be there but have to make due, and sometimes I’ll actually be in East Africa. The kind of work to be done is best done in all these places. For example, internet costs way too much in Uganda so doing research from America is more wise.

Still…whether I would be considered a half-time or a full-time missionary…I’m sure busy with mission work all the time. And I LOVE IT.

Authenticity and the Past

Becoming a missionary is a significant responsibility. Meeting people in a relationship that introduces Jesus and fosters spiritual growth demands authenticity. Building relationships with people from other cultures increases that demand simply because the differences – and trust me, I look different than the people in Africa – cause wariness, hesitation, or mistrust. Authenticity on my part is the only way people will start to let their guard down, and even then I sometimes still get it wrong.

The people I’ve met in Africa generally assume I am a missionary (or a vacationer). Inevitably people (Africans and Americans, pretty much everyone) ask one of two questions. “Why on earth would you want to do that?” or “How did you ever get into missionary work?” Yes, there is this incredulous tone in their voices when they ask. I sometimes feel that I should make up a really incredible story to go along with their surprised tones. I wouldn’t want to disappoint them.

Oh wait, I do have a really incredible story by which to answer their questions. To be honest, I think my story is even more unbelievable than what they expect to hear. But if I leave out the part about Rick’s death, what kind of story is left? Seriously, think about it. What really is left? His death is entirely and completely foundational to my story and to authentically answering the question of why or how I got into this role.

Yet people have suggested both directly and indirectly that telling my story beginning with Rick’s death is not the right thing to do. I don’t feel that I use his death to garner sympathy, although please feel free to correct me if I’m wrong. I use Rick’s death to talk about how amazing God is to walk alongside me this whole time and to reshape my life into something beyond my wildest dreams. I want people to know a God that can do that for them too. But without the Rick piece…what is that?

Please don’t misunderstand. I am not talking about dragging a dead Rick around in every conversation. I am walking away from My Second Year and, for the most part, the connection that year had with Rick’s death. I’m not bringing Rick forward into parts of my life where he doesn’t belong. Unfortunately (or fortunately…whichever) I can never walk away from 20 years of life with Rick and, to be honest, I don’t really want to. That part of my life is taking what I believe is its proper place. But there is a place for his legacy in my story.

So…get thee behind me Satan, God is too good for me not to talk about my WHOLE story. I’m not leaving the story of Rick’s death out and I’m not going to lose focus on God’s plan for my life. So, yes, my story begins with an end.

Konoweka Orphans and Widows Hut

You’ve heard me talk about the Bible study I did together with David and a group of widows he shepherds, and about a few super cool moments we shared. And you’ve even received some of their beautiful handcrafts. I feel God calling me to become more deeply involved in the lives of these women in a way that can really make a difference for them and their children.
During my next trip to Uganda I will join their weekly fellowship meetings. We’ll worship together, study the Bible together, I’ll do some teaching about business and finance, and they’ll do some teaching about how they make their crafts. I’ll build relationships with these ladies with the hope of helping lift them out of poverty. In a way we’ve already started something new together.

I’d like to introduce the new blog for Konoweka Orphans and Widows Hut. The blog is intended to highlight the artisans and their products along with stories of how their art is created and what life is like for these women and their children. You can also place orders for their handcrafts through this blog via PayPal. This blog does not replace My Second Year, it is not a Leslie-focused blog, but it’s all about these women, their lives, and their handcrafts. And it’s about supporting and praying for them as we watch their lives unfold over time.
Much of the product content has yet to be developed and I’ll do more of that during my next trip. For now, please check out the blog, tell your friends, and start placing your orders. Remember that you can make special requests too. These ladies are gifted and can make almost anything you desire. Keep in mind that your purchases are helping put their children in school.

What Comfort is There?

Answering the question of how I will remember Rick on the second year anniversary of his death is not the same as answering the question of how I feel about it. Perhaps a few weeks ago I would have answered the question of how I feel differently. But as the second anniversary approaches, I find myself wondering why I feel anxious and frustrated about things that have very little meaning. I start not to recognize myself.

How do I feel? I feel overwhelmingly sad. I feel helpless that nothing can be done to change that sadness. I also feel comfort in knowing it is okay to feel sad and that this sadness will not last forever…I feel hope. But I cannot move into hope too quickly. I want and maybe even need to pass through this sadness and experience it fully. With the many exciting things happening in my life it is easy to put off the deep feelings of grief and I would not serve myself well in doing so, particularly given the knowledge that I am strong enough not to be sucked in by grief.

I realized last night that the only comfort in this sadness would be to have Rick wrap his arms around me and allow me to cry my little eyes out. No other person on earth can have that same comforting effect because of the special relationship between husband and wife, between Rick and I. With him all my guard comes down, I don’t have to hold anything together, I am not judged, I can just melt into his arms and let go of every worry and every burden.

Yes, I am comforted by the hugs of friends and family but it’s just not the same. So what can I do with the idea that I cannot be comforted? Yes, Jesus can be my comfort and he has been for so long. But what about that real physical need to be comforted? There is no satisfaction. There is no way to be comforted. I have no choice but to accept the sadness. I have no control, I have no choice, I have no comfort. Reality.

Tomorrow (figuratively) I will have the strength to accept that the need for comfort will go unsatisfied, that I cannot take control of this situation, that I have only one choice and that is Jesus…however unsatisfying that feels (did I just say that out loud?) until I actually allow myself to be comforted by him and find that I do feel better. Today is not tomorrow…yet.

2011 East Africa Mission Support

Pray. Listen to what God would have you do, and respond by making a donation today. Your donations are tax deductible, directed to Mercy Uganda, and specifically designated for my ministry work. Take a look at some details about giving and at lots of ideas about how you can support the ministry. Join me in prayer about hearing God and having the faith to respond. Then, become an obscenely generous giver.

What should I do now?

• Make a tax-deductible donation using PayPal or your credit card at http://www.lesliemosher.blogspot.com/
• Make a tax-deductible donation by writing a check to Mercy Uganda and mailing it to me (contact me for my street address, it seems unwise to include that in a blog).
• Read the rest of this list to find other ways you can support the ministry work.

How do I give a financial gift?

• Commit to a monthly donation of a specific amount ($100, $50, $25, $10).
• Make a special donation in the amount of your choice.
• Set aside a percentage of a Christmas bonus or tax return designated for this mission.
• Arrange a matching gift with your employer, even if they don’t have a stated plan.
• Suggest “Mercy Uganda: Leslie Mosher” as the recipient of corporate giving plans.
• Challenge your friends to match your gift, you might be surprised.

How do I give a non-financial gift?

• Purchase a flight for my travel using your frequent flier miles.
• Watch for Facebook posts about specific donations needed for the ministry.
• Cell phones that use SIM cards.
• Portable black and white printer and ink/toner
• Clothing for school-age children.
• Arrange a speaking engagement at your church or business about ministry in East Africa.
• Tell your friends, share Facebook or blog posts, and invite me to your small group gathering.

What can I pray for?

• That we would not under expect the generosity of God.
• For the presence of the Holy Spirit to be manifested in remarkable ways.
• For radical transformation of everyone and everything the ministry comes in contact with.
• For my personal health and safety.

Are my donations tax deductible?

• Yes. Your financial donations are made to Mercy Uganda, a 501(c)(3) nonprofit organization, and designated to my ministry-related expenses. Your financial gifts are tax deductible.
• Your non-financial gifts may be tax deductible, but you should check with your tax advisor.

How do I get the donation to you?

• Donate via one of two PayPal buttons at www.lesliemosher.blogspot.com. These donations are made to Mercy Uganda and are automatically designated for my ministry work.
• Write a check or money order made out to Mercy Uganda. Designate the donation as being for Leslie Mosher on the memo line. Mail your check me (contact me for that address).

Thank you. Thank you for your support of the work God would have me do in East Africa.

East Africa Missions 2011

I'm excited to finally share my 2011 plans with you. In 2011, I will join Mercy Uganda and Biblical Life Ministries in half-time, on-site ministry in East Africa. Almost 2 months in Africa during 2010 gave me an opportunity to see just how God prepared me for this moment. A moment where this eclectic confusion called my life – life experiences, strengths and weaknesses, passions, education, and work experience – blends together to form something uniquely useful to the people in that country.

Ministry Stories

One highlight from my last visit was the time I spent with a group of 50 widows. Here’s one story:

My name is Apolot Florence. I am a widow with 10 children. I was forced to leave Asalatap village in Amuria District after my 4 daughters were raped by men in the Lord's Resistance Army. Being a new resident in Kinawataka, life was next to impossible and I quickly resorted to beating stones in the quarry and prostitution at night in order to earn a living. It was during those ugly moments that I met David who introduced me to Konoweka Orphans and Widows Hut. I am now learning with other widows how to make purses and hand bags.

Your gifts allowed me to worship alongside them, study the Bible and teach about entering the presence of God, and provide supplies for their handcrafts. These women were so grateful to know that we care about them that word spread and women from other villages are now asking to join their weekly fellowship.

Another highlight was visiting one of Mercy Uganda’s sponsored children. Olivia is pictured in the center-right with the demure look. Even though tuition is paid for sponsored children, many of them simply don’t have emotional and intellectual support systems needed to achieve very basic learning. Her sponsor’s gift of healthy snack foods, girly fiction books, and the game of Twister helped ensure that Olivia is ready to learn. When I return, I’ll provide regular academic tutoring and advocacy for these children to equip them to become independent and thriving learners. This means that sponsors are not only giving their child an education, but they’re also giving their child hope.

I could tell stories all day, but one last highlight comes from participating in the graduation of 26 Kenyan pastors from Biblical Life School of Ministries. The support of many donors made participating in the Bible school possible. These pastors live in remote villages and would otherwise not have access to sound theological teaching. These pastors were so excited! When I return, I’ll coordinate a short-term team in meeting some of the needs these pastors have identified in their churches. This means we’re investing in long-term relationships that reach beyond these pastors and into their communities.

Ministry Support

Like I said, this eclectic confusion that is my life was perfectly prepared for this moment. With God’s help, I’ll use my education and business expertise to minister to these people so they can lift themselves out of poverty. To fulfill God’s call, I need your help. I’ve prepared a budget projection for the six months during 2011 that I will be in East Africa and find that I will need $20,000. This amount will allow me to travel between countries and to minister alongside Mercy Uganda and Biblical Life Ministries. I’ll continue working while I’m in the U.S. to do my part in contributing to the overall support needed to make half-time ministry possible.

Pray. Listen to what God would have you do, and respond by making a donation via the PayPal link today. Your donations are tax deductible, directed to Mercy Uganda, and specifically designated for my ministry work. Join me in prayer about hearing God and having the faith to respond. Then, become an obscenely generous giver.

Trusting Him,

Leslie Mosher

Preparing for Blog Retirement

As a URL, mysecondyear.blogspot.com was taken so I used my name instead. I never expected to actually enjoy blogging so I didn’t worry about the future ramifications of that choice. Now, if I ever want to do anything more with a blog I can’t use my name. I can change the URL, but then no one would be able to find the blog and the posts won’t be indexed with search engines. How important is that, I wonder.

And then there is blog design. Revising my blog design three or four times over the past year does little for brand recognition, although brand recognition isn’t really the point of the blog. Given how often people change their Facebook photos I wonder if the importance of brand recognition will eventually become a thing of the past. Oddly, that I want people to recognize my blog based on a sense of brand does mean something. Why? As I press into that question I find that perhaps this desire for a sense of recognition is a type of acknowledgement that the year existed and that it was important.

From here I move to obsessing about the feeling that the colors and design of the blog are horrible. I’ve grown accustomed to looking at beautiful design and have no illusion that my choices are just a little…um…yuk. Why do I even care if the blog will be done soon? I wonder if the reason to that question is that on that last day the blog will be, in a sense, laid to rest.

I want everything to be perfect so that a viewer coming to the blog at some later date would see and read about this beautiful life and what God can do through tragedy. I believe that can happen regardless of how awful the color choices and page layout are, but I can’t seem to stop worrying. It’s as if the decision were about which suit to wear in the casket or what words to put on a headstone.

Next While

God has revealed his perfect plan for my next while. Who knows how long a “next while” is but I’m excited to step into…or more accurately…stay in his will. I’ve spent a bit of time seeking his wisdom as I gave words to that vision. Yet I have to admit that, even with the vision defined, I am surprised at how difficult it is to name this thing. Not to name in the sense that things are cloudy and grey like in so many of my grief-related posts. To name in the sense that so many words are available from which to choose and I can’t seem to create the perfect combination with any of them…let alone a combination that someone else hasn’t already taken. Okay, I really shouldn’t be all that surprised. But like any good product, the name is so important.

I’m working on some really fun, hard, interesting, exciting, and challenging plans and I can’t wait to share them with you. In my true fashion, though, I want everything to be just right before I do. Most of you won’t be surprised but still…the reveal is a big deal (even if it’s only a big deal in my own mind).

So, what do you think? Without knowing exactly exactly what this next year will bring…what suggestions do you have? Knowing what you do know, what would you name this thing?

Was Anyone There?

One problem related to the continued reading about grief is the sporadic discovery of new aspects of grief not previously considered (or in this case ignored altogether). Early Widow is a journal of her first year following the sudden death of Jim Worden. The November 6 entry includes a return to the scene, so to speak.

His widow ponders questions that I too have pondered – If he didn’t die instantly, how long did he live? Did he ever regain consciousness? Did he feel pain? The question that followed is the question that stopped me. Not because I’ve never thought of it before, but because I’ve never really taken the time to explore the question…perhaps because I don’t like the answer. Here it is:

But was anyone there to hold your hand?

What an ugly question. Alone. In those few last moments I didn’t have the chance to whisper my love into his ear. To promise him that Jesus would come for him. I didn’t even get a choice. Ya, I know Jesus came whether I promised it to be so or not. I know that He was the one to hold Rick’s hand at that last moment and that He was the one to whisper His welcome into Rick’s ear. All I’m left with is the trust that He did it better than I ever could have.