Category: Angela

Estefani

On By MitchenersIn Angela2 Comments

We recently ended an amazing two weeks with a team from Indiana! Met new friends and loved “sharing” our students with some people who genuinely care about our little guys and gals.

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It’s always fun watching people make connections with different kiddos. Most every team that visits has a story about certain students like adorable Alejandro, independent Yorjeni, or shy Yelin. Some boys and girls are naturally outgoing or absolutely gorgeous or incredibly smart – they just radiate their magnetic personalities and draw others to them.

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Then there’s Estefani. Estefani doesn’t have lots of cute memories attached to her name. I can’t brag about her good grades. She’s often “out to lunch” when we’re reciting numbers or letters. It has been difficult for me to keep her engaged and learning.

I’ve recently been praying that God would do something in me and in Estefani – that He would give me extra opportunities to talk to her; that He would give me wisdom in disciplining her and in encouraging her in the classroom; that He would give Estefani the ability to see how much she is loved and valued.

Well, God didn’t take long in answering those prayers. I met Estefani’s sponsor family last week! What a joy to see them connect in spite of the language barrier. I loved watching them work together on their letters and numbers and shapes and colors. I heard about how she jumped and ran and played with them before school started in the mornings. I’m sure Estefani smiled more last week than she’s smiled all year.

There have already been some small but exciting changes in Estefani since this team left! This little girl has transformed behaviorally in the classroom even over the last few days. She stays focused longer. She sits with her legs crossed and her hands folded when listening on the mat; she stands straight as a soldier when lining up. Estefani’s improving academically as well. We’ve noticed she can now write all of the letters in her name in order and right-side-up! I’ll often ask the kids at the end of the day if they “went to the corner” (which is our discipline system in the classroom)… Estefani ran past me today yelling behind her, “I’m not going to go to the corner anymore!” It’s as if she’s purposed in her heart to make a change, and I’m super pumped to see this played out in her life. I’m hopeful that these differences are for the long-term.

There may still be difficult days ahead. While tiny changes are taking place every day, Estefani probably won’t be engaged in every moment. She may still go to the corner. But one thing I think she knows now is that she matters. Her sponsor family took some time to be Jesus to her last week, and I think that her life is being intercepted. A family has made the choice to be involved in her life and to pray for her little soul every single day. And that is exciting stuff.

God has a plan for Estefani. I’m praying that He would continue to show her how beautiful she is to Him.

Layered Answers

On By MitchenersIn Angela, Dominican Republic8 Comments

Another exhausting day of school had just ended. We were riding home in the back of the safari truck, bouncing and jouncing over the rocky terrain. I could hardly swallow my water or scarf down my soggy ham and cheese sandwich Scott had packed me for lunch. My hair was in tangles, my shirt reeked of sweat, and my fingernails were caked with the dirt of the day. My dry, scratchy eyes could barely squint through the whirlwind of dust that enveloped me. And it hit me again, like it often does – that moment where I just have to ask myself: How in the world did I get here?

The last I remember, I was driving a little red Honda Civic to high school for morning student council meetings. I was sitting in English class, reading classic literature like The Pearl and The Scarlet Letter and Moby Dick. The last thing I knew, I was dressing up for silly hall dinners in college with new friends. I was swooning over a lanky, long-haired boy I met my sophomore year. Not too long ago, I was settled cozily into a one-bedroom apartment in Virginia with my new husband, master’s degree, and a bouncing baby boy.

So how did I end up sitting on a truck in the middle of a sugar cane field on an island out in the Caribbean?

And even more importantly, why am I doing this?

I mean, seriously. Are these kids in my kindergarten class learning anything? Do their parents – these families who live for today with little thought for the future – do they have any idea what an education can do for their children? Do these people get it? That it often feels like I’m leaving the job of mom and dad to my husband so I can laminate letters and put filthy, too-tight shoes on their children?

As I begin to peel back the layers to this onion of a question, I realize that there are so many reasons for why I’m here – all so tightly packed together that it’s difficult to see where one answer ends and another begins.

One reason actually revolves around me. You know, I’ve been a bit selfish by choosing to live here. These little boys and girls have become so precious to me, and this marathon of a discipleship process has just begun. I’m still getting to know our students and their families. But I can’t imagine having to give up the budding relationships and experiences I’ve collected so far. I want my hugs from lovable Anllelo and winsome Alfredo. I secretly love Javier’s goofy dances and crazy-eyed head nods as we transition around the room. To miss Nicol’s bright smiles and deep-seated dimples as she runs towards the truck each morning in Cabeza de Toro would be to miss a beautiful sunrise.

But if cute kids and sugary smiles were the only reasons for my living here, I don’t think I’d last very long. I’ve already alluded to the fact that life is not always butterflies and roses. Anllelo has a stubborn streak, and Javier can push the limits. Nicol can wipe her snotty nose down the front of my leg and invade my personal space at an all-too-early hour for my foggy brain. Kids can disappoint and disrespect. They can grate on nerves and cause emotional and physical fatigue.

So there has to be another reason for my living so far away from everything and everyone I’ve ever known. Allow me to pull back another layer to this complex question.

The need for education in the Dominican is incredible. We’ve seen firsthand that the boys and girls in “our” villages are dreadfully behind academically – teenagers and some adults can’t read or even recognize enough letters to write their names. Teachers in the public schools are absent about as often as they’re present. Between holidays, rain days, and strikes, the normal four-hour school day can hardly be described as consistent.

So what happens when the adventure and the “feel-good” sensations wear off? What happens when I remember that there’s need in every single corner of this broken world? My heart feels an even deeper sting than the watery eyes and burning nose that usually accompany the slicing open of your ordinary onion.

To be satisfied with doing life in this very different country, there has to be more.

Thankfully, when I cut down to the quick of it, there is more.

The real reason for my sitting on a dusty, bumpy safari truck – the primary purpose I have in holding those snotty kids close – my major motivation in enlightening them with the ever-so-profound truth that “the B says ‘buh'” – is that my Jesus asked me to do it.

There it is. The most basic layer to my “onion” question is that I’m doing it for my Savior.

What’s that little saying? “Christ died for me, so I’ll live for him.” Paul didn’t say anything about onions in Acts 20, but I love the way he puts it:

“However, I consider my life worth nothing to me; my only aim is to finish the race and complete the task the Lord Jesus has given me—the task of testifying to the good news of God’s grace.”

Call it cliché. Call it traditional. Call it “aw-bless-her-little-heart” or dedicated or radical or just plain crazy. I find no greater satisfaction in this world than to know that God has called me here – “for such a time as this” – to live out this plan He has. For these people. And for me.

Life is not easy. It isn’t always fun. I sometimes lose perspective. I’ve wanted to throw in the towel.

But that’s when I can stop and thank God for the difficult days and uncomfortable truck rides. I can praise Him for those reminders (disguised as little trials) that prompt me to reflect on why I’m here and how incredible it is to be used by Him.

Sweet Summer School Moments

On By MitchenersIn AngelaLeave a comment

Although this summer was difficult in many aspects, it was also extremely rewarding. I wish I could do it all over again – only better. Heh. One of my favorite parts was getting to know our kindergartners on a deeper level and already seeing some learning progress.

Reading CornerIt was fun watching the kids recognize various sounds in English even though they don’t yet know the meaning of the words. One afternoon, a young lady from a visiting team read One Fish, Two Fish to the kids. She reached the section about Yinks who like to wink and drink pink ink. Listening to those rhyming words triggered a soft tittering in a few children until a contagious laughter overtook the entire group. I couldn’t stop giggling either – those sweet little faces had no idea how nonsensical Dr. Seuss’s words really were, yet they still found joy in hearing the funny sounds.

AnlleloI loved spending some precious time with Anllelo before school. (This sweet little man recently lost his mother and is now living with an aunt.) Anllelo would sometimes come to watch the Freedom team set up the classroom. A couple of mornings, I told him to stay with us instead of shooing him out with the other kids. He loved “helping” put the name tags out on the desks. “Angela! This is Rosa’s name, right?” “No, buddy, that says ‘Estefani’ – let’s find a tag that starts with the letter R.” I felt like I spent most of my prep time walking through those silly name tags with him instead of preparing for the day. But what sweet moments. He’s so hungry for some attention and love.

Bergica

Another surprising experience came when Bergica (right), our little ball of energy, stopped all wiggling as we discussed the story of Jesus’ crucifixion. She pointed up at the Roman soldiers nailing Jesus’ feet to the cross and angrily said, “Those men are bad!” We were able to talk about how Jesus willingly laid down his life for the sins of the world.

I loved seeing these sweet moments in the classroom this summer. There has been much progress. And much more growth remains. Gotta remember, it’s all part of the process.

This Started Out as an Update about Summer School…

On By MitchenersIn Angela10 Comments

What a whirlwind. We’re finishing up Week 5 of our water-themed, English-focused summer school. On a scale of “tired” to “bone-weary”, I’ve surpassed all normal exhaustion levels and moved into the “fatigue” arena. Most mornings, I wake up all fuzzy-brained and achy. I don’t feel like my Spanish (or my English) make any sense whatsoever. On top of that, my own little tornadoes (Noah and Leyton) need so much attention at this stage of life – I am constantly chasing them, attempting to keep them from demolishing everything they touch. Either that, or I’m feeling guilty for putting them to sleep in their cyclone of a room because I literally don’t have the strength to pick up every toy they own for the fifth time that day.

Sometimes I feel discouraged. Ok, scratch that. Most of the time, I feel discouraged. I get so drained from sending the same kids to the time-out corner in kindergarten. There are days that I am positive not one single word I belt out actually “sticks” in their brains. I hate that I don’t get to spend the amount of time I want to learning about each of their likes and dislikes and family life and social circles.

Frustration levels are through the roof. My computer just died a terrible death. We think we’ll be able to salvage the 2+ years of photos I never backed up. (Smart, Ang. Real smart.) If that file rescue doesn’t happen, I don’t want to think about the countless hours of lost research and planning and documents that I had prepared – for kindergarten alone.  Today, the power company cut our lights because the last tenants didn’t pay a ginormous bill. Thankfully, we’re stealing internet from our missionary friends. We’ve dropped a power cord down from their third story apartment to keep our fridge running. Welcome to mornings with cold showers and nights without fans. In other news, our jeep is with the mechanic – again. C’mon now. Wasn’t it just in the shop last week? (We missionaries get all giddy inside when we go a month without a car repair.)

There is no good conclusion here. Scott and I – we’re just tired. And discouraged. And frustrated. And maybe we’re complaining a little bit. In our minds, we know that the physical and mental and emotional exhaustion is temporary. We understand that if we let Him, God can use these little hardships to grow us in our relationships with Him. We realize that we are so blessed to have our home churches and families and friends encouraging us through visits and financial support. But in the middle of the difficulties, it’s hard to see the trials for what they are – more opportunities to allow God be lifted up in our lives.

If you think of it, we could use a little extra prayer tonight. We don’t just want to “grin and bear it.” Somehow, we want our Savior to be glorified in the middle of the mess.

 But he knows the way that I take;
when he has tested me, I will come forth as gold.

Job 23:10

 (Update: more extension cords are now running through our house – we have airflow! Praise Jesus.)

Enough

On By MitchenersIn Angela8 Comments

A dead soul coming to life after an encounter with a risen Savior. A Dominican and American finding a connection despite the language barrier. A child choosing to control his frustration instead of physically lashing out at a classmate.  How I love seeing God’s hand at work in the Dominican. Living here has given me more joy than I can express…

Today, however, is different. Today, I don’t have a cutesy story about a pre-schooler sharing a crayon or a miraculous example of a young boy accepting Christ. In reality, the past couple of weeks have brought some very real struggles for our family. I can’t point to one big moment where everything “fell apart.” Instead, we’ve been experiencing a thousand tiny frustrations that have slowly crawled under our skin. And we’ve been left scratching at those annoyances until the blood has started to flow.

I’d venture to say that the last 10ish days have been some of the hardest that Scott and I have endured since moving to the DR. We’ve dealt with feelings of failure, moments of miscommunication, battles with bitterness, and heaviness of heart. Some may call it homesickness. Others say it’s culture shock. Whatever the name, Satan has been using every strategy in his playbook to skew our perspectives, to keep us discouraged, to tempt us to listen to his lies. Talk about wrestling “against principalities, against powers, against the rulers of the darkness of this world, against spiritual wickedness in high places.” (Eph. 6:12, KJV)

A few nights ago, I felt like I had come to the end of myself. I didn’t know how to be there for my husband anymore. I didn’t know how to respond to some dashed plans we had made. I didn’t know how to take care of my babies who need me every waking hour.

But then I heard Him. Not so much audibly. Instead, God just whispered to my heart several times over a truth so simple – that He is enough.

Reminder #1 came resounding through Yuleisy’s computer speakers in the form of this song as we sat working in the office. Look at Me, He said. Quit focusing on these circumstances and worship Me for who I am. I am enough.

Reminder #2 came through an email from my dad: “This has been the strangest year of my life. But in all of the anxiety and doubts, I’ve learned things in ways I never had before. Over and over God keeps driving home this lesson: just place the little insufficient resources you have in His hands, and He will do His part. He has reasons. Always. Now is when faith is so important.” And so I heard Him again. I am enough.

Reminder #3 flooded over me as we traveled the bumpy, dusty roads in the early morning for another pre-school day. The landscape changes dramatically from our house to the bateyes – we roll through flat fields full of sugar cane, ride up and down a curvy mountain of sorts, drive over a calm yet dirty river, and cruise through a somewhat tropical, jungle area abounding with vines and forest trees. I heard the Voice again – the same Voice that spoke those words in Matthew 6 so many years ago: “Look at the birds of the air; they do not sow or reap or store away in barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them… See the flowers of the field grow. They do not labor or spin. Yet I tell you that not even Solomon in all his splendor was dressed like one of these…” Remember, child. I. am. enough.

I have to ask myself: do I really believe it? Do I really believe that God is big enough and good enough and loving enough to meet me where I’m at right now? In my head, I know that He is. He says so and proves so. But living that out in faith – that’s what I want.

A Shoe Shine

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“Shine ’em up real nice and I’ll pay you good.”

Scrawny, 9-year-old Moises reached into his backpack and slowly pulled out a rusty paint can, his brown and black shoe polishes, and some old buffing rags. I can’t imagine what was running through his little mind as Neal sat down on the stone bench and plopped a heavy boot up on the bucket for Moises to begin his work.

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“How long have you been at this today?” Neal curiously asked. “Since 7 o’clock,” Moises replied matter-of-factly.

It was late into the afternoon. People walked by, staring, smiling, even begging.

“How many customers have you had?” Without making eye contact, Moises answered quietly, “You’re my first one today.” He silently began cleaning Neal’s boots.

“Do you live with your parents?” was the next question. “No. With my grandma.”

Moises gingerly retied the shoe strings, added some polish, rubbed the color in with his index finger, and then buffed it all out.

Neal leaned forward. “You’re a hard worker, you know. I like that in a man. It’s important to work hard. You’re making a difference for your family in the right way. You’re not begging. And you’re not sitting back and just hoping things will work out.”

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Moises looked up. He gave the tiniest head nod in acknowledgement as he soaked in Neal’s words. Then he started working on the second boot.

Conversation drifted in and out. Neal told Moises about a work accident he’d endured years before. He’d cut off the tip of his thumb working hard on a job. Moises grimaced and shook his head. “You know what I’ve learned over the years, Moises? Never give up. Don’t ever quit doing the right thing, even if it’s hard to continue.”

A few minutes later, Moises gave Neal’s foot a pat as if to say he was finished. Neal inspected the boots. With a smile and a nod, he handed Moises his pesos and told him to keep up the good work. That little boy watched us as we walked back to our car, pulled away, and blended into the evening traffic.

What a small intersection in time. The gospel wasn’t given. Not in so many words. But a message full of wisdom and encouragement and love was passed from man to boy on the park sidewalk in the middle of San Pedro.

Maybe I’m being too optimistic or hopeful when I witness these simple moments. Maybe I romanticize the little things in life too often. But I can’t help but dream of the miraculous change that could take place in the life of Moises if God becomes the master of his ways.

Right now, Moises’s easel is his old, dented paint bucket. His paints are some cheap, colored shoe polishes. And his brushes are those old, cut-up rags he keeps in his little red bookbag.

Maybe one day, Moises will paint more than shoes.  Maybe someday, he’ll create gorgeous pictures for his customers – word pictures of God’s great love and mercy and grace and provision in his life. Maybe his conversation with Neal was a starting point. Or maybe some other Christ-follower will cross his path and show him the height and depth and richness of a Savior’s love.

I think that’s what I love so much about working with our little pre-schoolers. We don’t have to hope and pray for God to send us “shoe-shine” moments – although He still does. The amazing part is that we get to witness God transforming lives right before our very eyes. Every single day.

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What’s Your Name?

On By MitchenersIn AngelaLeave a comment

¿Cómo te llamas?  What’s your name?

I’ve probably asked kids that question the most since moving to the Dominican. When my Spanish vocabulary was minimal, it was an easy conversation starter. I’ve provided many a child with a case of the giggles while trying to pronounce the different-sounding syllables that make up their names.

After six months, my ear has become more accustomed to Spanish sounds and intonations. I still ask children about their names, and I’ve noticed something interesting – not every kid is called by his given name. It’s common for a child here to have an apodo, or nickname. For some parents living in the bateyes, a nickname is the difference between a normal life and a disastrous life for their kid. Some people believe that a child’s first name should be kept secret – apodos will hold witches and evil spirits at bay, hindering them from casting spells on the child. A nickname is chosen, often based on a person’s appearance or other identifying characteristic.

Simona and Chiqui

Several kids attending our pre-school are known by their nicknames. Not all of our students have apodos for superstitious or religious reasons, but we’ve had various instances where figuring out their real names has been an issue. One mother refused to tell Jason her son’s full name and birth date because she didn’t want anyone to hear her passing along the information.

It’s hard to imagine believing that the public announcement of one’s name could result in being cursed. I wonder if any of these kids grow up with the fear of speaking their real names aloud. I’m eager to see what a Christ-centered, bilingual education will do to change these kids’ view of themselves, their world, and the Creator who knew them before they ever had a name.

Asking these boys and girls about their names holds more weight for me now. I have a new goal when uttering my “¿Cómo te llamas?” question – to follow it with a prayer that God show these kiddos the identity that they can have in Him.

Faithful

On By MitchenersIn Angela, Dominican Republic3 Comments

The aguacatero still walks through our neighborhood every morning pushing his ramshackle cart of fresh produce and announcing, “Aguacates! Mandarinas! Manzanas de oro!” He has no idea that he’s calling out to one less person on our street.  He has no inkling that Federico passed from this world to another just 14 days ago.

It’s been two weeks. Two weeks filled with long and lonely hours for the family to process. To grieve. To figure out what “normal” looks like. To try to make sense of it all.  It’s been two weeks since a wife and a daughter and a sister had their entire world turned upside down in a moment.

It all happened so fast. Scott and I were working in the house, and Noah was playing in his room. Our neighbor called; she asked Scott to come quickly because Federico wasn’t doing well. Scott jogged across the street and into a small room to find a few people crowded around an unresponsive Federico. When Scott came back, he calmly and quickly pulled the car out into the street. They wanted to take Federico to the hospital – he’d possibly suffered a heart attack. I called for Pamela (our resident CPR/medical queen) and briefly explained what little we knew.  While she sprinted down the four flights of stairs and two blocks over to our house, I sat with Federico’s sister as she cried out for her brother. The men in the house carried him out to the street. Pam arrived and instructed them to get him flat so she could begin CPR. The men laid Federico in the back of our jeep, and Scott tried to wait for Pam to stabilize him. As Scott stepped out of the car to see if there was anything more he could do, a friend of the family jumped in the driver’s seat and zoomed down the street with the back door wide open, risking both Federico and Pam falling out! Kurt drove Scott to the hospital to find our vehicle.

Time slowed to a crawl. We brought Federico’s great-niece and nephew to our house to play with Noah while his sister rocked in the chair on her porch, crying and hoping for some good news. I watched as she received the phone call that he had passed. I could almost see the weight that she felt as she nearly fell to the ground in heartbreak. I went to her and held her hands as she repeated, “Angela, mi único hermanito! My only brother! My little brother!”

In that moment, I felt nothing but inadequacy. I wanted to do something to help. Say something to make it better. Carry some of the pain for her. Instead, all of the Spanish that I’ve learned over the last five months left me. As she cried in my arms, all I could say was “I know, I know.” At one point, I think I told her that we should pray, but no audible words ever left my lips.

Eventually, Federico’s wife and 16-year-old daughter returned from the hospital. My feelings of helplessness did nothing but grow. But I sat there with the daughter and hugged her and stroked her hair as she wept. As more family and friends arrived, I slipped out the gate and walked back to our house, praying silently that I hadn’t overstepped boundaries by being there – praying that God would bring them the peace and the strength and the comfort that no one on this earth can give.

Here we are, two weeks later. I don’t hear the crying as often. Friends and neighbors are gradually moving back to their normal routines.

The street vendor still petitions for people to buy the avocados and oranges he has to sell each morning. Life continues on.

I’ve been thinking recently about that bittersweet yet beautiful section in Ecclesiastes 3 that is often read at funerals.

There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under heaven: a time to be born and a time to die…

What a reminder that we are often subject to changes in life over which we have no control. I began flipping through the rest of Ecclesiastes, and I was struck once again by the simplicity and truth of Solomon’s closing words:

Now all has been heard; here is the conclusion of the matter: Fear God and keep his commandments, for this is the whole duty of man.

Revere God and remain faithful. That’s Solomon’s conclusion. The entirety of humanity – the whole duty of man – is centered on an unchanging and faithful God.

Federico’s wife and daughter came to see us last night. They tried to talk about normal, everyday things. And they tried to talk about Federico and their family. They tried to thank us – for what, I’m not sure. It didn’t matter what they said. I could see the sorrow that filled their faces as tears slowly spilled. They turned to leave, and we told them that Noah was praying for them every night before bed. We asked them to have dinner with us when they were ready.

What a testament these two ladies are to their Savior. In spite of the pain and the numbness and the questions, they are choosing to remain faithful to the Faithful One who is the constant in the midst of chaos.

Mud and a Sticker

On By MitchenersIn Angela1 Comment

I love being able to take part in our pre-school days – no matter if it’s helping a student with work, subbing for a teacher, or riding on the safari truck to and from Lima. Yesterday, our whole family made the trek out to the bateys. We didn’t help much in the classroom since we had our boys with us, but I had the opportunity to just “be”.

I exchanged a few words with wide-eyed Scarlette as she greeted me from across the room. I got my bear hug from smiling Reynabel as she waited patiently for the trash bag to come around during clean-up time. I snapped a picture of Alejandro meticulously drawing his trees and gluing his sun onto the craft page. I listened to the kids’ bubbly laughter as they watched Pam brushing Sammy’s teeth to show proper dental hygiene techniques.

But there was one moment that especially touched me yesterday morning. It was an exchange between two 4-year-olds that I don’t yet know well – Yefry and Yislena.

Since it had rained on Thursday, there were quite a few mud puddles and “dirt mines” around Lima come Friday. Each time the kids transitioned to another activity, the church had to be swept due to the mud deposits on the floor. During circle time, the children moved to their usual spot on the letter mat to listen to some stories featuring some angry ants and adorable puppies. The kids stared in amazement at the colorful pictures and listened in wonder to the strange-sounding English words streaming from Pam’s mouth. I was sitting near the back, helping students who got off-task; I’d quietly try to move their attention back to the story.

That’s when I saw Yefry and Yislena. They were hunched over, apparently talking or messing with something on the floor. I was getting ready to “shush” them and point them up to the ant army that was marching across apples and around aardvarks.  But instead, I paused and watched as a beautiful picture of friendship played out in front of me. Yislena had some mud caked on her ankle from the messiness of the day. And Yefry was leaned over, wiping it off with his bony little hand. After his attempt to clean off the mud, he saw that her leg was still dirty. He licked his skinny, muddy fingers so he could rub off the rest of the dirt. And then it was over. They both moved their attention back to the story and continued with the daily routine.

It was a simple thing. A moment that came and went quickly. Yislena didn’t hug Yefry or verbally thank him for his help. And Yefry didn’t seem to expect that from her. He saw a need and quietly took care of it.

As I was going through my photos later, I found one of Yefry and Yislena. Again, my heart was touched. I noticed something on Yislena’s shirt: a sticker! At first I was confused. She hadn’t answered a question in class in order to receive a prize. I looked more closely and realized that Yefry had again shown love to Yislena. The sticker that he had been given for answering a question correctly was ripped in half, one part on his shirt and the other half placed on hers.

Our pre-schoolers are slowly discovering what it looks like to learn, obey, and love others. What a joy to see love in action in the heart of a child.  A little mud and a ripped sticker were the mediums this time.  So excited to see the continued growth in these precious little boys and girls.

Hurricane Sandy

On By MitchenersIn Angela6 Comments

Hurricane Sandy left us a couple of presents today – a power outage and an almost flooded house.  Instead of completing the 50-million-bajillion tasks we were hoping to accomplish, Scott (and Kurt and Jason and Josh) spent the afternoon getting all of our furniture, electric wires, and whatnot off the floors.

Talk about a close call.  We were up to our shins in water in the carport and had centimeters to spare before water entered the house.  I took the boys over to the Hilgeman’s fourth floor apartment while the guys sawed up some boards to put in our doorways.  And then it stopped raining.  A little anti-climactic after all the hard work, but thankful that nothing crazy happened!  We spent the rest of the day mopping and cleaning and reorganizing the house.

Our carport and “front yard” underwater

End of our street

San Pedro after Hurricane Sandy’s rain

Noah doesn’t have a room to sleep in since his ceiling is leaking.  Seriously leaking.  We have no hot water and no washer/dryer since our breaker box exploded last night – half of the rooms don’t have electricity.  The growing pile of laundry, the giant stack of dishes, and the haphazardly-placed furniture in the middle of the floor will probably just have to stay until tomorrow.

In spite of the crazy day, we’re blessed.  Neighbors across the street were bailing water out of their house all day.  I’m so very thankful for my beautiful family and helpful missionary friends and kind neighbors.

Until the next “adventure”!