Tag: family moves

  • early morning brewing

     

    I miss early morning’s that look like this. Ben making coffee while teaching the four year old proper brewing methods, you know… normal stuff. As Ben is away and the house hunt in Burundi continues, it is beginning to sink in that this is our last breath before the plunge. Our life in South Africa is rapidly coming to a close. It’s weeks now instead of months.

    We have spent a third of our lives here and the community that surrounds us is voluminous. There are people here that it breaks our hearts to leave. Ten years ago, when we left our families and moved to this new place with just four suitcases to our names, we put down roots.  We reached out and built relationships with abandon, and we found a new family. They in no way replace our family in the States, instead they are a whole different family… but no easier to leave behind.

    Luv,

    Kristy

     

  • Why Go.

    This little ditty was made because we want you to travel on this adventure with us. We need all the moral support and prayers we can get, we really truly do. And we want you to know why we are making this risk, why we believe it’s worth it.

    Long Miles Coffee Project from Cooked in Africa on Vimeo.

    The guys over at Cooked reworked this little vid for us and we think that’s just great. It was great before, but whew… now it’s a stunner. Shelly of Make My Day Pictures shot all the footage (except the Burundi bits) and became our friend in the process.

  • Packing for Burundi

    I can’t say this has been an exceptional week.  I was on the phone with Wesley from Cooked in Africa Films and he could pick it up over the phone.  “You don’t sound your positive self Ben.”  And I haven’t.  It’s not so much the sheer mountain of logistics and details to organize, though the little things like visa’s for the five country-11 day road trip to Burundi do add up.  It’s an all-round atmosphere thing.

    Tension in the house with so many big decisions on our shoulders, and no more time to procrastinate has put the pressure on.  Four year old Boy Adventurer picks up on this and cranks up the whining to level 7.5.  Then teething Boy Biter adds in with non-stop whimpering and crying as four teeth try to break through his poor little gums all at once.  Ending nearly a decade of life in Durban South Africa seems to be filled with frustration and a time-bomb of anxiety and pressure dangling just above our heads.

    With all this boiling over frustration the best thing for me to do is go to Burundi, and leave Camera Girl with our two little darling boys and all the packing (hoping this blog post go’s unread by Kristy).  Reality is that I need to set up our business in Burundi and open a bank account so that we can get a work visa to live in the country.  Good news is that the ex-prime minister of the country and I have been talking and met a couple of times and he has his best lawyer working on this for us.  Then I need to travel into the hills to make initial contact with all the washing stations, convincing them to send me daily samples of their parchment coffee and find a person who can help me start to collect these samples, label them and make sure the washing stations follow through on any agreements we make.  Oh, yes, and the only other non-Burundian doing this just got death threats against him (don’t tell grandma).  To add to the legal stuff there is the “find a house” issue.  I don’t say issue lightly.  Burundi is a country with no real-estate agents or websites with video walk through tours and emails inquiry buttons to find out more details.  It’s a “drive around at night looking for dark windows because those are the houses no-one is living in and might be rentable” sort of place.  I’m going to be doing a lot of night driving next week.

    On the lighter side…. I do get to fly with a suitcase full of the first things we can leave in Bujumbura next week.  And with that added pressure/joy, the packing for Burundi begins.

    Coffee Guy

     

  • Home is…

    At the risk of sounding vain, I am going to share with you that one of my highest values is aesthetics. Just staring at beautiful things… man made or made by God fills my soul. The mountains, the lakes, the palm trees, the veins of a leaf, the sun light through the trees… and the cute dress, the lovingly hand knit blanket, the beautifully bound book, the amazing DIY project. It’s what makes me… me.

    Having an appreciation for these “things” makes me a better wife, a better mom, a better photographer… and it grows my love for God. That might sound funny, but it’s true. When I look at something beautiful He’s made “WOW” my heart goes pitter pat. And when I watch someone at work, doing what they do best, creating something beautiful, I am in awe of how God places visions and gifts inside people that just, when nurtured… grow. The truth is… I am inspired by beautiful things, the bought and the not.

    Soon I will be placing everything pretty I own, just about, into a vehicle headed for Burundi. That vehicle needs to travel 4,052 Kilometers through 3 or 4 border patrols over dirt, mud, tar and rock before it reaches Bujumbura. Once it’s there, if things don’t work out in our new home country… we have no clue how we would get our things out again. The same goes for the dog. Once we bring her in, I have no clue if we can get her out. The only thing I know we can get out is us. The thing that matters most… us.

    It is a fragmented feeling to put everything that makes a house a “home” to you inside a vehicle traveling an insane distance through dangerous territory with no back up. By everything, I especially mean the driver. Ben is the heartbeat of this family and the love of my life. Sending him on such a volatile journey just so that we can have a few our “things” in Burundi could be something I deeply regret if it doesn’t go as planned. Scratch that, of course it won’t go as planned, it never does in Africa. What I meant is… if something happened to him how in the world would I cope?

    So what if the curtains and towels and pots and pans and baking utensils and cookbooks and pillows and bedding and blankets and kids toys and kids books and even the medical supplies don’t make it? So nothin’. We would be fine, but having those things that remind us all that we are “home now” would bring us a whole lot of ease and comfort.

    My nervousness about this trip is not being helped by my  hubby who tonight said, “Oh… FOOD! We should probably pack some of that to eat on the way.” Yeah… let’s just say Coffee Guy is not into details, unless that detail involves coffee. Luckily for us, Ben had to delay his vehicle trip for a few weeks while we pray, on our knees, for all the vehicle funding to come though. In the meantime, he will have to fly up next week to house hunt and visit all the coffee farms he can. Oh, that reminds me… what should go up in that fist suitcase with Ben? Gotta think about that.

    Luv,

    Kristy

    image via Pintrest


  • The Stress-O-Meter

    Warning: These images have nothing to do with this blog post, except that looking at early morning moments with my boys makes me less stressed. You? Hmmm… doesn’t have the same effect on you? That’s weird.

    Once I took a crazy spring break trip with four cars worth of college students on their way to Florida for some sun. When you live in Minnesota, where winter barely ever ends, a trip to sunny Florida is the stuff dreams are made of. On the 24 hour drive we had walkie-talkies between the cars, and we traveled in a pack. Traveling was tricky with so many people who all have bladders, bladders that can only hold so much. Our four cars equaled over 20 bladders with very individual needs.

    That’s when my friend Amy, always ingenious, devised the Bladder Ladder. One being “We barely gotta go”, five being “Stop if the place doesn’t look too scuzzy”, and ten being “Oh boy, pull over before someone explodes”. Conversations between the cars went something like this, “Breaker-breaker-one-niner we’ve got an eight on the Bladder Ladder here. Over.” “Rodger that Green Monster and ten-four, that sounds BAD. We’ll find a ditch. Over.” To which a trucker, usually listening in, would reply, “You damn kids should get off this radio, what are you talkin’ about?”

    I now use the Bladder Ladder with my four year old hooligan Myles and it works like a charm, except that his answer is always a “one”. Always. I have also introduced a new gauge to our family life, the Stress-O-Meter. At one you’re sittin’ pretty, at five you feel like you can hang on to all things sane without banging your hands in repetition against the sides of your head, at eight your heart is palpitating wildly and your pupils are dilated and you are sweating bullets, and at ten it’s over. At ten you’ve crunched up into a tiny weeping ball on the floor. No tens… yet. I have visions that this lovely little “o-meter” of mine will be an excellent gauge for the health of our family. Ok, probably not, but it will hopefully take the edge off… of someone.

    Did you know that in just over a week Ben is hoping to drive our household goods through the heart of Africa to Burundi with our crazy neighbor Adrien as his side-kick? Did you know we still don’t have all the money we need for the vehicle they are supposed to “drive forth” in? Did you know I have no clue what to pack into that vehicle? Did you know that I worry that they will get hijacked or worse if they make this trip? Did you know that this week a cockroach crawled up my arm? It did! I flicked it off while screaming and running and doing a wacky string bean dance across the house. Then I laughed until I cried, along with everyone who witnessed it. Ben might not ever let me live that down. Ever. Did you know I sweat buckets when I’m stressed? Buckets. And I pace, I’m a pacer, I admit it. At least I don’t fart when I’m stressed. I’d never tell you that’s what my brother Brett does. Never ever.

    I’m sitting at about a 5 right now on the fancy dancy brand spankin’ new Stress-O-Meter. No a 6, yeah… definitely a 6.

    Wish me luck,

    Kristy

  • Expanding.

    Last night we signed papers to sell the house. It is a solid offer, and we”ll know within a few days if the whole thing is going through. I know it will, I can feel it. This is it. In eight weeks we will have the family packed and we will be leaving the place that I have called home for nearly a decade. The home I brought my children home from the hospital to. The home where we’ve had countless parties and numerous family style suppers, to the sound of the African night birds and the sight of twinkling fairy lights. We’ve hosted countless guests from all over the world here. Grandparents. Friends from college. Friends of friends. They have all had a space here. This is our home. Here we have journeyed into the people we have become. We’ve… Become parents here. Laughed here. Cried here. Lost things. Gained things. Failed. Succeeded. Pursued a big dream. Seen it come to life, seen it flourish, seen it move us.

    As I was photographing the most beautiful pregnant woman in the world yesterday, I could not help but think… as this baby comes, we will leave. Two births at one time. I feel tied to this baby I have not met, but already love. We are linked, because this baby is our starting marker. We will look back on life with these friends and say, “Don’t you remember, we left for Burundi when she was born.” As that baby grows multitudes every day inside her adoring mom, I am aware that this is urgent. Time is overpoweringly short, and this little baby girl has become my inspiration. She reminds me every day that I have to grow too. If I can not expand my comfort zone every day and embrace this journey every day I know I will fail to meet this amazing year head-on.

    Despite the sadness at leaving this house and this life, I am awe struck at the perfect timing of it all. Had we sold the house at any other time, we would have had to rent somewhere else before we left and it would have put our family in an uncomfortable limbo. For this perfect timing, I credit God in all his amazing-timing-ness. I am very grateful, and very sad. Now I have to decide what parts of my life will fit into 6 suitcases and one vehicle that will journey with Ben on an 11 day drive from Durban, up through the heart of Africa, hopefully arriving in one piece in Burundi. He will drive a vehicle that we have not bought yet, and that we have no idea how we will afford, on roads that I am trying desperately not to worry about, through countries that make my totally nervous. Here. We. Go. It’s time to trust.

    Luv,

    Kristy

     

     

     

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