Tag: major life changes

  • An Open Letter

    An Open Letter

    Dear One in the sky and in my heart,

    What is your plan?

    I would really like to know.

    The thing is, it’s hard work trusting you right now.

    Why that is, I’m not sure.

    Probably because I am a tiny speck and I never really understand what’s going on.

    It’s not like you’ve EVER failed us.

     Faith.

    It’s a funny thing believing in what you don’t see,

    and yet seeing it all around AT THE SAME TIME.

    You know about our curve ball,

    the one that has us LEANING IN for comfort.

    It’s not a Major League curve ball, more like Little League…

    but it changes some things.

    I hate change and YET

    when I look back, my FULLEST moments

    have been TRUSTING YOU

    through CHANGE.

    The births of them, the births of dreams… all the births and firsts that come from saying “YES.”

    Saying YES.

    It’s so hard sometimes.

    I’m going to cry the whole way through this YES, even though it feels so true.

    So right.

    So YOU.

    For the record,

    I stand here in AWE of what YOU’VE done for us.

    Tiny people. Blessed people.

    When I look back on life,

    my only regret so far is not saying YES more OFTEN.

    And BTW,

    “Thank You” is just not ever going to be enough.

    Love,

    Me

    p.s. Sorry for all the whining I do along the way.

     

  • A Christmas round-up

    I think our whole family is finally coming out of our “we just got here” coma. We made it home to America in time for Christmas!  In case you are new to the blog or just don’t get a chance to read every post (how could you!) we’ve rounded up a highlight reel for you.

    We began our move by sending the vehicle first. Ben left to drive our South African purchased vehicle from our home in South Africa 5,500 kms through Africa to Burundi. The first day of the journey his traveling companion had to turn back because of visa issues. He went on to do the drive alone (here’s my nifty map of the drive) which scared the crap outta me. The trip was not exactly convenient. I was left alone with two kids and a mostly packed house on our ten year anniversary.

    Then, as Ben drove on, my heart was tested and it was almost more than I could bear. My sweet littlest little got sick, so sick. We were in the hospital, friends were watching my oldest (some of the best friends on earth), and I was just praying that my littlest would breathe.

    Our littlest made a full recovery, and Ben eventually made it back to South Africa. When he did he was feeling pressure that we should have moved to Burundi already because the coffee was rolling in. That made my heart break because I was not ready to leave my lovely South African life. Certianly not before our schedule said so. But then we were there, it was time to jump. Ready or not.

    And we did. We landed with a thud. Into a house with 20 construction workers crawling all over it, a film crew following us around, and a kid throwing rocks through windows. Ben began cupping coffee all day long every day to try and catch up on his job. The boys and I just tried to survive. Every day was a test of my resolve to stay… and we had only just landed.

    Eventually the construction stopped. Not because they were finished, but because they ran out of money. I didn’t care. I was happy just to have them out. We began to make friends. I knew how to drive through all of this and life gained a rhythm. And we found ourselves preparing for a big day. Our biggest little’s first day in a French speaking school. When that day came, soon after so did another. A very unplanned for day. Ben had a potentially life threatening staph infection. We were faced with questions. Should he be airlifted to Kenya or South Africa? Should we risk the care in Burundi and stay? We decided to stay.

    He recovered, but I was tired. Tired of living at a flat out crazy man’s pace. We decided to make some changes. Changes that would ensure we could live life better. We found a nanny, we set some work boundaries, we made time for things that mattered. Then I lost something. Someone, really, who had journeyed with our family for what felt like a century, even though it was just a decade.

    Somewhere in there I got my first medium format film camera. I began to shoot. It was more than just a camera for me. I fell in love with the beauty of slowing down. Of taking time for things that need time. Of appreciating one thing at a time. The list goes on. My kids began to thrive. They made friends. Great friends. We began to see that this decision of ours, to be in this crazy place, might just be a blessing to all of us after all.

    And now it’s Christmas and I am so thankful to be in the land of warm and consistent showers… no matter what the temperature is outside. Merry Christmas to you and yours.

    Love,

    me

  • You moved your family where?

    We have a great big hope. But this week it seems like a great big stinky bog is attempting to snatch away our hope and our joy along with it.

    Burundi can swoop in and make you question things.

    Things like your sanity at bringing your family… To where?
    Or, will our vision for holistic change take root amongst these coffee farmers?

    Or on a more base level will the combination of: wild boys, construction at our new home, people EVERYWHERE, tripping-surging electricity, internet that promised the world and gave us dile-up, non stop cupping by me, cameras, one car (ie one camera girl stuck in constructionvill), and no French drive us over the edge?

    My optimism has threatened to give way to “frustration,” or other words could be used. A friend and local videographer said “so the honeymoon is over.” I don’t think we took that package.

    Kristy calls this rose-colored optimism (especially with time) “unrealistic.” I like to think “why not?” “Why couldn’t we do that?” I love possibility. We are living on potential and faith doing exactly what we asked for.

    That’s how I ended up in coffee. That’s why I see so much hope in individuals.

    Plus, I’m here to hunt for the best coffee in the country, in all of Africa! And to authenticly and naturally make a holistic difference in people’s lives. How? I really don’t know to be honest. Its a process. Its more being willing to follow God, and less “out of my way I’m a big deal.” What I do know is the last lot of Bwayi I cupped yesterday was near tear producing sweetness. High grown, farmer loved, hand picked, 100% arabica goodness.

    So are we in a bog? No, says Mr. Optimism, we’re just finding our way in the worlds second poorest country. Still, I give myself the permission to ask “I moved my family where?”

    Welcome to Burundi Carlson family.

    Coffee guy

  • what would you do?

    Friends of this blog, I really need your help. I know that this is a decision that only we can make, but I need to hear your outside perspective. I need to know what you would do if you were me, more for the comfort of knowing I’m not alone in this than anything else.

    You see, we have this Great Dane named Ella. She’s almost ten and has lived a long life full of bed laying and couch stealing comfort. I love her to bits. She has been through so much with us. Even now, like she does every few minutes, she has found me and curled up at my feet.

    We want to take her with to Burundi, we really truly do. If we do, she will spend 30 hours in a small crate overnight in hot Ethiopia. She won’t be let out, given water or food or cared for all all. She will be treated like cargo, alive or not. When she finally reaches Burundi she will have spent 30 hours in that small crate in hot and then cold and then hot conditions. She will have been loaded and then unloaded and then loaded again and then unloaded. She will have been terrified. I know my girl, she hides under the desk at the whisper of thunder.

    Then there’s this great family. They are neighbors and best friends all rolled into one. They have a big place with a huge garden and lots of spaces for exploring. They have two dogs that love Ella already and two kids that she has been around since they were born… and they have offered to give Ella a home.

    Ella’s breeder thinks the trip will kill her, she told me putting her down might even be the best option. Ella’s vet thinks she will handle the trip with ease, even though he preformed major surgery on her just 6 months ago. Who’s right? In the end, let’s be real, this is probably not as much about Ella as it is about me. I don’t know if I can let go. Not of her. I’ve let go of my house, my car, all of my stuff… until this point the letting go has felt GOOD. Like a new lease on life, like a chance to shed some pounds and live lighter. But now, at the thought of Ella, it is only pain that I feel.

    I know she’s just a dog, but she’s more than that to me. I know she’s old and spending the money to get her there might only allow us a few more years with her at the most. But my heart breaks at the thought of leaving her behind.

    What would you do?

    Love,

    Kristy

  • overwhelmed

    Getting ready to sell off most of our things tomorrow.

    It’s kind of sad and a little scary, but mostly just draining.

    No time to write, gotta get back to organizing.

    But I wanted to say “hi”.

    Hi.

    Until a calmer day…

     

  • The Teeny Tiny Human Dilemma

    undefinedundefined Moving has forced me to deal with my life and my future with head on brutal honesty. In this “moving space” I have to answer for everything I own. It all needs to be justified and categorized and color coded (ok, not really… but if my friend Trish were here, she’d have different colored post-its all over the place).

    Sell it or give it away.
    Store it.
    Move it to Burundi.

    Sometimes this categorizing feels freeing, like a chance at a new pared down way of life. At other times it makes me mad. Mad that I have to categorize at all. Mad that I can’t just own something because it’s beautiful. I am tired of justifying the endless uses of a potato masher to myself before packing it in the “going to Burundi” box. I don’t get a moving truck, just the back of a vehicle and a couple of suitcases. There is simply no room for things that can’t prove their purpose to me. Which means you can usually find me following Ben around the house like a puppy with before mentioned potato masher in hand, waving it while yelling, “Do they have potatoes there?” “What about pasta, did you see any pasta?”

    My boys, like all tiny humans, grow like absolute weeds and today I confronted the growing pile of itsy bitsy baby clothes that no longer fit my rolly poly 16 month old. They have been sitting there, staring at me, for months. Do I place them in storage in the hopes of having another teeny tiny human someday? Or, do I part with them here and now. Buying new clothes for a perfectly similar baby boy (just assuming, considering my track record) seems like a waste with all these cute baby clothes staring up at me. So does storing them if there’s never going to be another little man. Then there’s the additional, but unthinkable, variable… what if it’s a girl. That’s when my brain went into a tailspin and I began following Ben around, not with a potato masher, but with one big question… “Hunny, do you think we are going to have more kids?” Poor Coffee Guy, he just gave me a look like I had stabbed him in the side. Ok, so maybe that was a little too much pressure, but what am I supposed to do about this teeny tiny clothing dilemma?

    You see, I already know what it’s like, opening those forgotten boxes. Staring at things you don’t remember ever owning and thinking to yourself, “Why on earth did I ever think this was worth keeping?” “How old IS this?” “Does this even work?” I’ve been there, I was the bride who stored her wedding gifts in her parents basement, never used, and took off for a faraway land. Is that kind of bride even in a category? Maybe like “Adventure Bride” or “Faraway Bride” or “Other Continent Bride.” Anyway, before I start coming up with even stranger bride categories, it’s here I stop, except to tell you that most of my little boy’s teeny tiny things now reside at the center for abandoned babies, Shepherd’s Keep, just two minutes from our house. I think they will be put to a much better, truer more beautiful use there. Letting go is a beautiful thing.

    Luv,

    Kristy (the mother of a toddler not a newborn)

  • supper time

    supper time

    Every night around the supper table we ask each other about the day. The goal being that the meal becomes more than just a battle to get the kids fed, it becomes instead our time to connect and “debrief”.  Our time to teach our kids about what it means to take an interest in one other, care for each another, and look out for each other.

    It’s our way of changing the focus of the meal from “getting the kids fed” and “shovelling it in” to appreciating the beauty of good food and a shared meal. We try to slow down and make eye contact, and not focus on our kid’s plates and our plates and the glasses being tipped over… with a four year old and a one year old this is a work in progress, but that’s ok, because the message of the meal will be the same for years to come.

    I always smile when four year old Myles straightens his back, looks around and pronounces in a grown up voice, “Mommy how was your day today?” Today I spent most of my day in worry and anxiety, and I couldn’t help but wish for a “do over.” A chance to go back and fully embrace the words below. To live them. To understand the beauty of trust. A chance to have a different answer at the supper table.

    Don’t fret or worry.

    Instead of worrying, pray.

    Let petitions and praises shape your worries into prayers, letting God know your concerns.

    Before you know it, a sense of God’s wholeness, everything coming together for good, will come and settle you down.

    It’s wonderful what happens when Christ displaces worry at the center of your life.

    Summing it all up, friends, I’d say you’ll do best by filling your minds and meditating on things

    true,

    noble,

    reputable,

    authentic,

    compelling,

    gracious—

    the best, not the worst;

    the beautiful, not the ugly;

    things to praise, not things to curse.

    Put into practice what you learned from me, what you heard and saw and realized.

    Do that, and God, who makes everything work together, will work you into his most excellent harmonies.

    ~Philippians 4:6-9 (The Message)

    The thing about a harmony is, it involves trusting others, and it involves more than just one voice. Here’s to letting go of fear and anxiety, and embracing one excellent harmony.

    Kristy

  • House Hunting In Burundi

    Here’s a clip of Ben’s house hunting efforts last week in Burundi. He didn’t find a house that worked for us, but we are crossing fingers and praying like mad that the right place will come along soon.

    House Hunting in Burundi from longmilescoffee on Vimeo.

  • 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.

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