Tag: risk taking

  • Huntin’ Monkeys

    My brother came by for a visit a few weeks ago (he just hopped on a quick 30 hr flight to get here) and on his last day with us he had one request: monkeys. He wanted to see MONKEYS! To us, monkeys are a little like the neighborhood skunk that everybody hates. Annoying, a little bit dangerous, totally unpredictable and really hard to find if you are looking for them. Looking for them is like looking for a needle in a haystack. It’s like that Forrest Gump line, “You never know what you’re gonna get.”

    We packed up and went-a-huntin’ and as usual, I was totally the sceptical one. Whining on about how we might never find them, until we practically ran over them in the road five minutes after the hunt began. Sometimes, things seem a lot harder in the beginning than they actually are. I keep telling myself that in these last days before the big move. I’m especially hoping it’s true re learning French!

    Here’s what’s goin’ on:

    • Our beloved Jeep finally sold, to friends who are more like family.
    • Last Friday Ben brought home a ’99 Land Cruiser (pics coming soon). This will be our vehicle in Burundi, and Ben leaves to drive it from here (Durban, South Africa) to there (Bujumbura, Burundi) in just a few days. The drive itself will take about a week.
    • Yesterday Ben was in Cape Town, just for the day, to meet with some lovely people from Starbucks (Hi, guys!) about our project in Burundi.
    • We just found out, as we are about to move, that we have been granted permanent residency in South Africa. This is a big deal for us as a family. We feel so connected to South Africa that it just feels right to be permanent residents.
    • We set a for-sure-no-going-back moving date. The 23rd of June. It’s on people, it’s on.
    • My bedroom is covered with packed plastic bins that I am convinced will fit in the back of the Land Cruiser.
    • We found someone, after loooots of searching, who is willing to fly our Great Dane from Durban to Bujumbura.

    Do you follow us on Twitter and are you a fan on Facebook? If not, we would love it if you would! With all this activity and so little time to type, right now it’s the best way to find out what’s up with us.

    It’s the final days and our heads are swollen with details and our hearts are bogged down with the strain of goodbyes. Despite the stress, we are finding time to laugh with good friends and wrestle with the boys. Breathing deeply these last moments in South Africa, our favorite adopted land.

    Luv,

    Kristy

    photos all scott e. knutson

     

     

     

  • the road to burundi

    The road to Burundi is probably not paved with cheese, just like it wasn’t in an American Tail. All the mice sang about it, about a place where the streets were paved with cheese, where there were no cats. A threat-less path made of food sounds pretty good to me right now too!

    I can’t sleep. I really want too, but I can’t. There are so many details flying around in my head… so many things stressing me out. The truth is, I don’t think we are great with big huge detail oriented things… like moves. Yesterday Ben told me that he thinks he should leave for Burundi with the vehicle on Monday. It’s Wednesday. Do we have a vehicle? No. Can we afford to buy one? No. Does he have visas to get through the borders he’s going to cross? No. Have I packed what will go in the vehicle? I’ve started, but really… No.

    Then, if I turn my head two inches in the other direction I start to think about how today I signed my house away. I signed it away, just like that. The place I brought my babies home to. Our first home. A home in a city that I love… a city that loves me. When we bought this house we wanted it to be a home that was always welcoming. A place people could journey to and feel safe, as if they had arrived at their home away from home and were immediately a part of the family. It has been that for so many, including ourselves.

    On Saturday we sold off most of our household belongings. It was like our house had vomited on the lawn. Ten years of life in a place laid out bare, for everybody to pick through. Watching people look at my things and decide if they wanted it and then haggle on the price was a bit too much for me. So, I hung out away from the sale and had good talks with great friends and pretended none of it was happening. Friends volunteered to take money and run the whole thing, and even make everybody coffee. My dad is here all the way from America, along with my little brother Scott, and he watched the kids all day while we sold. And sold. And sold. I feel such gratitude for people like these, it was a labor of love.

    I will say that it is kind of freeing to be sort of possession-less. It feels good to know that our things will be of good use to others and we can move on with just the essentials. The essentials, at this point, include a whole lot of dark chocolate.

    Luv,

    me

  • 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

  • The Beginning

    Ben began his journey in to help the farmers of Burundi produce better coffee this week. He’s also on the hunt for the best beans Burundi has to offer, so that he can get them into the hands of coffee shops who want to buy directly from farmers.

    Ben’s trip to Burundi this week did not yield a house, but the beginnings of his work with the farmers was a great success.

    What do you think of those roads? Egh? Pretty intense!

    Long Miles Coffee Project 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.

  • 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


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