I Finally Let Myself Say It

I finally let myself say it.

I've been waiting for someone else to say it. Another mom. Another missionary. Anyone really.

But no one ever did. They'd say, "Wow, how do you do it?" or watch while I fumble--oh how I fumble--at trying to control screaming, whining, disobedient children, be a “good” missionary, maintain my sanity.

A house full of sinners just like me.

And all the while I kept thinking, "I don't know how I do it. I just know I do because I don't have a choice." I have been in survival mode for months now and I just wanted someone to take my stubborn, I-won't-ask-for-help-but-please-offer-it-and-I’ll-take-it-in-a-hartbeat hand and say, "It's ok. This thing you're doing, it's hard work."

I wanted permission to feel overwhelmed and burnt out. I wanted to hear that this "if-I-can-just-get-through-the-day" mentality is normal at times—or almost always—and does eventually pass.

But no one ever said that. Which in my mind just confirmed that something was wrong. I should be able to do this with a smile on my face and patience in my voice.

Then I read this book and I felt the greatest sense of relief because finally someone said it.

This is hard, overwhelming, exhausting work.

And I'm doing just fine.

I'm doing just fine because I realize I can't do it right on my own. And I'm learning—learning to lean on the One who can make all things right and new.

There are days I can muster up just enough strength to get out of bed after a long night with my one year old who still wants to nurse and stumble to the kitchen as I remind my whining, apparently famished older children that, yes, they will get breakfast this morning, just like every morning.

I go through my days of washing dishes piled high and sweeping the floors for the umpteenth time and wiping noses and settling disputes and running to grab the laundry off the line because its starting to rain again. Somewhere in there I mean to sit down and practice the alphabet with my oldest and work on numbers again with my boy, but my littlest is tired and now it's time for lunch and I need to pump more water and my washer is beeping at me and a family of Indians just showed up and well, I'll just remind myself that my kids won't be 30 years old and not know their numbers and letters.

I look at my life and remind myself of this:

Raising little humans is hard work.

Being a wife is hard work.

Living in the jungle is complicated, hard, exhausting work.

Constantly thinking and speaking in your second or third language is mentally exhausting.

Adopting a child out of birth order, with a traumatic past, and that doesn't speak your first language is exponentially challenging.

Rarely getting to speak to or see family and friends is emotionally taxing.

Living in another culture is frustrating, lonely, exhausting at times.

Now take all these and add them up and you get a messy, tiring, hard job.

So I'm trying to lighten up a little myself. Let myself mess up every now and then [or often, as the case may be] and rather than beat myself up over it, I'm learning to slide back under that umbrella of grace and say, "Thank you, Jesus, that your mercies are new every day and that your grace endures forever".

I'm so thankful that God is sovereign and that He has a plan for my children, my husband, and me that can't be thwarted. I can freely acknowledge my incompetence and failures and it is in that freedom that I find the motivation to try again.

To lean on the One who makes all things new.

To let my failures be growing moments instead of defeating mountains.

To trust Him as he takes me through the fire to make me pure as gold.

To stop worrying about what others think and say, because God knows me.

God knows me.

This is hard work. Just like Jesus promised it would be.

But oh how sweet to know He also promised He'd walk us through it, patiently, lovingly, always.

Is it time you let yourself say it, too?

“For it was You who created my inward parts; You knit me together in my mother’s womb. I will praise You because I have been remarkably and wonderfully made. Your works are wonderful, and I know this very well. My bones were not hidden from You when I was made in secret, when I was formed in the depths of the earth. Your eyes saw me when I was formless; 

All my days were written in Your book and planned before a single one of them began.”

Psalm 139.13-16

Broken Teeth and Broken Lives: If We Weren't "Just" Moms

We read the document line by line, our plea to the judge to make this brown-eyed girl our own.  Our lawyer had drawn it up for us, ensuring that while this would be a lengthy process, it really was not all that complicated.

“Richard Whittemore, married, pilot, resident at….”

So far so good.

“Ashley Whittemore, married, just a mom, resident at…”

I paused.

“Just?” I said. “Just a mom?”

It was clear that the irony of the situation was lost on our lawyer. But because my third language is not yet apt to communicate emotions appropriately, I chose to let it go.

But later I began to think through the implication of that one little word “just”, tossed in there, seemingly out of habit. After all, this is not normal legal lingo. He didn’t say that Richard is “just a pilot” or that we were “just married” or “just residents”.

He was, knowingly or otherwise, communicating a common perception that this whole thing about raising up little humans is “just” something to be done.

Something we take care of in our spare time.

I decided to flip the situation around so maybe we can get a better idea. Maybe we can see what happens when someone is not “just” a mom.

I can do this because I am living it.

Because our adopted daughter’s birth mom JUST didn’t brush her daughter’s teeth, my daughter now has an ongoing gum infection. Several of her adult teeth are now mere fragments and she will have to have crowns to replace them. We have to do a mouth treatment several times a day, just to try to keep the infection at bay.

Because she JUST didn’t watch out for her daughter, but left her in the streets as a vulnerable little girl, my daughter now has scars from experiences that no adult should endure, much less a child. These will affect her for years to come and we will constantly deal with the psychological effects.

Because she JUST didn’t feed her child, but left her to eat candy and Cheetos all day, my daughter looks like she has highlights in her hair, but it’s the effects of malnutrition. For the first two weeks she lived with us, she asked us every single day if she would get to eat.  She didn’t know the word for dinner. Before bed she would ask if she could eat again tomorrow.  We had to teach her to chew thoroughly, take reasonable sized bites, eat slowly, enjoy the food because she devoured every meal as if it were her last.

Because she JUST didn’t bathe her daughter, my daughter had a massive scalp infection that required two medications and a special shampoo for two weeks to heal the infection and kill the unbelievable amount of lice that had taken up residence in her hair.

Because she JUST didn’t care about the educational needs of her daughter, my daughter now struggles to learn, period. She is almost seven years old and doesn’t know her basic shapes, doesn’t know the difference between a number and a letter, has difficulty remembering anything, and struggles to understand basic concepts.

Because she JUST didn’t teach her daughter to speak her emotions and work through them in a healthy way, my daughter literally has the capability to shut off completely. Her blank stare will pierce right through you. It takes hours upon hours to break down the walls that she has built up.

Because she JUST never said “I love you” to her daughter, my daughter looked at me with surprise the first time I said it to her and said, “You love me?”

And the list goes on.

So if being “just a mom” means I brush my kids’ teeth, keep them away from people and situations that will physically and/or emotionally harm them, feed them nutritious meals, give them baths, teach them, guide them, love them—well, then that’s what I’ll be.

Because I’ve seen what happens when someone isn’t “just” a mom. I see it every single day in my oldest daughter. I see it on this street and in this town while twelve year old little girls walk around pregnant, young boys steal and lie. And worse.

And I can’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, if Mariclene’s mom had had someone that was “just” a mom to her, things could look a whole lot different.

This mom business is hard. It is exhausting and draining. There are nights that I collapse in bed and feel overwhelmed with the job that I have been entrusted with to raise these little people into adults that fear the Lord. It requires great sacrifice.

Whether you have one or twelve, this is a hefty load we “just moms” carry. So lets be gracious to one another.  Let’s carry on another’s burdens. Let's encourage and build up. Let’s teach our children to value this mom gig so that the next generation will have a greater understanding of the importance.

But most of all, let’s rely on the God’s grace and do this “just mom” job well.

It’s just so important.

{Side note: I wrote this from a mom’s perspective because I am one and the thought was sparked by the “just a mom” comment. I want to say that the father’s role is EQUALLY as important in a child’s life. God created the roles of both Father and Mother and while they vary in many ways in how they play out day to day, neither is more important than the other and this is a value that should be taught to our children. Much of society’s issues also stem from the lack of godly fathers and role models.}

Glimpse at the Good

In the midst of the hard, like little beams of light breaking through the clouds, God gives us little glimpses of what He’s doing here to keep us going.

Here’s a list of some of the great things God has and is doing in our part of the world.

--We are facilitating the start of the very first children’s home in Benjamin Constant. It will be called “Bendita Esperança” (Blessed Hope) and is an extension of the Blessed Hope ministry of The Common Thread Community, our mission board.

Pray for this project. We must act to break the cycle of alcoholism, teen pregnancy, drug addiction, abortion, and prostitution in this small town, and it starts with reaching the next generation for Christ.

--We are discipling a young Jagua Indian couple that is living in our home.

Their tribe consists of 6-8,000 people. They’re passionate about reaching their own for Christ. We’re pouring into them so they can pour into others. We are working to get the Jagua Bible (partially translated) onto audio devices so that every single Jagua family can have access to the Word, regardless of their reading abilities. Pray.

--Richard is coordinating the Indigenous Seminary--started by Indians, attended by Indians. They have asked Richard to organize and structure the ins and outs as that is not a strong point in Indigenous cultures.

Lord willing, more than 160 Indians from 5 different tribes will gather together for the entire month of January to study God’s Word, many for the first time. Professors from four different countries will teach courses in two different languages, all with the goal of equipping these young men and women to go back to their own people to disciple new believers.

--We are adopting a little girl who, without the hope of Christ, was on the track to become a drug-addicted prostitute like her birth mother. God has brought her into our family, a beautiful depiction of the Gospel.

We meet with the Judge during the first week of October. Pray for a smooth process.

--Richard will be in the States for two weeks in November to raise $300K for the helicopter.

With this tool, we will be able to reach more tribes deep in the Javari Valley who are dying from preventable disease and treatable injuries in an effort to demonstrate the Love that motivates us. It’s a lot of money, no doubt. But we serve the God who owns the cattle on a thousand hills… and the hills the cattle are on… so He’ll provide it all in His timing.

--Marcos Mayoruna continues to disciple young men (currently there are 15) from the Javari Valley who have come to study in a small town not far from us. Through Marcos, they receive biblical training and discipleship as well as lodging, food, and other basic needs.

The Javari Project continues to help provide many of these needs, freeing Marcos to do more ministry in the Javari. Thank you to those of you who sponsor these young men through this project.

Thank you for your prayers.

Thank you for your encouragement.

Thank you for your giving.

God is at work.

If you would like to donate to our ministry or any of these projects, please visit

https://onrealm.org/commonthread/register

When Living the Dream Feels More Like a Nightmare

“These are our ‘good ole’ days’, you know?” I said to him as we precariously swerved through the potholes of the washing-away-street, us and our three kiddos all crammed up on our motorcycle going home after a dinner out because neither of us could decide who was less tired enough to cook.

One day, these are the days we will look back on, smile and say, “Remember when…”

But today, that’s hard to see.

A friend asked me the other day if we were exhausted. I kind of laughed a little because that word just doesn’t seem to cut it. Exhausted is how you feel after a long day… but what word is there for how you feel after a long year?

We hear a lot of things:

“You guys are heroes!”

“How I wish I had a calling so great!”

“I would love to do what you do!”

“You are so inspirational!”

I equate that with how we feel reading the Bible sometimes. The stories are inspirational, empowering. We read them with excitement because we can see the whole story and know that, in the end, there is this triumphant victory.

And because we’re on the outside looking in.

But how did Moses feel looking out over the Red Sea as the Egyptians approached and everyone was calling out to him to DO something?

How did Daniel feel when he went free-falling into the lions’ den, his enemies snickering as he fell?

How did Noah feel on day 2 of the rain, hearing the screams of everyone around him drowning?

How did Joseph feel when he was imprisoned for doing everything right?

That’s where we are in this inspirational story.

We’re in the part where we know we’re doing what God has said to do, but it sure as heck doesn’t look like we thought it would.

We’re in the middle of the desert, thirsting ourselves, but everyone is calling to us for water.

So, like Moses, sometimes we call out to God in anger, “What are you doing?!”

And like Moses, we hit the rock to bring forth the water, instead of speaking like God commanded us to.

There are times we doubt like Sarai and ask for a sign like Gideon.

We were scheduled to go back to the States on furlough in just four weeks. We’ve planned it since January. And, oh, were we ever excited to get a breather.

But God said, “Not now.”

So, we wait.

Not always patiently and not always with a good attitude, but we wait.

And we cling to His promise that:

“Those who WAIT upon the Lord will renew their strength; they will mount up with wings as eagles. They will run and not grow weary, they will walk and not faint.”

-Isaiah 40.31

Now, like so many times before, we ask you to pray for us. Pray for endurance, patience, faith, peace, rest, strength.

A great friend recently wrote us:

“Jesus gives rest to those he loves and His burden is easy and His yoke is light.  I know, I know, try telling that to Moses when he's looking at the Red Sea, or Joseph as he's being hauled out of the well, but if it wasn't for the Red Sea, there would be no miraculous parting, and if it wasn't for the well, there would be no miraculous deliverance.”

Pray that we will endure as God carries out His plan, set out from before time began.

In the end, He gets the victory regardless. Pray we will be found faithful.

And feel free to send all the encouraging e-mails and messages that you can ;)