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 ;)

One Year Later

In some ways it seems like yesterday and in others it seems like decades, but it was in fact one year ago today that we left behind what we knew as “home” to begin a new journey, four years in the making.

Looking back, I feel like we were just babies, taking our first steps.

We are different people now. In a lot of ways.

I sit here on the couch in a wooden house, listening to the sounds of the Jungle outside, realizing that this very place that we now call home wasn’t even on our radar back then.

There is a young family of Jagua Indians living in our guest room with their baby girl who almost died in that same room just a couple months back. We didn’t know that she, along with her Mama and Daddy, would fill our hearts and home when Richard first met her back in January. They are now the focus of our discipleship as we pour into them so they can pour into their people one day.

There’s a six year old girl sleeping in a bed right next to Elliott’s who, Lord willing, will one day carry our last name. We didn’t know that when God closed the door for us to move into the village that he would plant us right down the road from our future daughter. Her little eyes haveseen things no child should see and she asks the same questions over and over every day, just longing for reassurance and security. And we begin to walk this journey of adoption together, realizing this picture of the Gospel.

There’s a three-year-old boy, our first born, who is sleeping in that same room. His neck is swollen with Mumps right now and over the last year he’s had his fair share of illness, but boy is he a trooper, bringing life and laughter everywhere he goes. When we started this journey his was a pacifier addict, strutting around in Pampers. Now he sports batman undies and Daddy taught him how to use a machete. He speaks two languages and is learning his third, often correcting me along the way. The kid’s a beast.

There’s a squishy little 9.5 month old Brazilian who might just be the happiest child that God every created sleeping in our bedroom. She came to this country in my belly and, though she has no idea, played a huge role in our ministry here just in her birth. She wakes up with a smile and, on those almost-to-much-to-handle kinda days, her sweet smile offers a mini-vacation from the stress.

There’s a man asleep in our bed that he built with his own hands who carries the weight of the world on his shoulders every day, yet still finds time to play with his kids, read them bedtime stories, brush their teeth, and pray with them. So many times I watch in awe as he works in so many roles, all with the one goal of glorifying Christ.

And then there’s me. I look back at the person I was when we got on that airplane and I think, “I don’t even know that person any more!”

We are changed.

And we are changing.

The days are hard sometimes. You don’t anticipate the loneliness of the mission field. The sun is hot and the needs are many.  Sickness is prevalent and sleep can be hard to come by. Some people will criticize and others will be ungrateful.

Some days you want to give up.

I find, though, that when I stop looking around and start looking up, I begin to see a little more clearly that we aren’t the ones writing this story anyway. It’s a story that started way back before creation. We were born into a story already in progress and one that will continue to be written long after we are gone.

We are just the hands and feet at the end of a dead end street in a tiny town in a small region of a big country on a big planet doing the day to day of what God has called us to in order to make His name famous to the ends of the earth.

This past year has been full of tears, laughter, heartache, joy, sickness, health, loneliness, new friends, opportunities, and redirection. There has been frustration and anger, laughter and relief.

And it’s through all of this that we learn, as Paul says, to be content in whatsoever state we are in… and to become more like our Savior.

Thanks to all of you who have joined us in the journey. Through prayer, encouragement, visiting, and giving, you have been an intricate part of this story, too.

Thanks for walking this journey with us.

It truly is a beautiful one.