Few of us have ever found ourselves marooned on a desert island with no compass. But many things in life can make us feel marooned. Like relocating to another country, for example, because it upends your entire world. Quite literally, if you have moved across the equator as well!
Continue reading “When you Feel Marooned (For Missionaries and Non)”
Being an immigrant myself this topic is close to my heart. I cannot fully relate to refugees or economic immigrants. I did not move out of personal need, but for ministry. Plus I have dual citizenship. But I understand moving to an unfamiliar country. And we have also worked with refugees here. Even adopting unofficially a young Nigerian woman and her baby.
Continue reading “How to Help Immigrants and Refugees”
We have a saying in Italian. Non c’è niente di nuovo sotto il sole. (There is nothing new under the sun.) And yes, I know it’s from the Bible. But I also know that King Solomon, who wrote that, didn’t live in a foreign land. Otherwise, I wonder if he might not have changed it to: “There is something new under the sun. Every day, and in countless ways!”
Continue reading “Italian Worm Cheese and Culture Shock”
I can picture her still so old and frail, hobbling up the steep hill leaning on her pair of homemade walking sticks. “What do you have there Zia (Aunty)?” my husband asked, pointing to the open-mesh bag on her kerchief-covered head. While I just gaped, wondering how many other nasty things she’d carried on that seldom-washed, dirty headscarf!
Continue reading “The Old Aunty’s Kerchief: The Power of Love”
Tips for missionaries (and people everywhere).
The fire didn’t heat better out of the fireplace. All it really did was create more smoke! Though no one would ever convince the dear, stubborn, old man of that! Yet we fondly remember those simple evenings of reading by the fire in my father-in-law’s home as some of the most cozy and delightful evenings of our lives, even with the choking smoke and burning eyes!
Continue reading “Chestnuts Bursting on an Open Fire (Joy in the Simple Things)”
No taller than a 10-year old, with a sly and suspicious gleam to her eye, she played the part of the proverbial evil landlady with me, while sweet as honey around Hubby. The other residents, also hostile, seemed amiable by comparison. And the dark, dank apartment revealed a miserly streak as well.
Continue reading “Like a Queen: Treating Enemies Like Royalty”
Signora Sheila 