AfricanKelli

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I know things have been a little more roller coaster around here lately than normal. I apologize for the ups and the downs. I look back at the last few weeks and the posts seem to be in one of two categories: here is how to be happy, and here is how I am not.

So, I figure I’ll distract you with a few more bamboo handled handbags while I wade through the latest dip. I need some time away from the blog. I’ll be back when things are a bit more even-keel. In the meantime, thank you.

Cheers,

K

Beach

Gardens

Libations

Hiking

Add great friends and you’ve got a recipe for the perfect trip to southern California.

Matt and Stephanie are bringing Noah and Ezra home today. What joy and relief to have their two little boys home after waiting for their adoptions for so long! Stephanie and I have become blog friends during the last couple of years. When she sent me a photo of their nursery, I knew I had to dig into the African fabric stash to create something for the twins.  A cheetah baby caddy seems just right.

Also, it seems right to celebrate life today in contrast to yesterday’s dreary post. I should know better than to write when I’m feeling such gloom. It doesn’t really do me any good and it certainly doesn’t help to sound the alarm when I always feel better in the morning. One of the many kind responses included this insight and this great verse:

“Always be joyful. Pray continually, and give thanks whatever happens. That is what God wants for you in Christ Jesus.” (1 Thessalonians 5:16-18, NCV)

~K

So, the thing about God is that He isn’t necessarily fair. A friend of our family died in an odd accident a little over a month ago. She was beautiful, young, newly married and her death makes me want to go to the top of Camelback Mountain and scream at the top of my lungs and pull at my hair.  My mom isn’t taking it much better. We’ve cried together several times over the phone, which really sucks with two states in between.

She says she’s angry with God. As much as I’m trying otherwise, I feel the same. Initially, I tried to logically talk her down. Coya’s death was an accident. She was a wonderful woman and she had a great faith and her family would find comfort from their rallying community. And then I hung up, shut myself in the bathroom and wailed until my nose ran dry. We were about the same age and I’m certain that if the shoe were on the other foot, she’d be the one on the tile floor. I miss her and it makes me so sad to imagine what her parents and twin sister are trying to deal with. To make matters a bit more horrifying, her husband was killed too.

About 90% of the time, I’m one of the most optimistic and happiest people.  But that other 10%, I’m overwhelmed. I feel like my relationship with God is tested with doubt and anger and I debate whether I am ever going to be able to feel at peace. It doesn’t help that in this shut down mode, I typically stop eating and answering my phone. Hunger and isolation rarely make things better, and yet this isn’t a time for logic.  While my clothing will certainly be more comfortable next week, I’m not sure my heart is going to recover anytime soon.

I feel guilty being angry with God. I know better. I know we aren’t supposed to understand and there really is no rhyme or reason to tragedy and heart ache. Yet still, that won’t comfort Coya’s family and friends. It won’t provide any relief to the dozens of kids at the Beira orphanage I am missing so dearly. It doesn’t even help with the immature homesickness I feel for my family.

I’ll get through this 10%. I have worlds to be thankful for. I simply wish anger with God wasn’t possible.

~K

What to bring one of the sweetest little boys when visiting? Considering Mr. Roscoe has just about everything he could ever wish for, including a gaggle of adoring family, an African parrot and a kitty that regularly put up with his loving ways, perhaps something unique.

Something to throw? Something African? Something that will make him scream like a little maniac?

Yes. How about some stenciled bean bags filled with pintos and backed with some African cheetah love from Mozambique?

They were all wrapped up nicely in a drawstring bag that was promptly discarded at the bottom of the toy chest. The bean bags should have been a little less full of beans; there were a few leaks by the end of the weekend.

Thankfully, he’s not a seam allowance critic.

~K