The Overflow: Neighbor

Hello friends,

All your lovely faces in 2015! 😍

If you remember, in 2015 so many of you made a stunning celebration possible for us. You came to witness, applaud, and encourage the beginning of our marriage, inaugurating it with your presence and a gift so humbling it continues to move us to tears. And now, we have exciting news!

First, can you please forgive us for all the waiting? We are so sorry it's taken quite some time. Thank you for holding on. Thank you for asking and wondering. We promise, this will be good.

Second, do you know the gravity of what you became part of that October day? We hope we can help you understand. We hope we can help it crash over you as it continues to do for us, and as it should for years to come; generosity is not meant to touch us only once.

As we planned for our ‘unique’ wedding, we wondered - sometimes (...ok, maybe a lot of times) freaking out over - whether family and friends would dare to embrace such an unconventional idea: the beginning of a marriage marked by the funding of a clean water well. You blew us away. We gave and hoped you might be moved to give a little, too, or if not to just show up and know you were part of it all. But you GAVE! Did you know that you gave so far over and above - before and beyond the wedding date - that we had to raise the goal itself?! Your generosity brought the total donated to $19,244. The total number was never the point, but this swept us away in an overflow of tears and joy which carried us through our honeymoon and far beyond. God was faithful to give us a dream and to carry it out, using all of you. To this day we are still moved to tears, and why shouldn’t we be?! THANK YOU!!!!!!!!

And so we planned for a well, and the excess helped to repair an entire drilling rig in a moment of unexpected need for this organization we love, Let Them LOL. So your generosity now touches so many more wells than one. But, onto the the feature: the Something Blue Well.

Kiddos using their new Something Blue well! (Also spotted: Star Wars shirt - yea!)

This well we once imagined as a “what if” now exists, because of you, because God is in the business of crazy dreams... and its story is beautiful. Not only does it serve a small community called Mosongo in the village of Njala along a dusty road I (Katie) have ridden many times before (so unknowingly - but God knew) as I waved and smiled at little ones and their mommas, but it primarily functions as the source for an entire elementary school. You can click here to see it on LTLOL’s map of drilled (and future) wells! (Fun fact: We have engraved the name Njala onto the inside of our wedding rings as a constant close reminder of all God can do through the love of our family!)

This particular school has known the longing for clean water in a painful way, for it experienced the unique hurt of broken promises before LTLOL arrived. We found they had a sort of “well” but it was left in such disrepair there is no way it was preventing illness any better than the dirty mud pits we see other villages forced to drink from, due its unfinished state (see images below).

This is the previous, unfinished "well". You can see the pump was never attached and it was improperly completed so bacteria, algae, and decay have taken over, thus this well never provided clean water.

Peering down into the gaping hole left in the top of the previous well

This school in Njala/Mosongo had been promised a well, but those who began construction never finished the job, not only compromising the health of these people but also leaving a gaping, dangerous hole uncovered in a place where small children wander and play. We are grateful for opportunities to step into these situations and set a new standard where communities have been taught to disbelieve hope exists as promises are broken for the most basic needs, like clean water. This is exactly the kind of thing we believe God was waiting to bring through you - our wedding guests, family, and friends - all along: restoration, hope, new beginnings, and new life. How can we explain our gratitude for this gift that will outlive us? We can only say thank you. Thank you!

The brand new Something Blue Well, just "capped," before the pump was attached an concrete poured.
See the school in the background?!

Clean water!!!

Hope!

Peter and I will head to Sierra Leone at the end of September with Let Them LOL (Peter’s first trip!) and we are hopeful for all that is sure to unfold there. Peter will have an opportunity to do some astronomy outreach with the high schoolers and teachers at our LOL school Hope Rising Academy, I will be photographing and taking on some work-related tasks (I was hired part-time by Let Them LOL last August as graphic designer and storyteller!). Plus, we will of course get a chance to see the Something Blue well and document it for all of you! We are excited to be able to bring back some visuals and first-hand reflections of this experience as another way we can hopefully express how grateful we are and what an impact you have made in this community. We will also get to see the opening of LOL’s new Mother/Children’s Clinic and Leadership Cafe. We know this trip will be full, we can’t wait to share about it all here. Check back soon and/or follow Let Them LOL on social media to keep up to date!

We can’t stop saying it - we are so grateful for each of you; we carry you with us as we need our incredible family to help sustain a firm foundation for a deeply rooted marriage. When we return in October we are excited to announce that we’ll be extending our family through the adventure of foster care as God continues to lead us into new things! We’ve been preparing our hearts for this for years, and working through the process since April.

If you have questions, please reach out and let us know! We’d love to hear from you. Let us say it one last time: we love and appreciate you, each of you. Thank you for being part of this story.

Lastly, here is a photo album from the wedding (you can still view it if you're not on facebook, don't worry), shot by the incredible and talented Laura Wielo: https://www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=a.10155792575091115.1073741828.765361114&type=1&l=7019e5fb81

We hope this post can be an encouragement for you to return to on the difficult days. Hope grows, sometimes in the unlikely and unconventional, sometimes in the hidden things, but always among people who simply choose to put love of other above love of self. This is our favorite story to tell and it is because of you that we have so much hope to keep believing it on the hard days. It is the story of the lowly King we serve. May we tell it with every day of our lives, in all the smallest ways, until it is overflowing.

(Ok, one more time...) Thank you. Truly.

With so much love,
Katie & Peter <3

The Spirit and the bride say, “Come!” And let the one who hears say, “Come!” Let the one who is thirsty come; and let the one who wishes take the free gift of the water of life. Revelation 22:17

He is no fool who gives what he cannot keep to gain what he cannot lose. Jim Elliot

(a more recent picture of us ...because Mom told me to add this, haha - We love you!!!)

This difficult lens is the one I'm looking through. It won't necessarily make you more comfortable, more hopeful, more sure - this raw glimpse at the wrestlings in me - but I don't believe it is for nothing. I don't believe this wrestling is fruitless or hopeless even if at this moment it causes hurt or a struggle. Lean in with me, if you will take a moment to try, to put on this lens I am still trying to understand myself:

There are bombs falling in Syria. I read the truth of it late one night, illuminated with a million other everyday stories on social media and yet it screamed out to me, hit me hard. War is currently worse than it's ever been in this torn-up place and my heart aches because I have seen what a war torn place can be left to face. The tears well up hot.

The world keeps spinning and the warmth of my coffee is stark against the scene outside the window, passersby all bundled as March announces itself boldly, in like a lion. And the whole thing seems like a joke; how in the quiet of snowfall and the clamor of a coffee shop - and a disorienting constant silent screaming as my nation's loudest voices seem to be always now asking Am I my brother's keeper? - how there are bombs falling and parents dying and tiny bellies swallowing cardboard for dinner in Syria. My mind drifts.

A few nights ago my husband and I ventured (for the millionth time? must be!) up those now familiar narrow stars into a small home we should never really feel at home in, to share what shouldn't really belong to us with friends who shouldn't really call us family - but they do - and we are. We sat in a crowded room, ignoring the TV, eating foreign-to-us food off a beautiful setup on the floor with laughter and teasing and joy and three families feeling like they belong. This safe space that so often forces us into new territory holds hearts that carry mine around as if we've always crammed into this drafty apartment and shared broken english and coloring book pages - and nearly every week I look at these beautiful faces and wonder How did we get here?

I remember.

...

I remember that chilly December day, over a year ago now, discovering this staircase for the first time. Up, up, to an unfamiliar family room where we had no idea who we'd meet. We knew one name - the woman of the house (a title so befitting, deeper than we could have known then), who wanted to know English better. We knew they were from Afghanistan, displaced to eventually be resettled twenty minutes from our home, and she had relatives. I hoped for kids to play with.

I remember meeting S, bright and bold and kind; so helpful, and hopeful, welcoming us immediately as her mother and aunt brought in treat after treat before we could even speak. I remember quiet little Z, wrapped in a blanket peering out behind her mother, hardly brave enough to dare offering a smile, and her sister F literally only willing to peek once from around a corner before ducking back out of sight. I remember spelling each name carefully on a scrap of paper, an effort to remember this new family: a mom, dad, aunt, and three daughters, one a set of twins. I remember the thrill of writing the alphabet together before we left, and beaming as Pete and I chatted wildly in the car on the ride home, so excited. What would this become? We had no idea. If we had only known!

If we had only known then how shy smiles would so quickly give way to huge hugs and belly laughs, nail painting, raw stories, huge parties, late nights, and oh so much learning together. If we had only known weekly lessons would grow into shared meals, always tea, homework help, shopping trips, fashion shows, movie nights, cooking lessons, awkward moments, ice skating, walks to the park, and tag playing. If we could have imagined the bridges to be built as our families met and carved out memories with this new family (quickly becoming our third family) or how they'd insist on calling us "sister," "brother," "aunt," "uncle." If we only knew how our pantry, our habits, our bookshelves, our priorities, our prayers, our thoughts, our hearts, our entires lives were about to change... we probably would have stayed longer that morning!

...

Sitting around this Afghan meal, filled with lamb, rice, chicken, and veggies, talking sports and future, laughing and joking about the size of our appetites compared to our waistbands, feeling so at ease in a situation which may have once seemed like stepping into another world - we have found ourselves a home here, embracing the unfamiliar. We find ourselves having been given the most incredible gifts in knowing this broader definition of family and the world and loving our neighbor.

I looked into little eight year old faces squeezed in beside me, and this growing thirteen year old girl who is going to change the world. They choose random moments each visit to surprise us with reminders that we're cared for. I try to do the same, because I feel it with all of me. I wonder if they notice how often I stare at their faces and literally whisper a silent Thank You to God - for keeping them safe - for bringing them here alive and together and so whole that we might know them and love them. At dinner Z insisted that I save (or really, protect) the spot next to me. She chatted about how she has my back if I got full and advised me not to clear my plate too early or they would try to fill it up again so fast but don't worry she would grab it right away and run! Meanwhile F reassured me that I should eat up so that I grow muscles and get strong, her mom just doesn't want me to be too skinny. This family who looks out for us, who surprises us with hugs and unassuming affection when we most need it and least expect it - "Miss Katie, I just really like you a lot. Like you are my own Aunt" - they have captured my heart. They remind me the beautiful simplicities woven into childhood, and every once in a while the complexities of the country and past they love but had to flee.

And it is their precious faces I see - flashing through my mind with the thought each day for the past few weeks - as there are bombs falling in Syria. Because there are families in the path of war right now - children who laugh like sweet Z and F and have dreams like wise S. There are strong, smart, brave and incredible parents like this family dying, devastated, starving. How do I move forward moment by deceivingly calm moment? How do I not? What can I even do?

What do you do with yourself when every face of every person facing or fleeing war, pain, and poverty begins to look human to you - familiar to you? Each story is unique and individual, each background and culture will vary in its striking and stunning diversity - but each person represents the same thing: an image-bearer. Distinctly and intrinsically valued by God and therefore by me - by us - as fellow humans. I am my brother's, my sister's keeper. The pages of God's Word breathed to life leave no room for doubt: I exist to lay my life down, in the breathtaking example of Jesus life, this God-Man I call Savior who lived to be poured out and fully given away. And so my heart breaks the same as if these faces on twitter feeds and news articles are not just familiar, but family. Tears fall at the images scrolling because I see pieces of ourselves suffering where ever there is suffering. We are not separate, we belong to each other.

The weight of it hangs heavy and I cannot, will not, turn away. I have no real answers but my Father holds it all so I know where to turn with my weeping heart and this difficult lens He is giving me. I can do small things. And if I have to keep walking around leaking for a while (or even until all things are made new?), I will. Because I believe in not shying away when it hurts. Because God chose to step into my brokenness so I can step into broken places with my brave broken heart. Because there are girls who need to know they are worthy of self-sacrificing love in Sierra Leone, and there are refugees who I hope hear: you are wanted here when they arrive in Buffalo, and there are bombs falling in Syria. Today.

And it matters to me.

Remember that you were at that time separated from Christ, alienated from the commonwealth [citizenship] of Israel and strangers to the covenants of promise, having no hope and without God in the world. But now in Christ Jesus you who once were far off have been brought near by the blood of Christ. Ephesians 2:12-13