Omot Family Adventures

Our 9 hour drive ended pulling into our compound with shouts of home and excitement! We open the door, and Friday pauses, he never pauses.. ants. Dead. Covering our living room. We had just had a really beautiful relatively calm drive home. It was 4 pm and our routine was unload, make dinner, and unpack. Not today.  Tiny little ants were dead all over the living room floor, kitchen floor and counters, and our bedroom and bathroom. I was wearing pants. I never wear pants in our town and it was hot. Even the simple task of Changing clothes into a simple rectangle box dress seemed impossible, because of that overwhelm of where to start sweeping ants. Dead ants everywhere. Like in my potholders and under the sink. It’s been a week and I’m still picking them out of lentils.  We transition between two worlds too often. One of them, I can wear pants and my hair down; the other, deras (that lightweight box dress) and a tight bun. One I can easily find an iced latte or order take out. ...

Yes, we say yes. This song about saying yes to Jesus, to letting him have it all, has wrecked me in the best way on repeat as we transitioned to this new world of following Jesus to Kenya. The more we say yes, the more it seems to hurt? The more we say yes, the more we fall in love with Jesus? Both of these things? Probably more.  My heart this time around, round 2 of living my life in Kenya has looked very different than my first round. The first term rocked me. Every expectation exploded, every known, pulled out from under me: death, loss, identity, loneliness, loss of comfort, and the list goes on.  Second round, I’m a bit more free, more free in who Jesus sees me as; his daughter. This idea of what roles I expect to “serve” in, or how ministry is supposed to be. How pregnancy will be  easy like my first three, or how I’m supposed to share Jesus with a kabilliion people. When I get to just be his daughter, life seems to shift. I’m a mom, a mom who weirdly can stay home...

I've always known prayer is where it's at. From a young age it has been my constant friend. It has looked like crying, laughing, watching the stars, reading the Word, coffee shop talks, countless journals, feeding my baby, washing dishes, and hanging out laundry. It changes, but it always is, because He always is. He is kind. This knowledge that I can talk with and listen to the Most High God is kind of a big deal. May I never take it for granted.  Lately, living this relationship out loud and with others has been what has sustained. I really believe that if we didn't have people praying with us, and our hearts constantly lifting to him, we wouldn't be where we are... still going.. still persevering... constantly seeing him. This doesn't mean we aren't broken. This doesn't mean life is easy, it just means we can keep going. one step at a time. Sometimes just baby steps, but walking towards Him and his kindness. Our car wouldn't start day 3. Friday was go...

  Shameless pictures up top and not bottom.  Hakuna matata means, ‘no worries’, and if you’ve seen Lion King, youve heard Swahili and this phrase. Funny thing is, no Kenyan says it. If you hear it, you know someone is a tourist. Well, we just got back from our first real vacation , and when we arrived at the ocean hotel, Hakuna Matata was the first thing we heard. I cried. Then I cried some more.  ‘Hakuna shida’ is what is said, which means no problem. I had to train my head to learn this, along with a million other things I had to and have to and still am learning. Learning and living in a world where everywhere you go is cross cultural thinking is exhausting. Even your home is set up, run, and lived in such a way that it’s not “my normal”. Yes, it’s slowly getting more and more natural, and for that I’m grateful. Your brain never gets a break, we’re even woken up by the call to prayer in Borana.  Being greeted by Hakuna Matata meant I could turn off my brain. I did...

When the best of me is barely breathing. Hold onto me.  When I'm not somebody, I believe in. Hold onto me.  When I don't feel like I'm worth defending. Hold onto me.  When I start to break in desperation. Hold onto me. Hold onto me when I forget I need you. When I let go, hold me again.  I could rest here in your arms forever, cus I know nobody loves me better. Hold onto me. Lauren Daigle- Lines from Hold onto Me. I heard my new friend Waisy singing this song this morning. I hadn't heard it before. I've now heard it about 100 times. I'm still walking through the day feeling like quite the failure. Exhausted. Crabby and not gracious towards my kids. BUT Music. not just Music. Worship.  I have found myself in the past couple weeks singing kids music when I'm overwhelmed, when Judah's crying, when life is hard. Worship doesn't have to be big perfect songs. It doesn't need a band. It doesn't need to be the whole song. It just needs your heart. Yo...

I feel like through these past couple months, I’ve held on. I’ve worked through the sad and joy and the unknown and the packing and weighing and purchasing and selling and goodbyes and future hello’s. I have ridden the roller coaster. Tonight when we packed our kids up to stay at a friends house in town, I let go. Yaaa we need to clean our house, get rid of all the random extras that some call trash, I call treasure, and make sure we leave it well. But it hit me not having a home.  No physical home. No safe place for my kids to sleep every night and make memories and remember memories. No place to go at the end of a long day and just beeee. Just hide amongst all the blankets and pillows and the old couch. My oldest is one of routine. He loves the same thing. Boring. He loves the consistent, the known. So when we showed up to our friends and on his comfy blown up air mattress was his same pillow, blanket, sound machine, and sister, he seemed reassured. Ohhhh how I wish I was that si...