Again, this part of the story must be told. But I pray that I can do it in a respectful way. It is no way intended to hurt or offend those closest to me.
It begins as I was being wheeled to a recovery room. It felt as if I was rejoining the world after being away for a while. I'm not sure how I could have prepared myself for this next part. Everyone was so excited. I felt like I had just been through the battle of my life. I was still in a state of shock. I know why they were excited. Our long awaited baby was finally here, safe and sound. But I felt anything but safe. I was afraid of what was happening to my body. I was severely swollen, for one. My legs were as hard as rocks, and it wasn't muscle. My abdomen had just been cut in half. I felt like if I moved, all my stitches could not possibly contain the inside of me. Yes, I had read the c-section portion of What to Expect, but it wasn't sufficient. When my doctor finally came, he said the words I needed to hear most. He said, "You feel like you are going to fall apart, but don't worry. You aren't." He also made a comment about having removable shower heads in all 6 of his bathrooms. We're still not really sure if he was serious, but we laugh about it to this day. My mom also stepped up at this point and asked the doctor things I couldn't have thought of at the moment. She also convinced him I needed a script for an extra massage because of my legs. (The hospital provided one post-natal massage as part of it's routine care.)
Elizabeth did have some trouble nursing later. Not much. Mostly it was hard to get her to wake up to nurse. My intense anxiety over her welfare began to exhibit itself. I was so fearful that she was not getting enough. The lactation consultants helped some, but overall I credit my success breast-feeding to my mother. Her steadfast "you can do it because I did" attitude is part of what made giving up not feel like an option. Fortunately, this is a bright spot in this story. I loved breast-feeding. Knowing that I was providing something only I could provide was the most comforting thing.
After I got home a few days later, problems began to arise. First, I started experiencing extreme discomfort in my back near where the epidural needle was inserted. I couldn't lay on my back at all. Sitting was uncomfortable. When it came time to go to sleep, I was exhausted, but couldn't sleep. Not only could I not get comfortable, I felt like I was artificially being kept awake. I would fall asleep only to pop awake a few moments later. At five days post-partum, I was experiencing rapid heart rate, and my doctor advised a trip to the ER. That was an ordeal in itself, but I won't go into details. After many hours and lots of tests, nothing alarming was showing up. However, in the mean time, I had been without pain medicine for my back. I talked to a nurse about the potential side effects of that medicine. She told me it was very possible that the medicine could be causing the symptoms I was describing. I stopped taking it (it wasn't really helping the pain go away anyway) and eventually I was able to sleep again.
Josiah is the real hero at this point of the story. I often couldn't fall asleep without sitting up leaning against him. His warmth and listening to his heartbeat was the only thing that seemed to calm my racing heart and mind.
I never wanted to be alone--not even for an hour--but I wasn't good company. I was fearful, anxious, stressed, tired, and still so confused about all that had taken place. I enjoyed caring for Elizabeth, but nothing else seemed to bring me any peace or joy. Normally a people-person, I couldn't relax in the presence of my friends. Television proved almost impossible for me to watch. Any scenes of action or intensity only heightened my anxiety. For many years I could not watch a medical drama. They still really aren't a favorite.
My back pain wouldn't go away, but Josiah had to return to work. Lifting and holding a baby for long periods during the day was very painful. We decided to "move in" with my parents for a little while. Maybe a few weeks? I don't remember. My mom came to me when she could, and when she couldn't, we went to her. I never could have imagined that this how my birth story would go. I was so embarrassed by my lack of being able to stand up on my own two feet. When we were at our house, our church family continued to provide meals, as did other members of the body of Christ. Never had I been so thankful for the way God ordained community to work. I knew there were people praying for me, and that, too, was invaluable.
Unfortunately, it took me a long time to recover emotionally. It was one baby step at at time. Around four months after her birth, we began support raising in earnest for the job God had called us to with Fellowship International Mission. I saw God do amazing things, and my faith was strengthened. Still, there remained this dark spot on my journey. What had gone wrong with my baby's birth? Why had God allowed this to happen? Would the pain in my back or my heart ever go away?
Would my battered and broken body ever be able to carry another child? It was never our plan to have just one child, but maybe that would have to be enough. Oh, how I grieved for Elizabeth! To never have the joy of siblings! It was my greatest disappointment in the whole ordeal. (Though the following is certainly not true for every woman who has gone through a c-section, I have heard the same thoughts echoed in more women than I can count, often through the haze of our tears.) I felt like a failure as a woman, and a mom. When the time came to be there to bring my baby into the world, I couldn't do the one thing my body was made to do. I had failed her, and myself. I was broken. Going into future birth experiences, this will be the largest mental hurdle to overcome.
Monday, April 23, 2012
Sunday, April 22, 2012
My Birth Story Part 2: Elizabeth Anne
This part of my story is difficult to share, because it so personal, and leaves me so vulnerable. I also hesitate to link the beauty and joy that is Elizabeth to the way that she came into the world. She is a gift straight from God, and I in no way intend to detract from that. I cannot dismiss this part, however, lest I miss what God could be teaching me or someone else through it.
Fear. That's the one word that characterized my pregnancy. It wasn't until I became pregnant a second time that I felt any fear that a miscarriage might happen again. But much to my dismay, I found myself deeply worried that something terrible would happen to this baby, too. I remember at about 4-5 months confiding in a dear friend and mentor at church my fears. And I remember her admonition that fear was not from the Lord. I am so thankful for her caring honesty. But as hard as I prayed, I could not shake the fear that had overtaken my life.
Elizabeth's Estimated Due Date was June 5th. We took the free childbirth classes offered to us, read the books we knew to read, listened to the advice of all. Her due date came and went, and my cervix remained unchanged. She did not drop, I did not dilate, my cervix did not soften. My doctor was much more patient than I was feeling. On June 19th, I was scheduled for an induction two weeks after her expected arrival. My mom and sister joined Josiah and I. I spent all day on a pitocin drip. I had a few contractions, but made no progress. That afternoon my doctor attempted to break my water, to no avail. He started talking about a possible c-section because of a potential "big baby". Around 5 o'clock, my water broke on it's own, and my contractions began in earnest. I don't remember how far apart they were, but I knew after a while that if it was going to get progressively worse, I would never make it to the end. Still fear was the word of the day. I was incredibly afraid of the pain that would come. If I could go back and change one thing, this is what I would change. I would tell myself that though I may be feeling pain, it was nothing to be afraid of.
An epidural was suggested and I agreed, heartily. This experience in and of itself is very fearful. The room was cleared of all but Josiah, the nurse and anesthesiologist. He started to go to work, and I concentrated on sitting very still, as I knew from the consent forms all the things things that could go wrong with such a large needle going in a very sensitive area. I felt pain with the insertion of the needle. More fear. The anesthesiologist did more things, asking me about the pain. I described it as best as I could, more on the right side than the left. As he pulled medical tape off my back, he asked me if I was allergic to it. I said no. He said, "You are now". My back was covered in hives.
As it turns out, the epidural was only partially effective, and only on one side--the left. It's hard to describe the surreal and drugged state I was experiencing. The nurse was concerned that I was still feeling pain and suggested we might need to try the epidural again. I was afraid, but at this point, I felt like I was on a runaway train. This time the epidural caused a rapid drop in blood pressure (later my doctor told me this was normal). All I knew was that something was terribly wrong--and said so--as my body moved up and down off the table involuntarily and I wretched. I thought I might die. My sister was afraid for me. I was given medicine to bring back up my blood pressure--this all happened a matter of moments.
I know that I was periodically checked for progress, but I'm not sure by who. I was so tired, and so drugged, the nurse suggested I try to sleep. I fell into a fitful sleep in a dimly lit room with lots of beeping LEDs. When I "awoke" I was told that they had seen some things on the heart monitor that had them concerned and the doctor had been called. He reviewed the monitor reading when he got there, and I was told, "We are going to have this baby". I was immediately prepped for a c-section. I think I cried, but I don't remember saying anything.
What I knew for sure was that my epidural was not sufficient for major surgery. I still felt much of the labor my body was experiencing. I wasn't sure how to tell them, but I just kept pushing that little button to deliver more drugs to my body, hoping I wouldn't have to speak up. As I laid on the operating table, I waited for it all to begin. It was about 3 am. I hoped my doctor had gotten some sleep. I felt them pinch me to test the effectiveness of the anesthesia, and told them I could feel it. Then they made the first incision. It felt like someone was drawing on me. I told them I could feel that, too. Then I was asked to make a choice. "We can keep going, or we can put you to sleep," someone said. "You are going to have to put me to sleep, because I can't go through this being able to feel that much." Josiah had to leave while they did that part. Fortunately I remembered how easy it had been at 5 years old having my tonsils removed. I felt God's mercy at that moment, knowing at least I would sleep through this nightmare.
I'm not sure when Josiah returned. I have no idea what Elizabeth looked like when she came out. I didn't hear the announcement of "It's a girl!" I didn't hold her or kiss her until much later.
When I woke I was in a strange place. It looked like the OR but much dimmer. There were instruments everywhere, but the only one with me was my nurse. Maybe Josiah was there--I don't remember. I just remember how surreal it felt, because when I had been put under, I was surrounded by so many people and bright lights, and now it was dark and quiet. Josiah stood to my left and held up a beautiful little bundle. He said softly, "We have an Elizabeth." "It's a girl?" I asked. "Yes", he said. My eyes couldn't focus and my head rolled around involuntarily on the propped up bed. "Help me", I said, alternating with, "She's beautiful". I kept repeating those phrases until Josiah gently held my head in place. We laughed about it later--my lack of physical control--but it was sad, really. I told the nurse she was my angel. She was very kind the whole time, and I felt like I had walked through the valley of the shadow of death.
The nurse asked me if I wanted to feed my baby. "I'll try", I said. She latched on beautifully. Another evidence of God's grace. After all that. She looked up at me with those perfect blue eyes and nursed like a champ.
Fear. That's the one word that characterized my pregnancy. It wasn't until I became pregnant a second time that I felt any fear that a miscarriage might happen again. But much to my dismay, I found myself deeply worried that something terrible would happen to this baby, too. I remember at about 4-5 months confiding in a dear friend and mentor at church my fears. And I remember her admonition that fear was not from the Lord. I am so thankful for her caring honesty. But as hard as I prayed, I could not shake the fear that had overtaken my life.
Elizabeth's Estimated Due Date was June 5th. We took the free childbirth classes offered to us, read the books we knew to read, listened to the advice of all. Her due date came and went, and my cervix remained unchanged. She did not drop, I did not dilate, my cervix did not soften. My doctor was much more patient than I was feeling. On June 19th, I was scheduled for an induction two weeks after her expected arrival. My mom and sister joined Josiah and I. I spent all day on a pitocin drip. I had a few contractions, but made no progress. That afternoon my doctor attempted to break my water, to no avail. He started talking about a possible c-section because of a potential "big baby". Around 5 o'clock, my water broke on it's own, and my contractions began in earnest. I don't remember how far apart they were, but I knew after a while that if it was going to get progressively worse, I would never make it to the end. Still fear was the word of the day. I was incredibly afraid of the pain that would come. If I could go back and change one thing, this is what I would change. I would tell myself that though I may be feeling pain, it was nothing to be afraid of.
An epidural was suggested and I agreed, heartily. This experience in and of itself is very fearful. The room was cleared of all but Josiah, the nurse and anesthesiologist. He started to go to work, and I concentrated on sitting very still, as I knew from the consent forms all the things things that could go wrong with such a large needle going in a very sensitive area. I felt pain with the insertion of the needle. More fear. The anesthesiologist did more things, asking me about the pain. I described it as best as I could, more on the right side than the left. As he pulled medical tape off my back, he asked me if I was allergic to it. I said no. He said, "You are now". My back was covered in hives.
As it turns out, the epidural was only partially effective, and only on one side--the left. It's hard to describe the surreal and drugged state I was experiencing. The nurse was concerned that I was still feeling pain and suggested we might need to try the epidural again. I was afraid, but at this point, I felt like I was on a runaway train. This time the epidural caused a rapid drop in blood pressure (later my doctor told me this was normal). All I knew was that something was terribly wrong--and said so--as my body moved up and down off the table involuntarily and I wretched. I thought I might die. My sister was afraid for me. I was given medicine to bring back up my blood pressure--this all happened a matter of moments.
I know that I was periodically checked for progress, but I'm not sure by who. I was so tired, and so drugged, the nurse suggested I try to sleep. I fell into a fitful sleep in a dimly lit room with lots of beeping LEDs. When I "awoke" I was told that they had seen some things on the heart monitor that had them concerned and the doctor had been called. He reviewed the monitor reading when he got there, and I was told, "We are going to have this baby". I was immediately prepped for a c-section. I think I cried, but I don't remember saying anything.
What I knew for sure was that my epidural was not sufficient for major surgery. I still felt much of the labor my body was experiencing. I wasn't sure how to tell them, but I just kept pushing that little button to deliver more drugs to my body, hoping I wouldn't have to speak up. As I laid on the operating table, I waited for it all to begin. It was about 3 am. I hoped my doctor had gotten some sleep. I felt them pinch me to test the effectiveness of the anesthesia, and told them I could feel it. Then they made the first incision. It felt like someone was drawing on me. I told them I could feel that, too. Then I was asked to make a choice. "We can keep going, or we can put you to sleep," someone said. "You are going to have to put me to sleep, because I can't go through this being able to feel that much." Josiah had to leave while they did that part. Fortunately I remembered how easy it had been at 5 years old having my tonsils removed. I felt God's mercy at that moment, knowing at least I would sleep through this nightmare.
I'm not sure when Josiah returned. I have no idea what Elizabeth looked like when she came out. I didn't hear the announcement of "It's a girl!" I didn't hold her or kiss her until much later.
When I woke I was in a strange place. It looked like the OR but much dimmer. There were instruments everywhere, but the only one with me was my nurse. Maybe Josiah was there--I don't remember. I just remember how surreal it felt, because when I had been put under, I was surrounded by so many people and bright lights, and now it was dark and quiet. Josiah stood to my left and held up a beautiful little bundle. He said softly, "We have an Elizabeth." "It's a girl?" I asked. "Yes", he said. My eyes couldn't focus and my head rolled around involuntarily on the propped up bed. "Help me", I said, alternating with, "She's beautiful". I kept repeating those phrases until Josiah gently held my head in place. We laughed about it later--my lack of physical control--but it was sad, really. I told the nurse she was my angel. She was very kind the whole time, and I felt like I had walked through the valley of the shadow of death.
The nurse asked me if I wanted to feed my baby. "I'll try", I said. She latched on beautifully. Another evidence of God's grace. After all that. She looked up at me with those perfect blue eyes and nursed like a champ.
My Birth Story Part 1: Infertility
I think the experience of my journey into motherhood is one long story, intertwined in ways that make it difficult to look at each birth separately, but I'll try in order to make following along a little easier. I'll also attempt to write it in a way that glorifies God and does not detract from anyone else's experience.
Our story starts with infertility. Our situation was not severe, but it took us over a year to get pregnant the first time. When we did I was elated. My heart instantly bonded with baby, as did Josiah's. We were only pregnant one week before problems arose, but it felt like months. The weekend that I started bleeding, Josiah and I had planned to take my sisters Jessica and Sarah to Hershey Park with some free tickets we'd been given. I had to sit them down and tell them that I didn't think we could go, because I was pregnant, but I thought I was loosing the baby. I fear I traumatized my poor young sisters who had probably been praying for a baby for me. We went as a family to the urgent care center. Joseph, John, Jessica, Sarah, Mom, Josiah and I... waiting together for news. That first night, there was none. (I will often look back with fondness on how they stood with me that night.) I went back to my family home, slept through my sadness until the moment came when I knew. I knew the baby was gone. A deep painful stab and then it was over. There was no more pain--instantly the discomforts of pregnancy were gone, but I would have given anything to have them back. I cried all day that day. It wasn't until late that night that Josiah asked me what I was thinking that I responded, "Haven't I told you?" And he responded, "You haven't said a word to anyone all day." If you know me, you know my normal is processing through words. When he said that, I realized that a monologue had been taking place internally all day, but it had been too much to say to the words audibly.
The Lord truly did sustain me, and my sadness melted away in a deep sense of acceptance. God held the life of my baby, and myself, in His hands. He would bless us in His time. I won't say there weren't moments of sadness in that next year, because of course there were. Baby showers, mother's day, and careless remarks stung as I processed them while producing in me an empathy for others who experienced the same thing. I think the hardest part was knowing that I actually was a mom already, my baby just wasn't here with us. In my heart, I was a mom.
Our story starts with infertility. Our situation was not severe, but it took us over a year to get pregnant the first time. When we did I was elated. My heart instantly bonded with baby, as did Josiah's. We were only pregnant one week before problems arose, but it felt like months. The weekend that I started bleeding, Josiah and I had planned to take my sisters Jessica and Sarah to Hershey Park with some free tickets we'd been given. I had to sit them down and tell them that I didn't think we could go, because I was pregnant, but I thought I was loosing the baby. I fear I traumatized my poor young sisters who had probably been praying for a baby for me. We went as a family to the urgent care center. Joseph, John, Jessica, Sarah, Mom, Josiah and I... waiting together for news. That first night, there was none. (I will often look back with fondness on how they stood with me that night.) I went back to my family home, slept through my sadness until the moment came when I knew. I knew the baby was gone. A deep painful stab and then it was over. There was no more pain--instantly the discomforts of pregnancy were gone, but I would have given anything to have them back. I cried all day that day. It wasn't until late that night that Josiah asked me what I was thinking that I responded, "Haven't I told you?" And he responded, "You haven't said a word to anyone all day." If you know me, you know my normal is processing through words. When he said that, I realized that a monologue had been taking place internally all day, but it had been too much to say to the words audibly.
The Lord truly did sustain me, and my sadness melted away in a deep sense of acceptance. God held the life of my baby, and myself, in His hands. He would bless us in His time. I won't say there weren't moments of sadness in that next year, because of course there were. Baby showers, mother's day, and careless remarks stung as I processed them while producing in me an empathy for others who experienced the same thing. I think the hardest part was knowing that I actually was a mom already, my baby just wasn't here with us. In my heart, I was a mom.
Saturday, February 25, 2012
They will know we are Christians by our...
Contentment? Well actually the verse says, "love", but I don't see why contentment might not also be true. I have my beloved Bible back in one piece (not many, as it was before it was rebound) and this morning my reading took me to a very familiar passage in the middle of Luke. For some reason, this passage never ceases to stir up emotions inside of me. Whether it is the, "Yes, I know that to be true" kind or the "Why didn't I remember that?" kind, it almost always deeply touches me.
Today it was the, "Why didn't remember that?" kind. Lack of contentment has been plaguing me in the last couple of weeks. It is one of my ugliest sins. How dare I ever feel (wallow in) a state of discontent when I have so much? How dare I question God's provision when He has come to my rescue again and again?
Luke 12:25-28 says, "Who of you by worrying can add a single hour to his life? Since you cannot do this very little thing, why do you worry about the rest? Consider how the lilies grow. They do not labor or spin. Yet I tell you, not even Solomon in all his splendor was dressed like one of these. If that is how God clothes the grass of the field, which is here today, and tomorrow is thrown into the fire, how much more will he clothe you, O you of little faith!"
Today the extreme language of verse 25 is what struck me. Jesus says, when speaking of adding an hour to our life said, "Since you cannot do this very little thing, why do you worry about the rest?" Very little thing? As each of us that has lost someone knows, an hour added to a life is no small thing. Yet it is for God. A very small thing, indeed. He can do so much more than I can imagine, so much more than my tiny faith allows me to believe most days. So once again my heart is humbled, and I beg God for the wisdom to follow Him with my whole heart, and not be led astray by desires that never really satisfy anyway. And maybe one day, by His grace, I will be known by contentment.
Today it was the, "Why didn't remember that?" kind. Lack of contentment has been plaguing me in the last couple of weeks. It is one of my ugliest sins. How dare I ever feel (wallow in) a state of discontent when I have so much? How dare I question God's provision when He has come to my rescue again and again?
Luke 12:25-28 says, "Who of you by worrying can add a single hour to his life? Since you cannot do this very little thing, why do you worry about the rest? Consider how the lilies grow. They do not labor or spin. Yet I tell you, not even Solomon in all his splendor was dressed like one of these. If that is how God clothes the grass of the field, which is here today, and tomorrow is thrown into the fire, how much more will he clothe you, O you of little faith!"
Today the extreme language of verse 25 is what struck me. Jesus says, when speaking of adding an hour to our life said, "Since you cannot do this very little thing, why do you worry about the rest?" Very little thing? As each of us that has lost someone knows, an hour added to a life is no small thing. Yet it is for God. A very small thing, indeed. He can do so much more than I can imagine, so much more than my tiny faith allows me to believe most days. So once again my heart is humbled, and I beg God for the wisdom to follow Him with my whole heart, and not be led astray by desires that never really satisfy anyway. And maybe one day, by His grace, I will be known by contentment.
Tuesday, January 31, 2012
Sam
It looks like I completely skipped 2010 on this blog. Well, the biggest blessing to come out of 2010 was my little Sam. Without further introduction, here he is:
Well, he looks a bit more like this now:
He is all smiles, laughter and cuddles, and trucks, trains, and food! All boy! We are grateful for God adding him to our family.
Saturday, January 29, 2011
the 23rd Psalm
I've been going through a dry patch spiritually speaking. I know I haven't been trusting God like I should. I've been asking Him to help, and He's sent some fun surprises along the way. Just yesterday I found what you are about to read in an old journal. God showed me this a few years ago, and has brought it to me now, when I desperately needed the reminder. I will write it as I did then--The italics are God's Word, and the regular type is the impressions I had while trying to flesh it out a bit. I hope it encourages you.
Psalm 23
The Lord is my Shepherd, I shall not want...
Because He gives me everything I need.
Because it is a sin to covet.
Because I desire to be generous.
He makes me lie down in green pastures...
He causes me to rest because He knows that I need it,
and He loves me. The pasture is green--it provides food
and a soft place to rest (comfort).
He leads me beside quiet waters...
He--the King of kings, Creator of the universe
leads--shows me the way
me--"What is man that you are mindful of him?" ~Psalm 8:4 "You are
worth more than many sparrows." ~Matthew 10:31
quiet waters--easy crossing, refreshing to cool off, peaceful
He restores my soul.
He doesn't leave me to my own devices. Philippians 1:6
He guides me in paths of righteousness (good works)
"In all your ways acknowledge Him and He will direct your paths." ~Proverbs 3:5-6
"For we are His workmanship, created in Christ Jesus unto good works,
which God has prepared in advance for us to do." ~Ephesians 2:10
For His name's sake.
God is passionate about His glory.
Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death,
I fear no evil, for You are with me.
Wow! God has promised to never leave us or forsake us--and
He really doesn't. ~Hebrews 13:5
Your rod and your staff they comfort me.
Your rod corrects me, your staff brings me back. ~Hebrews 12:5-6
You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies.
We don't escape trouble, but you provide for us regardless. ~John 16:33
You are with us in the presence of our enemies.
You have anointed my head with oil.
"a healing balm"
My cup overflows.
I have everything I need--and more.
"I have come that they may have life,
and have it to the full." ~John 10:10
He has given us everything we need for life and godliness. ~2 Peter 1:3
Surely goodness and lovingkindness will follow me all the days of my life.
At this point, it could be helpful to do a word study on the Hebrew word "hesed".
It helped me!
And I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever.
Friday, October 9, 2009
Praying for missionaries
I found this list on wycliffe.org and used it as a prayer prompting activity in children's church last week. Each item had a visual reminder.
1.) Pray for missionaries to be able to spread God's Word. (Bible)
2.) Pray for missionaries to be protected. (angel)
3.) Pray for missionaries to get a good night sleep. (pillow)
4.) Pray for missionaries to have working technology and electricity. (radio)
5.) Pray for missionaries to be protected from insects that cause diseases. (plastic bug)
6.) Pray for people to remember to write letters to missionaries to encourage them. (stationary)
7.) Pray for missionaries to be able to learn the language of the people. (picture of lips)
8.) Pray for missionaries to like the food in their new country. (chopsticks)
9.) Pray for missionaries to be protected from the elements, whether cold or warm. (sunglasses)
10.) Pray for missionaries to not grow weary in doing good. (my own addition--visual reminder, hug)
To find this activity titled "Travel Bag" and other activities for kids go to: http://www.wycliffe.org/Resources/Kids/FreeCurriculum/BrightIdeas.aspx
1.) Pray for missionaries to be able to spread God's Word. (Bible)
2.) Pray for missionaries to be protected. (angel)
3.) Pray for missionaries to get a good night sleep. (pillow)
4.) Pray for missionaries to have working technology and electricity. (radio)
5.) Pray for missionaries to be protected from insects that cause diseases. (plastic bug)
6.) Pray for people to remember to write letters to missionaries to encourage them. (stationary)
7.) Pray for missionaries to be able to learn the language of the people. (picture of lips)
8.) Pray for missionaries to like the food in their new country. (chopsticks)
9.) Pray for missionaries to be protected from the elements, whether cold or warm. (sunglasses)
10.) Pray for missionaries to not grow weary in doing good. (my own addition--visual reminder, hug)
To find this activity titled "Travel Bag" and other activities for kids go to: http://www.wycliffe.org/Resources/Kids/FreeCurriculum/BrightIdeas.aspx
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