The Power of Story

Asher playing the part in our story.

We’ve had quite an eventful month with a decision, a visit, and an event. 

First, here are a few pictures I’ve enjoyed in this month’s cross-cultural experience.

People will steal from you. Be vigilant.

Be careful, because smoking may cause you to curl up, naked, in the fetal position. 

(Smoking may cause impotence.)

Lastly, a prayer found in the Israeli Airline El Al inflight magazine. Credit where credit is due.

THE VISIT

One delightful event this past month was the much-anticipated visit from my German pen-pal. 

What a lovely practice-writing letters. Words that swim in one's mind and mouth before they are whispered while written. Thoughts that form and fill before shared. Just love it. 

I met this woman 22 years ago when I took the check from a car accident and did the responsible thing. I booked a trip to Germany to visit a friend who was a foreign exchange student there. My mom didn’t see the sense in such a decision, but my grandma did. So, she jumped the pond with me to visit a friend of hers who happened to live close to my friend’s host family.

As my bff and I explored all the sights that 18-year-old American girls are interested in in Europe, (think fermented, rather than historic) my grandmother and her friend, Antje, caught up on the years that had passed between them. During those distant years, they wrote letters to each other. When my sweet Ema died 14 years ago, Antje and I continued the tradition of yearly Christmas letters. Two weeks ago, she took the 10 hour train ride to meet the family and philosophize over life’s biggest questions. In the midst of our conversations about faith, politics, eastern Europe, and history, the story of her own mother's WW2 experience arose. 

Since we homeschool/world-school my kids had the opportunity to listen to live history. Friends, I have a Bachelor in Arts in Secondary Education with an emphasis on Social Studies. The amount of what I remember from those years of study fits into one of these little espresso cups over here. What I was about to hear about Gisela, Antje's mother, taught me more about WW2 than I ever learned in a class.

Just not big enough.

We listened, well some of us played Legos and listened, while Antje shared her mother’s story.

In the winter of 1944-45, Gisela was 14 years old. When the Russian soldiers came within one kilometer of their home, the family fled with four horses and a wagon piled high with their belongings. Her nine year old brother, 16 year old sister, mom, dad, and other family members fled on foot in one of the harshest European winters of the century. At the last minute, her mother ran back into the house for something and was immediately separated from her family. Gisela wouldn’t see her mother again for two years. Her cousin was shot by a Russian sniper. Her grandmother was murdered before her eyes because the soldiers couldn’t get her wedding ring off her hand. Her dad’s feet were frozen blue. Someone took pity on him and placed him on a red cross train traveling to safety. She never saw him again. Her brother did all he could to protect and care for his sisters, one of whom was hiding from the soldiers for her own safety and then Gisela who was battling Typhus.

When Antje finished telling her family history, I sat reeling. What would it be like to scoop up my children and flee with only a moment’s notice? What would it look like for Asher to protect his sisters, even stealing food from the soldiers just to keep them alive? 

Hundreds of YWAMer's standing, kneeling, and praying on a map of the world.

AN EVENT

Then this past weekend our campus here in Lausanne celebrated its 50^th anniversary. The celebration brought 450 guests, staff, and friends from around the world. Between jobs and class work, Chris and I listened to stories of bravery, of stepping out, of listening to God’s voice. Stories of traveling across the Sahara Desert in Land Rovers to share The Story. Stories of repentance. Stories from a brilliant scientist who gave up prestige in her field to trek with 70 kgs on her back through Papua New Guinea to set up labs to diagnose and treat diseases. Stories of a woman and her YWAM base taking in refugees who traveled on foot through nine countries to reach safety.

The fam with Loren Cunningham.

Then came the story of a couple from Uganda who left their 43 children ranging in ages 4-20’s. Forty-Three Children. Uganda has closed its orphanages. In response to the crisis, this couple has taken in a myriad of these children and helped them find foster homes. In the process, they ended up adopting 43 of these children. Some have AIDS. Some are disabled. All are traumatized. I watched the wisdom on their faces stretch into smiles as they shared the story of one particularly difficult child who constantly lied and stole from them. Years later, he’s a powerful believer who is rescuing kids who are just like he was. When Chris asked the mom how she did it she simply said, “Love never fails.”

Sweet Clara with a wreath Asher made for her.

Between Gisela’s story and our new friends in Uganda’s life story, I’m flattened by the fact that we as a family have yet to walk through the fire. Since we aren’t in it, I think we need to figure out how to help those who are. What are we to do? This question is the birthplace of crazy prayers.

THE DECISION
One of those prayers was answered rather quickly recently. We asked for the next step in our journey and we got it. We shared about it in this video that our new videographer, Lily, shot of us. 

Side Note: It makes me absolutely giddy to watch my kids teach themselves something. Seriously. Better than chocolate AND coffee together. 

The big miracle in this decision was our children’s response. After Chris and I agreed Asia was our next step, we took a week to pray for our children's hearts. We prayed for a 50% approval rating. Surprisingly 75% said yes right away. Clara cried. We asked her to pray to see if she got a different answer than we did. She came back and said we needed to go. So, we will finish here in Switzerland September 19, come home for a week, then we'll jet off to Asia until Christmas.

There we will learn how to teach what we are learning now as we staff the same school. I just received our class list. So excited! Our students hail from Hindu, Buddhist, and Communist countries. These brave men and women will learn the content so they can share it at home.

I'm going to wrap this one up with a quote I read in a book recently:

I can only answer the question, "What am I to do?" if I can answer the prior question, "Of what story or stories do I find myself a part?" Alasdair Macintyre 

Over the years I've asked this question of myself and of our family. With all that is happening in the world I feel we must do something-but what? I'm finally beginning to realize the answer exists within the stories of which we find ourselves a part. As a family. As mother. As a wife. As those who want to share the real narrative with people around the world.

I think the more I am at peace in my own story, the more I see clearly what I am to do.

May I offer this quote to you as something to chew on for a bit? What story or stories are you a part of? When you've made that list, do you see what you must do? Food for thought. I'm sure chewing on it these days.

Sweet Landon

We love you all dearly.

Running beside you,

The Kennedy Crew