Waiting

I have many great traits.

I’d get tired if I wrote them all, but these are my favourite:

My spontaneity and creativity, throwing myself into the new and different, 

desperate for another crazy adventure.

My ridiculous organising skills, 

planning incredible and detailed events at the drop of a hat.

Combined, I’m a fireball of life and activity.

I’m also the least patient person I know.

My ever-increasing belly, shovelling sweets like the Oompa Loompas my husband so affectionately likened me to, weighed heavy on my frame, making me desperate for escape.

Desperate to end the nine months of puking

Of being restricted in my own skin

Of reluctantly slowing down my pace

 The messages piled in:

“Happy Due Date!!!! Any twinges ....???”

“no sign yet?! booooo xx”

Due day came and went…

“Where are these babies??????”

“Dear baby miller,

I am writing to officially give you an eviction notice. Please vacate your mothers womb by 12am this evening before the overdue cranky woman hormones go crazy ;) “

Everyday waiting for something…but yet nothing came, not even a hint…

“You not blown yet? Milking this whole pregnancy thing abit too much aren't you?”

“Ok, I'm done being patient for you!!! Go jogging or climb some stairs ... or ... OTHER things ... and get that baby moving! “

You were “done”?!

I was done.

Overdone.

Completely spent and exhausted from being patient.

Dogs and cats wait 60 days.

Rabbits wait 33 days.

Mice only wait 20 days.

Humans?

271 days.

Why forced to have so many bloated days?

What reason is there behind this torture?!

Texts of encouragement came in, but none spoke more strongly than this:

“These sterile and barren bodies of ours are yearning for full deliverance.

That is why waiting does not diminish us, any more than waiting diminishes a pregnant mother.

We are enlarged in the waiting.

We, of course, don’t see what is enlarging us.

But the longer we wait, the larger we become, and the more joyful our expectancy.

Meanwhile, the moment we get tired in the waiting, 

God’s Spirit is right alongside helping us along.

 He knows us far better than we know ourselves, knows our pregnant condition. That’s why we can be so sure that every detail in our lives of love for God is worked into something good.

God knew what he was doing from the very beginning.”

{Romans 8}

We wait

For that spouse that never comes

For that job promotion they say is just around the corner

For the day we will earn more

For that relationship to be fixed

For the house of our own

The morning the contractions started

Painfully waking me at 5am

Faithfully pulsing every 20 minutes

Five hours later

As my mum arrived panicked and scared of missing the birth

They remained still 20 minutes apart

My pudgy self bounced frustratingly on the exercise ball

Netflix choices blurred into mundane viewing

My time had come

Labour was imminent

But yet Father God was still calling me

In a place of patience

We wait

For the marriage proposal

For the big break into the industry

For the manager to appreciate our efforts

For the fertility treatment to work

For acceptance on a course

For healing

The sickness came back.

My “friend” vomit that had consumed each week of my pregnancy

Overwhelming took over my labour

Contractions ranged from 1 to 7 minute gaps

Each painfully convulsing my body

A disjointed 10pm walk to the hospital

A delusional time on gas & air

A two hour grueling stint in water

And there she was.

The words of the friend rang in my ear:

“Labour doesn’t matter once it’s stopped.”

Those things are coming.

Those dreams deep in our beings, with heartbeats and kicks and pains

Have life within them

They are cooking, developing, growing.

It may not be happening to you as quick as the dog

Or the cat

Or the mouse

As quick as your sister

Your friend

Everyone else

But it’s coming.

It was relayed to me, that I spoke these words to my precious Zella, 

as her wrinkled grey body lay wetly on my exhausted chest:

“I did this for you. I did this all for you.”

All the waiting

The agony

The stretching

The pushing

My reward, my prize, the end

Was truly worthy of the waiting

My heart has softened

My soul has learnt patience

My character has developed

Truly, I was enlarged in the waiting

Dear Baby Miller - part 2

Dear Baby Miller,

Sweet merciful Zeus, you are due tomorrow!!

And by due, Mummy means this is the expected day of arrival, marking exactly one year since Mummy and Daddy arrived back from America, and Mummy will probably ball her eyes out and be devastated if you don’t come on our special day.

Welcome to the world of Miller family pressure.

There’s so much Mummy feels she wants to impart to you, teach you, brainwash you with on your arrival, but this little letter contains one of the most important lessons you’ll need:

“Don’t take things on face value.”

Mummy is the one people usually meet first.

When Mummy enters a room, people know she has arrived. Her loudness prevails, alongside her over-friendliness and penchant for inappropriate jokes at inappropriate times.

Mummy is the crazy, charismatic, over-zealous one with a wooing tendency.

But wooing people only gets you so far.

People need consistency, character, faithfulness, and endurance.

They need sensitivity and understanding, and genuine love.

And that’s why we have this guy:

People make jokes about “pre-Mummy” Daddy:

Wild, curly hair, a wardrobe consisting entirely of baggy jeans/cargo shorts, red t-shirts and baseball caps.

Don’t get Mummy wrong; she is aware of the high standard of work. She single-handedly transformed Daddy from a vagabond band roadie to a professional looking hottie:

But the truth is, Daddy has done a deeper transformation on Mummy.

Teaching Mummy to listen.

Showing Mummy how issues can be dealt with without extreme confrontation.

Learning to enjoy the quiet.

Becoming more patient with people and their issues.

Truly putting Father God first and seeking after Him in everything.

Being someone of true integrity.

Genuinely loving others.

Not being afraid to trust and open up to people.

Every step of Mummy’s difficult pregnancy, Daddy has been there.

Supportingly taking Mummy’s hand to walk her everywhere.

Rushing from work to get to midwife and scan appointments.

Reassuring texts of love throughout the day.

Pulling back Mummy’s hair to puke in the mornings.

Bringing breakfast in bed when Mummy was too weak to go downstairs.

Waking in the middle of the night to readjust the duvet each time Mummy returned from the toilet.

Buying Mummy skittles, ginger beer, Chinese takeaway and anything else random she craved/whined about.

You are blessed for so many reasons, with an amazing family and so many people praying for you and eagerly awaiting your arrival; for the fact you have been so healthy so far; for the hand of God already showing itself upon your life providing for you in miraculous ways.

But Mummy weeps at how blessed you are by the amazing Father you have been given.
Because I know how powerful a thing that is a child’s life, and it will change the trajectory of your life.

Some people look and think that Mummy is the boss, the head of it all.

Like I said, don’t take things on face value.

The truth is, while Mummy has carried you, Daddy has carried Mummy.

See you tomorrow.

xxx

Dear Baby Miller

Dear Baby Miller,

Hey Cheeky!! I’ve toyed with in-vitro names for you such as “Buddy,” “Munchkin,” “Lil’ Mill,’” “Poopsie”… But given your penchant for kicking incessantly, constantly resting on my bladder and your crazy timing into our lives, I think “Cheeky” is the best name for you!!

Madea, your maternal grandmother (who despises being called a “grandmother”), had a special nickname for us. In the early days of our marriage, she called us “Posh & Becks” in homage to our celebrity status and behaviour. You will be pleased to know however that we are not following in their footsteps in regards to naming you after the place you were conceived: It’s bad enough that Birmingham will be on your birth certificate as place of birth. Mummy hopes that doesn’t cause too much prejudice in your later life.

This is one of mummy’s randomly favourite pictures of us together:

Date Night at the German Market

That’s your daddy, looking like an Abercrombie model advertising a BBQ. One day mummy will show you pictures of what daddy looked like at university and you’ll realise that mummy is a miracle worker, able to see potential behind a mass of ginger curls and baggy clothes. It will also explain to you why it takes so long for the family to get dressed up to go out.

And that’s me, your mummy, the one with the eclectic fashion sense (part hobo-part style icon) and the tendency to consistently bite off more than she can chew. I expect your extra-curricular activities and holiday schedule will reflect that same ethos.

Now, for that rare brief two-minute period of the day where mummy is serious and doesn’t make an inappropriate joke, this photo tells you three things about your new life:

1. There will be adventure.

Whether to this German Market, theme park, Texas, a canal, or even to the shops; there will always be a crazy story, a fun time and an experience that seems so outrageous, your friends will think you’ve made up.

2. We bring light.

We desire to shine brightly, stand strong, be different and draw people to examine their lives in its intended fullness with Father God, out of the darkness.

3. You will need to exercise lots as we LOVE food.

A lot.

But hopefully you’ll be annoying just like us and have an incredible fast metabolism so you can eat whatever you want and stay thin.

See, I told you I can’t go more than two minutes.

Cheeky, you are loved more than you know.

(Regardless of the screams of agony you have heard from me during morning sickness, muscle pain, PGP, potential pee-pee infection, costochondritis, and blood tests mummy has had to endure to keep you established and comfortable in your Hilton-esque abode.)

We can’t wait to meet you.

(and see who wins the bets re: the ginger afro)

And though the house is a mess and we’re a little nervous, we are so very ready and so excited for your arrival. On September 13th. Just in case you were unsure of the date.

Love,

Daddy & Mummy

The ones that keep poking you and shouting loudly when you sleep.

xxx

Ps. If you can sleep through the night from the first week, we’ll buy you a car for your 18th birthday.

Life After Mission

We were asked by St. Germain's Church, one of our biggest supporters throughout our time on Pais, to write an article for their mission newsletter on "Life After Mission": what our experience has been returning as missionaries from another country. We are publishing this article to stay authentic and show our experience, as well as encourage/forewarn those who are moving on from Pais this year as they step out. 

S&S

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After 4-5 years of living and working in America with The Pais Project in the USA, we packed up and moved back to England in September 2011. Much is made of the transition when a missionary first leaves for a country: raising finances to set up a new life, adjusting to culture shock, starting a new position and understanding your new organisation are a few of the enormous tasks to be tackled. Returning from mission on the other hand seems a much simpler affair: typically you are returning to the same country and city you were originally from, with many family and friends surrounding you, thus adjustment should be minimal.

But this is far from the case.

Spending so many years in Arlington, Texas gave us a very strong base of friends who lived close to us, whom we didn’t know what married life was like without.

Weeks were spent emotionally packing, selling and throwing out personal items in order to condense our life into a few suitcases.

We arrived back with no jobs, little finances and no home of our own, with Sebrina moving to a city she had never lived in before and 90 miles from the security of her own family and most of her best friends.

And on top of this all, Steve’s father was suffering with brain cancer.

We were thankful for advice we had before leaving from multiple sources that this transition would undoubtedly be harder than we could anticipate and would test us emotionally and spiritually. But nothing fully prepares you for the actuality of the situation. On reflection, these are our main thoughts on moving back home and starting “Life After Mission.”

You find even the smallest things overwhelming

Banking. Food shopping. Using public transport. Paying bills.

Simple everyday things that are completely different in Texas in comparison to England.

Having acclimatised so well to Texan culture, and despite England being our home, we felt we have to get re-used to everything again. Frustrations often built when we couldn’t quite master or understand the system and we felt like we had to ask for help with the most basic of things. Slowly we got readjusted to the new way of living and found systems that worked for us, but we had to power through the “overwhelmed” feeling.

You question whether you made the best decision

In the Old Testament, when things went badly for an individual (eg. Job) it is assumed that they have sinned in some way: Job’s friends gathered around him begging him to confess some dreadful sin he had done. The grace of Jesus and the nature of the sinful world that we live in shows us today that this is warped theology, but we can’t help but wonder what we did wrong when things don’t go our way. Despite emotional support from family, friends and St Germain’s church, things often spiralled out of our control and we couldn’t settle as well as we assumed we would. The situation was overpowering, creating lots of tears and questioning about whether moving was the best situation. We knew that it had been a prayerful decision over the course of 18 months, but we needed constant reminders of this in order to be confident in the difficult situation we had found ourselves in.

You worry about the work you have left behind

Having spent so much energy, time and love investing in our roles, and more importantly individuals, leaving was hard. We had clearly communicated our departure in advance but still there were difficulties in our transition. Pais had not been able to find a replacement for Steve’s role as quickly as expected. The Co-National director of Pais:USA was suffering an undiagnosed illness thus the leadership was stretched with extra responsibilities. Some students, despite our best efforts, were connected solely to us and not the wider church thus felt too much of a gap when we left. The wonders of the internet meant that we could talk regularly to all those we missed, but sometimes that made it worse, making us more aware of issues that were going on back in Texas. You slowly have to manage not stopping in your care of those in your old place, but not letting that care consume you and make you feel unnecessarily guilty about situations beyond your control. It becomes a time of learning to depend on the fact that Father God is completely sovereign over all the earth.

You question your spiritual purpose now you aren’t officially in “ministry”

The apostle Paul talks of the body of Christ and the role each of us have to play within it. With the status ‘missionary’ you have great ease finding this role as it is placed upon you: you have a job title, responsibilities, people dependent upon you, events to organise, teaching to plan…your spiritual purpose it seems is clearly laid out when you are in ministry. Suddenly, back home after mission, everything changes: Sunday services aren’t dependent upon you, you haven’t got the set people you are meeting, mid-week events occur whether or not you are there to start or finish them. The lack of responsibility and new found freedom can affect people in two different ways. On one side, you could become revitalised and refreshed, feeling free to try something new and enjoy church more because you now have more of a choice about whether or not you attend. On the other hand, it can leave you confused and feeling redundant, unneeded and unsure of where or if to serve. Both of us have felt both sides of this coin, but are slowly moving into a place of exploring what new things await us in regards to our ministry. One of the great blessings for both of us has been suddenly thrust into a work environment filled with different faiths and we have gladly relished this opportunity which is not afforded to you when you work entirely in a Christian team.

‘Life After Mission’ is a mess of emotions, thoughts and practicalities. At times it can feel that you will never be settled back in, or be able to stop these conflicting emotions. Slowly though, you realise that there is no such thing as “life after mission” – we are all called to a certain place, at a certain time, for a certain purpose, and there are people in our spheres of influence crying out for us to reach out to them, to see them as our mission field, right on our very doorsteps. The thing that people struggle most with in life are transitions, and moving from a different country and completely changing job and responsibility are two transitions combined that have the potential to break an unsupported individual or family. Our prayer, is that Father God will lead all of us to be more aware of those who are experiencing transitions around us, and to find practical ways to support them as they traverse their new life.

Joneses

I want to be like the Joneses.

The Joneses are a great couple.

Fun, lively, adventurous.

And most importantly,

They have lots of money.

They’re both professionals, well respected in their jobs,

And at the end of the month, when their pay cheque arrives

They don’t weep with sadness.

The Joneses love to travel and go and see their friends all the time

They always buy everyone’s drinks at the bar

They produce the most unique and expensive birthday presents for friends

Their clothing is impeccable.

Parties, at the fancy hotels they hire, are an extravagant evening of outrageous fun.

Holidays are filled with business class jaunts across the world

And they can often afford to pay

for other members of their family to join them.

The Joneses are cool.

The Joneses are great.

But the Joneses are not the Millers.

And that makes me envious.

I have this nagging feeling that the Millers

will never be that couple who earn tons of money.

And I thought I was ok with that.

Neither one of us has a tremendous desire to climb the corporate ladder

After Miller man’s brief encounter of retail management,

he realised that he wanted to grow people and not profits

After Miller woman’s profound calling to youth ministry aged 15,

she knew that she was inspired by the thought of impacting the lives of the broken, young and hurting

Neither one of these comes with a massive pay packet

And that was ok

I thought

But five years following graduation

Not even earning enough to meet student loan pay off threshold

And you start to wonder

Is the life of the Millers that good

That effective

That profitable?

And you peek over the fence

And the grass looks lush and bright

And for just a day, or a week

It seems great to roll around

On the other side

Profound night thoughts make me ponder

What is true wealth?

For our wealth of experiences

Of travels to African continent

Jet set transatlantic life

Training people who impact a generation

Helping write book that calls others to action

Mentoring young people and seeing them thrive in their futures

Being told by non-Christians, that our faith seems so strong

Is there not a great richness in this as well?

And commitment made, and stuck to, alongside marriage vows

To live debtless

Unchained

Without credit card, store cards

Mortgage or car loan

And see the real freedom

That could be had

Are we not richer with bank balance that stays in black?

When Father’s holy word says

“fret not yourself”

and

“do not be envious”

I must remind myself

We are the Millers

Called to something different than the Joneses

Or the Smiths, or the Blacks, or the Scots

Our path is individual

And looking over fences

Merely distracts from the garden I am to tend on my own patch

Being rich is not a crime

Being poor is a not a sin

The real travesty of life

Is when I’m so blinded by the endeavour for the more and different to what I have

The world misses out on me concentrating

On the things I am called to

The things the Millers are meant to do.

Photo © Paul Green