Ptsd in war times

It's a war we're  in. We say it,  we know it to some degree, but it still shocks us.  It startled me today as I was watching a movie to see a man suffering from shell shock and the aftermaths of war.

What struck me in particular, was how familiar it was. I've seen it first hand,  yet not in a physical war. Is me.  It's my family.  It's every missionary in training and on the field.... especially there. It's in our churches some too.

What does it look like?  How can you recognize it? It's a  family just going through the motions just trying to survive- shell shocked. It's a mother falling apart and sobbing at random times. Seemingly rebellious children.   It's sleepless nights,  unexplained medical issues,  tight tensions, dark days and darker nights. It's not wanting any more noise,  people, nor discomforts. 

I've read accounts of some missionary wives losing their minds, children who vow never to be missionaries,  husbands lose heart and abandon hope. 

We're living some of it. 

It's a battle field.  One you can't ever fully escape. Though He does give us rest in the midst of it all.

I don't  mean to depress but to offer the same type of comfort that I get when I read the book of Job when I'm really struggling- it's a real comfort. 

It does hurt.  So cry.  Cry out to the One that feels every minute detail and cares,  and can help.  Then pick up the pieces and give them to Him. He is a good God; trust Him. Let him finish the puzzle. Don't pull away from him but allow Him to pull you into His arms. Concentrate on putting one foot in front of the other.  Accomplish the small priorities that are immediately in front of you.  Practice thankfulness. The every day.  The common grace. The simple. Don't discount it,.

And rest and pray love your family.  Pets are great for giving unconditional love when you need it the most.  :) 

And remember that life here on earth is short.  It'll be over soon. Let's give Him all we have; He's worth it.

The Adventure of staying

It's been over a year since my last post... crazy how time flies! Our family is all done the formal part of our training for the mission field (there's always something to learn)....and we can't go. My health (we still don't know what's really wrong), our family's well being (stress loads have been too high for too long),... well,  it's put us in a pause mode of sorts.

It's been a year, pausing, and we see a greater need for more rest (I use that word loosely, as life still  happens). We are still going through many adjustments with Zack graduated and moved out,  Justus starting public school for the first time.  The kids are growing up!

It's been a tough pill to swallow,  staying put, in some ways. Dealing with disappointment from our own change of plans and from other's ideals. Yet is been such a relief as well.  We have enough to deal with,  without having to move and learn a new culture and language.

I spent the first few months in our new "paused" location, in bed,  unable to function.  I praise God for the rest and also for the measure of health He's given back to me.  Most days,  I can function. Some days,  I feel like myself. Still getting some testing done.  I've been able to find home remedies and supplements to help with the symptoms.

Todd is back to work full-time. First in carpentry,  and then when that dried up,  he learned a new trade,  flooring. He works long hours to help proved for us,  often parenting over the phone to help me out.  I'm so proud of him and thankful for him.  He's done my job and his,  more times than not,  of late. And praise be to God! He's sustained Todd and even grown him through this. (I'm sure I've grown too,  but my perspective is to close to see it. )

We've been able to see,  during this time,  God move two families to bring the gospel to first nations peoples. He's still moving to reach them.  Maybe eventually He'll use us to this capacity,  maybe He's got other plans.  For now we learn to stay and grow in Him here,  and minister here... especially to our family.


I'm at Tim Hortons today.  I just dropped off Justus to football practice.  I have a few errands to run and then I'll go home (that's such a loaded word- home). I'll do some chores,  send Brooke off to work (waitressing),  feed the dog,  Pippin (we love that puppy! ). I might snuggle the cat,  if she's in the mood ;). And who knows what adventures will come my way today?

DUST

Dust. Everywhere. Even the grass was dusty. That was my first impression when we drove over the US border and into Mexico. Even though we stayed only a few minutes from the border, when we crossed it, it was evident that we were in a different culture.

As we continued driving to our destination, I played “tourist” and gawking at everything: the police armed to the teeth standing guard or driving around, the run-down cement buildings next door to affluent homes, the fruit trees and vegetation that were so different from home in Canada, the sellers and their carts (or just their cars) full of everything you could want to buy.

My reverie was often broken up by frequent stops at what was humorously named “gringo launchers”, large often unmarked speed humps. Driving was an adventure all on its own, with seemingly little to no rules or signs. Roads were thoroughfares for people, cats, dogs, farm animals...and sometimes vehicles. There, you straddled the white line, if there was one, and seatbelts were optional.

We arrived at our “home” for the next four days. It looked suspiciously like three large cement boxes stuck together, with a gate around the perimeter. Inside was cool and refreshing...and smelled like an old outhouse. After unloading our belongings, we discovered that the landlord had built a “new” bathroom indoors (versus the old one that was joined to the outside of the building), thus the reason for the scent. We tackled the job of cleaning the place-especially the bathroom, to make it more sanitary for our families. I had brought some essential oils, and soap and water were available so we scrubbed. We got most of the cement off the toilet from the building job but we never did find the back piece for it. After checking out the shower, though, we decided to sponge bathe.

Mexicans are “front porch kind” of people, always around, eager to greet and smile and chat. Friendly. A contrast to our back door, never-at-home culture in most of North America. Walking around the neighborhood was a great way to meet people. We spoke through a translator and got to know our neighbors a bit. Many were people the team had already had connections with on previous visits. We prayed with them, encouraged them, shared our testimonies, and loved them. They were invited to come for a meal and time in God’s Word together later on in the week.

The night they came over, the ladies had cooked a large meal of rice, refried beans, ground beef, tacos, and corn over the small propane camp stove we had brought with us. We shared the meal together and then Todd started sharing God’s Word. I watched the four who had come, out of the corner of my eye, trying to perceive their interest and reaction. One lady appeared to be politely putting up with us. Another one wiped away tears frequently. The lone man seemed to know the scriptures that he had claimed to have read through in its entirety. Truths were shared from God’s word with lively illustrations (such as a rat trap that snapped and flew out of Todd’s hand at the wrong time). Towards the end of the evening, Todd shared his testimony. The atmosphere in the room changed and the lady who was only being polite was now listening intently. God seemed to be moving in this little run down room among these hurting people. We were all greatly encouraged.

We left Mexico tired, but encouraged that the God who had formed us from the dust of the ground, used us in some small way while we were there.

-Eve Nielsen

March 30, 2015

A Grief Endured

This week the little kitten that Justus brought home died. We tried everything to help it to no avail. It was so tiny and seemed to be doing well, but it must have got an infection or something. We cried. It was precious to us and it was hard to see it suffer and see life slowly leave it's fragile fluffy body.

A few days later, I'm still grieving its loss. I am grieving over death and its presence in this world, in my life. I've seen a little of it in the death of our first child due to miscarriage, pets along the way, and relatives racked with illness and age.

I've pondered this week as to why this has hit me so hard. I've seen pets die before and not mourned so deeply. Part of the reason is because of the weariness and emotional fatigue that I am currently struggling with. But after observing my life over the years, I know at times I feel things very deeply. I think perhaps that God has made me to empathize over certain things, events, circumstance. I've seen myself enraged over the local priest who has spouted off lies to my family for generations, I've seen a show at the local gym that depicted people hurting each other  being called entertainment and been deeply grieved over the sin of our people and how degenerate we are as humans.

Perhaps God has given me a ministry of mourning. It is not a foreign concept as we see the prophets of old who grieved over the sin of their people,of Jesus who cried over Jerusalem. If nothing else, Maybe my heart simply is reflecting a bit of how God feels over sin and the effects of it in our world.

"Blessed are they that mourn...for they shall be comforted." Matthew 5:4

It is a blessing to mourn. Why? Because of the last part of the verse! We will be comforted! And what comfort! From one who knows every nuance and depth of every pain. From one who is the epitome of all hope, delight, and consolation! From God Himself. From the Holy Spirit who dwells in us who groans out the words that we cannot find to utter. From Jesus who prays for us to the Father. From the Father who knows the pain of sending His only Son to die. From a Sovereign God in control of all things and works all for our good to His glory. What joy!

Chapter 3: Moving Out/Tub Tales: Life in a Tub

My next tub was in college. We shared a bathroom between five of us girls. One of the girls did not like me, for reasons unknown. I could not do anything right, in her opinion. She constantly complained that I left the tub dirty (even though there were five of us sharing it). Things finally got so tense and difficult between us, and could not be resolved, that I transferred to another school.

This next Bible College had no tub, just old mineral encrusted showers lined up in cement cubicles. It was my job to scrub these out. It was disappointing to never see results; it looked the same before as after. The school did have something going for it, though, since I met my husband there.

On our honeymoon, we rented a log cabin complete with fireplace, quilt, and cozy feeling. The tub there was so high that I banged my shins on it. We also rented the Victorian suite that boasted of a 4 poster bed and jacuzzi-now that was a tub!

We newlyweds moved into our first apartment, a newly redeemed building from the druggy era. It had badly warped walls (did they use to stash drugs there??), a missing window in the outside door, and the bathroom window had been painted with gaudy flowers to allow for privacy. But it was ours.

Our next apartment had carpet in the bathroom-who carpets a bathroom? Yuck! But it did have a beautiful large clawed-foot bathtub. It was deep! Lovely! This was a comfort especially during my time of miscarrying our first child.

Our next move took us from New Brunswick to Alberta for more Bible schooling. We had made the move with only what we could fit into the car. We drove until we were tired and called local churches for a free place to pitch our tent for the night. We only slept in that tent only one night,as most churches found us homes to stay in. One lady even let us have her room!

The four-plex that we moved into had everything in it: furniture, silverware, plates, etc. All that we needed God had abundantly provided. The upstairs and downstairs were divided by a communal landing and 2 flights of stairs. Awkward if you want to go to the bathroom at night and your bedroom is upstairs. We finally moved our bedroom to the less finished downstairs, since being pregnant with our first son made for many more trips to the bathroom.

We moved from the apartment to a rented house just weeks before our baby was born. I don't remember the bathroom. I don't remember much of anything, since I was so busy with a colicky baby.

my boy (right) all grown up with his friends

Chapter 2: Growing Up/Tub Tales:Life in a Tub

We left the Bible camp and moved into "the old house". For us kids, it was an adventurous place full of secret stairs, winding halls, and hidden rooms. For my parents, it was a a dilapidated old house whose chimney caught fire twice. Perspective.

I don't remember much about the bathroom, except I preferred to avoid the bathtub and bathing in general; it infringed on my play time. I do however remember my mom telling me a bath story of her own. She and dad had just been married and she was over at a friend's house taking a shower before a party that was to happen there. She took off her wedding ring and forgot it on the edge of the tub. Someone stole it during the party. Dad bought her an identical one to replace it.

all dressed up with my cousin (far left) and siblings in the "old house"

Later, Mom and Dad put a bid on a house that the government was selling off because it was in a flood zone, and won the bid. They bought land and placed the "new" house on it. Lots of work followed; it was a renovation war zone. Nothing was safe from being potentially ripped up, torn down or updated. Carpet left in clouds of dust, soggy wallpaper rolled sloppily down the walls in strips, and there was lots of painting. The bathroom was one room that was the least renovated, though, until one fateful day. Mom was commenting on how small the bathroom was and wasn't it a pity it couldn't have been bigger. We couldn't expand into the porch, because it was not heated and we wanted to keep the porch space. A small light bulb flashed in my brain. If they tore down part of my bedroom wall that bordered the bathroom and expanded into the bedroom, it would afford more space and even get the washer and dryer up out of the basement. No sooner said, then it was done.

Chapter 1: The Younger Years/Tub Tales: Life in a Tub

*Note: I got this idea from one of my former posts. My hubby and I were reminiscing the other night about all the different tubs we have had over the years and thus Tub Tales was born. :)


My first tub was actually not a tub at all; it was the kitchen sink. Mom had to pump the water by hand and heat it on the wood stove. The round house we lived in was built by my father and grandfather. It had a wrap around porch that I enjoyed playing on with an old tea pot. One day mom heard me screaming and yelling like something was wrong. She ran to see and found me hanging off the edge of the deck by my hands! Then she let me down the two inches to the ground. I had not realized I could let go and touch the ground.

Mom and dad decided to move, when I was a year and a half years old, to go to Bible school. We lived in the trailer park on the grounds of the campus. Our trailer was a small affair that got smaller as we were joined by my younger sister and baby brother. Here we had a small tub, but the sink was occupied by the younger siblings. On the wall hung in the living room hung this painting on velvet:

I looked at it often and thought about it. 

My dad graduated and we moved into a Bible camp. He built another house-this one was with an all natural rock exterior. The tub here was a large claw style...but no running water because there was no electricity. Mom had to heat the water needed for these baths as well. We did eventually get running water. It was gravity fed, so it took a long time to fill the tub with the water that trickled out-and it was cold. There was a fresh water spring fed creek nearby that we would go to to get a drink. A box was built in the stream that had a hook and a cup hanging from it. The box was our fridge (the water kept things cold) and the cup was frequently dipped into the stream for a fresh, cold drink.