Have you had one of those mornings where you CAN NOT GET OUT THE DOOR!?! It’s very cold and rainy here, and we are only allowed out of the house between 6-9am for exercise. Chris is making a hard-earned comeback from a hamstring injury and goes on a solo run every morning. I am in charge of the broken elbows and the toddler, plus all the essential items like rain gear, rice cakes, face masks, and locking down the house. I took this photo to represent one entire hour of very active preparation to leave the house for a 30-minute walk.

Ironic - and pitiful - truth: This weekend, I spent two full nights wide awake because I was worried about Lifa. (Broken elbow story here!) The ironic part about that is I was up hoping and praying we could keep him comfortable, meet his needs, and give him an extra boost of love and care while he recovers. But during the day, when the rest of the humans were awake, I was so exhausted that I didn’t want to prepare meals because I couldn’t bear the sound of any of them chewing. I’m not proud of this. I’m just being honest.

I’ve been thinking a lot about blessings and choosing what kind of legacy to write into your family and the generations ahead of you. I don’t want to react to my life and see what people say about it at the end. I want to write the blessings I want to impart on my children and grandchildren in advance. I think it will help me stick to the script as life happens.

Welcome to Ladd Family real life. If you were one of the 124,872 actual flies in our house today, you might have been a witness to one of these scenarios:

Sunday, on a morning walk-jog, using buffs as face masks:

Lifa: “DO YOU SMELL THAT TRASH!?!”

Me: “Lifa, I think you have forgotten what fresh air smells like.”

NaNa love was the very best kind of love. It wrote a legacy through generations by doing exactly what love is supposed to do: it taught us how to love and be loved. NaNa love made it safe to screw up and never question your worth. It laughed and celebrated. It was a busy love that never stopped thinking about you and had a constant Dollar Store collection in the closet with your name on it. NaNa love insisted on feeding you- whether the food has expired or not. It never had to look for a silver lining because it could only reflect back the shining gold you didn’t even know was in you.

Tonight, my cranky, cross-eyed, chocolate-eating self is blown away that, a year ago, in a much harder season of life, I had at least one fleeting moment where God heard my prayer for wisdom and perspective. That is such a hope-filled reminder to me tonight that He sees us, He hears us, and He does give us the wisdom we ask for when we need it. Sometimes we don’t get it right for a moment, a night, or even a whole season of life, but we are loved by a God who is outside of time and space. He can help us to remember right now that our days are numbered and interpret our lives correctly. He sets wisdom deeply in our hearts and corrects our paths.

I’m done thinking about “new normals”, looking to the past, or worrying about the future. I’m thinking about who I want to become and what steps I can take toward that now. Cue: glitter tape.

Hello from COVID-19 Lockdown! STILL! Life has simultaneously gotten very slow and become wildly, insanely busy at the same time. RIGHT!?! Lifa misses the rest of his pre-teen species, and Benjamin has transformed from a sweet, little baby into a gravity-defying, boundary-testing toddler. Chris and I are waking extra early and working later in the evenings trying to make up time well-spent with kids during the day. We’ve made sweet family memories in quarantine, but this mom and dad are a litttttttle bit tired.

In 2018, Chris and I fasted from sugar, dairy, processed foods, anything with flour, bastings, sauces, spice mixes, condiments, and even chocolate. In the beginning, it felt like continuous sacrificing. Everything was bland, and grocery shopping was nightmarish. I remember Chris getting actually mad at me one day when I reminded him the deli meat that was millimeters away from his mouth was off limits. And the day I came home with sugar-free peanut butter... we don’t need to talk about that day. We were constantly verbalizing the questions, “Can we eat this?” while reading labels and racking our brains for what we could actually eat. 

It was 10 years ago today. Ten years ago, I called my mom and said goodbye one last time while my friends drove me to the airport. Then I cried on the phone with the AT&T lady while I cancelled my cell phone plan. I was leaving family and friends with no way of knowing I was going to stay and start a family of my own. Ten years ago, I set my feet on the soil of my future. I walked out of an airport in South Africa with two suitcases and pulsing excitement for what I thought was going to be a 6-month mission trip.

Sometimes we only see grace in hindsight, but it’s always there. I know that because Jesus left heaven to come to conquer every unconquerable in this world and give you the grace you need for today. Look around today, and you’ll probably find that you’re walking in the exact kind of grace you need for today. 

Benjamin turned 6 months yesterday! And I had a throwback to the last time I saw the inside of a hospital. Six months ago, I entered the hospital at 1:30am, 8cm dilated, and got put into a flying wheelchair that delivered me to labor and delivery. Yesterday, I made breakfast for Lifa, sent him off to school, and kissed Chris and Benjamin goodbye before hopping into an Uber. I walked into the hospital at 9am, admitted myself, and was escorted to the surgical unit. It started to sink in when I was wearing a hospital gown and a very friendly anesthesiologist and surgeon were describing procedures to me…I had surgery yesterday, by the way.

I thought the morning was going to go one way... and it didn’t. I laughed and took a picture of my set-up in the morning light. (It was still dark outside. The morning light was from the bulb above the stovetop.) I had my communion feast prepared, baby monitor in my robe pocket, coffee brewing and my breast pump cups ready to load up. Today is a special day - already blocked out on the fridge calendar: Mom’s Sabbath Morning. I have realized that the weekends are great times for meeting with people, doing school projects, and walking in the purpose God called us to Cape Town for... not so much for resting and recharging. I was so looking forward to this morning’s Sabbath stillness. 

“Sorry. We don’t have grown-up plates yet.” A frequently used statement in the Ladd house. 

 We live a fairly grown-up life: Grown-ups come over all the time. We are responsible for two children and two pups. And we are starting a church from the ground up. But if you sit at our table (and I hope you will), you will be served a grown-up meal on a plastic picnic plate. (We’ve also got two sizes of plastic cups and a bunch of plastic bowls.)

Things feel a little messy over here. And I’m not saying that just because Benjamin pooped on my jeans this morning. 

Rugby games and outreach opportunities are being cancelled because of a rise in gang violence. We’ve had to hire anotherlawyer to the Ladd Family Lawyer Team (ridiculous, I know) to protect us from a reckless landlord. Everyone in the house (except Chris) is breaking out because of hormones. And no one has legal recognition in South Africa (except Chris again). My fingerprints were rejected TWICE by the FBI while I’ve been trying to get paperwork taken care of for our immigration lawyer. 

On Sunday night we sat in our living room with two cooing babies, a toddler with her art supplies, and a couple of couches full of real people. One woman had left her husband that morning after learning that the adulterous relationship from 2013 was still active. Another woman came late because she had a sick child and was caught up in the boughs of an unbearably oppressive home life. Another family is getting ready to welcome baby #3 into the world and has no idea where this baby's car seat or crib will fit into their very compact life.

The Ladd house typically runs like a well-oiled machine. There are colour-coded calendars, two-week study projections, and weekly meal plans with dinner ingredients stored in the “Do Not Touch” drawer of the refrigerator. We’ve found our family’s flow by implementing routine, order and life-giving family dinners in the midst of a nation filled with unexpecteds….

I initially felt disappointed when there were not enough participants for the Personal Growth Course I was scheduled to teach it at [Arise Family Centre](https://arisefamily.org). Only two ladies showed up for the first scheduled class last week, so instead of using notebooks, whiteboards and therapeutic techniques, we pulled up chairs and chatted.

I knew one lady well. I spent a good amount of time with Granny V before.

It’s one-jillion degrees in Cape Town today, and humidity is on the rise. (Hallelujah! Rain is on the way!!!) As I write this, I’m still in my gym clothes and sitting crossed-legged in a camp chair at Lifa’s rugby practice. I’ve kicked off my shoes in effort to cool down and am set up to spend the next hour writing you story from Arise’s family center. But a one-liner from the rugby field just threw me off course.

I was trembling with the possibility. This was it. Resolution was at hand. Urgently. We spent an hour in the board room, reviewing the court appeal and asking questions. Lifa tried to look convincing “studying” next to me - but was actually gaping at our larger-than-life lawyer with his fast flowing  legal jargon. I initialed every single page of the appeal in a room stacked high with folders and appeals, and we were sent on our way to wait. Urgently waiting. 

It was not what I expected.