I’m an “all or nothing” kind of lady. If I can’t do something all the way, I would rather not do it. It is my greatest strength and my greatest weakness. My “all or nothing” mindset helped me to wholeheartedly commit my life to living in Africa and parenting Lifa as a single, young lady years ago. It helped me say, “I choose you,” to Chris Ladd when we had the fateful “business meeting” and decided to commit our lives to each other before we had ever even been on our first date. It helps me every morning when my alarm goes off at 4:40am to get up and get the most out of those quiet morning hours with God so that I can give my all to my family and our city for the rest of the day. It can also leave me empty from going, giving and going some more all day, every day.

Last year, we spent Father’s Day weekend tucked into a frost-covered tent under a blanket of South African stars. Our first six months in Cape Town had been challenging. Our souls needed the refuge of wide-open spaces. We drove three hours outside the city, hoping and praying that the campsite Chris found through a very extensive online search would be that refuge. We had reserved a campsite called Echo Valley, nestled perfectly inside of a mountain hug and at least one mile away from anyone else on the private nature reserve, Gecko Rock.

I’ve wanted to write a beautiful, adjective-smothered story about our amazing camping trip ever since we pulled out of the campsite last Tuesday morning. But the week didn’t go the way it was supposed to. (According to me.) It’s been almost a month since my womb released our baby girl 35 weeks too early, and we gave heaven a free one. I expected that, after a month, I would be able to type that sentence without weeping. I expected to be back on track physically. I expected to be better by now.

Our perfect little Ladd baby has already left a legacy in our family. In holding her and letting her go, we are changed forever. We can say with resolution that we are a family who pre-decides and re-decides every time we need to that our God is good. We rejoice, whether happy or sad, when heaven is populated. While she is rocked by angels in everlasting life, we get to give our lives on this earth for the purpose of populating heaven.

For a limited time, Lifa understands the world through our words, prayers, actions and interactions. His expectations, desires and reality are formed at his bedside nightly as we pray for friendship, school, courage, and character. His tastes are formed during the music marathons we play in the kitchen and in the conversation and meals we have at dinner. 

We had the teaching materials, projector, laptop, and sweets to use for the icebreaker game. It seemed like we were all set to go. But at the last minute, someone said, “Just one more thing – we should probably bring a bucket.” Yesterday, we began a group with Arise Cape Town for 8th and 9th graders who have experienced traumatic events and need help managing their residual stress. Every Thursday morning, we are graciously given an hour of school time, an open room, and 11 teenagers- all coping with PTSD in very different ways. 

I was a single missionary for my first five years in South Africa. I lived in a volatile and largely unpoliced part of the nation, and the window of opportunities seemed very small for this independent, adventure-loving lady. I eventually adapted to living behind security bars, not driving at night, and other new-life nuances. And then it just stopped working. Three years in, I hit rock bottom. 

The greatest win for today, however, is to stop asking questions and letting my insecurities and inadequacies spiral out of control. The greatest win is to just write something.

You have to be moving to have momentum. Your miracles and breakthroughs happen inside your momentum. We honor God with our movement.

It’s 5am in South Africa, and it’s Lifa’s birthday! 

There’s a pink-swirled sky, and I’m pouring through pictures of baby Lifa before his 10-year old self wakes up. 

LADD FAMILY MILESTONE: This is the first Christmas in the history of the Ladd family that we will all be in the same country! ...In two days, Lifa’s father will board the fanciest, memory foam recliner Greyhound has to offer and begin a 24-hour journey to Cape Town. He will spend two weeks with us, experiencing Lifa’s life as a part of our family. He will see Lifa’s room, watch him practice guitar, play Legos, ride bikes, walk the dogs, see Lifa’s school, and experience what an incredible young man Lifa is. 

I failed… A race report on UTCT 100km and an even better life lesson.  

A year ago, when we moved to Cape Town, I started to train for the Ultra Trail Cape Town.  This is a 100km race that circumnavigates Table Mountain and the surrounding mountains that grace Cape Town with so much beauty.  In this last year, I have lost 30+ pounds, sacrificed a lot of time, and worked my way up to 70 – 90 mile weeks of running.  I put everything I had into getting ready for this race. 

They ranged in age from 3 months to 79 years. Our Thanksgiving guests came from every walk of life, spoke multiple languages, and one of them is going for his purple belt in karate this weekend. It was everyone’s first time to celebrate my favorite American holiday, and they had all googled “Thanksgiving” before they came to know what to say, bring and expect. They had hilarious expectations from American movie clips, and they came with flowers, chocolate, wine, hugs, double-cheek kisses, a jar of honey, a candle, a ball, and a giant clay pot. South African hospitality is amazing!

Our family’s move to Cape Town was a shorter distance but much longer journey than our moves to South Africa from America. In the past one year, we inhabited four homes, two countries, four longdrives, two schools, an embarrassing amount of tears and chocolate for the lady of the house, and a boatload of miracles. 

On Monday night, we told him we were going to have pap, beans, cabbage and beetroot for dinner the next night. And he could eat it with his hands. His eyes lit up, and he said, “It’s like it’s a birthday dinner!”

This morning, I dropped Lifa off with an educational psychologist for a 4-hour assessment. He understood that the psychologist’s job was to give his parents and teachers tools to help him be his best in school, and there was a good chance he would get to draw. She has a giant desk like Dad’s, and he would have 4-hours of uninterrupted adult attention. Game on. 

Last week, as I was leaving the counseling center to pick my shiny-eyed boy up from school, my world got rocked when I made eye contact with a 3-year old. She was wearing a fluffy, pink jacket. And her eyes were not shiny. The inherent shine that is part of the thread our Creator creates with was gone. Already. Her parents were also threadbare. 

It’s been six years, three months and one week since I started the long drives to take Lifa to visit his biological father. Along the way, the oh-so-handsome Chris Ladd stepped in like a super hero to take the steering wheel, take my hand, and take the lead for our family. Together, we re-committed to God to preserve Lifa’s relationship with his father and his culture. 

The Ladd Family was eager to take another faith leap outside of our comfort zones when we moved to Cape Town with a call to plant and pastor a new church. Although the city is more westernized than anywhere we’ve lived in South Africa before, I have spent the past few months feeling hopelessly out of my element. 

When I picked Lifa up from school on Friday, I told him it was an extra special day for our family. I re-explained guardianship and let him slowly process it, Lifa-style. I explained that nothing really changes for his daily life and asked if he had questions.