children processing death

Last week I published a letter from Nathan Jernigan, a licensed psychotherapist who attends our sending congregation in Murfreesboro, Tennessee.  In it Nathan offered advice as to how we ought to help our children through trauma and tragedy; this was written in response to the Sandy Hook shootings.

I mentioned in that post I’d like to share some of my thoughts on children dealing with death.  So today I am.

Here is the letter I wrote Nathan in response to his advice (I’ve bolded a few thoughts):

Nathan, this is Brett Harrison writing from Geita, Tanzania.  I just wanted to let you know how much I appreciate you having written this for everyone at Stones River (and even their missionaries abroad).  While the shootings in Newtown aren’t something about which we’ve heard a great deal — and while the oldest of our children is only three — your words are very much appreciated.  

Our daughters regularly are witness to sickness, sadness, and tragedy here in Geita; and navigating these situations is difficult for me at times.

burned fingers

The water from our taps isn’t clean.  So I try not to drink out of cups or eat off dishes still wet after washing.  This morning I was rinsing out a coffee press and, rather than drying the press after cleaning, I opted to pour some of the water I’d just boiled over the top of it.

the 5 most likely origins of wedge salads

I have a new favorite TV show.

Yeah, my friend T brought a couple of seasons of “Modern Family” on DVD, and I think it’s hilarious.  But that’s besides the point.  I only bring it up because an episode of my new favorite show reminded me of something that really bothered me while in the U.S. last year.  I’ve not mentioned it until now, but I can’t keep it in any longer.

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Wedge salads?!  Seriously?

is _____________ a spiritual gift?

Is Cam Newton spiritually gifted at football?  

[Don't be turned off by the sports metaphor; this post is not about Cam Newton, but rather about spiritual gifts and what constitutes such...

the tattoo i didn’t get (yet)

I had planned to get another tattoo while home on furlough this past year.  I even had it approved by the wife.

God loves him some cattle

Do all dogs go to heaven?  Do any dogs go to heaven?  Did you know that God spelled backwards is dog?  Is God concerned with the plight of our pets?  Should all Christians necessarily be members of PETA?*  Am I as intelligent as the common ground squirrel?

amaranth to zai holes: my time thus far in the u.s.

Greetings.  Yeah, it’s been a while.  I’ve definitely broken at least three records since August 6th of this year:

things i’ve missed: humidity

It’s hot here in Tennessee.  Really hot.  Hotter than I remember it having been ever before.  

And I live in Africa… without air conditioning.

But it’s not so much the heat that I’ve realized this week I’ve missed all this time.  It’s the humidity.  

lazy… or efficient?

I’ve got a big, blue Diadora duffle bag with which I like to travel.  So the other day when I needed to pack for our furlough to the states, I grabbed it.  It was heavy.  

a mountain that made us nervous

We needed to break up the days that can get you stuck in a place where there is no adventure, no intrigue.  We needed to scrub clean all the days between the not doing and the doing.  We needed, once again, to find a mountain that made us nervous.  – “Friends in High Places,” Bicycling magazine, June 2011

While the context of this particular quote is a group of cycling friends traveling to California to climb Mount Baldy (Stage 7 of this year’s Tour of California), it could just as accurately express my own thoughts on many a day.

I know, I know… I’m the guy who lives in Africa, swims in Lake Victoria, runs alongside baboons on beautiful mountain trails, and fords rivers in his 4WD truck in order to kill lions with his bare hands.

 ”You’ve got absolutely no right to complain about boredom!  You don’t work like a caged hamster, spinning the same wheel every day for the reward of a few drops of water and fresh wood chips on your newspaper lining.”

So maybe I should keep my mouth shut.  But I, like everyone,* long for my days to be worth something.  I want to be part of a larger event, an actor in a bigger story, a player in the championship game.  I fancy adventure, and I covet every new challenge.

We needed, once again, to find a mountain that made us nervous.

And then — in those moments that are all too rare — I remember… God is my mountain.

May God be your mountain.

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Related post:

restlessness and a lack of adventure

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* And possibly more so, as I once was one who worshiped my own accomplishments and could very well have been rightfully accused of having an addiction to adventure and conquest.