But it’s more than just free babysitting. Italian kids seem to enjoy a closer relationship with their grandparents. And it’s made me realize how little contact my kids have with theirs. It really does make life harder. I know my kids miss out on that special bond with grandma and grandpa (and it’s our fault – we’re the ones who moved here). They miss getting to know adults who are less busy and have more time to focus on kid-stuff. Heidi and I miss having someone who can watch the kids for date nights (which hardly ever happen when the going rate for babysitters is $15/hour). I think even our church misses out on the wisdom that grandparents bring. The internet does allow a bit more of a connection than would normally be possible via letters and phone calls. But the distance is still there and still changes things.

And I have yet to find a way to fill that gap.

And then something happens that makes me realize we have a long way to go: dialect.

I took the boys to get their hair cut yesterday (both got a faux-hawk). The guy that cuts their hair is from Naples. I can tell he’s not from Ancona from his accent, but I’m still not to the point where I can pinpoint where a person is from just from hearing them. At a certain point, the kids started asking him to say things in his dialect. We laughed as he repeated everyday words into something that wasn’t even close to the standard Italian that we learned. It sounded more Arab than Italian.

And then his friend came in – another person from Naples. He turned to us and said, “You want to hear some dialect? Watch this.” And then they spoke a language that was completely foreign to us. Sometimes a syllable or two would sound familiar. Every now and then a word would stick out. But if you asked any of us to translate, we would have come up blank.

It’s funny, because it seems like Italians have a love/hate relationship with dialect. On one hand, it’s seen as something that the elderly or uneducated speak. Many say that it sounds bad. But the second they meet someone from their hometown, dialect becomes their secret code language. Even the little noises we make to fill space in conversation (ummm, uhhh, etc.) are different. And in a very real way, in the back of their minds as they speak dialect with a paesano, it’s like they are thinking, “Finally, someone who understand me!”

February. Valentine’s day. Love is in the air, right? I’ve been reading online different posts about Valentine’s parties, recipes, even sales that stores are having for Valentine’s day.  So, I’ve been trying to figure out if I miss it or not.

I must admit, I do miss the almost required date night that Brian and I used to get on this special day. Oh, and I look back with such nostalgia thinking about how I had to write oh so perfectly on those little white envelopes filled with Valentine’s greetings for my classmates. I remember the nervousness going to school hoping I didn’t forget someone (and honestly, that someone didn’t forget me).

Sometimes I wonder if our kids are missing out. There are no little white envelopes here. Many people don’t even remember that it’s Valentine’s day – the day of St. Valentine. No class parties with cute little treats, either. (What I wouldn’t do for a cupcake with that overkill sugary-sweet store-made white icing right about now.) But, essentially, what are they missing?

I wonder if it would be better to treat every day like Valentine’s day. I mean, Jesus said that the second greatest commandment is “to love your neighbor as yourself,” right? Now  sometimes that’s a hard one, isn’t it? Way worse than your parents making you give a valentine to everyone in the class, including the stinky boys or your arch enemy. You have to actually live this one out. You have to actually go about your day, day in and day out, loving people.

That, I think, is what I want our children to pick up on more than anything. We can draw cute hearts and make elaborate crafts to impress every mom on the block. We can make the best treats anyone has ever taken to a class party. But, if there is no love behind it, what good is it really?

I pray that as you go throughout the rest of this month you can take the love of Christ with you wherever you go. And this probably means the grown up equivalent of spending time with, and loving on, the kids who don’t quite have a full box of valentine’s this year. Who needs to be shown love more than those who rarely experience it? Let’s give out of our abundance!

On the horizon for us this month is a 24/7 Prayer Room. We will be praying from 6 PM, Saturday the 13th until 6 PM, Sunday the 14th. How wonderful it would be to all be praying simultaneously! Also, in March, I am going to host an event for the ladies in our community. We will have a “Spa Day.” This is completely unheard of, but the ladies are really intrigued at what we would do. If you have any ideas, feel free to send me an email. I’d love your help.

Until next month…

A lot has happened over the years. We spent over two years in the US raising support for our work in Ancona. What an experience that was – easily the most faith-stretching experience of our lives.

Then we moved to Perugia to study Italian. We enrolled in a small language school and tried to train our mouths to make all the weird sounds we heard all around us. We also adapted to the Italian rhythm of life, and enrolled our two oldest kids in school. What an experience that was – easily the most faith-stretching experience of our lives.

Next we moved to Ancona and started to dip our toes into life on a team. We learned all the reasons why working on a team is such a great thing, and we also learned why it can be a really challenging thing. The Italian culture started to feel a bit more familiar to us, but things were still new and scary sometimes. Moving to Ancona and working on a team was a great experience – easily the most faith-stretching experience of our lives.

After our first furlough, we came back to Ancona with a new confidence. The language wasn’t quite so difficult. Our kids were doing pretty well in school. We even had a baby in Ancona. Our team leader asked us to be the interim team leader for six months while he was in the US. What an experience that was – easily the most faith-stretching experience of our lives.

Just before our second furlough our landlord gave us six months to move out of her apartment, and we were faced with finding a new place and completely furnishing it with absolutely no way to pay for it. What an experience that was – easily the most faith-stretching experience of our lives.

Which brings us more or less to the present day. We still get our faith stretched on a regular basis. God still pulls us through despite our doubts, and shows us how faithful He is to us.

And through it all, He’s forming a church in Ancona. Sometimes He uses us, and sometimes He does an end-run and brings people to us that we never would have even met. He molds us and shapes us and chips away at our rough edges until we become more and more like Him.

And to think. It’s only taken seven years so far…

Thanks for sticking with us.

Last night she was talking about a website that said we are going to have an earthquake this weekend. Some of the parents were really listening to her, but most were rolling their eyes. But she said something that really make me think. She said if an earthquake happens, she’s running down to the bottom floor of her apartment so that she can “die with all of the rest of the sinners – at least you know who they are.”

I think she was implying that the buon crisitano (the good Christian) is just a big faker. It’s not possible for the real people, the work-hard-for-a-living people, the kind of people she can relate to, to have a faith: the two things are just incompatible.

I hope that can’t ever be said about me and my life. I seek to be the kind of person that people can relate to, who knows what real life is like. And at the same time I seek to grow in my faith – a faith that is authentic and genuine. If those two things don’t match up in our lives, then I think we will forever be branded as an irrelevant bunch of fakers.

A couple of weeks ago my kids were playing at a park just down the street from our house. We let them go there all the time by themselves. It’s nice to have someplace for the kids to get out their wiggles. Our oldest daughter comes running back and tells us that she found €89 ($114) in some long grass by a tree at the park. I couldn’t believe it.

At first I was hesitant to let the kids spend it. I thought briefly about contacting some of our neighbors to see if anyone lost money, but there are easily 100 apartments surrounding the park. We were headed to the city fair that night, so I just shrugged my shoulders and said to my daughter that she could keep it.

That’s when the trouble started. Apparently she had told her brothers that she wanted to split the money with them. She found it, but they were all there playing. But when it came time to actually giving the money away, she choked and told the boys never mind. I sat her down in the middle of the fair and told her that it absolutely was her money. Finders keepers. But she told the boys something that they were counting on and were already excited about. And I told her she needed to decide right then and there what she was going to do and then stand by her decision. She really struggled and finally split the money with the boys. I was proud. Our youngest bought a little toy helicopter which he loves and I pulled my daughter aside and said, “You made it possible for him to be so happy.” I patted myself on the back for my smooth parenting skills.

The next day, the kids go to the park. And this time they find €100 ($135)! It was in a slightly different place, but somewhere that they said they looked the day before. For some reason alarm bells start going off. I don’t think kidnappers try and bait children with cash, but my mind cannot figure out how someone could lose so much money. This time I tell the kids we’re going to hold on to the money for one week. We’re going to keep an eye out to see if anyone posts a sign saying they lost some money. If nothing happens, the kids can keep the money.

And of course, nothing happens. One week goes by and the kids start asking when they can have the money. So we sit down at lunch and we start talking about how to handle such a big blessing. I talked about how their mom and I like to give some of our paychecks to the church. And how we try and save a little for emergencies. But what bothers me is that I start to see greed building up in their little minds. Our daughter tries again to tell the boys that she found the money and it’s all hers. The boys complain because she said she would share. In my mind I’m thinking that this money is just too much for them. They’re used to their €2 a week allowance, and they just aren’t mature enough for such a windfall. They start talking about the junky toys they want to buy (kind of a pet peeve of mine – I hate cheap plastic toys that break in a week). Our daughter takes the money off my desk because she knows we have to go to a toy store to buy a birthday present for a friend. She didn’t steal the money, but she just assumed (incorrectly) that we were done talking about it and the money was theirs.

So what’s a parent to do? Should I let the kids blow the money? Is it OK to just treat this as a little blessing from God? Do I make them save some and give some and them use the rest as they want? How can I snuff out the greed that this “blessing” has caused? What lessons can I help them learn? I’d love the hear what you think…

Later in the evening, Chloe and I were driving around and she was asking when the water would be fixed. She stopped mid-sentence and asked, “Dad, if we don’t have water, how will we boil pasta?!”

Couldn’t be more Italian, could she?

Dear Dad:

Here are a few little things about you that I will always remember.

When we watch a movie together, three seconds after the film starts you forget all about it and fall asleep. When we go to the Auchan or Obi, when we leave you always ask if we can go to McDonalds. Every Sunday you make breakfast. And you play on your computer. And you help me with my homework. And we play Xbox together. Sometimes you and I go shopping. You are the dad that all of the kids would like to have!

You’re the best dad in the world!

I love you very much!

Chloe

Dear Dad,

I like it when you go outside and go hiking and sometimes you take me with you. And also when we play together.

Or when it’s Sunday and you make pancakes or the best french toast in the whole world.

It makes me laugh when you wake up early in the morning, and you’re so tired that you seem mad.

I also like it when you take me to the cheap seats and we watch Ancona soccer games.

You really are a great dad.

I love you very much.

Lance

Naturally, this was all in Italian. But no matter what the language, it really made my day.

Aww … shucks …

For his birthday party I went through tons of old pictures from when he was little and made a video. Lots of great memories. God has given us a huge blessing through him. I can’t wait to see how God can use the gifts that He has given him someday.

Hope you enjoy the video:

There was a time in my life when I thought that was a character flaw. Introverts don’t like people, right? They’re kind of anti-social and maybe even a little snotty. How can that possibly be a good thing? I once had a friend question whether or not an introvert could even be a missionary.

Then I learned the real definition of introvert. We’re not anti-social and snotty. We like people just as much as extroverts. But the difference is that being around people is draining for introverts. It makes us tired. Extroverts come home from a party excitedly talking about all the great conversations they had. Introverts would rather drive home in silence, ready to slip into bed. One time after church my wife was asking me all kinds of questions about things that had happened, and I finally had to sheepishly admit that I was out of words – I honestly didn’t have it in me to have any more conversation!

This week has been full of meetings. And the kids have needed a little more attention than usual. And being the interim team leader means people turn their head and look at me during a meeting when it’s decision time. Which all adds up to a very tired introvert. When I saw being an introvert as a bad thing, it also would have added up to a lot of guilt. “Maybe introverts really shouldn’t be missionaries?” I would think. Now I see it as a part of me being me. I need to take some time to get recharged before I drain all the way to zero. Staying at zero too long often leads to bad things.

It’s a good thing to start to feel comfortable with the personality that God gave me.