A Day at the Lake

We live in a beautiful, beautiful place. We have often enjoyed the views and the serenity of the crater lakes in this area. Recently on a Monday, we had a picnic at Lake Nyamarima. Here are some pictures from the day. Enjoy!

Ants Be Gone

The last few days I’ve been humming a silly song from Laverne and Shirley. (It was a television show for all you youngsters who read---aka Destiny)

Remember the song that Shirley would sing to Laverne about ants?

“Just what makes that little 'ole ant,
Think he can move a rubber tree plant
Anyone knows an ant, can’t
Move a rubber tree plant.
But he’s got HIGH hopes.
He’s got HIGH hopes.
He’s got high apple pie in the sky hopes…”

And then I can’t remember the rest…but the song always made me feel happy about ants. Little ants working hard against the odds…
Moving rubber tree plants hither and yon…

And, you know, if I had to PICK a pest to invade my home…I guess ants would be my choice. I much prefer The Ants to say…cockroaches or big hairy spiders.

But, for the love of all that is good…I’m about to go crazy with all the ants.

Since moving into our home we have had all various sizes of ants to invade. We’ve had big fat crunchy black ones. We’ve had teeennnnnyyyyy tiny black and red ones. And we’ve had every size in between. I have stomped, sprayed and even sprinkled baby powder everywhere because a “Heloise” help tip suggested I do so.

Nothing has really worked.

In the last year the tiniest of black ants have taken up residence and won’t…I repeat WILL NOT go away.

Of course, you can find them in the kitchen where all ant enticing items abide. But, then they made themselves at home in the guest bedroom with ½ inch trails of them marching from the window to the floor. They have pioneered new trails through the living room and have found their little ant smorgasbord of delight under the dining table.

But explain to me the colony setting up residence in the tank of our toilet. Or the complete NATION that overtook our medicine cupboards.

The last week of school was the clincher. I sent the boys up to the schoolroom ahead of me…but heard them return before I could get out the door.

“Mom, there are a WHOLE lot of ants on the school door. I think we should spray ‘em!”

I headed up to the classroom with “I don’t even WANT to know what’s in this” Spray Poison in my hands….

The door of our schoolroom was covered in two, one and half inch lines of ants. They went from ground to door jam and then branched off into the room vent, and across the wall in three directions. I began to spray and cough, cough and spray. Grumbling under my breath…about the dear little creatures and why they were here…

Then I opened the door…and stepped in…

To have CLUMPS OF ANTS fall on my head.

Oh my goodness…

Clumps of ants… The ants COVERED the ceiling of the entry to the school. There were so many ants trying to walk across the top of the door, they were falling off in clumps. The over the door shoe bag that holds various school supplies was now full of ants. There were hordes of the little beasts mounding on every wall hanging and poster.
They were everywhere. I sprayed two whole cans of the poison and vacated the premises. Two hours later as I swept up mounds of ants…dead ants were still falling from the ceiling.

I logically know the next step is extermination. But exterminators in third world Africa are scary. Really scary.

So for now. I’ll keep spraying and mumbling…praying the little darlings don’t completely overtake my house. I am a human, after all, with bug spray at my disposal, brains that function (most of the time) and feet ten times the size of their miniscule little invading bodies.

Of course, they can’t overtake my house…

But they have high hopes.

“Oops there goes another rubber tree….oops there goes another rubber tree…oops there goes another rubber tree plant!"

He Was in the Neighborhood...

Look who stopped by! It's Bryan...easily recognized by our Glenwood family.
Bryan, grew up in Tyler at Glenwood church of Christ, our overseeing church. He is working this summer in a nearby country and made the trek up to our neighborhood to drop in for a visit. It was so much fun! We had some good late night chats, enjoyed perusing photos from my cousin's recent wedding (Bryan grew up with Tanner!) and were encouraged by fellowship with someone from "home".

NOTE TO BRYAN'S MOM: I fed him good meals, made sure he called home (his idea actually...) and tried to talk him into staying longer! He was a delight to have in our home!

Blessings on your journey, Bryan...Come back and see us!

Isaac's Day

A day with all things great:

Special birthday breakfast date with Mom and Dad:






Yummy Cake:



Friends and presents:



Spy Gadgets!


A brand new bike!


Candles and singing:












Thank you Jesus for these five hilarious years with Isaac!
Isaac, we are blessed beyond measure by your humor, your hugs and your kind heart. I love you! I am so thankful to be your Mom!

The Return

Standing at the end of the airport entry hall is an emotional experience. Reunions are incredible to watch. My heart always jumps when I finally see my awaited loved one round the corner.
Jeff safely arrived last week. I feel such emotion at his return.

We have talked ninety-to nothing trying to catch up on everything. I pepper him with questions.
With my husband comes a definitive breeze of encouragement. He has seen your faces. Hugged your necks. Heard your current stories. And that presence with you, does lift us up.

I sleep better now that Jeff is back. He takes over most of the driving responsibility. I go back to just doing my job and let him do his. He is good at it.
The kids are overjoyed. Their behavior immediately shows improvement. We hug each other a lot. We are thankful to be back together.

I am significantly recovered from my bought with the “I want to be somewhere else right now” sickness.

My husband’s return helped.

And the five new pairs of shoes he brought back for me haven’t hurt either! (My man knows me well!)

We have hit the ground running…so to speak. We’ve had solid visitors over the last few days. We have a quick out of town trip this week followed by a birthday party for Isaac.
Plus we are trying to wrap up school for this year. It’s a busy time…we are so thankful we are facing it all together again!

My Dad

I perused past posts and was shocked to find how little I have written here about my Dad. As I attempt this post, I realize why. It’s kind of overwhelming to confine to words the man who has impacted your life the most.

He has adored me always. Just like he adores my sister. Where Dad is concerned we are tops. If you haven’t heard him say this, it’s because you have never been around him.
We have always known that we were a gift to him. His treasures. And that has really made all the difference.

Dad has introduced me to all the finer things in life:

The Grand Ole Opry. Singing Quartets. Chocolate ice cream. West Texas Colloquial-isms. Saltine Crackers and Milk. Football. Golf.

Dad loves people. He doesn’t meet many strangers. Especially in West Texas.
And when folks need wisdom, compassion and guidance….Dad is consistently The Go-To Man.

My Dad can sing. He taught me how. And he LOVES it. He is the official song leader at almost any gathering. I always thought that the items found in every man’s trouser pockets would be a wallet, loose coins, and a pitch pipe. Because my daddy always had one.

My Dad plays the guitar. He taught himself. He is famous among certain circles for a song called “Preacher and the Bear.” To this day, nothing soothes or calms me more than the sound of a guitar being played.

My Dad loves God. And is passionate about Knowing Christ.

He introduced me to a life of honoring Him. Not just through his sermons or lessons. In the life he lived at home. Real. Authentic. God honoring.
I heard once that our ability to understand God, is tremendously effected by our relationship with our earthly Dad.

God has always seemed within my reach. Approachable. Compassionate. Loving.
I find it realistic to accept that God adores me and has good plans for me.

Life can be hard sometimes. Poor choices can be made. Some dreams shatter.

But the voice in my head, that overrides other noise…is the voice of my Dad. Believing in me. Supporting me. Talking to me. Encouraging me. Praying for me.

My Dad so embodies qualities of Godly manhood, that embracing my Heavenly Father was simple and obvious. Of course God awaits me with open arms. He is a Daddy. And to me, that’s what Daddy’s do.
Happy Birthday Dad! I am so thankful for you and your continuing impact on my life. Be sure it is lasting and cherished.

Sometimes the Answer is No

I really wanted to go.

Really.

Some months back, Jeff and I decided it would be wise for him to return to the States and help pack up the sea container we would be sharing with Andrew and Aimee Jo. I think I was even the first one to mention it.

My bright idea.

What I thought would be 7-10 days turned into 24. And I began to stew.

My youngest cousin was getting married during the time Jeff would be in the States and for months I had been asking God to make a way for us ALL to be at the wedding. I wondered, when the plans for Jeff's trip began gaining momentum, if God was planning a big surprise for me too!
I hoped and wished and prayed. Maybe cheap tickets! Someone with frequent flier miles to share. Tickets falling from the sky. Something.

The time came for Jeff's departure and no miracle for me was happening.

Jeff hugged us goodbye in Kampala and drove to the airport. I drove the kids back to Ft Portal. The answer was No. I was not going back to the States this time.

I've been walking this planet for a while now. And I know that things cannot always be just as you want them. Of course they can't.
So, why, sometimes, is that truth so hard to accept?

I have grieved these last few weeks. Not being with family breaks my heart into a million pieces.
Its amazing how I have to continually choose to allow that breaking. I made that decision in 1994 when we left for Kenya. Again in 1995 when we moved to Uganda. Again in 1998 when Kinley was born so far from family. Again in 1999...etc.

I know...KNOW that God is faithful. And will never forsake us. He will never abandon us, or those we love, as we walk the path He has called us to follow.

I also think it is okay to acknowledge the brokenness that takes place every time we miss something....or lose something. Paul had great faith to write, "But whatever was to my profit I now consider loss for the sake of Christ. What is more, I consider everything a loss compared to the surpassing greatness of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord, for whose sake I have lost all things. I consider them rubbish that I may gain Christ.” Philipians 3:7-8

The question “Will you sacrifice THIS for me?” repeatedly arises as we walk in the Way.
“Will Knowing Me be your one pursuit? Above all else?”
It’s not a question you answer once and then you’re done. It is often, a daily or even hourly choice.

While I repeatedly fall short of the positive faith Paul expresses throughout that whole passage in Philippians , I can completely concur with verse 12:

"Not that I have already obtained all this, or have already been made perfect but I press on to take hold of that for which Christ Jesus took hold of me.”

We press on. Knowing Christ IS the pursuit I value most. Jeff and I have been taught to seek HIm for our entire lives. And now, we long for our brothers and sisters here to choose that also.
To Know Christ. Not just ABOUT Him. KNOW HIM. There is nothing better.
All the struggles, sacrifices, victories and gifts of this life we’ve chosen really boil down to that.


I missed the wedding. But I made a wedding cake for me and the kids on the wedding day. If I had been thinking I would have topped the cake with a Ninja Turtle action figure and maybe a Polly Pocket. When he was young, Tanner loved Ninja Turtles. And now he’s all grown up and he’s found his “Polly”. They are off and running in their life together.

I missed being at your wedding Tanner-Banner. I’m sorry I wasn’t there to say "I remember changing your diapers!"

I guess there is a positive side to everything. ☺

On My Heart

Some of our dearest friends have been thrown headlong into the chaos and struggle of tragedy and grief. A Memorial Day car accident took the life of a treasured nephew, seriously injured a beloved niece and scarred the hearts of an entire family.
Please pray for the Brown Family today. For more information go to www.gcrcc.org.

"Oh Love That Will Not Let Me Go"

Friday, May 22, 1980

I was 9.

Dad had been studying the previous week, with a new couple from church. They hadn’t committed to Christ yet. I listened in on the study of the gospel message.
I remember thinking, “Hey! I know all this stuff!” I told Mom and Dad that I wanted to be baptized. Dad and I talked about all that it meant. We went to the church. And I made my confession of faith.

“Do you believe Jesus is the Son of God?”

Yes. Yes I do.

There were only about 12 people present. When I came up out of the water, we sang, “I Have Decided to Follow Jesus.” I don’t know what in the world would have passed through my young, naïve head that day…if God had revealed to me the path I had begun to walk.
I was all passion and zeal. ☺
Youth group mission trips. Singing at the nursing homes. Bible Bowl. Faithful note taking during sermons…

I was so THERE!

And now….

I’m HERE.

*Experiencing this week, a broken heart… My family will gather in the States to celebrate a milestone…a wedding…and I will not be present…again.
*Facing mad men in town, who seem to be drawn to me lately. Drunk men hovering, begging for a coin.
*Praying for a street kid who has no education, no family, no direction…struggling to find wise words to redirect his lying and manipulating…
*Guiding new Christians as they learn what it means to turn their allegiance fully to Christ…
*Listening to story after story of people wanting money from my pocket…not the treasure of my heart…
*Waking to gun shots and loud shouts at my fence…
*Treating my dear friends for malaria…praying for their healing…
*Listening to young girls who’ve been violated sexually and made to feel it is all their responsibility…
*Trying to comfort those who are burying their family members at an alarming rate…deaths due to AIDS, malaria…poor health in the third world…
*Being laughed at and stared at for my differences…

I’m HERE…often without answers…sometimes without words…

May 22, 2007.

“Do you believe Jesus is the Son of God?”

The same question surfaces…

Reminding me…

Yes. I do believe.

And all these years later…and for all the years to come...

Knowing that Truth…

Is Enough.

I am overcome with thankfulness today…for my beloved Father. My dearest Brother. My faithful Lord.

How generous is His Spirit…to enter a 9 year old…and never let her go.


“The Lord God is my strength, my personal bravery and my invincible army; He makes my feet like hinds’ feet, and will make me to walk [not to stand still in terror, but to walk] and make [spiritual] progress upon my high places [of trouble, suffering or responsibility]!” Habbakkuk 3:19 The Amplified Old Testament


("Oh Love That Will Not Let Me Go" Hymn by George Matheson w.1842; Music by Albert L Peace w. 1884)

A Quick Trip to the Market

Every Wednesday there is a large open-air market about 20 minutes outside of Ft Portal. There are huge piles of used clothes that you can dig through and pay pennies for.
For our 11 years here, a trip to Mugusu (moo goo soo) Market has been a highlight of the week. The dusty, rutted paths lined with piles and piles of clothes, curtains, material, tablecloths--it’s a virtual treasure trove. You just never know what you will find.

We often go and make a day of it. In an effort to satisfy our “mall shopping--Target bargains –garage sale” cravings, we don long skirts, sturdy walking shoes, tight money pouches that no one can pickpocket and head out to the “Mall of Ft Portal” to discover what gems await.

Its always a fun time.

Except for this week.

My friend needed curtains. So I said I’d accompany her to the market to find some. As we were walking out the door…Jeff asked if he could go with us. He didn’t have anything in particular to find. And he doesn’t normally join us for “ladies day out’. But, today, he just somehow wanted to go.

After we arrived and began digging through mounds of clothes, I heard the loud shouts of a crazy man.

People with mental illnesses or disorders rarely receive treatment in this culture. They are usually forced from their homes and clans and made to live a life “on the streets”. We often encounter “mad men” at markets or while visiting shops in town. A majority of those who roam the streets are passive. If they become aggressive, people usually chase them away.

On this day, at Mugusu, Jeff and I watched the crazy man approach us. We listened for a minute to his shouts and he then began to move past us.

He started walking but stopped immediately behind me. Jeff started towards us quickly, just as the mad man began poking me with the wood stick he was carrying. He was shouting to the crowd with the worst profanity (in English) all that he was going to do to me.

I jumped to the middle of the sellers, to get away from him and Jeff told him to be quiet and move along.

I was very shaken and so was Jeff. The mad man did not become silent at this point. He raised his stick to Jeff and began tossing dirt at us.

Jeff held his ground, we prayed and the mad man eventually turned away. Jeff followed him at a distance this time to see where he would go.

The mad man circled back around to another row of sellers where he began to shout at us again with horrific words.
My friend and I kept moving and he finally went away.

We took refuge behind a row of buildings and began digging through more heaps of potential treasures…trying to calm our pounding hearts. .

As my friend began bargaining for a rug ( a treasure!) we heard shouting and profanity again.

The mad man was in a hut just behind where we were bargaining and shopping. He spotted us and began the profanity again. He came out of the hut and I bee-lined it around a row of clothes. Jeff was pointing him away again which angered the man. In his anger, he began to bang on the metal roof of the hut, toss matoke (plaintain bananas) and cursed like nobody’s business.

One of the most troubling aspects was the response of the sellers and the police who sat lethargically nearby, only mildly interested in the crazy man shouting at the Mzungu (white man).

Jeff approached the police and reported the mad man’s behavior. He asked them to keep him away as he was very aggressive today.

The police laughed and refused to get up.

They acted as though we were nuts to be concerned about the mad man. Jeff found out from these unconcerned parties that the mad man was in fact an ex-soldier from the Ugandan army and that he had been trained in Cuba. The crowd knew this man had fought in the Northern part of Uganda. Yet, they still remained nonchalant at his aggressive behavior.


As I’ve debriefed this market moment, I’ve prayed so much about the incident. And the stories of mad men and Jesus flood my head.

All those stories written in black and white on two-dimensional paper…were three- dimensional stories.

Mad people. Who were scary… and violent.

Jesus often set them free.

Sicknesses of the soul and psyche are no small things.

I was affected by the man screaming obscenities at us.

But the peace of Christ was still anchored in my soul.

You see, I rest in the peace of God. No matter what. Even when my mind spins with worry or I have an angry outburst or I feel afraid.

God’s Holy Spirit is living in me…to take over, control and intercede.

I’ve been surrounded by His Spirit for my entire life. His Spirit lived in my Mom and Dad before I was ever born. His Spirit was in my grandparents. Our close friends were believers. And I chose to follow Christ at a young age. He has been with me always.

When I come face to face with a soul who is obviously under the control of someone other than Christ…I am reminded again of the true treasure I have inside me all of the time.

And I’m heartbroken that this suffering soul doesn’t have Him too. Maybe, that burdened man doesn’t even know that something better exists.

Please pray for that mad man with me.

I don’t know his name. But God does. He created him. Sees him. And longs to set him free.

“Jesus returned to Galilee in the power of the Spirit, and news about him spread through the whole countryside ….He went to Nazareth, where he had been brought up and on the Sabbath day he went into the synagogue as was his custom. And he stood up to read. The scroll of the prophet Isaiah was handed to him. Unrolling it, he found the place where it is written:

“The Spirit of the Lord is on me, because he has anointed me to preach good news to the poor. He has sent me to proclaim freedom for the prisoners and recovery of sight for the blind, to release the oppressed, to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor.”

Then he rolled up the scroll, gave it back to the attendant and sat down. The eyes of everyone in the synagogue were fastened on him, and he began by saying to them, “Today this scripture is fulfilled in your hearing.” Luke 4: 14-21

Community

There is a telling trail through my home today.

One narrow path through piles of wet, muddy clothes, sleeping bags, pillows,
ice chests and boxes with leftover food awaiting attention.

We had the privilege of hosting our Quarterly Meeting for the church of Christ missionaries in Uganda.

We camped out at Camp Saaka for three nights.

It was a great success. We all enjoyed visiting, going for walks, singing and laughing.

We survived heavy rain (thanks to Jeff and Dick and their tin roof shelters …all the tents stayed dry!)

We celebrated Mark and Jamie’s upcoming wedding.

We continued walking the path of grief with the Jinja team who we welcomed back after their sudden trip to the States.

We sat and stared at God’s creation around us.

We watched our kids make many, many memories.

Community is so important.

I am thankful for my fellow soldiers on this field.

We need each other and depend on each other. Through the victories, the “everyday”, the celebrations, the mire of pain and loss…

…and a campout. Which we survived well…But I somehow aged a whole year in the midst of it ☺….

Just a Moment

Rain is falling. Dinner is ready. School is finished. Silas draws quietly at the kitchen table. The older three gather around the computer to watch a game of solitaire.

We are all at home.

We are all safe.

The rain falls softly.

The breezes are cool.

A moment to take a breath.

A moment to give thanks.

Producing...

In Uganda when a woman has a baby she is said to "have produced".

This week two of my friends "produced".

Rhoda, a Ugandan, produced a baby boy. I held this sweet little one yesterday. He won't be given a name until a later time according to Ugandan custom. He was wrapped from head to toe in about three heavy warm blankets. Plus he had on a hat. Plus baby mittens.

Ugandans don't want their babies to get too cold here on the Equator!

Brandi, an American, produced a sweet baby girl. She has had a name for several months now and is more than likely wearing only a onesie, a diaper and wrapped in a light blanket.

Americans don't want their babies to get too warm here on the Equator!

The diversity in cultures can be seen very clearly in customs surrounding childbirth. These two arrivals represent the diversity we function in every day.

Two precious gifts. Two different worlds. Existing, complementing, contradicting and growing just down the street from each other.

What a wonderful world!

The Wilds of Africa

Ever had one of those days...

...when you take your kids for a picnic at a nearby lake, and as you are walking up a well marked trail, you get head-butted in the derriere by a COW...

ripping your apparel in a rather embarrassing way, hurting your hind regions and forever ruining your favorite pair of comfy jeans?

Just wondering.

The Infirmary

IT got us.

You know.

Fever. Chills. Stomach...ahem...issues...

IT started with Silas and has worked its way up through our family chronologically.

We have been dealing with IT for about 7 days.

We're drinking Sprite. We are on our last few Saltine crackers from the States. And we are taking turns on the couches as we rest and recuperate.

We are very hopeful that IT will be gone from our home soon.

Thankfully (?) the youngest two are back to full strength. They are currently "discussing" some very important issue in the other room. Loudly.

The older two are still dragging and Mom and Dad are beat.

Remarkably, the internet is the best functioning thing in our home today.

Which is pretty sad.

Hope your home is healthy and happy!

Eat Some Cake for Us

Happy Birthday Little Man--

May your eyes always be open and the way in front of you clear--

(smile)

You make us laugh. You steal our hearts.

Oh how we miss you!!!

Happiest of Birthdays!!!!

We love you Cason!

Easter Bonnets or Easter Mittens?

Our Equator Easter was beautiful. We enjoyed egg hunting, good food, fellowship with other missionaries and a visit from the Easter Bunny. Who left our home to borrow Santa's sleigh so he could visit all of our loved ones who had snow on Easter?!?!

Sunny or Freezing...I hope your Easter was happy!

The Re-Cap

Posting has been a discouraging endeavor, of late. I'm starting to feel like a broken record. Here's my attempt to put IT another way...
Ahem...

"The information superhighway behaves in such an unreasonable manner that our relationship is fast becoming irreconcilable."

That is to say…
The internet isn’t working and I’m not happy about it.

On to better things…

COME BEFORE WINTER RENEWAL:
What a week I had! We were on the coast of Kenya with splendid views of the Indian Ocean. I walked in white sands. Ate much yummy seafood. Swam in a pool without constantly counting children.
And shared my soul with many precious sisters…
Singing with these ladies was, divine.
Praying together…a gift.
Hearing their testimonies…God honoring.
Thank you for your prayers for safe travels.
The time was blessed and encouraging.

SUPER HUBBY AND KIDS
Campouts, bike ramps, Bible games, ET (the movie!) and sweet memories…
Super Hubs accomplished all that while also, replacing a toilet, building a new wardrobe for our clothes, and repairing electrical wires that have been broken since November.

The kids, two weeks later, have finally finished relaying ALL the stories of the FUN they had with Daddy.

Daddy now needs a renewal too.

FIRST WEEK BACK
I was pretty worn out. But overwhelmingly thankful for the cool rains that have begun to fall again in Ft Portal.
School is back in full swing.
Our power outages have increased.
Our kids are healthy and funny. :-)
I’m glad to be home…

Life is good.

Cool Breezes

I spent my retreat- week in one of the hottest places on earth. Well, I haven’t actually been to all places on earth…but the coast of Kenya just before the rains is HOT.

I grew up in West Texas, so I’m not unaccustomed to the heat. But this was beyond anything I had ever experienced before.

Way beyond.

Everyday, when we sat outside for meals, walked to and from the meetings, sat in the shade to visit or study…we were suffocated by the heat.

I longed for, in those warm moments….

Just, ONE COOL BREEZE...

There were a few airconditioned rooms around...the rooms we met in for our sessions and the rooms we slept in. I LOVED walking into the air conditioned rooms.

The cool air…revived, refreshed….made me able to press on.

Much like my time with my sisters…



The pictures you see testify to God’s provision in my life. His “cool breeze” in the midst of the suffocating heat of battle.

Sweet, sweet, sisters…whose stories of dedication, perseverance, surrender, faith…and miracles…

Inspire me, revitalize me and remind me…

God never calls us down a road and then abandons. He enables us to walk the journey.

He, in His extravagant love, even makes it enjoyable some of the time!

I am so thankful for the many wonderful women of God who’ve led me, walked with me and prompted me to enjoy the trip…through the years.

Some of these sisters have just entered my life and already are soul friends in the most precious way.




Thank you Lord for these. My life, my faith, my Journey is much sweeter for sharing it with your daughters.

And to my heroes in the West (Africa that is)…you ROCK! You heat-bearing, child-raising God-honoring girls! I am amazed that you survive this continent with sweat pouring off your heads. I pray daily for His cool breezes to revive your spirits. I love you!

Solo

This week I'm going to do something rare and a bit unsettling...

I'm going on a trip by myself.

Actually, I will be with 40-50 other women...

All of us set to talk, laugh, learn, study, pray and seek...

But, as I pack ONE bag and ONE lunch...

And prepare, this evening for my journey...

I feel a strange set of feelings...

Please pray for our travels...there are alot of mommies, teachers, wives, fiances, girlfriends and sisters traveling for this retreat. Pray for travel mercies and safety.

Please also pray for my precious ones who will wait at home. And the Super Dad who will be holding down the fort while I'm away.

I'll let you know how everything goes...

Nine Years and Counting...

I really don't have words sometimes.



My thankfulness for this gift has no bounds.

Her joy. Her amazing creativity. Her genuine love for people.

Her hunger to be close to God.

Nine years.

It is an honor to be your Mom, Kinley.

I love you...more than words can ever say.

Bleach Update...

So... I think I have figured it out.

He didn't drink it.

First, the bleach bottle was almost empty on the day in question. There was less than 1/8 of a bottle left...if that.

Second, three year olds lie/pretend (sometimes its a fine line).

And third, there have been no symptoms that an acid was ingested into his body. (symptoms which would include blood in vomit and diahrea and burns on the tongue, throat, esophagus and stomach)

When I asked him again today about the incident...he repeated the same details. Except he added the "bad guy children" to the story. Apparently, he didn't die from the bleach drinking because the "bad guy children" took him down into the hole and fixed him (No, we haven't been letting him watch Lost...)

So, to summarize...

1. Drinking bleach is really bad.

2. Three year olds lie.

3. There was only a very tiny amount of bleach in our home at the time in question. (And it is kept on a high shelf.)

So, I think we are in the clear.

Now, onto the "pretend" vs "lies" review...

Enlightening

In a recent, informal interview with the youngest in our household...






What is your best song?
"Old Man Noah Built an Ark. Jesus Loves Me."

Favortie food?
"Hot dogs and fish and rice"

Favorite drink?
"Koolaid and water. But not water at night. I like koolaid."

Favorite toy?
"Guess what? Thomas" (...as in Tank Engine)

Favorite friend?
"Jotham"

Favorite place to go?
"Jotham’s house"

What’s your favorite blanket?
"Thomas blanket."

What makes you sad?
"Bleach, when I drink it."

When did you drink bleach?
"Yesserday I went to da kitchen and put bleach in my cup and dranked it and you weren't dere. It made me sad to drink dat bleach."

Pause....

What makes you happy?
"Bleach."


And with that...I'm off to find the bleach bottle and perhaps have a chat with poison control...

Quiet Water

“Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me. For I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls.” Matthew 11:28-29

What an unbelievable gift it is when someone recognizes that you are tired. Then validates it. Then offers you rest.

Rest involves surrender.

Two honorable practices, that my life needs more and more of.

Rest.

And surrender.

“Take my yoke…”

Jesus asks us, tenderly, to let Him lead. Gently. Humbly. Restfully led.

Can I confess to you that His isn’t always the leading I follow? Most often, I follow myself…which inevitably leads to me running in circles like a kitten chasing her tail.

Silly to watch. Completely unproductive. Exhausting.

Today, I seek His rest. His yoke. His gentleness.

Tuning my ear, again, to His voice. His commands.

Dear Father,
In the midst of the children’s noise…their growing, their learning, their needing…help me to take on your easy yoke, your light burden and follow you. Thank you for loving me anyway, on the days I “chase my tail”. Forgive me for not listening. Open my ears and my heart to heed your direction. I know you are the Way.
In Jesus I pray…


“The Lord is my shepherd…
He makes me lie down in green pastures, he leads me beside quiet waters, he restores my soul.” Psalm 23:1-3

We Interrupt This "Blog Fast"...

Yes indeedy.

Every once in awhile...the otherwise obstinate internet system...works....

And the otherwise dejected missionaries...actually accomplish a portion of their internet to-do list...

And many happy hearts rejoice!

At Last...

Faith Quest Moments...

Hosanna!

We watched God heal your body...





Now we've seen Him heal your soul...







Samuel Balinda baptized at Faith Quest 2007.

If the Internet was a Race...

The internet.

A vague…can’t hold it in your hands or shake it…but it exists…Thing.

Do you remember when you first heard of the World Wide Web?
Back when the phenomenon of the Net was gaining momentum…we had just moved to Africa.

We heard of the wonders of the “race”. The amazing information. The immediate accessibility. The endless possibilities…

We eagerly joined in to “race” with the world. We wanted to enter the fray and keep the pace. Most other countries seemed to have a speedy, reliable, well-trained “athlete” in their “lane”. Month after month, year after year, the athletes improved…gained strength…ran longer and faster…and were much more impressive.

In our lane, the progress was slower. Amidst the cheering fans of the competitors, we nervously glanced at our athlete and wondered exactly what was going on. Zeroing in on our racer, we recognized the laughable nature of the situation. We searched for another participant. We felt an odd mix of panic and embarrassment. How did we end up with this guy? Ultimately, in desperation, we accepted the painful realization that there was no other option…
We sidled up to our "runner" and began to coax. We encouraged. We motivated. We paid money. We prayed. But in the end…as the speedy opponents lapped us again and again…we accepted the sad, sad fact…that our lane’s success rested on the hardened shell of…a turtle.

Slow and not always sure…

Many times…completely withdrawn and immovable…

Sigh…

As we continue to struggle through the race…that is, the internet…we are doing all we can…

But in the end…we are depending on….a turtle.

Thank you for bearing with us…

Pausing for Thanks

Before we get too far away from it…

Let me just pause and say…

What a pure delight it was to welcome Ben Wall to our home and ministry in Ft Portal.

It’s no surprise… he fit right in.

He and Trisha have been a part of this work for years now.

They are story telling, laugh-festing, sorrow bearing, dream sharing, soul-trusting friends.

And those are hard to come by, in this life.

The only thing that would have made his visit better…

Trisha’s presence. ☺ (Have I said that enough, Ben?)

God spoke mightily through you, brother. At Faith Quest, in Ft Portal church, in our yard, on the drive to Kampala and during all those late night talks…

Our brothers and sisters here were challenged, blessed and fed...

Our children were thrilled to hang out with "Mistuh Ben"...

And Jeff and I were...again, rejuvenated...by the presence of a "point us to God" friend.

Sweet Trisha, I’m sure you had the harder job. Your willingness to sacrifice your husband’s time and presence is a tremendous gift. Thank you for single parenting with your hands very full. You are my hero.

We love you deeply in Christ…and are overwhelmed with joy every time we get to share in ministry with you.

How sweet it truly is!

Come back and see us “Mistuh Ben.” (but bring Trisha!)

I Can't Believe I Did That

So.

After realizing that yesterday was Superbowl Sunday, Jeff and I looked up the time ESPN would run the game on the Satellite stations.

3AM. Oh my.

Of course, it will be replayed in its entirety on Monday at a reasonable hour.

But.

My hubby and I discussed how COOL it would be to actually watch the Superbowl AT THE SAME TIME as all of you dear American loved ones.

Think of it.

While you are eating some wonderful Super Bowlish snacks and dinner...sitting in living rooms watching the action...

We MISSIONARIES....in a FOREIGN LAND....could be bleary eyed...watching the action at the very moment you are.

Which would mean that on the day following the SuperBowl we could freely read the news on the internet...open emails with abandon having no fear that someone would inadvertently give the score away...before we saw the game.

Here's how it all went down.

We drank alot of caffeine around 10:30pm.

The caffeine kept Jeff buzzing until about 3:25am. He saw the kickoff and the first three scores...but couldn't keep his eyes open beyond that.

I, completely unaffected by the caffeine, fell dead asleep about 11:30pm....but woke up about 3:25am when Jeff was searching for the remote control to switch the TV off...

I forced myself awake for "just a few minutes" so I could see some of the gaming live. But, of course, found myself drawn into the terrific game and ended up staying awake longer than I expected. Sometime around the end of the second quarter, I dozed off and woke up to Prince with a head scarf (?) and two women in black dancing madly around him, flinging their very wet hair in all directions. I pulled myself away from the Artist Now Again Known as Prince, and I slept some more, but woke up after about two minutes of the third quarter...and stayed awake to the end.

Jeff slept like an angel beside me.

So I saw it all. The interceptions. The touchdowns. The field goals. The very wet spectators. (I didn't see any commercials. We wouldn't be missionaries if we weren't deprived of something!)

As it became obvious who the winner would be, I had to stay awake for the players to pour liquids on their already drenched coach.

It was delightful. I was thrilled. The SuperBowl live.

Then I realized it was 6AM. Yep. 6AM.

I began feeling the pain at that moment of stunning recognition. I had VOLUNTARILY sat up most of the night. No sick kids. No bad dreams.

Just the Superbowl. And a missionary missing her home culture so much that she would sit up all night to share in one super sports moment with her family and friends in America.

I can't believe I did it. Except that it really feels like I did. My brain is dead tired. And the coffee hasn't yet worked its magic.

Thankfully today is our day off. On the agenda....

More coffee....and the replay of the Superbowl with my husband and kids.

I'll probably sleep through the whole thing....:-)

You Know You're In Uganda When...

...It’s 5PM on Sunday afternoon, the FIRST time you realize it is Superbowl Sunday!

So who are you rooting for?

New Beginnings?

I've missed you.

It's been a sad, sad era in Internet Land for the Cashes. I can hardly believe I'm on my edit page. I haven't been able to move past actual blogs for about 6 days.

Before that, I was, diligently working to upload pictures. Work, that for the most part, proved futile...I'll spare you the gory details.

Nonetheless.

We will not quit.

And the blogs will keep on coming. Sooner or later.

Jeff has spent much time the last few days attempting to get us on a new internet service. He has more gray hair and no new service as of yet.

I repeat, we will not quit. :-)

And speaking of new things...I was headed to the edit page tonight, mostly expecting the internet to lock up before completeing the task...when the "change to new blogger" screen came up. They've been suggesting for some time that we switch...now, they are making us. So, with much fear that I would lose the connection sometime in the middle of my switch...I did it. It seems to have worked. Which is cause for much celebration in our home. Something worked!!!!
I'm just thankful that I won't have to sign in as "Old blogger" anymore. :-)

On to the new!