Taking It Easy

When we began making plans for our trip to the AAMC conference several years ago, we decided to travel the “easy” way…flying. Driving from our home to the coast of Kenya would take 5 long, hard days one way. We decided to save our shillings and buy plane tickets.
Here is the rundown of our easy trip:

We left our home at 8:30am arriving in the capital city at around lunchtime. We grabbed a quick lunch and exchanged money for our trip. We drove the remaining hour to the international airport.
We arrived at the airport well ahead of time, and approached the desk to check-in.
The woman at the computer informed me that three of our family were booked on this flight, but three of the children were booked on the early morning flight the next day.

Um. That won’t work.

Jeff trekked upstairs to ask the “higher ups” if they could help us. Here was the wise advice of the airline manager:
“Just leave the three children by the check in counter overnight and the agents will help them on board in the morning.”

He seriously said that.

My, oh my.

Thankfully the kind women at the computers, thought better of that idea, (especially after witnessing the energy levels our children were displaying) and did everything they could to get us on the plane…together. That night.

We wrangled our energetic young ones for nearly two hours, hoping there would be at least 3 no-shows for the evening flight. Twenty-five minutes to departure we were all given boarding passes and told to HURRY! We rushed to immigration, needing to move quickly to board the already loaded aircraft.

Immigration.

Isaac has a new passport. “Well done, Mom!”… for remembering it would expire this year and securing a new one before traveling to Kenya!
BUT, his new passport had no dependent’s pass stamp in it. (This is the pass the children and I pay for every three years in order to live in Uganda). The immigration lady was not happy. She questioned us. Complained. Huffed. And INSISTED that it was IMPOSSIBLE to allow Isaac to leave the country.
We, amazingly, stayed calm. We assured her, we had not smuggled our 5 year old into the country. That we had in fact paid for his dependent’s pass, just like the other three children, but had neglected to carry the old passport with the proof. We pleaded and promised that we would most certainly pay the visa fee upon return, “WE LOVE UGANDA and YOU, DEAR IMMIGRATION LADY….PLEASE let us on the plane!”

She agreed, albeit grudgingly, and we finally wheeled our 6 bodies, 5 carry on bags and 6 stamped passports on board.

Upon arrival at Nairobi, it was late and our youngest two were very tired and uncooperative. We arrived to a FULL immigration lobby, with long lines at the Visa counter. (We all must pay for visas to enter Kenya.) I began filling in our arrival cards and visa forms (that’s TWELVE forms total) all the while shouting “SILAS RYAN STAY HERE” more times than anyone cared to hear.

We joined the neverending line.

A kind gentleman in an Airport Immigration uniform, paused when he saw me wrestling Silas in my arms…and asked if we were on holiday (the British word for vacation). We nodded and smiled hopefully, also adding that we were going to attend a conference. His helpful attitude dissipated and he said, “Oh, a conference.” He left us standing without assistance.
Having learned our lesson, the next immigration man that paused at our whiny clan received a rousing, “Jambo! We are on HOLIDAY!”

With the magic word leading the way we were escorted around the long line to a special help desk where three men began discussing if they COULD help us since I had written “holiday/conference” in the “Why are you in Kenya?” blank on the forms.

Jeff smoothly convinced them it was a holiday-like conference…and they agreed to help.

After 20 minutes of discussing all the places we had visited in Kenya, how two of our children were born here, and reminding everyone within earshot that “SILAS RYAN SHOULD STAY HERE!”…we were stamped and allowed to walk down the stairs to collect our bags.

We found them all….PRAISE….and pushed on through customs.

We met our taxi driver, loaded up our bags and were just about to head out to the hotel, when another taxi driver approached and began to….shout.

Yep. Our taxi driver was getting what-for from another very ticked off individual. And then the police showed up. Which usually doesn’t mean things are going to get better.

We sat for 20 minutes, while the 5 men pointed, argued and paced. Our taxi driver assured us there was no problem (all evidence to the contrary) and eventually, returned saying there was no case and we could leave.

At the hotel I had to fill out another form, then was given two rooms. The great finish line was near…and the keys wouldn’t work. We were escorted to a lovely waiting area full of glass tables, crystal, large glass windows... and Silas. Good times.

We finally made it into our rooms…slept…woke up early… and went downstairs to meet our driver for the return to the airport for our next flight.

Our driver didn’t show up.

At the last minute we were tossed onto a large bus with Kenya Scouts headed to Amsterdam.

We arrived at the airport and stood in the long security line waiting to check in. After waiting for a half hour, we learned that we were at the wrong terminal… and must go down the road a little ways. Terrific.

We joyfully pushed two carts of luggage and herded our munchkins on a busy road, to the next building. Thankfully, the security line was very short and we were quickly unloading our bags onto the security conveyor belt.

Security personnel began going through Kinley’s carry on bag. They said they had seen something sharp in her bag. While hefting our large bags back onto the carts, I kept my eyes on the hands of the security man, sure that he was after her camera or disc man. He emptied her bag three times, the lady behind him insisting she had small sharp articles in her bag. Finally, having found nothing, we packed her things and moved on. As we stepped away from the security desk, Alex, sheepishly held up his hand full of nails. Nails. “I don’t know how these got in my bag Mom. Sorry.” I snatched them from his hand and quickly deposited them in the nearest trash can.

We checked in and found our “waiting lounge” for the next flight. We waited and waited. The scheduled departure time came and went and our lounge became VERY full. There were no planes in sight.

About 30 minutes after our scheduled departure, the airline employees, shouted into a very poor intercom system, “Please exit the lounge and reenter so that we can re-check your boarding passes.” We were about 175 people at this point and outside the lounge was a space as big as, well, a thimble.

We CRAMMED our mass of bodies and carry on bags into the one inch (or so) that was the area beyond the lounge and laughed very hard, when the airline employees announced they were requiring this ridiculous check, “to save time”.

We finally, one hour after scheduled departure, boarded our plane and took off for the coast.

Our return trip involved a 7 hour delay which resulted in a 3 hour earlier departure…long story that still wouldn’t make since even after I explained it to you…and a late arrival back in Uganda.

Many,many miles...4 waiting lounges…12 luggage carts…3 taxi’s…3 pleading conversations…4 airplanes…4 hotels and 33 forms later…

We arrived back home safely.

The Easy Way.

The Jellyfish by Isaac

I was in the water and I got stung by the jellyfish. I was having fun in the waves. My leg felt bad. I screamed loudly.
Guards came to help me. They poured something on my leg [vinegar].
Mom and I went to the room. And I felt better when I got in bed.
You can still see the mark on my leg.
I always think about the jelly fish and getting stung.
I feel better.
I love everybody.
And that’s the end.

Coastin'

Our family was blessed to attend the All Africa Mission Conference last week, held at Turtle Bay Resort in Watamu, Kenya. We decided to go some days ahead to enjoy the beach as a family, then attend the conference.













We had a great trip.



The waters of the Indian Ocean are warm…making for great boogy boarding and ocean fun. The low tide provided unending opportunities to walk across the reef, examining every tiny pool of water for fish, eels and crabs.







Silas and Isaac were enthralled with the Biggest Sand Pit ever…aka the beach and happily spent hours, digging, burying and burrowing through the white sands.




We went for long walks.

We laughed.



We rested.



We played.



And we braided...







The conference began on Monday evening and was a great time of fellowship. We were blessed to be with missionaries who came before us and led us through our first years of adjustments and settling in. We met new friends whose stories make us proud of how they have chosen to serve here. We shared with our peers about life on this continent…
And we met some amazing souls serving God in some very difficult places.



Our kids were thrilled to enjoy activities organized by volunteers from the Northwest Church in Seattle Washington. They painted T-shirts, went on walks, played games and enjoyed DVD’s. We were showered with fun gifts every day…taco seasoning, American shampoos and soaps, lotions, art supplies for the kids, koolaid…etc.









We praise God for safe travels, rich fellowship, fun memories…





And home. It feels nice to arrive back home. I’m thankful for that.

We, unfortunately, brought more home with us than fun souvenirs. Our family is cycling through the Mandatory End- of-Vacation sickness. This time in the form of cough and high fever. Thankfully, it didn’t hit us at the beach, but has been at its worst since arriving home.

Thanks to all who prayed for us this last week. Our travels were…eventful (more on that later)…but safe. And we are so thankful we were able to make this trip and participate in the conference.

Promises

Fourteen years ago, we made a promise...

God, made us one.

By His Grace, we stand today...

To laugh...

To serve...

To learn...

To stay.

Together.


(Happy anniversary, Jeff! I love you.)

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!