Second Wind

We lost two brothers. Two sons. Two friends.

Sin rarely comes on all of a sudden. It is a gradual wavering, considering, trying. Choosing.

And then Death.

Our awareness of the pallor of their souls came on gradually too. A conversation here. A lengthy discussion there. The random comments.

We sensed and understood their feet slipped on the slope, but we felt strong ahead of them, slowing our pace to point out the next steps. Coming up alongside them.  Offering our hands. Roping together.

We love them so.

I will never forget the Moment. We were watching them tumble over the precipice. Terror and sorrow were ripping up my insides. Jeff and I slid back down the slope towards them our minds racing with how to catch them. How to pull them back.

We secured our feet at the edge of the cliff and tightened the rope to hold them.

The rope pulled taut and we felt the dead weight of their bodies pulling us forward. We anchored shouting encouragement to each other and to them.

Then the weight shifted and with shock, incredulousness and horror…

We saw them severing the rope.

Their lifeline.

They were disconnecting.

And they were laughing. Mocking our struggle above. Our sweat and exertion.
In some sort of ironic amputation they were separating from their Salvation.

We called for help. We tried to convince them to quit cutting. They shouted at us in anger.

And then we watched them fall. With joy on their faces. They thought they were free. We knew from where we lay in the dirt, the soil wet from our tears and the sweat of our battle, that they would hit the bottom and that it would mean their death.

We know because we’ve been at the bottom too. We’ve hit it hard. Blindly sailing towards it’s rocks and crags. Naively thinking we had been set free. Only to find the wounds and gashes caused from the fall bound us more tightly than the ropes that tied us to the others walking the narrow path on the heights above.

We laid in the dirt exhausted from the struggle. Wordless in agony. Wondering where the energy would come from to stand up and climb again. How we would face the trail without those two, our friends, whom we love.

Some others on the trail came up behind us. They looked lost and needed help to find the Way. We know the Way and understand, it is our calling to lead others on it.

We stand on shaking legs weak from the fight. The rope burns on our hands sting as we offer new rope to those joining the climb. With trepidation, we rope up with strangers, comprehending it’s the only way to climb this path. Unsure as to if they will strengthen our step or eventually pull us to the edge of the cliff again.

We trudge. Each step brings with it grief. Analyzing how we might have convinced our brothers otherwise. Wondering where they got the knife. Remembering the fear of the moments just before they were lost. Feeling the wounds created in the struggle.

Trudging.

Memories push in to the cadence of the heavy steps we take.

“Against all hope, Abraham in hope believed…”
“By faith, Noah, when warned about things not yet seen, in holy fear built an ark to save his family.”
“By faith, Abraham, when called to go to a place he would later receive as his inheritance, obeyed and went, even though he did not know where he was going.”
“By faith, Moses, when he had grown up, refused to be known as the son of Pharaoh’s daughter. He chose to be mistreated along with the people of God rather than enjoy the pleasures of sin for a short time.”
“By faith, the people passed through the Red Sea as on dry land;”
“By faith, the walls of Jericho fell…”
“By faith the prostitue Rahab…”
“By faith Jacob….”
“By faith Isaac…”
“By faith Joseph…”

We remember and we step again.

“Therefore since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses, let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles…”

We wince as we drop the bitterness, the anger. We drop it like lead weights on the path beside us.

“…let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us.”

We drop the weight of discouragement. Pride is torn from our flesh.

“Let us fix our eyes on Jesus, the author and perfecter of our faith, who for the joy set before him endured the cross, scorning its shame, and sat down at the right hand of the throne of God.”

Our eyes look up, off the dusty trail. Our eyes search ahead, away from our trudging feet. We strain to see around our own choices. Around their choices.

And we see Him.

“Consider him who endured such opposition from sinful men, so that you will not grow weary and lose heart.”

He has gone before us. The path we walk, He carved.

“Endure hardship as discipline; God is treating you as sons….No discipline seems pleasant at the time, but painful. Later on, however it produces a harvest of righteousness and peace for those who have been trained by it.”
Our muscles ache. The wounds reawaken and ooze.

“Therefore, strengthen your feeble arms and weak knees. Make level paths for your feet, so that the lame may not be disabled, but rather healed.”
The new people behind us ask where we are going. They want some proof that we know the destination.

“You have not come to a mountain that can be touched…But you have come to Mount Zion, to the heavenly Jerusalem, the city of the living God. You have come to thousands upon thousands of angels in joyful assembly, to the church of the firstborn, whose names are written in heaven. You have come to God the judge of all men, to the spirits of righteous men made perfect, to Jesus the mediator of a new covenant, and to the sprinkled blood that speaks a better word than the blood of Abel. “

And then we hear it. The chords. The voices. The Song.

“He lifted me out of the slimy pit, out of the mud and mire, he set my feet on a rock, and gave me a firm place to stand. He put a new song in my mouth, a hymn of praise to our God. Many will see and fear and put their trust in the Lord.”

Suddenly, a second wind overwhelms our breathless lungs. And the Song pours out. Undefeatable. Uncontainable. Loud.

We have each come from Death. The death we chose when we sinned.
On the narrow path, we are all pit dwellers…lifted up. We all have the Song.

“The Lord God is my strength, my personal bravery and my invincible army. He makes my feet like hind’s 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]!

Our steps quicken again. The procession around us throngs. Our singing, the praise, reminds us.
He sees us all. And Saves. He alone.

No one falls outside of His awareness. No one dies that His heart doesn’t break.

No pit is too deep that He can’t lift us out.

And we ARE going Home.

We must only press on and rejoice.

This is what He has called us to, for today.

He is Enough. El Shaddai.

Scripture References: James 1:15;Romans 4:18;Hebrews 11 & 12;Psalm 40:2-3;Habakkuk 3:19

Glory!

It is with great joy and celebration that I announce to you dear blog friends...

"I have completed my family's laundry in my working washer and dryer."

If you are curious as to why this is news...see the previous post.

I don't know what happened, but I'm pretty sure about Who...

We did nothing but pray. Jeff had worked and reset to absolutely no avail when we discovered the problem over a week ago. The machines would not operate. And there was a burning smell...which is never good.

When we got back I waited before facing what I thought was the inevitable. I tried the dryer first...then the washer...and now about 8 loads later...the gentle whir and tumble of my beloved friends fills my heart with praise.

Doing laundry never felt so good...

Too Little...Too Much

Ft Portal is currently undergoing EST. Electricity Shortage Torture. ("Torture" is obviously my own description.) Several months ago, UMEME (the only power company in Uganda) announced that they had to repair a major fault in the Ft Portal power lines and it would take some months. Months. They set a schedule to turn off our power at 7 am and then turn it back on at 7 pm. Everyday. But, unfortunately, they have misrepresented the truth. They rarely turn the power on at 7pm. In fact, it is quite impossible to share the schedule with you. It is a WWAGAR schedule. ("Whenever we are good and ready...") The power often comes after 9pm and goes off again at random hours in the night and early morning.
Which means we are getting very little usable power... unless, I become a complete night owl and never sleep...

To magnify the problem, our house is hooked up to an old, overused transformer which is known to catch on fire. Yep. You read that right. Fire.

When our transformer sparks and shoots out fire, our house looses power. So when the rest of town is using their already limited power, we sit in the dark. And think the loveliest thoughts. ☺

Two weeks ago, as we were preparing for a much needed trip to the capital city, our transformer spouted fire and we sat in the dark. For 4 days. We are a family of six, which means the already overwhelming laundry pile was growing exponentially while we waited for the power to be fixed. (We did wash some clothes out by hand...but that process was also thwarted by the unbelievable deluge of rain...hand washed clothes do not dry out well in such wet, moist weather.)

On Saturday night, our power came back on! Praise! I turned on the washer and the dryer and thanked the Lord for whatever minutes of washing we could accomplish.

Which wasn’t very many.

Our lights started buzzing. The power was spiking so high, our breakers were blowing like crazy. I stopped all the machines…but not soon enough.

On Sunday morning, when the power came back on again at normal volts, my dryer and my washing machine would not work.

To understand the depths of my grief…you need to read my past posts…here and here.
These washing and drying machines have been long awaited in my life and have brought me the greatest joy. That UMEME, who I already have more issues with than I can communicate politely on this blog, may have taken these precious ones from me…
makes me think words I shouldn’t.

Like…”Fooey”…

My tired brain has been on overload following a difficult season of ministry…so all I could do was pray desperate prayers for the healing of our machinery …unplug them…and quietly shut the door. God’s will be done.

I squeezed out water from the dripping wet washing machine load and hung those clothes out with the still wet load from the dryer. Then packed dirty clothes for our trip. Sigh.

In the power spike of that day and the previous weeks we have lost a TV, a microwave, washer and dryer and our inverter.

That is a rather long and discouraging list.

There is a bright side:

Our computers are still functioning--for which we are very thankful.
And we have solar equipment on the way in a sea container.

Which will get us off the spiking, machine destroying, rarely working grid...

The Very Best Thing

From my journal:
September 12, 1997
“It’s Friday and I’m at the end of my 11th week of pregnancy. Other than the nausea, its hard to believe I’m pregnant. I think about you all day, every day. I’ve had malaria twice in 3 weeks so I’ve felt concerned for your wellbeing. I prayed by the hour that God would protect you and I feel peace that He is protecting you. I’ll be praying that prayer for you for a long time now---for God to protect you. I also pray for your heart as it develops. I pray God will create your heart to be one that seeks God and follows close to Him.”

December 1, 1997
“Since your dad and I were babies, God has been preparing us to serve Him. His plan was for your daddy and me to be married and serve Him together. He brought us here, to Uganda, to teach the Tooro people about Jesus. We have prayed very often for God to bless us with a family and now there is you! You are still forming inside my body, but God already has a plan and purpose for your life. He is developing you to enable you to serve Him. We pray that you will give your heart and life to Jesus. A close relationship with Him and with God is the very best thing I know and the very best thing I could wish for you.”




As long as I dreamed of being a Mommy, I dreamed of this day.



God has always Been, in your life. Your Dad and I confessed our faith some years ago. Your grandparents are God followers. Your great-grandparents were God followers. Stories of your Creator have been whispered over you and taught to you for your entire life. Prayers have surrounded your existence since before we even knew you were on the way.

But. You always have a choice. Our infinitely wondrous Lord, designed it that way.

And no matter how hard we wish it...how deeply we long for it...

We cannot choose Faith for you. Your decision to follow after Him...is yours alone...

Last week, you publicly confessed your choice.

"I believe Jesus is the Son of God."






The incredible thing...the almost unspeakable greatness...is...

That your statement of Faith...is not limited to what you understand now...

Your statement of Faith is...unlimited...because of Who He Always Is, Has Been and Will Be...

You will change, precious daughter. You will grow. You will stumble. You will learn. You will fall.

But, He will never change.

Who you confess Him to be today...He is.

And nothing can ever alter that.

May the enormity of that Truth, expand exponentially in your spirit every hour...every day...that you choose to believe...

He is the Son of God.

I love you, dearest Kinley.








We are all so proud of you!

Advice from the Experts

Our team has grown this week! Anaiah Dawn Martin was born Sept 3 to Andrew and Aimee Jo…and we are so elated that she has arrived! (for pictures of this adorable one link to Aimee Jo’s blog and/or Andrew and Aimee Jo’s blog in my sidebar!)

Anaiah will join the ranks of some of God’s most precious servants in foreign service…the Missionary Kids…referred to in mission-ese as MK’s or TCK (third culture kids). The life of an MK is very unique with distinctive challenges and blessings . One of the most helpful and supportive groups an MK can be a part of…is fellow MK’s.
So Anaiah, we welcome you to your own little MK community.



In a very informative interview with the MK experts in our household, this advice was given for the newest MK on the Ft Portal team:

On Life in Africa:

“Africa is the funnest place on the planet!”
“Never try to stop learning the silly language. “
“Be funny!”
“Try to make friends”
“I will give her my trains.”

On the Rutooro Language:

“If you don’t know what people are saying just smile and say MmmmHmmm…”
“Oliyota means hello.”
“Nangwa means No”
“Eggo means Yes.”
“Enjoka means snake.”
“Then she’ll give me BACK my trains!”

What you need to live here:

“A bed.”
“A mosquito net.”
“CD Player.”
“Pillows and sheets.”
“..and a good house.”
“You could live with us.”
“Then she’ll give me BACK my trains!”

On safety in Africa:

“If you see a snake, run inside!”
“Don’t ever touch lizards, rats, fuzzy caterpillars, spiders…”
“…or the MOST breakable things!”
“…or crocodiles…or hippos!”
“Definitely can’t play with sharks!”
“If you touch the fuzzy caterpillars, you will get little things in your hand that hurt—if there is an African nearby with fuzzy hair, rub the skin on their head and it will take the stingers out!”
“Don’t drink the bathwater!”
“Or the ocean…”
“The ocean has salt!”

On the food in Uganda:

“Try the matoke!”
“I’d give her fish and rice ‘cuz she loves fish and rice.”
“Everywhere you go there are sodas so if you are thirsty ask for a soda!”

On the Game Park:

“You always have to keep your eyes open---you may see a lion or an elephant or two.”
“There is a nice lodge. “
“Its fun going on the boat launch!”
“The boat launch is cool cuz it has a boat and a launch. Get it? Boat launch.”

On trips to Kampala:

“You go to Kampala to get food, cheese, cakes ice cream…”
“Go to the mall---where there are lots of nice things.”
“It’s fun going swimming!”
“Go to Khana Kazana. It is Indian food. Eat chicken curry and butter nans."
“The spicy sauce burns my mouth.”
“The baby toys are at the stores. I’m gonna give them to her.”

On Parents:

“There are many dangerous things in Africa, so stay close to your parents.”
“You should love them.”
“Try to do good things.”

On God:

“He never tells lies.”
“Trust in Him and miracles can happen!”
“He’s always working here.”
“Love God.”

What they want to say to Anaiah:

“I will be good to Anaiah. Be nice to her.”
“I hope you will be a good friend to us and love Africa!”
“I hope you are very cute!”
“I hope you have a good rest!”
“I’ll give her every present that I love!”
“We can’t wait to play with you and have sleepovers and baby sit you!”

Never fear, dear Anaiah. Your support team is ready with good advice, a wealth of personal experience and a train or two for you! (If you are willing to give them back, apparently.:-)
We love you already and believe very much, that God has chosen YOU, just as He has your parents for this life of overseas service. May He fill you even now with courage, strength and a fortune of Faith. He created you beautifully and we are so thankful for you!

Come see us, sweet girl! And don't forget your parents!

Facing the Facts

“Against all hope, Abraham in hope believed and so became the father of many nations, just as it had been said to him, “So shall your offspring be.” Without weakening in his faith, he faced the fact that his body was as good as dead---since he was about a hundred years old---and that Sarah’s womb was also dead. Yet he did not waver through unbelief regarding the promise of God, but was strengthened in his faith and gave glory to God, being fully persuaded that God had power to do what he had promised.” Romans 4: 18-21

I’ve been relishing the reawakening of hope in my spirit. Hope that I had surrendered to a current deluge of not so great…facts.

Realizing, that my hope had been temporarily misplaced. On people. On plans. On the Seen.

When the only safe and sure place for Hope…is with the Promise Keeper. The All Powerful.

Jehovah.

He. Never. Fails.

“…I do believe; help me overcome my unbelief!” Mark 9:24

Playing Along...

I've been tagged...here's the rules:

1. I have to post these rules before I give you the facts.

2. Each player starts with eight random facts/habits about themselves.

3. People who are tagged need to write a post on their own blog (about their eight things) and post these rules. (If you don’t have a blog, email me)

4. At the end of your blog, you need to choose eight people to get tagged and list their names.

5. Don’t forget to leave them a comment telling them they’re tagged, and to read your blog.


Eight Random Facts About Me

1. I do not like milk. Never have. I learned to eat it on cereal by pouring it down the side of the bowl so it doesn’t touch
the cereal much and make it too milky and soggy.
2. A big part of the “coffee” experience for me is about the cup. I like delicate cups, interesting shaped cups and proper
teacups. I can drink the delightful beverage from a plain ‘ole mug but it does decrease my enjoyment factor a tad.
3. I have to check the doors to our house to be sure they are locked and check on every kiddo, before I can lay down to
sleep.
4. I can always talk myself into buying a new pair of shoes.
5. I cannot watch scary movies at all. (To this day, I MUST lock the door on hotel room bathrooms, before taking a shower,
thanks to a dreadful viewing of Psycho when I was younger.)
6. I have always wanted to learn how to dance.
7. My absolute favorite dessert is vanilla ice cream with chocolate syrup.
8. I had a phobia of riding horses for most of my life.

I tag Tracey, Kim, Jennifer C, Dana, Sierra, and anyone else who wants to play!

It's a Small World After All...

Born in Tawain, raised in Guatemala, converted to Christ in Honduras, current resident of Canada and graduate student completeing practicum in Ft Portal!

This lovely jewel has awakened my awareness that God is doing EVERYTHING to bring us to Himself. He can turn the world around to make it happen.

And for this treasure, He has.

I received an email several months back, from a great friend and supporter of missions (she is an missionary kid, herself!) letting me know that she had a friend who was living in Ft Portal for the summer. Would I be willing to meet her friend and offer encouragement?
But of course! We connected and met for lunch. In the course of our conversation she said the words that won my heart, forever..."I'll help teach your kids!" Agueda has become a wonderful part of every week, guiding our brood through the joys of gymnastics...or "guh-nastics" if you are Silas.
She has worshipped with our town church, amazed us with her creativity in teaching the Bible class and generally been a super encourager for me and for Jeff.
We've needed her bright spirit and cheery disposition. What a gift.

But as this international life has taught me to expect...the moment of farewell is inevitably here.
I thought about taking her passport so we could keep her around a little longer...but I'm pretty sure a certain fiance' would have some strong words to say about that.

So, we will release her to an exciting year ahead. Praying blessings upon blessings as she goes...

Dear Agueda, as God has so faithfully brought you into fellowship with His people up to now...May He abudantly supply every need of your spirit, faith and service.

We will surely miss you! We praise God for bringing you into our lives!

Come back and see us...you are always welcome here.

Back to School

We did it! We officially started school. We have had one full day...from 10am to 5 pm of kindergarten, 2nd grade and 4th grade. With some preschool activities thrown in intermittently.

The kids are thrilled. Isaac giggled through his entire lesson. He said, "I love doing this work with you, Mom!"

What a gift to hear those words. The fun of new books. New lessons. New schedules.

"Lord, help us during this year of discovery. Open their young minds to all You would have for them to learn. And open my old mind to all You have for me to refine...patience, compassion and joy in Your calling for me, for now. Never let us stop learning or seeking. In Jesus I pray, Amen."

Ponderings and Convictions

This thought from Anne Lamont's, Plan B Further Thoughts on Faith:

(speaking about Jesus) "I don't think much surprises him: this is how we make important changes-barely, poorly, slowly. And still, he raises his fist in triumph."

I am being convicted..."..barely, poorly, slowly..." of the sin of my impatience.

Impatience with my kiddos. Impatience with those we minister among. Impatience with myself...

How can I demand (even quietly in my soul) that the changes I WANT to happen should be completed...fulfilled NOW?

How can I dare surrender my Hope, when the change is slow to come?

"Wait for the Lord; be strong and take heart and wait for the Lord." Psalm 27:14

"Do you not know? Have you not heard? The Lord is the everlasting God, the Creator of the ends of the earth. He will not grow tired or weary, and his understanding no one can fathom. He gives strength to the weary and increases the power of the weak. Even youths grow tired and weary, and young men stumble and fall; but those who HOPE in the Lord will renew their strength. They will soar on wings like eagles; they will run and not grow weary, they will walk and not be faint." Isaiah 40: 28-31

Redecorating

I love to redecorate. The furniture in our home never finds a permanent placement. Our chairs, tables and wall decor "visit" many areas of our home through the months. I rearrange, change colors and update whenever I have the opportunity.
Things are changing in our home this week...

And all it has involved is a paint brush, paint clothes and a tin of glossy paint.

Alex announced to the family this morning, "Mom's painting something else white!" :-)

Four, tired, messy, and scratched wood pieces of furniture have been revived with beautiful white paint!

We are all pleased with the results...and I have half a tin of paint just waiting to redeem more worn out furnishings.

If only refurbishing this blog was as simple as a can of paint!

For awhile now, I've been tired of pink. Pink is a perfectly lovely color. (shout out to Aimee Jo the queen of pink!) I loved dressing my baby girl in pink's delicate shades. But generally, I'm not a pink kind of girl.
So why did it end up on my blog?

I wasn't paying that much attention. Blogging wasn't something I thought would last long for me. I had no idea the blessing, release, and FUN I would find in Blogland.

Several months ago, I started fiddling with different templates. I cautiously perused the html codes....knowing that to someone it all makes sense....someone other than me.

I never achieved the "look" I wanted. And I grew frustrated.

So I did what any frustrated and stumped rookie decorator should do...I called a professional!

Susie at Bluebird Blogs (www.bluebirdblogs.com) is working on a design for me...and I can't wait to see how it turns out.

In the meantime, as I wait, I've revisited my current template and attempted to add some blogs to my blog roll. For some reason, (I'm sure a simple one) the titles on the headings are in a different font than I meant them to be...but since its not offensive or ugly...I've made the executive blog decision to Leave It as It is for Now. All further html changes will be left to the professionals!

So, I'm off to scrub the white paint from my hands, enjoy the gleaming white tables in my kitchen and wait to see what Susie has in store for us here....

Stay tuned!

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!