This is not a woman you will read about in Time or Newsweek. Her life was not marked by fame or wealth. She lived a simple life. In a simple place.
She never married and never had her own children. But she was ALWAYS taking care of people. Her brother Carl. People in the church. My Granny.
Granny started having strokes when I was really young. She slowly lost the use of her legs, arms and body. She spent her last years bedfast.
Granny was the anchor of Dad's family. There would be no nursing home for her. No sir. The family couldn't stand that. A hospital bed was purchased and set up in the living room. And Nora Belle, Granny's sister, came over every day to bathe her, change her, clean her house, wash the clothes and cook some meals for Grandpa. Grandpa eventually took over most of those tasks...but he wisely knew to leave some of them for Nora Belle. She WAS coming to help. Might as well leave her a task or she would make something up! :-)
What I remember most about Nora Belle was that when she showed up...we all started laughing. She was funny. And she could make her sister laugh even in the most difficult and humiliating of circumstances. (that's something I respect in a sister.:-))
I also remember that everybody loved her. Everybody I knew anyway.
She was easy to be with. Like an Aunt should be.
If you listen close, you might can hear an etheral giggle fest taking place...Aunt Nora Belle went Home last week...and I'm sure that when she arrived on the scene...the Heavenly Chorus was was filled with more laughter. At least from where Granny was standing...
Won't the reunions of Home be splendid!
Sunday, February 26, 2006
Where Am I?
It feels like this country has been holding its breath for a week.
The Uganda Presidential Elections.
In Uganda, much information is gathered word of mouth. It is a difficult way to gain understanding. Over time, you can surmise an 'abstract painting' of a given situation but never a clear picture. We've been warned and heard threats of complaints no matter which side won. We were encouraged to stay at home.
Which we dutifully did. Until yesterday. I had a Bible study in town.
I have it every week. Atwooki and I meet at a restaurant. She drinks soda. I drink hot tea. We greet each other, ask about each others children and home and then we study. We are working our way through the Women of the Bible. The restaurant is across from the bustling market.
Everything felt normal.
We were talking about Tamar. Quite a story to tell. To be honest, I never know exactly where to go with Tamar's recounting. What point to make.
Married to a foreigner. A wicked foreigner. No children. Widowed. Given to wicked brother. Deprived. Widowed again. Blamed. Virtual Abandonment. Scheming. Posing as prostitue. Sleeping with Daddy-in-law. Facing cruel death. Saved. Twins. A place in the lineage of Christ. Huh?
I was just making the point to Atwooki that God is always seeing us and paying attention. Even if our life is not in order. And following up with the point that we may not know what God has in store for us or our children even if our life feels humdrum and usual...
And three gunshots punctuated a chorus of screams.
Atwooki and I and the gentlemen at the table beside us were immediately on full alert.
The screams and shouting were taking place at the corner, across from the market. People were running and a scuffle had ensued.
After a few seconds of observing the chaotic crowd, the man at the table next to us said, "they are arresting someone."
I scanned the area for a barricade to hide behind and my mind raced to determine if the man's analysis was accurate.
There was a police truck at the center of the struggle and two piki-piki drivers were yanked into the back of the truck and raced away. (piki-pikis are motor scooters used as inexpensive public transport)
We all let out a collective breath and tried to regain our composure. I think my heart pounded for a good 10 minutes.
We prayed together and calmed down tremendously. I finished my tea. She finished her soda. We paid our bill, sent greetings to each others families and went on about our day. The market sellers were shouting out their prices. The remaining piki drivers were discussing politics and calling out for passengers. Atwooki went to the market to see her friend. I got in my car to check the mail.
And I couldn't stop thinking, "WHERE AM I?"
A gun was just fired into a crowd of people at the market. Two men were roughly beaten and hauled away. My danger sensors were already on high alert because of possible rioting due to the results of free democratic elections. And yet we all drank tea, studied the Bible, went to the market and checked the mail. Life going on as normal?!
I've lived here awhile now. But the revelation never fails to be shocking. I am a foreigner in a very different world. Whew.
As I drove home from the post office I wrestled with the surrealness of it all.
And through the fog of the surreal Tamar's story emerged again.
She is listed (a woman?) in a very important family lineage. No one is quite sure how she got there. A foreigner in a different world. No rights to speak of. Succumbing to and even choosing one undignified situation after another.
Forever linked by blood to the Messiah.
Life is foggy sometimes. No clear understanding of why. Maybe not even a place to lay blame.
Even worse, sometimes, the blame placement is crystal clear!
Nevertheless, the question "how did I get HERE?" very often demands to be heeded. Processing and analysis follow. Sometimes answers. Sometimes acceptance. Sometimes silence and a void.
How incredibly grateful I am that despite the fog and whatever the processing brings me to,
the Lord steps in to remind me. Often, chapters after the initial question is posed.
"You matter so much. I'll join you, wayward one, to Me. In an unquestioning and irrefutable way. By Blood."
"But now in Christ Jesus you who once were far away have been brought near through the blood of Christ....Consequently, you are no longer foreigners and aliens, but fellow-citizens with God's people and members of God's household...with Christ Jesus himself as the chief cornerstone." Ephesians 2:13,19-20
(you can find Tamar's complete story in Genesis 38 and her name in Matthew 1)
(President Yoweri Museveni was declared the winner last evening. There were no riots in Ft Portal, only jubilant celebration. Thank you for your prayers.)
The Uganda Presidential Elections.
In Uganda, much information is gathered word of mouth. It is a difficult way to gain understanding. Over time, you can surmise an 'abstract painting' of a given situation but never a clear picture. We've been warned and heard threats of complaints no matter which side won. We were encouraged to stay at home.
Which we dutifully did. Until yesterday. I had a Bible study in town.
I have it every week. Atwooki and I meet at a restaurant. She drinks soda. I drink hot tea. We greet each other, ask about each others children and home and then we study. We are working our way through the Women of the Bible. The restaurant is across from the bustling market.
Everything felt normal.
We were talking about Tamar. Quite a story to tell. To be honest, I never know exactly where to go with Tamar's recounting. What point to make.
Married to a foreigner. A wicked foreigner. No children. Widowed. Given to wicked brother. Deprived. Widowed again. Blamed. Virtual Abandonment. Scheming. Posing as prostitue. Sleeping with Daddy-in-law. Facing cruel death. Saved. Twins. A place in the lineage of Christ. Huh?
I was just making the point to Atwooki that God is always seeing us and paying attention. Even if our life is not in order. And following up with the point that we may not know what God has in store for us or our children even if our life feels humdrum and usual...
And three gunshots punctuated a chorus of screams.
Atwooki and I and the gentlemen at the table beside us were immediately on full alert.
The screams and shouting were taking place at the corner, across from the market. People were running and a scuffle had ensued.
After a few seconds of observing the chaotic crowd, the man at the table next to us said, "they are arresting someone."
I scanned the area for a barricade to hide behind and my mind raced to determine if the man's analysis was accurate.
There was a police truck at the center of the struggle and two piki-piki drivers were yanked into the back of the truck and raced away. (piki-pikis are motor scooters used as inexpensive public transport)
We all let out a collective breath and tried to regain our composure. I think my heart pounded for a good 10 minutes.
We prayed together and calmed down tremendously. I finished my tea. She finished her soda. We paid our bill, sent greetings to each others families and went on about our day. The market sellers were shouting out their prices. The remaining piki drivers were discussing politics and calling out for passengers. Atwooki went to the market to see her friend. I got in my car to check the mail.
And I couldn't stop thinking, "WHERE AM I?"
A gun was just fired into a crowd of people at the market. Two men were roughly beaten and hauled away. My danger sensors were already on high alert because of possible rioting due to the results of free democratic elections. And yet we all drank tea, studied the Bible, went to the market and checked the mail. Life going on as normal?!
I've lived here awhile now. But the revelation never fails to be shocking. I am a foreigner in a very different world. Whew.
As I drove home from the post office I wrestled with the surrealness of it all.
And through the fog of the surreal Tamar's story emerged again.
She is listed (a woman?) in a very important family lineage. No one is quite sure how she got there. A foreigner in a different world. No rights to speak of. Succumbing to and even choosing one undignified situation after another.
Forever linked by blood to the Messiah.
Life is foggy sometimes. No clear understanding of why. Maybe not even a place to lay blame.
Even worse, sometimes, the blame placement is crystal clear!
Nevertheless, the question "how did I get HERE?" very often demands to be heeded. Processing and analysis follow. Sometimes answers. Sometimes acceptance. Sometimes silence and a void.
How incredibly grateful I am that despite the fog and whatever the processing brings me to,
the Lord steps in to remind me. Often, chapters after the initial question is posed.
"You matter so much. I'll join you, wayward one, to Me. In an unquestioning and irrefutable way. By Blood."
"But now in Christ Jesus you who once were far away have been brought near through the blood of Christ....Consequently, you are no longer foreigners and aliens, but fellow-citizens with God's people and members of God's household...with Christ Jesus himself as the chief cornerstone." Ephesians 2:13,19-20
(you can find Tamar's complete story in Genesis 38 and her name in Matthew 1)
(President Yoweri Museveni was declared the winner last evening. There were no riots in Ft Portal, only jubilant celebration. Thank you for your prayers.)
Wednesday, February 22, 2006
We Laughed
We had a Jeff and Cheryl retreat this week. We got a room overlooking Lake Victoria. (Even with 8 feet of her missing...she was breathtaking.) We read, talked, absorbed the silence, napped, ate....and laughed. A whole lot.
I forget how truly great that feels. To laugh. There are myriad opportunities for laughter in this third world. The steak we ordered that oddly resembled French Toast. The horse statue that made us think....what WERE they thinking?!?!? Indian soap operas. My husband's stories. And, probably my favorite of the chuckling repetoire, the late night--I'm exhausted--EVERYTHING is funny--"my side hurts" laughter.
Ahhhhhh....the satisfaction.
It is healing and replenishing. Invigorating and cleansing.
And, just plain fun.
Sometimes, from surviving the crushing defeats to celebrating the air punching victories--and cruising through all the blissfully regular in between---I forget to embrace the hilarity.
I think its always there. You just have to be watching.
May God bless you, blog friends, with side splitting laughter today.
Chuckle on!
Special thanks to JSC for "observing" some hilarity with me this week. And for providing much as well. I love you.
And MANY MANY WEBALE's to Destiny and Doug--our treasures from California :-). We know God brought you here to proclaim Him...did you know He meant to us? We are so thankful you Calhoon-types are sojourning in Fort Portal. (especially when you offer to wrangle our four rowdies for three days and two nights:-)) Treasures--indeed!
I forget how truly great that feels. To laugh. There are myriad opportunities for laughter in this third world. The steak we ordered that oddly resembled French Toast. The horse statue that made us think....what WERE they thinking?!?!? Indian soap operas. My husband's stories. And, probably my favorite of the chuckling repetoire, the late night--I'm exhausted--EVERYTHING is funny--"my side hurts" laughter.
Ahhhhhh....the satisfaction.
It is healing and replenishing. Invigorating and cleansing.
And, just plain fun.
Sometimes, from surviving the crushing defeats to celebrating the air punching victories--and cruising through all the blissfully regular in between---I forget to embrace the hilarity.
I think its always there. You just have to be watching.
May God bless you, blog friends, with side splitting laughter today.
Chuckle on!
Special thanks to JSC for "observing" some hilarity with me this week. And for providing much as well. I love you.
And MANY MANY WEBALE's to Destiny and Doug--our treasures from California :-). We know God brought you here to proclaim Him...did you know He meant to us? We are so thankful you Calhoon-types are sojourning in Fort Portal. (especially when you offer to wrangle our four rowdies for three days and two nights:-)) Treasures--indeed!
Saturday, February 18, 2006
Break it Down
KJ52--Collaborations
It's rap music. (Christian) Ike and Kaelea left it on my MP3. And I like it. Alot. In fact, I can't stop listening to it. In the car. In my kitchen. First thing in the morning. Just before I go to sleep.
I'm a mom. A missionary. I was raised on country music which includes the Grand Ole Opry and Hee Haw ("Salute!")
And somehow rap music has bounced its way into my soul.
This isn't a new development actually. I have secretly loved this stuff for a long, long time. (a jambox and the Permian band bus come to mind:-)) Unfortunately, I have not been able to indulge my love of this music because of the awful themes and language rappers in the secular world choose to "share about". Thankfully, Christian rappers have stepped up with better words and messages. And now, thanks to Rockin' I and K I am in possession of some poppin', hip hoppin' quality tunes!
They say confession is good for the soul.
"My name is Cheryl and I love rap."
Word.
It's rap music. (Christian) Ike and Kaelea left it on my MP3. And I like it. Alot. In fact, I can't stop listening to it. In the car. In my kitchen. First thing in the morning. Just before I go to sleep.
I'm a mom. A missionary. I was raised on country music which includes the Grand Ole Opry and Hee Haw ("Salute!")
And somehow rap music has bounced its way into my soul.
This isn't a new development actually. I have secretly loved this stuff for a long, long time. (a jambox and the Permian band bus come to mind:-)) Unfortunately, I have not been able to indulge my love of this music because of the awful themes and language rappers in the secular world choose to "share about". Thankfully, Christian rappers have stepped up with better words and messages. And now, thanks to Rockin' I and K I am in possession of some poppin', hip hoppin' quality tunes!
They say confession is good for the soul.
"My name is Cheryl and I love rap."
Word.
Friday, February 17, 2006
Organization...by Cheryl
What is it about stacks and lists that eases my burden? Nothing truly gets finished with the stacking and the listing. But somehow...the dividing up of the insurmountable into seemingly manageable units makes me able to sleep better.
Our dining room table is covered with stacks of receipts which will, with a little help from Quicken, become a detailed finance report in the next few days.
My guest bedroom closet has four stacks of drawings, birthday cards and other treasures that will become four sentimental and heart tugging scrapbooks for my children.
The corner of my living room has two picture boxes with pictures in sequential order that will fill the two empty picture albums they are stacked on.
My refrigerator has three lists running right now...
*to do before furlough
* to buy while on furlough
* to buy in Kampala next week
My desk in the school room has four stacks:
Kinley's work
Alex's work
Lesson books for next week
And letters to be answered
In my bedroom, by my glider rocker are three stacks:
magazines I love (Real Simple!)
Bibles, journals and current study book
thank you notes and list of names
To my left, right now, is a list of 5 tasks I MUST get accomplished on the computer before the power clicks off again. (nope. Blogging isn't really on that list. Sigh)
And to be completely honest...just writing this "list" of all my organizing efforts...well, it leaves me with an odd sense of...tranquility and peace.
In truth, it is that whole "intention vs actual behavior" discussion that is worthy of our time. But, not right now. It isn't on my list and I have a foreboding feeling that it would wreck my temporary feeling of accomplishment.
So for the moment, I'll revel in the facade of manageability. With aspiring hope that soon...I can bask in the glory of actual completion.
Our dining room table is covered with stacks of receipts which will, with a little help from Quicken, become a detailed finance report in the next few days.
My guest bedroom closet has four stacks of drawings, birthday cards and other treasures that will become four sentimental and heart tugging scrapbooks for my children.
The corner of my living room has two picture boxes with pictures in sequential order that will fill the two empty picture albums they are stacked on.
My refrigerator has three lists running right now...
*to do before furlough
* to buy while on furlough
* to buy in Kampala next week
My desk in the school room has four stacks:
Kinley's work
Alex's work
Lesson books for next week
And letters to be answered
In my bedroom, by my glider rocker are three stacks:
magazines I love (Real Simple!)
Bibles, journals and current study book
thank you notes and list of names
To my left, right now, is a list of 5 tasks I MUST get accomplished on the computer before the power clicks off again. (nope. Blogging isn't really on that list. Sigh)
And to be completely honest...just writing this "list" of all my organizing efforts...well, it leaves me with an odd sense of...tranquility and peace.
In truth, it is that whole "intention vs actual behavior" discussion that is worthy of our time. But, not right now. It isn't on my list and I have a foreboding feeling that it would wreck my temporary feeling of accomplishment.
So for the moment, I'll revel in the facade of manageability. With aspiring hope that soon...I can bask in the glory of actual completion.
Wednesday, February 15, 2006
Pulling My Hair Out
After 6 weeks of sporting the Africa-do... I have been de-braided. I worked on my braids for about three days and on Wednesday my friend Florence came over to help me finish the job. It took us three hours ...but we got them all removed. My children enjoyed the 'fro I sported until my hair was washed. I was...lovely. Sort of like the eighties and a new crimping iron run amuk. After a good hairwashing...I am back to my own soft locks.
The Homeland
On Monday, we hosted a meeting for American Citizens in our home. There were 15 of us gathered...including the Consular from the Embassy. He drove in just for the meeting and shared information on several important topics.
Here is my summation:
1. Stand Fast--I think this phrase sounds so military and important. It basically means "stay home"....but that sounds so ordinary.
This was the reccommendation concerning the day of the Presidential Election next week and the days following...especially the day the results are released.
2. Sell the Poultry Farm--We don't actually have one...but there could be very tough times ahead for those who do. The Bird Flu has reached the Africa Continent (specifically Nigeria)...so task forces are being formed, money is being doled out and precautions are being taken. We were advised not to handle live poultry and to prepare to (ahem...) Stand Fast in case of quarantine. There is a large CDC (Center for Disease Control) office in Kampala so Uganda should be well equipped to handle problems if the need arises.
3.Electricity Joy--We were told it would probably get worse before it gets better. Apparently, diesel generators have been brought in to provide the little power we are currently receiving which in effect means--- diesel shortages. No generators...less power. That is unless God graciously dumps eight feet of water in Lake Victoria soon.
I have been about this international living for over 10 years now. And I always enjoy the dynamics of American gatherings overseas.
In our living room were:
-- four 20-something Peace Corp volunteers...living on nothing, serving, sharing, volunteering, missing home.
--one single woman, who in her 50's decided to take all of her money, leave her home in Hawaii and move to Fort Portal....to help orphans. And she has...
--seven missionaries...from California, Oregon, Texas, Pennsylvania and South Africa...from different backgrounds, doctrines and training...but (check this out) One Christ
--one Catholic sister...she came to Ft. Portal for 3 years and has stayed 34. Amazing.
--and one American Embassy consular staff person...willing to drive to our town to give us information....
We shared something. Citizenship.
We are all foreigners, stand-outs, Mzungu (white men). We exist and cope in surroundings and world views that will never be our own. We came because we CHOSE to. We stay, because we feel we have something to offer. And yet, we all maintain citizenship in a place that means the world to us. Home.
For one hour on Monday, we gingerly stepped back into the bounds of American politeness and greeting. We told American jokes. We wallowed in the joy of information...true, factual and precise. Our greetings were shy at first. We were shifting our minds back to our American rules of social order. But we got there and in many ways, relaxed into the social acceptance we understand.
I love the diversity our life here allows. I love the international understanding I have gained.
But I adore the American-ness of me. I am a West Texas born girl. Who always sings the National Anthem at football games(though I haven't been to one in awhile). And whose heart races everytime she sees Old Glory waving in the wind.
I'm glad for all the flavors of this life. And for the joy of being a Citizen.
"Ohhhh, Say,can you see...."
Here is my summation:
1. Stand Fast--I think this phrase sounds so military and important. It basically means "stay home"....but that sounds so ordinary.
This was the reccommendation concerning the day of the Presidential Election next week and the days following...especially the day the results are released.
2. Sell the Poultry Farm--We don't actually have one...but there could be very tough times ahead for those who do. The Bird Flu has reached the Africa Continent (specifically Nigeria)...so task forces are being formed, money is being doled out and precautions are being taken. We were advised not to handle live poultry and to prepare to (ahem...) Stand Fast in case of quarantine. There is a large CDC (Center for Disease Control) office in Kampala so Uganda should be well equipped to handle problems if the need arises.
3.Electricity Joy--We were told it would probably get worse before it gets better. Apparently, diesel generators have been brought in to provide the little power we are currently receiving which in effect means--- diesel shortages. No generators...less power. That is unless God graciously dumps eight feet of water in Lake Victoria soon.
I have been about this international living for over 10 years now. And I always enjoy the dynamics of American gatherings overseas.
In our living room were:
-- four 20-something Peace Corp volunteers...living on nothing, serving, sharing, volunteering, missing home.
--one single woman, who in her 50's decided to take all of her money, leave her home in Hawaii and move to Fort Portal....to help orphans. And she has...
--seven missionaries...from California, Oregon, Texas, Pennsylvania and South Africa...from different backgrounds, doctrines and training...but (check this out) One Christ
--one Catholic sister...she came to Ft. Portal for 3 years and has stayed 34. Amazing.
--and one American Embassy consular staff person...willing to drive to our town to give us information....
We shared something. Citizenship.
We are all foreigners, stand-outs, Mzungu (white men). We exist and cope in surroundings and world views that will never be our own. We came because we CHOSE to. We stay, because we feel we have something to offer. And yet, we all maintain citizenship in a place that means the world to us. Home.
For one hour on Monday, we gingerly stepped back into the bounds of American politeness and greeting. We told American jokes. We wallowed in the joy of information...true, factual and precise. Our greetings were shy at first. We were shifting our minds back to our American rules of social order. But we got there and in many ways, relaxed into the social acceptance we understand.
I love the diversity our life here allows. I love the international understanding I have gained.
But I adore the American-ness of me. I am a West Texas born girl. Who always sings the National Anthem at football games(though I haven't been to one in awhile). And whose heart races everytime she sees Old Glory waving in the wind.
I'm glad for all the flavors of this life. And for the joy of being a Citizen.
"Ohhhh, Say,can you see...."
Friday, February 10, 2006
Rain, rain, come our way...
Scheduling, predictability and time conciousness....non existent in a Third World country...FYI.
I am feeling the love today...with kind regards from our Uganda Electricity Service.
There was an official announcement two days ago. AFTER three weeks of horrible power outages, our Electricity Experts declared "we have a problem."
Indeed.
The hippos are drinking Lake Victoria! Or something...
Because five feet of water from the mammoth lake have disappeared. Evaported. Gone...
So now, the generating dams are not...generating that is.
We are without power for 12 hours a day...or WITH power 12 hours a day...depending on your outlook. Or your hold on reality.
Because, what they don't tell you... is that your 12 hours will be delivered in any increment they deem appropriate....
For instance, last night our power went off at 5pm. Came back at 5:10. Went off at 5:20. Came back at 5:45. Went off at 6:00. Came back on at 6:15. Went off at 7:00. Came back on at 7:05. Went off at 8:15. Came back at 8:30. Went off at 8:45. Came back at 9:15. ...whew.
To give you the visual. Power clicks off. I huff and look at the clock (why?). As I hunt for the matches that mysteriously walk away from where I last put them, my mind clicks off 12 hours from time on clock. Before I get one candle lit, power clicks back on. Sigh. Wait for everything to click back on, settle back in with movie. Power clicks off. Louder huff. Matches? Candle...Discuss generator option. Walk out to generator room...power clicks on before generator turns on. Deeper sigh. Back to the house. Settle back in...power off...Huff and special words :-)...skip candles...straight to generator...many kind comments floating about...generator won't start...check oil...fiddle with wires...power clicks back on. While power is on...quickly locate flashlight...more matches and candles...light them and leave them lit for the duration...beg husband to please take a look at the generator...starts right up for him (argh! and Yea!)....settle back in with movie...can't even remember what we are watching...town power returns...do we turn off the generator or just run off generator?...generator dies...back to town power...prepare for bed...crawl under covers...power clicks off...children begin to cry...out of bed...WHERE ARE THE MATCHES?!?!?!....light the lantern...pull blankets off bed...try to sleep in the heat with no fans to cool you...
Are you feeling the love too?
We have been told that this power service will not change until it rains in Jinja. I'm not sure if that is the Ugandan equivalent of "when donkeys fly"...but I'm kinda scared that it might be.
So for now, we resign ourselves to the inevitable. Try to laugh about it. Apologize to our family when we forget to choose a good attitude:-)...dutifully pay our electricity bill...and wait for the rain.
I sure hope its coming...
I am feeling the love today...with kind regards from our Uganda Electricity Service.
There was an official announcement two days ago. AFTER three weeks of horrible power outages, our Electricity Experts declared "we have a problem."
Indeed.
The hippos are drinking Lake Victoria! Or something...
Because five feet of water from the mammoth lake have disappeared. Evaported. Gone...
So now, the generating dams are not...generating that is.
We are without power for 12 hours a day...or WITH power 12 hours a day...depending on your outlook. Or your hold on reality.
Because, what they don't tell you... is that your 12 hours will be delivered in any increment they deem appropriate....
For instance, last night our power went off at 5pm. Came back at 5:10. Went off at 5:20. Came back at 5:45. Went off at 6:00. Came back on at 6:15. Went off at 7:00. Came back on at 7:05. Went off at 8:15. Came back at 8:30. Went off at 8:45. Came back at 9:15. ...whew.
To give you the visual. Power clicks off. I huff and look at the clock (why?). As I hunt for the matches that mysteriously walk away from where I last put them, my mind clicks off 12 hours from time on clock. Before I get one candle lit, power clicks back on. Sigh. Wait for everything to click back on, settle back in with movie. Power clicks off. Louder huff. Matches? Candle...Discuss generator option. Walk out to generator room...power clicks on before generator turns on. Deeper sigh. Back to the house. Settle back in...power off...Huff and special words :-)...skip candles...straight to generator...many kind comments floating about...generator won't start...check oil...fiddle with wires...power clicks back on. While power is on...quickly locate flashlight...more matches and candles...light them and leave them lit for the duration...beg husband to please take a look at the generator...starts right up for him (argh! and Yea!)....settle back in with movie...can't even remember what we are watching...town power returns...do we turn off the generator or just run off generator?...generator dies...back to town power...prepare for bed...crawl under covers...power clicks off...children begin to cry...out of bed...WHERE ARE THE MATCHES?!?!?!....light the lantern...pull blankets off bed...try to sleep in the heat with no fans to cool you...
Are you feeling the love too?
We have been told that this power service will not change until it rains in Jinja. I'm not sure if that is the Ugandan equivalent of "when donkeys fly"...but I'm kinda scared that it might be.
So for now, we resign ourselves to the inevitable. Try to laugh about it. Apologize to our family when we forget to choose a good attitude:-)...dutifully pay our electricity bill...and wait for the rain.
I sure hope its coming...
Saturday, February 04, 2006
Broken Heart
"The sacrifices of God are a broken spirit; a broken and contrite heart, O God, you will not despise." Psalm 51:17
When we were preparing to leave for Uganda, many precious souls passed on interesting, humorous (and on rare occassions--helpful:-) tidbits of advice to insure survival in a third world country.
Of all the wonderful bits I gleaned, one morsel has proven to be the jewel.
The sage comment came from someone I barely knew. She was the preachers wife at Jeff's home church. At one point she pulled me aside and said, "Sometimes, the only thing there is to do is lay down across your bed and cry. So when you need to, I give you permission. Just cry it out!"
The wise voice of a veteran. In these East Africa years, everytime I have opened the floodgates to release the pent up mess inside me...I have thought of her generous gift to me. Understanding and validity.
Tonight, I am exhausted. Completely depleted, can hardly lift my arms, brain dead---exhausted.
My heart is broken. And I have laid across my bed and cried.
Sin.
Why do we do it?
The specific details are really not that important in the end. The basic framework is usually the same. Someone seperates himself from God. Doesn't trust. Starts with a little bit... Rationalizes. Becomes entangled....begins to die...
This week the smell of death overpowered us in the Fort Portal church. But after three days of confession, repentance, accountability and God's Grace (deep sigh)...I perceive Revival has begun.
One man. Poor choices. Anger. Accusation. Confession. Guilt. Promises. Betrayal. Tears.
And many broken hearts. Not the least of which...is His.
But in that Mysterious and Mind Boggling Way...He actually has us now...right where He can meet us.
Broken. Hurting. On our knees. Needing...
The Healer. Saviour. Compassionate One.
In our moments of shattering confession...we are real. Pretension erased. Hearts laid bare. And He begins to Heal. Painfully. Gently. Faithfully. Healing...Hearing...Watching.
It's not what this third world has come to expect. Shame. Accusation. Blame and Abandonment. That's what accompanies the darkness.
How unbelievably brilliant is His Revealing Light. Waiting, hopeful, ready...to flood the gloom of a dying heart. And Revive.
Please pray today for the heart of my dear brother here. Pray that he will be strong to stand, in a different way than anyone around him. Revealed. Imperfect. Forgiven. Fought for. Redeemed.
"Create in me a clean heart O God, and renew a steadfast spirit within me. Do not cast me from your presence or take your Holy Spirit from me.Restore to me the joy of your salvation, and grant me a willing spirit, to sustain me." Psalm 51:10-12
When we were preparing to leave for Uganda, many precious souls passed on interesting, humorous (and on rare occassions--helpful:-) tidbits of advice to insure survival in a third world country.
Of all the wonderful bits I gleaned, one morsel has proven to be the jewel.
The sage comment came from someone I barely knew. She was the preachers wife at Jeff's home church. At one point she pulled me aside and said, "Sometimes, the only thing there is to do is lay down across your bed and cry. So when you need to, I give you permission. Just cry it out!"
The wise voice of a veteran. In these East Africa years, everytime I have opened the floodgates to release the pent up mess inside me...I have thought of her generous gift to me. Understanding and validity.
Tonight, I am exhausted. Completely depleted, can hardly lift my arms, brain dead---exhausted.
My heart is broken. And I have laid across my bed and cried.
Sin.
Why do we do it?
The specific details are really not that important in the end. The basic framework is usually the same. Someone seperates himself from God. Doesn't trust. Starts with a little bit... Rationalizes. Becomes entangled....begins to die...
This week the smell of death overpowered us in the Fort Portal church. But after three days of confession, repentance, accountability and God's Grace (deep sigh)...I perceive Revival has begun.
One man. Poor choices. Anger. Accusation. Confession. Guilt. Promises. Betrayal. Tears.
And many broken hearts. Not the least of which...is His.
But in that Mysterious and Mind Boggling Way...He actually has us now...right where He can meet us.
Broken. Hurting. On our knees. Needing...
The Healer. Saviour. Compassionate One.
In our moments of shattering confession...we are real. Pretension erased. Hearts laid bare. And He begins to Heal. Painfully. Gently. Faithfully. Healing...Hearing...Watching.
It's not what this third world has come to expect. Shame. Accusation. Blame and Abandonment. That's what accompanies the darkness.
How unbelievably brilliant is His Revealing Light. Waiting, hopeful, ready...to flood the gloom of a dying heart. And Revive.
Please pray today for the heart of my dear brother here. Pray that he will be strong to stand, in a different way than anyone around him. Revealed. Imperfect. Forgiven. Fought for. Redeemed.
"Create in me a clean heart O God, and renew a steadfast spirit within me. Do not cast me from your presence or take your Holy Spirit from me.Restore to me the joy of your salvation, and grant me a willing spirit, to sustain me." Psalm 51:10-12
Wednesday, February 01, 2006
Two Years and Counting
We hit a milestone this week.
Our baby turned two. And we are NOT expecting another one! :-)
Two is always a memorable birthday...it marks the beginning of what will be some intense years of parenting. These boundary testing times....my oh my.
The irony of a two year old is that the complete joy and delight of one moment can instantaneously transform into the most difficult test of patience and temper you have ever experienced....and then, before the time-out is complete...you're back to joy and delight.
Quite the ride.
And I have to say...one I'm glad to experience...all told.
Silas was our true surprise. My first months of carrying him were filled with astounded shock. I COULD NOT be pregnant. But, alas. The nausea over came me...and the stick showed two lines.
His arrival took place on this soil...Uganda. His first months were full of colicky fun (?). His first year included travel to four different countries, a trip to Disneyland and so much attention from his doting siblings he still thinks the world revolves around him.
He is....a sign of how well God knows me....and keeps on giving anyway.
My birthing days have been a whirlwind. Four kids in 5 1/2 years. The baby years have felt like a blur. But through this last one...I've been able to actually hold on to the moments a time or two.... and I have so cherished those times. I think with number four...I was trying really hard to pay attention.
My Father must have known I needed that.
One more opportunity to open my eyes a little wider. One more baby to have our features and personality traits (egads!)--with all the joy and humility that demands! One more precious awareness of the constant need to re-evaluate what I value.
On his birthday this week, he actually let me rock him for 20 minutes. We had guests coming for a party. I had lunch to get ready...cakes to ice...a floor to sweep. But it was time for his nap and I was trying to make it a little bit special. He cuddled in my lap and we sat in the silence. Just the two of us. Rocking. I guess because I know from experience that these moments rush away...I WAS paying attention. And it was delightful.
Several of my friends are already at the letting go stage of parenting...and I'm starting to believe them when they say it will be here before I know it.
But it's hard to think about that now. Tomorrow lies on the other side of a few hours of sleep...and with tomorrow comes sippy cups to fill, diapers to change, potty training to master, more than one battle of wills, books to read,pacifiers to locate...
Through the blur, the "moments" emerge. I'm striving to savor and experience...not just "get through".
A milestone.
For me, Silas' two year mark, signifies the longest stretch I've gone in 7 years without being pregnant. (Could it be we FINALLY figured this out?!?!?)
But more than that. Silas' big day signifes God's all knowing and yet remarkably merciful care. He KNOWS what we deserve and yet lovingly gives us something way better. It's pretty stinkin' great, if you ask me.
I always wanted to be a Mommy.
God blessed me four times over. He is good.
Happy Birthday Silas. I am so glad you are here!
Our baby turned two. And we are NOT expecting another one! :-)
Two is always a memorable birthday...it marks the beginning of what will be some intense years of parenting. These boundary testing times....my oh my.
The irony of a two year old is that the complete joy and delight of one moment can instantaneously transform into the most difficult test of patience and temper you have ever experienced....and then, before the time-out is complete...you're back to joy and delight.
Quite the ride.
And I have to say...one I'm glad to experience...all told.
Silas was our true surprise. My first months of carrying him were filled with astounded shock. I COULD NOT be pregnant. But, alas. The nausea over came me...and the stick showed two lines.
His arrival took place on this soil...Uganda. His first months were full of colicky fun (?). His first year included travel to four different countries, a trip to Disneyland and so much attention from his doting siblings he still thinks the world revolves around him.
He is....a sign of how well God knows me....and keeps on giving anyway.
My birthing days have been a whirlwind. Four kids in 5 1/2 years. The baby years have felt like a blur. But through this last one...I've been able to actually hold on to the moments a time or two.... and I have so cherished those times. I think with number four...I was trying really hard to pay attention.
My Father must have known I needed that.
One more opportunity to open my eyes a little wider. One more baby to have our features and personality traits (egads!)--with all the joy and humility that demands! One more precious awareness of the constant need to re-evaluate what I value.
On his birthday this week, he actually let me rock him for 20 minutes. We had guests coming for a party. I had lunch to get ready...cakes to ice...a floor to sweep. But it was time for his nap and I was trying to make it a little bit special. He cuddled in my lap and we sat in the silence. Just the two of us. Rocking. I guess because I know from experience that these moments rush away...I WAS paying attention. And it was delightful.
Several of my friends are already at the letting go stage of parenting...and I'm starting to believe them when they say it will be here before I know it.
But it's hard to think about that now. Tomorrow lies on the other side of a few hours of sleep...and with tomorrow comes sippy cups to fill, diapers to change, potty training to master, more than one battle of wills, books to read,pacifiers to locate...
Through the blur, the "moments" emerge. I'm striving to savor and experience...not just "get through".
A milestone.
For me, Silas' two year mark, signifies the longest stretch I've gone in 7 years without being pregnant. (Could it be we FINALLY figured this out?!?!?)
But more than that. Silas' big day signifes God's all knowing and yet remarkably merciful care. He KNOWS what we deserve and yet lovingly gives us something way better. It's pretty stinkin' great, if you ask me.
I always wanted to be a Mommy.
God blessed me four times over. He is good.
Happy Birthday Silas. I am so glad you are here!
Wednesday, January 25, 2006
Dare I Say It?
Shhhhh....Listen very carefully, because I am whispering.
Something wonderful happened today. And I don't want it to go away...
Child #3, went all day without a diaper...and...lean in so you can hear...no accidents.
I am using an effective parenting method that I have perfected through these 7 years of mommy-ing...Bribery.
Pee in the potty...one Hershey's kiss.
Poo in the potty...two Hershey's kisses.
Nevermind the bouncing off the walls...nevermind the other children begging for their chocolate...nevermind the blatant disregard for highly educated, morally fortified, honorable parenting systems...
I have resorted to the Real World of Parenting...AKA...Whatever works :-)
And for today...Hershey's and me...we worked.
Please don't say this outloud. I don't want anything to burst our happy, little, victory bubble.
But feel free to pass around some silent high fives!
"Yea!"
Something wonderful happened today. And I don't want it to go away...
Child #3, went all day without a diaper...and...lean in so you can hear...no accidents.
I am using an effective parenting method that I have perfected through these 7 years of mommy-ing...Bribery.
Pee in the potty...one Hershey's kiss.
Poo in the potty...two Hershey's kisses.
Nevermind the bouncing off the walls...nevermind the other children begging for their chocolate...nevermind the blatant disregard for highly educated, morally fortified, honorable parenting systems...
I have resorted to the Real World of Parenting...AKA...Whatever works :-)
And for today...Hershey's and me...we worked.
Please don't say this outloud. I don't want anything to burst our happy, little, victory bubble.
But feel free to pass around some silent high fives!
"Yea!"
Friday, January 20, 2006
Granddaddy
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The smell of engine oil. The feel of his hand as he held mine when we prayed before meals (I sat to his left--always.) Plain yellow cake. (Mamma said it is his favorite) Pick up trucks. Ice Cream. Repaired Barbie Dolls. Dukes of Hazard. The address file under the phone. The Lake House. Trips to Baskin Robbins. Lawn mowers. Bags of goodies from the Oil Show. Nutter Butters..jpg)
Gentleness. Honesty. Hard work. Family.
Happy Birthday Granddaddy. My love and admiration for you are from depths that are hard to articulate. You make me feel treasured. And adored. Usually without even saying anything. Which is your gift to our world. Quiet strength. Be sure, we all depend on it.
In this big scary world, I've always been confident...there is a quiet, steadfast man on my side who really can fix anything.
I love you.
Thursday, January 19, 2006
Longing For That Big Red Store
So, if you, like many precious others, have been mesmerized by those big red circles...I just read a hilarious post that is right on Target...(smile)
Check it out friends. And then head out to that Lovely Place of Bargains for me. I would so love to meet you there!
http://www.deanaland.blogspot.com
Check it out friends. And then head out to that Lovely Place of Bargains for me. I would so love to meet you there!
http://www.deanaland.blogspot.com
Saturday, January 14, 2006
That's Our Boy!
During our second and third years in Uganda, our little corner of the country faced a drastic crisis. A rebel army began terrorizing the villages all through the Rwenzori Mtns.
Jeff and the young men at church spent the better part of the two years delivering food relief and medical treatment to the hardest hit villages. It was a difficult, blessed, exhausting, amazing time.
I experienced this time in a unique way. From my bed.
Just as the rebels marched within 15 miles of our quaint little town...I discovered that one of my greatest longings had been fulfilled. I was officially going to be a mommy. Jeff and I were ecstatic over the news of our first little one. Soon after the nausea and pregnancy sickness began to take firm hold of my being...another sickness attempted to steal the whole show. Malaria.
The combined onslaught left me completely depleted and stuck in bed. I spent alot of time on prayer patrol. Desperate prayers for our unborn baby. Intensive prayers for Jeff and the guys.
Jeff would come home at the end of his very long days and tell me some of the things he had experienced. I remember one day in particular. He was in Ntoroko, a small, hot, fishing village on Lake Albert. While they were there,he was asked to go and help a dying boy.
When he entered the mud hut, he smelled a rancid odor and saw a small boy, with a large, infected wound covering his leg. Jeff described the wound as the worst he had ever seen. The wound stretched from mid thigh to the ankle and the boys leg was permanently bent due to the decay of the muscles.
What touched Jeff most was the boy's....smile. Yep. One smile from that precious suffering boy...and Jeff's heart was gone.
He said to me, "He really is the cutest thing you have ever seen! I can't wait for you to meet him."
Samuel.
Samuel's mom had brought him back to his village so he could die at home. They didn't have the cash for the surgery he needed. Five dollars.
Jeff gave them the money that day, but he had very little hope that Samuel would get the help he needed in that village hospital.
Jeff made arrangements to stay in contact. And he did. Two years of hospital confinement, three major surgeries, an amputation and several months of rehabilitation later...Samuel emerged from a horrific struggle...healthy, smart and still smiling.
He wanted to start back to school. He was very behind by that time, but he was determined...so we put him in a nearby school.
He went to the head of his class and has stayed there. The teachers and administrators love him. He has held leadership positions and was responsible for keeping the school keys.
He even preached on Sunday mornings for the school chapel. Amazing.
What a thrill to see him thrive. Volleyball, soccer, academics, social skills...(he completely won over the entire Faith Quest crowd with his own rap about a Butoro Boy!)...what a joy.
This morning (Saturday), Ronald came over to tell us that he saw our son's name in the paper. (Uganda Monitor Page 1) Samuel Balinda scored in the top 5 of this district on the Uganda National Exams...which is a high and distinct honor. It pretty much secures a place for him in a very good secondary school.
And it makes me cry.
Sam has faced obstacles like I can't even imagine. And unfortunately, many still remain for him. Mainly, as we watch him face adolescence, he is coming up against the obstacle of himself. His choices. The direction and path he will walk....
I pray for him like I pray for my own.
That year....seven years ago...was a big year for our family. We were expecting one child. God graciously gave us two. One looks just like us. One never will. :-) Both lives are results of His miraculous care and healing. Both are treasures in our lives.
...and one of them just aced a big exam and will head on to the next phase. We are so thankful for what we've seen God do in Samuel's life. Please pray with us that Samuel will hear God's voice and walk with Him in every way.
Jeff and the young men at church spent the better part of the two years delivering food relief and medical treatment to the hardest hit villages. It was a difficult, blessed, exhausting, amazing time.
I experienced this time in a unique way. From my bed.
Just as the rebels marched within 15 miles of our quaint little town...I discovered that one of my greatest longings had been fulfilled. I was officially going to be a mommy. Jeff and I were ecstatic over the news of our first little one. Soon after the nausea and pregnancy sickness began to take firm hold of my being...another sickness attempted to steal the whole show. Malaria.
The combined onslaught left me completely depleted and stuck in bed. I spent alot of time on prayer patrol. Desperate prayers for our unborn baby. Intensive prayers for Jeff and the guys.
Jeff would come home at the end of his very long days and tell me some of the things he had experienced. I remember one day in particular. He was in Ntoroko, a small, hot, fishing village on Lake Albert. While they were there,he was asked to go and help a dying boy.
When he entered the mud hut, he smelled a rancid odor and saw a small boy, with a large, infected wound covering his leg. Jeff described the wound as the worst he had ever seen. The wound stretched from mid thigh to the ankle and the boys leg was permanently bent due to the decay of the muscles.
What touched Jeff most was the boy's....smile. Yep. One smile from that precious suffering boy...and Jeff's heart was gone.
He said to me, "He really is the cutest thing you have ever seen! I can't wait for you to meet him."
Samuel.
Samuel's mom had brought him back to his village so he could die at home. They didn't have the cash for the surgery he needed. Five dollars.
Jeff gave them the money that day, but he had very little hope that Samuel would get the help he needed in that village hospital.
Jeff made arrangements to stay in contact. And he did. Two years of hospital confinement, three major surgeries, an amputation and several months of rehabilitation later...Samuel emerged from a horrific struggle...healthy, smart and still smiling.
He wanted to start back to school. He was very behind by that time, but he was determined...so we put him in a nearby school.
He went to the head of his class and has stayed there. The teachers and administrators love him. He has held leadership positions and was responsible for keeping the school keys.
He even preached on Sunday mornings for the school chapel. Amazing.
What a thrill to see him thrive. Volleyball, soccer, academics, social skills...(he completely won over the entire Faith Quest crowd with his own rap about a Butoro Boy!)...what a joy.
This morning (Saturday), Ronald came over to tell us that he saw our son's name in the paper. (Uganda Monitor Page 1) Samuel Balinda scored in the top 5 of this district on the Uganda National Exams...which is a high and distinct honor. It pretty much secures a place for him in a very good secondary school.
And it makes me cry.
Sam has faced obstacles like I can't even imagine. And unfortunately, many still remain for him. Mainly, as we watch him face adolescence, he is coming up against the obstacle of himself. His choices. The direction and path he will walk....
I pray for him like I pray for my own.
That year....seven years ago...was a big year for our family. We were expecting one child. God graciously gave us two. One looks just like us. One never will. :-) Both lives are results of His miraculous care and healing. Both are treasures in our lives.
...and one of them just aced a big exam and will head on to the next phase. We are so thankful for what we've seen God do in Samuel's life. Please pray with us that Samuel will hear God's voice and walk with Him in every way.
Friday, January 06, 2006
Zowee!!!!!
All these years in Uganda, I've admired plaited hair from afar. (Braided with extensions) I've always thought it was gorgeous. I've had several American and European friends who had their hair braided here. And I loved it!
Well, in all the admiring...my sweet friends left out one MINOR detail about the whole braiding, plaiting phenomenon....
IT HURTS!!!!!!!
Oh my goodness.
I started at 9 AM and the first little bit pulled and smarted pretty good. But I was set to be tough. I was ready...excited to see how it would all turn out.
Well..that optimism degenerated over the next 5 increasingly excruciating hours into HATE. I hated the lovely girls yanking and pulling on my head, I hated the other 20 women on the porch braiding or being braided....I hated the world. No kidding.
I'm sure I'll get over it. It has now been 6 hours since the tortuous task ended and....my head still hurts. All my friends have said I'll feel better in two days and not to expect to sleep well. Great.
So the up-side:
*I have a really cool do...that I am proud of.
*I feel like I have sort of stepped through an African woman's rite of passage...
*I am now well aquainted with every teeny little nerve in my scalp....I mean EVERY ONE.
*I have officially forgiven my Mom for all those painful, pointy-hot-roller episodes. You were right Mom, it COULD be worse!
Now I'm going to go take some Ibuprofen and try to sleep. On my face.
Monday, January 02, 2006
Go! Team! Go!
It all began with a little flick about my high school senior year football season. We watched it the other night. (my opinion of the movie still stands at "weird". Some of the movie I hated...some of it was all right. All in all...weird. But I digress...)
We were the Panthers. Mojo. And that is cool. Tough. Panthers are...intimidating.
The question was posed later among my housemates here...what are people thinking when they pick school mascots? I mean, I think the mascot is probably picked by committees. Things like that usually fall to a committee. And, really, what are people thinking?!!?!?
At some point in any school (high school, junior high, college, university) competition does enter the picture and it would seem to me that "the committee" would choose mascots that would instill confidence...courage...boldness...pride.
Well, my friends. Not so.
Take for instance the poor university students in Camas Washington. The Papermakers. Yep. Of all the mighty. scary, fear inducing animals available to choose from...their committee chose Papermakers.
Or you have the mighty...the proud...the Oakville Acorns. Acorns?
Or, from Indiana, the Goshen College Maple Leafs.
Is anybody scared? I can't begin to imagine what the fight song might be.
For goodness sakes.
I thought that, surely, these mascot choosing blunders would be limited to a few schools but take a look at what I found with only a few VERY interrupted minutes of research on the web:
Banana Slugs--University of California
Turtles--College of Insurance (not sure where)
Retrievers--Univ. of Marlyand
Rainbows--Univ of Hawaii (why not Sharks?)
Anteaters--University of California
or...even more unfortunate...
the Buttons in San Antonio
and the Daisies of Dallas Hockaday School (all girls?)
For those that are intimidated by rhyming verse...you will shudder when you are called to face the Poets of Whittier College.
And for those with a fear of the religious...beware the Whitman Missionaries (we are a fierce sort) or the Preachers of Johnson Bible College.
My top picks are as follows:
Most clever---the Lincoln Abes in Tacoma Washington
Most scary--tie between the Klickitat Vandals and the Grays Harbor Chokers
Most difficult names for the girls' teams---tie between the Whatcom Orcas or Yakima Valley Yaks
But, my most favorite, unfortunate mascot falls to Kaelea's high school in Montana. They were...brace yourselves...the Sugarbeaters.
Oh my. The actual picture of their mascot was a red beet riding on a pair of beaters.
And despite that...their girls volleyball team went to State. Bless their little sugarbeatin' hearts.
I'm not totally sure why this bugs me so. I guess...I believe, deep down, that everyone deserves a chance. And when it comes to kids and athletics...you just shouldn't send them out to face their menacing opponents,like the Lions or Wildcats with a name like Buttons or Billygoats.
It just doesn't seem fair.
We were the Panthers. Mojo. And that is cool. Tough. Panthers are...intimidating.
The question was posed later among my housemates here...what are people thinking when they pick school mascots? I mean, I think the mascot is probably picked by committees. Things like that usually fall to a committee. And, really, what are people thinking?!!?!?
At some point in any school (high school, junior high, college, university) competition does enter the picture and it would seem to me that "the committee" would choose mascots that would instill confidence...courage...boldness...pride.
Well, my friends. Not so.
Take for instance the poor university students in Camas Washington. The Papermakers. Yep. Of all the mighty. scary, fear inducing animals available to choose from...their committee chose Papermakers.
Or you have the mighty...the proud...the Oakville Acorns. Acorns?
Or, from Indiana, the Goshen College Maple Leafs.
Is anybody scared? I can't begin to imagine what the fight song might be.
For goodness sakes.
I thought that, surely, these mascot choosing blunders would be limited to a few schools but take a look at what I found with only a few VERY interrupted minutes of research on the web:
Banana Slugs--University of California
Turtles--College of Insurance (not sure where)
Retrievers--Univ. of Marlyand
Rainbows--Univ of Hawaii (why not Sharks?)
Anteaters--University of California
or...even more unfortunate...
the Buttons in San Antonio
and the Daisies of Dallas Hockaday School (all girls?)
For those that are intimidated by rhyming verse...you will shudder when you are called to face the Poets of Whittier College.
And for those with a fear of the religious...beware the Whitman Missionaries (we are a fierce sort) or the Preachers of Johnson Bible College.
My top picks are as follows:
Most clever---the Lincoln Abes in Tacoma Washington
Most scary--tie between the Klickitat Vandals and the Grays Harbor Chokers
Most difficult names for the girls' teams---tie between the Whatcom Orcas or Yakima Valley Yaks
But, my most favorite, unfortunate mascot falls to Kaelea's high school in Montana. They were...brace yourselves...the Sugarbeaters.
Oh my. The actual picture of their mascot was a red beet riding on a pair of beaters.
And despite that...their girls volleyball team went to State. Bless their little sugarbeatin' hearts.
I'm not totally sure why this bugs me so. I guess...I believe, deep down, that everyone deserves a chance. And when it comes to kids and athletics...you just shouldn't send them out to face their menacing opponents,like the Lions or Wildcats with a name like Buttons or Billygoats.
It just doesn't seem fair.
Wednesday, December 28, 2005
Still Breathing
Graul arrival. Check.
Faith Quest. Check.
Game Park Safari. Check.
Kyenjojo church visit. Check.
Alex's Birthday. Check.
Christmas. Check.
Rwebesengo/Ntoroko trip. Check.Check.
To briefly recap...these past few weeks have included....one trillion referreed toy discussions ("mine!","no, mine!"), 65,000 choice statements ("Isaac, if you choose to hit Mali with the robot you are choosing a time out."), 450 sippy cups of juice, 150 bowls of cereal, 12 boxes of macaroni and cheese, 6 hacking coughs, 5 nights camping in tents(with 7 children under 7 yrs), 4 stomach bugs, two road trips ("Ms. Cheryl, can you PLEASE stop making it so bumpy!"), more fruit snacks than you can possibly imagine....and a partridge in a pear tree...
And we are all still breathing...
In the midst of all that...with remarkable conversational prowess..Kaelea (mama Graul) and I have managed to have several meaningful talks and sharing times. (God is good and gracious :-))
...we've listened to some really good music (which Ike loaded on my new MP3 player!)
...watched some really funny movies!
...shared the ups and downs of ministering here and there
...laughed
...watched our children laugh, cry and love each other
(Alex said the other night at bedtime,"Mom, I'll be really sad when Isaiah has to go.")
...made memories we will treasure for years
We've got @ two weeks left with the Grauls. More fruit snacks, mac n cheese and, well, one or two more referreed toy discussions probably too...("Ike, its Jeff's turn now...")
But we will all keep breathing slowly in and out...praising God for the blessings He keeps bringing our way.
Thank you for your prayers. (and thank you PUMP friends for sharing the Grauls with us.)
Faith Quest. Check.
Game Park Safari. Check.
Kyenjojo church visit. Check.
Alex's Birthday. Check.
Christmas. Check.
Rwebesengo/Ntoroko trip. Check.Check.
To briefly recap...these past few weeks have included....one trillion referreed toy discussions ("mine!","no, mine!"), 65,000 choice statements ("Isaac, if you choose to hit Mali with the robot you are choosing a time out."), 450 sippy cups of juice, 150 bowls of cereal, 12 boxes of macaroni and cheese, 6 hacking coughs, 5 nights camping in tents(with 7 children under 7 yrs), 4 stomach bugs, two road trips ("Ms. Cheryl, can you PLEASE stop making it so bumpy!"), more fruit snacks than you can possibly imagine....and a partridge in a pear tree...
And we are all still breathing...
In the midst of all that...with remarkable conversational prowess..Kaelea (mama Graul) and I have managed to have several meaningful talks and sharing times. (God is good and gracious :-))
...we've listened to some really good music (which Ike loaded on my new MP3 player!)
...watched some really funny movies!
...shared the ups and downs of ministering here and there
...laughed
...watched our children laugh, cry and love each other
(Alex said the other night at bedtime,"Mom, I'll be really sad when Isaiah has to go.")
...made memories we will treasure for years
We've got @ two weeks left with the Grauls. More fruit snacks, mac n cheese and, well, one or two more referreed toy discussions probably too...("Ike, its Jeff's turn now...")
But we will all keep breathing slowly in and out...praising God for the blessings He keeps bringing our way.
Thank you for your prayers. (and thank you PUMP friends for sharing the Grauls with us.)
Thursday, December 22, 2005
Perfect Gift
Christmas Eve was always my very favorite day of the year. Everyone was gathering. Family was coming. Gifts were wrapped and under the tree. Chicken spaghetti was cooking. The anticipation...the readiness...the expectancy...
My family opened gifts on Christmas Eve. And it was perfect.
We'd gather around 4 or 5 pm. My sister and I would volunteer to sort the gifts (I love to sort!). Everyone would have their pile of wrapped loot. We'd find our spot...and... then...the paper would fly!!! No waiting for one at a time in the Money household. Just pure, unhindered...digging in.
There would be exclaims...joyous laughs...expectant faces as someone opened the perfect gift...pleasure over seeing the joy the gift brings... FUN!
I guess its fitting that Christmas Eve is my favorite day. Because in 1999, Christmas Eve brought me a treasure unlike any I'd received before.
He was a surprise for us. Kinley was only one year old when he was conceived. That would make them 21 months apart. Yikes!
Jeff and I always knew what we would name a boy. Alexander Scott. It was a done deal...and despite my hormonally charged name hunts...Alexander Scott remained first on the list.
He was beautiful when he was born. Perfect really. What is it about a newborn that makes you just STARE at them for hours? During those first few days I stared and stared. God had given us a son.
We took him back to the guesthouse at the Schrage's house Christmas day. We were all in love with this boy. His grin stole my heart from the first day until, well, even now.
It was six years ago today. He is not a cuddly bundle in my arms anymore. I can barely pick that sturdy guy up at all.
He looks just like my Dad. Funny thing,that. You see...five months before Alex entered the world...Bryson entered the world. My baby sister had her first baby. And I wasn't there to see it. It was awful for me, on this side of the ocean. Still is one of the things about our life choice I grieve the most. I kept asking God to help me through. To comfort. And He did the most amazing thing. He gave me a boy too...that looks just like Bryson. Seriously.
I don't know what YOU think about providential planning...but everytime I see Bryson, Alex and my Dad together...I know God is watching and providing simple little gifts that often hold us together.
Alex is a delight in my life. He is his sister's best friend. Isaac's hero. Silas' champion. His Dad's first born Son.
He spends his days ripping through school (the boy is sharp!), building spaceships, listening to music, protecting mankind (and his sister) from all evil in the world...sometimes as a knight, sometimes as a cowboy, sometimes as a soldier and sometimes as a Super (you know, batman, spiderman, superman...etc.) And, he has a passion for...scotch tape. He asks me for about 20 pieces "just this big" every day. He is always creating with that tape.
I love when I tuck him in at night. His brain is in the slow down mode...but not quite there yet. He asks a million questions...tries the water request...tries to read a few more lines of his book...but just as I start to leave his bedside...those strong six-year old arms reach out, pull me into a hug and he whispers, "love you Mom." And the grin. Always the grin.....
Happy Birthday Alex! To date...and most definitely forever...the very best gift I ever got on Christmas Eve.....
My family opened gifts on Christmas Eve. And it was perfect.
We'd gather around 4 or 5 pm. My sister and I would volunteer to sort the gifts (I love to sort!). Everyone would have their pile of wrapped loot. We'd find our spot...and... then...the paper would fly!!! No waiting for one at a time in the Money household. Just pure, unhindered...digging in.
There would be exclaims...joyous laughs...expectant faces as someone opened the perfect gift...pleasure over seeing the joy the gift brings... FUN!
I guess its fitting that Christmas Eve is my favorite day. Because in 1999, Christmas Eve brought me a treasure unlike any I'd received before.
He was a surprise for us. Kinley was only one year old when he was conceived. That would make them 21 months apart. Yikes!
Jeff and I always knew what we would name a boy. Alexander Scott. It was a done deal...and despite my hormonally charged name hunts...Alexander Scott remained first on the list.
He was beautiful when he was born. Perfect really. What is it about a newborn that makes you just STARE at them for hours? During those first few days I stared and stared. God had given us a son.
We took him back to the guesthouse at the Schrage's house Christmas day. We were all in love with this boy. His grin stole my heart from the first day until, well, even now.
It was six years ago today. He is not a cuddly bundle in my arms anymore. I can barely pick that sturdy guy up at all.
He looks just like my Dad. Funny thing,that. You see...five months before Alex entered the world...Bryson entered the world. My baby sister had her first baby. And I wasn't there to see it. It was awful for me, on this side of the ocean. Still is one of the things about our life choice I grieve the most. I kept asking God to help me through. To comfort. And He did the most amazing thing. He gave me a boy too...that looks just like Bryson. Seriously.
I don't know what YOU think about providential planning...but everytime I see Bryson, Alex and my Dad together...I know God is watching and providing simple little gifts that often hold us together.
Alex is a delight in my life. He is his sister's best friend. Isaac's hero. Silas' champion. His Dad's first born Son.
He spends his days ripping through school (the boy is sharp!), building spaceships, listening to music, protecting mankind (and his sister) from all evil in the world...sometimes as a knight, sometimes as a cowboy, sometimes as a soldier and sometimes as a Super (you know, batman, spiderman, superman...etc.) And, he has a passion for...scotch tape. He asks me for about 20 pieces "just this big" every day. He is always creating with that tape.
I love when I tuck him in at night. His brain is in the slow down mode...but not quite there yet. He asks a million questions...tries the water request...tries to read a few more lines of his book...but just as I start to leave his bedside...those strong six-year old arms reach out, pull me into a hug and he whispers, "love you Mom." And the grin. Always the grin.....
Happy Birthday Alex! To date...and most definitely forever...the very best gift I ever got on Christmas Eve.....
Saturday, December 17, 2005
Circle of Chairs
They were camp chairs. Three of them. Sometimes four. We continuously had to re-situate the chairs to stay out of the equatorial sun.
Before us was a stack of requests. Prayer requests. From the Ugandan youth.
We read them, one by one. And prayed.
Some of the requests were expected...school fees, success with exams and further education, healing for physical problems...
Some of the requests stopped us in our tracks.
"Pray for my father to accept Jesus. Now he is not saved and he wants me to have sex with him in exchange for my school fees."
"Pray for me. I have a problem with looking at pornography."
"Pray for me...I have problems with lust."
"Pray for my family. They chased me away when I chose to follow Jesus. Now I have no where to go."
"Pray for me to have courage. I am attending an Islamic university and I am a Christian. I am treated badly. Pray that I will have courage to share my faith with the Muslims in my school."
Everyday, for three days, I was honored to sit around the throne of God, in His glorious presence, and interede for these precious Creations of His.
He already knew what we were going to talk about in these moments. His Perfect Heart has already broken over the atrocities these youth have faced in their young lives. And in the midst of governing the Universe...our amazing Creator allowed us access to...Himself. His Ear. His Heart. His Compassion. His Able-ness.
I was intereceding with powerful warrior friends. Mike. Judy. Phillip.
All believers. Witnesses to God's healing hand. God's presence in the midst of pain. God's victories. They are survivors of Satan's attacks and reign on this earth. And yet they remain, firmly in God's protective hand. It was an honor to stand with them in the battle.
Last week, many things happened. Many things worthy of Praise. But for me...the highlight of the week was the circle of chairs.
I was in the circle to lift up others. But in the process, I was brought before Him too. All my angst, joy, stress, blessing, victory, defeat...all is laid open before that Holy, safe throne.
His Throne. Our camp chairs. His availability and promise. Amazing.
"Again, I tell you that if two of you on earth agree about anything you ask for, it will be done for you by my Father in heaven. For where two or three come together in my name, there am I with them." Matt 18:19-20
Before us was a stack of requests. Prayer requests. From the Ugandan youth.
We read them, one by one. And prayed.
Some of the requests were expected...school fees, success with exams and further education, healing for physical problems...
Some of the requests stopped us in our tracks.
"Pray for my father to accept Jesus. Now he is not saved and he wants me to have sex with him in exchange for my school fees."
"Pray for me. I have a problem with looking at pornography."
"Pray for me...I have problems with lust."
"Pray for my family. They chased me away when I chose to follow Jesus. Now I have no where to go."
"Pray for me to have courage. I am attending an Islamic university and I am a Christian. I am treated badly. Pray that I will have courage to share my faith with the Muslims in my school."
Everyday, for three days, I was honored to sit around the throne of God, in His glorious presence, and interede for these precious Creations of His.
He already knew what we were going to talk about in these moments. His Perfect Heart has already broken over the atrocities these youth have faced in their young lives. And in the midst of governing the Universe...our amazing Creator allowed us access to...Himself. His Ear. His Heart. His Compassion. His Able-ness.
I was intereceding with powerful warrior friends. Mike. Judy. Phillip.
All believers. Witnesses to God's healing hand. God's presence in the midst of pain. God's victories. They are survivors of Satan's attacks and reign on this earth. And yet they remain, firmly in God's protective hand. It was an honor to stand with them in the battle.
Last week, many things happened. Many things worthy of Praise. But for me...the highlight of the week was the circle of chairs.
I was in the circle to lift up others. But in the process, I was brought before Him too. All my angst, joy, stress, blessing, victory, defeat...all is laid open before that Holy, safe throne.
His Throne. Our camp chairs. His availability and promise. Amazing.
"Again, I tell you that if two of you on earth agree about anything you ask for, it will be done for you by my Father in heaven. For where two or three come together in my name, there am I with them." Matt 18:19-20
Quest of Faith
The house is still relatively quiet this morning. Integrity's Christmas Cd is playing. Veggie Tales entertains the first children up. Silas has had his morning cereal...which actually means he has eaten two bites then spent 20 minutes pouring the milk, doing milk art and then rubbing it in his hair. I am too tired to worry about it. It's milk. And he was occupied for 30 minutes. Everyone else is still crashed....Graul's in the guest room, Cashes in their respective bedrooms, Samuel in the playroom. The living room and hall are littered with the after effects of a camping trip. The washing machine and dryer are working away already on a very large pile of laundry...
This week was spent camping out at Lake Saaka...with nearly 200 youth and counselors from all of the churches of Christ in Uganda.
The idea for this Quest was born in the Northwest. And created in the Northwest. (United States, that is.) Many lives are changed, convicted, refreshed, and renewed during one Labor Day weekend retreat at Camp Yamhill in Oregon.
Jeff wanted to bring this Quest into the lives of youth here in Uganda. Jeff's dreams are usually so big I can't get my emotions all the way around them in the beginning. And this was one of those dreams. But with his Vision, God has also granted Persistence. And Faith Quest Uganda has become a reality.
Every year gets better. The first year, the campers hardly had tents. They slept on the ground in the bush....and LOVED it. The meetings were held in a banana leaf/bamboo structure. About 100 youth attended. The topic, was appropriately...Faith. The campers departed asking for more. They loved the entire program. We were encouraged.
The second year, four Quest leaders from the Northwest came over to help lead. Most campers had tents. No one had toilets..."use the trees, my friend" and Prayer was the topic of discussion. Everyone was dramatically changed by the events of the Quest...and God was shown to have ALL power and authority again.
The third year, five Quest leaders from the Northwest came over to help. Everyone had tents...and ants. (Yikes!) Mark Long built us a make-shift toilet in the woods. We talked about Worship. And we did worship. Alot. The ampitheatre was cemented for the occasion and the gorgeous view across the crater lake inspired, motivated and charged the passion in the young people and older people too! :-)
This, the fourth year, five more Quest leaders have come. Two of them are adults. Three of them are children. Yes, you heard me right. Isaiah (5yrs), Mali and Michal (3 yr old twins) have made the very long trip across the ocean and are here. Handling it. (all you who have said you could never make the trip...I'll hear you no more! I, M and M have set a high standard, my friends!)
We all had tents. We staff had our own "village" and kitchen with a cook making omelets in the morning. (Yes, Steve, omelets). We had a bricked and plastered bath house with warm showers available if requested. AND...we had real sit-down toilets. Pretty nice.
The topic was Sharing the Love of Jesus. The worship times were more intense this year. The prayer times...amazing. Sins were confessed. God was sought. Burdens were laid down. It was BLESSED.
On the last night, as I sat in the ampitheatre and watched the faces..my emotions "wrapped around it all". Young people, from turmoil and stress beyond my comprehension, have gathered to learn how to trust...in Him. And there, on that last night, their worship together was inspiring. On the faces around me, I saw, peace. Joy. Sincerity. Need. Blessing. And I realized that this Quest of Faith CAN change not only these young lives...but also whole villages...and even this whole country. One desperate soul at a time.
The Quest is a worthy one. And it will continue in Uganda...hopefully, not just for four days in December. But every day.
God bless you as you Quest for Him wherever you are today...
This week was spent camping out at Lake Saaka...with nearly 200 youth and counselors from all of the churches of Christ in Uganda.
The idea for this Quest was born in the Northwest. And created in the Northwest. (United States, that is.) Many lives are changed, convicted, refreshed, and renewed during one Labor Day weekend retreat at Camp Yamhill in Oregon.
Jeff wanted to bring this Quest into the lives of youth here in Uganda. Jeff's dreams are usually so big I can't get my emotions all the way around them in the beginning. And this was one of those dreams. But with his Vision, God has also granted Persistence. And Faith Quest Uganda has become a reality.
Every year gets better. The first year, the campers hardly had tents. They slept on the ground in the bush....and LOVED it. The meetings were held in a banana leaf/bamboo structure. About 100 youth attended. The topic, was appropriately...Faith. The campers departed asking for more. They loved the entire program. We were encouraged.
The second year, four Quest leaders from the Northwest came over to help lead. Most campers had tents. No one had toilets..."use the trees, my friend" and Prayer was the topic of discussion. Everyone was dramatically changed by the events of the Quest...and God was shown to have ALL power and authority again.
The third year, five Quest leaders from the Northwest came over to help. Everyone had tents...and ants. (Yikes!) Mark Long built us a make-shift toilet in the woods. We talked about Worship. And we did worship. Alot. The ampitheatre was cemented for the occasion and the gorgeous view across the crater lake inspired, motivated and charged the passion in the young people and older people too! :-)
This, the fourth year, five more Quest leaders have come. Two of them are adults. Three of them are children. Yes, you heard me right. Isaiah (5yrs), Mali and Michal (3 yr old twins) have made the very long trip across the ocean and are here. Handling it. (all you who have said you could never make the trip...I'll hear you no more! I, M and M have set a high standard, my friends!)
We all had tents. We staff had our own "village" and kitchen with a cook making omelets in the morning. (Yes, Steve, omelets). We had a bricked and plastered bath house with warm showers available if requested. AND...we had real sit-down toilets. Pretty nice.
The topic was Sharing the Love of Jesus. The worship times were more intense this year. The prayer times...amazing. Sins were confessed. God was sought. Burdens were laid down. It was BLESSED.
On the last night, as I sat in the ampitheatre and watched the faces..my emotions "wrapped around it all". Young people, from turmoil and stress beyond my comprehension, have gathered to learn how to trust...in Him. And there, on that last night, their worship together was inspiring. On the faces around me, I saw, peace. Joy. Sincerity. Need. Blessing. And I realized that this Quest of Faith CAN change not only these young lives...but also whole villages...and even this whole country. One desperate soul at a time.
The Quest is a worthy one. And it will continue in Uganda...hopefully, not just for four days in December. But every day.
God bless you as you Quest for Him wherever you are today...
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