During my first year following Rick’s death, a close friend suggested I write a book about my grief experience. She said something to the effect that the way I handled the grief was so different and positive, and that it might be helpful to someone else. Today I can list the names of no fewer than six entirely unrelated people who have, out of the blue, said to me that I “should write a book.”
Having worked in the Christian publishing industry and read some really great authors it’s difficult to imagine that anyone would be interested in what I have to say. Yet I know, given my own reading on the topic of grief, that my experience…no…the way I chose to respond to my experience was a little different.
As much as I would like to continue putting off the idea of publishing my intimate first year experiences – and perhaps My Second Year experiences – the fact that my obedience usually kicks in at around three promptings from the Holy Spirit means I’m a little behind. Six…seriously? It’s like God isn’t giving up on this one, which all of the sudden feels like I might have missed a really important opportunity to help someone else. Drat.
Wouldn’t it be super cool if the person responsible for the death, grief, and bereavement Christian book category would just call me up and invite me to share my 94-page journal from the first year? Ha, not happening. I have to take a step in faith, right?
Ricky Lee Mosher June 21, 1955 to November 22, 2008
Saturday, October 30, 2010
Friday, October 29, 2010
Traditions
I’ve recently been asked, more than once, what I will do to memorialize the second anniversary of Rick’s death. Yes, I am exactly like one of those sappy people who sentimentalize everything and make a big deal of such traditions. Admittedly, some very good reasons to create such traditions exist.
Nothing. That’s the special tradition I’ll participate in for the second anniversary. I have 94 written pages that attest to the fact that I grieved the first year well. I leaned in hard. I memorialized every tradition, every moment, and every thought throughout that whole year. Here’s a small taste of what I did to remember the first year, and what could become a tradition but won’t:
Hiking the Saugatuck Dunes State Park was the perfect choice for this day – 53 degrees, sunny, and breezy but not windy. The parking lot was full, but only a few people could be seen. I dressed in layers and stuffed my backpack with all the necessities (water and a wind jacket). I thought of all the things Rick would have brought for such a trip: tissues, snacks, first aid, that red plastic thing he has for sitting where the ground is wet, a bear whistle, extra clothes, and his pocket knife. I may be exaggerating a bit but not by much. You would have thought we’d be gone for days when he packed for short hikes. I loved that about him. I never had to worry because he had all that was needed; I was safe in his care.
The dunes were beautiful on this mid-November day. Leaves littered the trail, the trees were naked, and the sand was rolling under the call of the wind. Once I reached the Lake Michigan shoreline, I checked out several spots to find one suitable for listening to the audio recording of the memorial service. I chose a spot just beyond the dune grass that dropped off about three feet to the beach area. The waves were small, the sun was bright, and the breeze was gentle. I plunked myself down in the sand, having chosen clothing that resists the wind and cold. Perhaps all these preparations were a means of delaying the inevitable pain of listening to the service for the first time on this first anniversary.
Pastor Lonnie, in his most solemn voice, read all of Psalm 23. We sang Better is One Day and I’ll Stand – two songs that reminded me of Rick in the sound booth at church with his arms wide open in worship. Later my uncle would comment about how special our memorial service worshipping with lifted hands was…even on such an occasion. While on that beach with the occasional passersby, I stood with my arms open wide, twirled around in that fresh clean air, sang out the words to that song in a voice captured by the wind, and I felt the presence of my Savior wash over me once again.
Having done what I had set out to do, I packed up my gear and returned to the car. I noticed all the families around me and wondered if they had any idea why I came. Of course they wouldn’t, but that struck me as odd. Didn’t they feel the earth tremble on that day like I did?
I invested so much healthy energy into grieving every moment of our lives together that I can say without sharp stabs of pain that I have released any near future urge to traditionalize the anniversary of Rick’s death. This is not to say that I won’t remember, that I won’t be sad, and that I won’t wish things might have been different.
Nothing. That’s the special tradition I’ll participate in for the second anniversary. I have 94 written pages that attest to the fact that I grieved the first year well. I leaned in hard. I memorialized every tradition, every moment, and every thought throughout that whole year. Here’s a small taste of what I did to remember the first year, and what could become a tradition but won’t:
Hiking the Saugatuck Dunes State Park was the perfect choice for this day – 53 degrees, sunny, and breezy but not windy. The parking lot was full, but only a few people could be seen. I dressed in layers and stuffed my backpack with all the necessities (water and a wind jacket). I thought of all the things Rick would have brought for such a trip: tissues, snacks, first aid, that red plastic thing he has for sitting where the ground is wet, a bear whistle, extra clothes, and his pocket knife. I may be exaggerating a bit but not by much. You would have thought we’d be gone for days when he packed for short hikes. I loved that about him. I never had to worry because he had all that was needed; I was safe in his care.
The dunes were beautiful on this mid-November day. Leaves littered the trail, the trees were naked, and the sand was rolling under the call of the wind. Once I reached the Lake Michigan shoreline, I checked out several spots to find one suitable for listening to the audio recording of the memorial service. I chose a spot just beyond the dune grass that dropped off about three feet to the beach area. The waves were small, the sun was bright, and the breeze was gentle. I plunked myself down in the sand, having chosen clothing that resists the wind and cold. Perhaps all these preparations were a means of delaying the inevitable pain of listening to the service for the first time on this first anniversary.
Pastor Lonnie, in his most solemn voice, read all of Psalm 23. We sang Better is One Day and I’ll Stand – two songs that reminded me of Rick in the sound booth at church with his arms wide open in worship. Later my uncle would comment about how special our memorial service worshipping with lifted hands was…even on such an occasion. While on that beach with the occasional passersby, I stood with my arms open wide, twirled around in that fresh clean air, sang out the words to that song in a voice captured by the wind, and I felt the presence of my Savior wash over me once again.
Having done what I had set out to do, I packed up my gear and returned to the car. I noticed all the families around me and wondered if they had any idea why I came. Of course they wouldn’t, but that struck me as odd. Didn’t they feel the earth tremble on that day like I did?
I invested so much healthy energy into grieving every moment of our lives together that I can say without sharp stabs of pain that I have released any near future urge to traditionalize the anniversary of Rick’s death. This is not to say that I won’t remember, that I won’t be sad, and that I won’t wish things might have been different.
Wednesday, October 27, 2010
The Power of a Whisper
I came across an advertisement for a new Bill Hybels book called The Power of a Whisper. I’ve heard people describe the way they hear from God as a kind of physical response…like the hairs on their arms standing up or getting really hot. Sometimes God screams at me, but I usually call that the voice of the enemy. Mostly I’ve learned to recognize his voice as a whisper.The subtitle, Hearing God and Having the Guts to Respond, well…that’s a whole other story. I beg God to show me what he wants me to do and then reject every instinct until he gets it right. Something new has happened, though. With no itinerary, no roadmap, no visibility, no windshield wipers, no guard rails, and the fuel gage shining orange…I learned to inch my way along some unknown path simply by listening to the sound of his voice.
And because I can now look back and see that he has taken me down a beautiful road – like looking through an arboreal tunnel after a drenching rain and seeing the glinting reflection of all those drops magnifying the beauty all around me – I trust that I know what his voice sounds like. And because I recognize his whisper, it’s so easy to “have the guts to respond.” Of course, I’ve not been asked to sacrifice my son on an alter so I use the term easy with qualifiers.
I love that I can see just a bit further down the road than before, but to be honest I pray that I never fully get that long distance view again. I like the necessity sometimes created by struggle that compels me to relinquish control. I like listening to the rustling sound of my Creator preparing a life for me that requires my cooperation to recognize its true beauty.
Tuesday, October 26, 2010
A Tale of Many Verses
As I reflected on My Second Year, I noticed that my early posts were filled with Scripture conclusions and that as time passed the incidence of Scripture became less and less. It’s a little scary to think that this lessening could mean that I’m getting back to life and beginning to put God on the back shelf. That’s what happens sometimes, right?
Maybe I’m just making excuses, but I honestly feel that instead of putting God on the back shelf, I’m bringing God into real life with me. Scripture alone cannot have the same depth of transformative results, also the relationships I develop with other people and the way I show and share the love of God transforms me and hopefully those around me.
So maybe you are disappointed to find that I don’t include Scripture with every post, or even many posts these days. But know that the stories I tell are laced with the actual, hands-on, practical, everyday love of Christ.
Below is the story told by my Scripture choices for my first few posts at My Second Year. It’s fun to look back and see how God really did fulfill his promises.
• But wait…doesn’t God tell us that his plans for us are good (Jeremiah 29:11)?
• “But then the Lord answered Job out of the storm” (Job 38).
• He promised his mercies and compassion would be new every day (Lamentations 3:22-23).
• “Speak, for your servant is listening” (1 Samuel 3:4-10).
• Let God transform me into a new person by changing the way I think (Romans 12:2).
• Jesus replied, "If anyone loves me, he will obey my teaching. My Father will love him, and we will come to him and make our home with him” (John 14:23).
• Who knows why this purpose has come at this time but I cannot remain silent (Esther 4:14).
• “I will turn their mourning into gladness; I will give them comfort and joy instead of sorrow” (Jeremiah 31:13b).
Amen.
Maybe I’m just making excuses, but I honestly feel that instead of putting God on the back shelf, I’m bringing God into real life with me. Scripture alone cannot have the same depth of transformative results, also the relationships I develop with other people and the way I show and share the love of God transforms me and hopefully those around me.
So maybe you are disappointed to find that I don’t include Scripture with every post, or even many posts these days. But know that the stories I tell are laced with the actual, hands-on, practical, everyday love of Christ.
Below is the story told by my Scripture choices for my first few posts at My Second Year. It’s fun to look back and see how God really did fulfill his promises.
• But wait…doesn’t God tell us that his plans for us are good (Jeremiah 29:11)?
• “But then the Lord answered Job out of the storm” (Job 38).
• He promised his mercies and compassion would be new every day (Lamentations 3:22-23).
• “Speak, for your servant is listening” (1 Samuel 3:4-10).
• Let God transform me into a new person by changing the way I think (Romans 12:2).
• Jesus replied, "If anyone loves me, he will obey my teaching. My Father will love him, and we will come to him and make our home with him” (John 14:23).
• Who knows why this purpose has come at this time but I cannot remain silent (Esther 4:14).
• “I will turn their mourning into gladness; I will give them comfort and joy instead of sorrow” (Jeremiah 31:13b).
Amen.
Monday, October 25, 2010
On Faith and Future
The moment Rick died my sense of life became cloudy. That is the only word I can find to describe this literal feeling in my head. I could no longer see the future. I could no longer picture what my tomorrows looked like. Everything we had planned and imagined for ourselves disappeared in an instant. It’s a little dizzying not to mention indescribable.
As time passed I realized that God was revealing just enough of my future to require me to make a decision for today alone. One step at a time I passed through each day, then each week, then each month. Today I cannot imagine as far into the future as Rick and I did together, but I can see enough to keep me from falling off the edge.
I actually think I am learning to love this shorter-term view. What I try to orchestrate for myself is so much less exciting than the life God puts together for me. But he “needs” things to line up just right before he reveals them to me so that I will be faith-filled and obedient. It’s fun to watch, actually. I’m constantly amazed at the cool little details he attends to, at the surprising connections, at the beautiful pictures. I definitely couldn’t do that myself.
Thank you, God, for this new perspective on faith and future.
As time passed I realized that God was revealing just enough of my future to require me to make a decision for today alone. One step at a time I passed through each day, then each week, then each month. Today I cannot imagine as far into the future as Rick and I did together, but I can see enough to keep me from falling off the edge.
I actually think I am learning to love this shorter-term view. What I try to orchestrate for myself is so much less exciting than the life God puts together for me. But he “needs” things to line up just right before he reveals them to me so that I will be faith-filled and obedient. It’s fun to watch, actually. I’m constantly amazed at the cool little details he attends to, at the surprising connections, at the beautiful pictures. I definitely couldn’t do that myself.
Thank you, God, for this new perspective on faith and future.
Sunday, October 24, 2010
A Critical Evaluation Concluded
5. I wonder if the adventure has simply been an escape or a way to avoid post-grief real life?
Rick’s death helped make perfectly clear something that I had already known but did nothing about. Life is short…and it can be shorter than you ever expect. Think about it…the American Dream is a national ethos that includes the promise of prosperity and success. To achieve this so-called success, people work 60 hours or more every week, have a compulsion to climb the corporate ladder, put up with stresses that seldom produce the desired results, and kiss behinds that don’t deserve it. I realize this American Dream is partly generational, and that not every component is always all that bad, but you get the point.
Rick’s death showed me that by the grace of God I can choose how my life plays out. I can choose what “real life” is and I know for certain that I never want to return to that kind of existence. I mean to say that the purpose and meaning that comes from missions is so much more fulfilling than any stereotypical real life could ever be…at least for me. Have I avoided real life? Maybe. Or maybe I've redefined it.
Maybe my new real life is defined by the faces of the children who are caught up in an existence that gives them no power or protection. Maybe my new real life is defined by women who are not allowed to grieve let alone stay in their own home when their husband dies. Maybe my new real life is defined by fighting to eradicate the corruption from educational systems. Maybe my new real life is helping people create a self-sustainable living for their families.
Life doesn’t get any more real than that.
Rick’s death helped make perfectly clear something that I had already known but did nothing about. Life is short…and it can be shorter than you ever expect. Think about it…the American Dream is a national ethos that includes the promise of prosperity and success. To achieve this so-called success, people work 60 hours or more every week, have a compulsion to climb the corporate ladder, put up with stresses that seldom produce the desired results, and kiss behinds that don’t deserve it. I realize this American Dream is partly generational, and that not every component is always all that bad, but you get the point.
Rick’s death showed me that by the grace of God I can choose how my life plays out. I can choose what “real life” is and I know for certain that I never want to return to that kind of existence. I mean to say that the purpose and meaning that comes from missions is so much more fulfilling than any stereotypical real life could ever be…at least for me. Have I avoided real life? Maybe. Or maybe I've redefined it.
Maybe my new real life is defined by the faces of the children who are caught up in an existence that gives them no power or protection. Maybe my new real life is defined by women who are not allowed to grieve let alone stay in their own home when their husband dies. Maybe my new real life is defined by fighting to eradicate the corruption from educational systems. Maybe my new real life is helping people create a self-sustainable living for their families.
Life doesn’t get any more real than that.
Saturday, October 23, 2010
A Critical Evaluation Continued Again
4. I wonder if I really and truly heard and obeyed God or if I have simply chased an adventure?
How do I know if I was really doing what God wanted me to do? I answer the question by thinking about how I came to a decision and how I feel after making it. In some of my early blog posts I talked about how short-term missions was the result of prophetic words from several different people who didn’t know what the others had said. I talked about how these folks could never have known that missions was on my long since forgotten bucket list. Only the Holy Spirit could orchestrate all that.
As the year progressed, I had to make many decisions about which missions to participate in. I had this internal sense of indecision until a specific mission was revealed at which point I had absolute confidence and peace about the choice. All of the missions, with the exception of Alaska, were not missions I would have chosen for myself. I had no latent desire to go to these places or serve in the way I did. But I knew that I knew that I knew they were the right ones. Again, I’m just not smart enough to have put all that together myself.
Yes, My Second Year has certainly been an adventure too. Isn’t it only God who can make something that seems so unbearable so simple? The year was about grieving and healing and he made it about transformation by using these missions and the people I meet along the way.
How do I know if I was really doing what God wanted me to do? I answer the question by thinking about how I came to a decision and how I feel after making it. In some of my early blog posts I talked about how short-term missions was the result of prophetic words from several different people who didn’t know what the others had said. I talked about how these folks could never have known that missions was on my long since forgotten bucket list. Only the Holy Spirit could orchestrate all that.
As the year progressed, I had to make many decisions about which missions to participate in. I had this internal sense of indecision until a specific mission was revealed at which point I had absolute confidence and peace about the choice. All of the missions, with the exception of Alaska, were not missions I would have chosen for myself. I had no latent desire to go to these places or serve in the way I did. But I knew that I knew that I knew they were the right ones. Again, I’m just not smart enough to have put all that together myself.
Yes, My Second Year has certainly been an adventure too. Isn’t it only God who can make something that seems so unbearable so simple? The year was about grieving and healing and he made it about transformation by using these missions and the people I meet along the way.
Friday, October 22, 2010
A Critical Evaluation Continued
3. I wonder if all that I was given to do has been done well or if I have wasted time, money, energy, and heart on something inconsequential. Have I made a difference for the Kingdom?
I may be my own worst critic (that sneaky perfectionism); however, just these few examples speak for themselves:
• Nome, Alaska: Practical work at the musher’s banquet ensured that 800 people were fed. Prayer walks hopefully pushed back the enemy just a little. Visiting the senior center reinforced the caring ministry.
• Small Village, Alaska: Church services deepened preexisting relationships. My personal testimony touched women whose husbands also died. Prayer walks reclaimed the village for Christ.
• Uganda: We provided mosquito nets, school tuition, clothing, sewing machines, and seed money for a fruit stand. We held a women’s conference about business ethics and about marriage. We developed business plans for Mercy Uganda.
• Lake Ann Camp: Practical work in the kitchen (my least favorite place to be) modeled service for the students working there for the summer. We worshipped, hard. I connected with a young guy whose father had just died.
• The 3-Day: I raised awareness about breast cancer and drew a small neighborhood together in the process. I prayed with women who lost loved ones. I walked and walked and walked and healed a little myself.
• Uganda 2: I prayed for the sick during medical clinics in remote villages, conducted a women’s Bible study for widows, advocated for several children, and learned more about a culture than I really wanted to know.
A few experiences were too personal to others for me to include in my blog, but each mission resulted in some deep connection for a grieving person, which also helped me grieve. Have I made a difference? I think the answer is yes, although there is always more that could have been done.
I may be my own worst critic (that sneaky perfectionism); however, just these few examples speak for themselves:
• Nome, Alaska: Practical work at the musher’s banquet ensured that 800 people were fed. Prayer walks hopefully pushed back the enemy just a little. Visiting the senior center reinforced the caring ministry.
• Small Village, Alaska: Church services deepened preexisting relationships. My personal testimony touched women whose husbands also died. Prayer walks reclaimed the village for Christ.
• Uganda: We provided mosquito nets, school tuition, clothing, sewing machines, and seed money for a fruit stand. We held a women’s conference about business ethics and about marriage. We developed business plans for Mercy Uganda.
• Lake Ann Camp: Practical work in the kitchen (my least favorite place to be) modeled service for the students working there for the summer. We worshipped, hard. I connected with a young guy whose father had just died.
• The 3-Day: I raised awareness about breast cancer and drew a small neighborhood together in the process. I prayed with women who lost loved ones. I walked and walked and walked and healed a little myself.
• Uganda 2: I prayed for the sick during medical clinics in remote villages, conducted a women’s Bible study for widows, advocated for several children, and learned more about a culture than I really wanted to know.
A few experiences were too personal to others for me to include in my blog, but each mission resulted in some deep connection for a grieving person, which also helped me grieve. Have I made a difference? I think the answer is yes, although there is always more that could have been done.
Thursday, October 21, 2010
A Critical Evaluation
As I began reflecting on My Second Year, a list of questions/worries rolled out of my head …questions I’m not entirely sure I want the answer to and questions I’m not entirely sure I can answer. In keeping with the spirit of authenticity, though, I’m sharing those questions and I’ll even try to answer them to the best of my ability.
1. I wonder if the work of grieving and healing in My Second Year has been accomplished.
As I think back over the year and revisit the content of my blog posts I notice that they increasingly address the deep issues of grief less often. This outcome could be attributed to preoccupation/avoidance or it could be true that the work of grieving and healing has been accomplished. A heart check suggests the latter. I’ve said numerous times that grief will always have a small place in me. I feel that, although I’m not sure exactly what place that is, grief has moved out of the forefront and into the shadows. It lingers but it doesn’t control.
2. I wonder if the work of heart transformation has been successful.
My very early blog posts suggested a number of character-based…um…flaws that the Holy Spirit nudged me to address through the work of My Second Year. In fairness, I cannot judge myself to know whether this work of My Second Year has been accomplished. I will say that unknowing people made comments about my character that made me look around the room in wonder at who they were speaking of…surely it couldn’t be me…could it? If only the sharp edges are worn down just a little more, I will be thankful.
1. I wonder if the work of grieving and healing in My Second Year has been accomplished.
As I think back over the year and revisit the content of my blog posts I notice that they increasingly address the deep issues of grief less often. This outcome could be attributed to preoccupation/avoidance or it could be true that the work of grieving and healing has been accomplished. A heart check suggests the latter. I’ve said numerous times that grief will always have a small place in me. I feel that, although I’m not sure exactly what place that is, grief has moved out of the forefront and into the shadows. It lingers but it doesn’t control.
2. I wonder if the work of heart transformation has been successful.
My very early blog posts suggested a number of character-based…um…flaws that the Holy Spirit nudged me to address through the work of My Second Year. In fairness, I cannot judge myself to know whether this work of My Second Year has been accomplished. I will say that unknowing people made comments about my character that made me look around the room in wonder at who they were speaking of…surely it couldn’t be me…could it? If only the sharp edges are worn down just a little more, I will be thankful.
Wednesday, October 20, 2010
My Third Year
My Second Year was titled such that it was my second year of figuring out life after Rick died. The title signaled something – it signaled some connection between his death and grieving, and my life and future. I hoped that some transition would take place during My Second Year and I believe it has (although I’d be interested in your thoughts about that issue).
The rest of my life will not be strictly defined based on the number of years away from Rick’s death. The rest of my life will be defined, instead, by obedience to the call of God. Perhaps My Second Year readied me for this perspective…a transition of thought and heart.
Rick’s death will always be a part of me, but it will no longer be the biggest part of me. That piece of my life will find a new home in me…somehow, somewhere. I have a peaceful sense that my memory of him and our lives together will find its proper place according to the grace of God.
As I contemplate my third year, such a title as My Third Year seems irrelevant or inappropriate. This next year will have little relevance to Rick’s death and the work of grieving and healing (not that all grieving and healing ceases). Over the course of My Second Year, my future has become my future rather than what should have been our future together.
So, what does that mean for my third year? My Third Year won’t exist. Well…it won’t exist in blog form. Praise God that he has truly turned my mourning into gladness and has given me comfort and joy instead of sorrow (Jeremiah 31:13b).
The rest of my life will not be strictly defined based on the number of years away from Rick’s death. The rest of my life will be defined, instead, by obedience to the call of God. Perhaps My Second Year readied me for this perspective…a transition of thought and heart.
Rick’s death will always be a part of me, but it will no longer be the biggest part of me. That piece of my life will find a new home in me…somehow, somewhere. I have a peaceful sense that my memory of him and our lives together will find its proper place according to the grace of God.
As I contemplate my third year, such a title as My Third Year seems irrelevant or inappropriate. This next year will have little relevance to Rick’s death and the work of grieving and healing (not that all grieving and healing ceases). Over the course of My Second Year, my future has become my future rather than what should have been our future together.
So, what does that mean for my third year? My Third Year won’t exist. Well…it won’t exist in blog form. Praise God that he has truly turned my mourning into gladness and has given me comfort and joy instead of sorrow (Jeremiah 31:13b).
Tuesday, October 19, 2010
The Beginning of the End
The very first My Second Year blog post describes how my story begins and now I’m trying to figure out how my story ends…at least for My Second Year. My first year focused on chronicling the many milestones associated with the “firsts” since Rick’s death. The process was heavy with deep grief, but it was also filled with beautiful healing.
Several early blog posts describe how exactly I got to My Second Year and its purpose: to break down walls, build compassion, and show grace. This purpose gave me a sense of direction and clarity. Five short-term mission-type experiences shaped the year and me in a way I never imagined they would. Never.
With just one month left in My Second Year, and no short-term mission trip planned in that month, the beginning of the end of My Second Year is coming. A time of reflection seems appropriate as does a time of seeking God’s will for my future.
This next month will allow me to explore answers to many questions that have been floating around in my head, to have some kind of closure to My Second Year, to show God’s faithfulness and to show Scripture as truth. I pray that during this time of reflection God’s plan for my life would unfold in a greater way and that I would be prepared to lean into that plan with boldness and faith.
Several early blog posts describe how exactly I got to My Second Year and its purpose: to break down walls, build compassion, and show grace. This purpose gave me a sense of direction and clarity. Five short-term mission-type experiences shaped the year and me in a way I never imagined they would. Never.
With just one month left in My Second Year, and no short-term mission trip planned in that month, the beginning of the end of My Second Year is coming. A time of reflection seems appropriate as does a time of seeking God’s will for my future.
This next month will allow me to explore answers to many questions that have been floating around in my head, to have some kind of closure to My Second Year, to show God’s faithfulness and to show Scripture as truth. I pray that during this time of reflection God’s plan for my life would unfold in a greater way and that I would be prepared to lean into that plan with boldness and faith.
Monday, October 18, 2010
Welcome Home Again
Home is a beautiful place.
I am so blessed to have a floor that isn’t made of hard-packed dirt, mosquitoes that won’t kill me, and water I don’t have to keep out of my face holes. I can be out in the dark, hang my underwear on the line outside (if I want), and wear shorts in the summer. I have a mattress to sleep on, a Bible to study, and shoes for my feet.
But so what? So what if I “have” any of these things if I never use my education and experiences for the benefit of people who are marginalized in East Africa. So what if I “have” any of these things if I don’t express the compassion and grace God has awakened in me. So what if I “have” any of these things if I don’t show and share the love of God with anyone. So what?
I am so blessed to have a floor that isn’t made of hard-packed dirt, mosquitoes that won’t kill me, and water I don’t have to keep out of my face holes. I can be out in the dark, hang my underwear on the line outside (if I want), and wear shorts in the summer. I have a mattress to sleep on, a Bible to study, and shoes for my feet.
But so what? So what if I “have” any of these things if I never use my education and experiences for the benefit of people who are marginalized in East Africa. So what if I “have” any of these things if I don’t express the compassion and grace God has awakened in me. So what if I “have” any of these things if I don’t show and share the love of God with anyone. So what?
Sunday, October 17, 2010
Things I May or May Not Miss
Fresh fruits and vegetables every day.
The sound of the neighbor’s new roosters crowing at 4:30 a.m.
Construction workers finishing the duplexes across the yard.
The socio-political system.
The sound of the main gate door squeaking open and closed.
Cold water showers.
Internet use by file size.
The sound of the flushing toilet in the duplex behind my window.
Intermittent electricity.
Experiencing something new every day.
Occasional water.
The foam mattress on my bed.
High-stepping over the rat glue.
Learning about God from a different cultural perspective.
The White tax.
Hearing the children scream “mzungu” every time I walk by.
Hugging orphans.
The sound of the neighbor’s new roosters crowing at 4:30 a.m.
Construction workers finishing the duplexes across the yard.
The socio-political system.
The sound of the main gate door squeaking open and closed.
Cold water showers.
Internet use by file size.
The sound of the flushing toilet in the duplex behind my window.
Intermittent electricity.
Experiencing something new every day.
Occasional water.
The foam mattress on my bed.
High-stepping over the rat glue.
Learning about God from a different cultural perspective.
The White tax.
Hearing the children scream “mzungu” every time I walk by.
Hugging orphans.
Saturday, October 16, 2010
The Last Days
The last days are filled with a few different things. First – I try to answer the question of what one thing (within reason) do I want to do in case I never get to come back to Uganda? and then do it. Second – I try to answer the question what last business needs to be done that cannot be done from home? and then get it done.
First. What one thing to I want to do in case I never get to come back to Uganda? See Murchison Falls and the gorillas. Neither of these sight-seeing marvels is realistic for this trip so I had to add the “within reason” clause. Instead I sit frozen in my room with the fan blowing on my feet uncertain of how to choose exactly what that one last thing would be. Honestly, I find myself longing to be surrounded by the sponsored children and my friends while at the same time knowing that wish isn’t practical or possible. Later tonight the Mercy Uganda team will share a meal and take me to the airport where I will undoubtedly fall apart just a little more.
Second. What last business needs to be done that cannot be done from home? Make some heads roll…in a Christian loving kind of way. Something about my American’ness gives me an attribute the Ugandans don’t have – other than my brightness – which can be both good and bad. I wish I could fix so many things (yes, I am intentionally being evasive) that are so deeply embedded in the culture and history of this country. Yet I know that only God is big enough to bring about this badly needed justice. Meanwhile, I can only hope to impact the life of one person at a time and one last day gives me one last chance to do that.
Why does preparing to leave feel a little like a death sentence?
First. What one thing to I want to do in case I never get to come back to Uganda? See Murchison Falls and the gorillas. Neither of these sight-seeing marvels is realistic for this trip so I had to add the “within reason” clause. Instead I sit frozen in my room with the fan blowing on my feet uncertain of how to choose exactly what that one last thing would be. Honestly, I find myself longing to be surrounded by the sponsored children and my friends while at the same time knowing that wish isn’t practical or possible. Later tonight the Mercy Uganda team will share a meal and take me to the airport where I will undoubtedly fall apart just a little more.
Second. What last business needs to be done that cannot be done from home? Make some heads roll…in a Christian loving kind of way. Something about my American’ness gives me an attribute the Ugandans don’t have – other than my brightness – which can be both good and bad. I wish I could fix so many things (yes, I am intentionally being evasive) that are so deeply embedded in the culture and history of this country. Yet I know that only God is big enough to bring about this badly needed justice. Meanwhile, I can only hope to impact the life of one person at a time and one last day gives me one last chance to do that.
Why does preparing to leave feel a little like a death sentence?
Friday, October 15, 2010
Calvary Chapel Medical Mission
Pastor Eddie and Calvary Chapel in Costa Mesa sponsored a week-long medical mission at several cities in Uganda, beginning with Calvary Chapel in Namulanda. I walked the two miles to the church and waved to David, our trusted boda driver, along the way. I think he and some of the other regular boda drivers is getting used to seeing this white girl walk, whereas most Americans use some other form of transport.
Tea (breakfast) began promptly at 8:00 and I was welcomed by Chris, the Ugandan mission coordinator, to enjoy tea with the entire volunteer group. The ladies who prepared the tea worked tirelessly all day long to ensure the comfort of the mission team.
The entire campus of Calvary Chapel and Bethel House Orphanage was utilized. A large tent served as a waiting room and was packed when I arrived at 7:45 a.m. When the rains came, as they did throughout the day, people could be seen squishing up under that tent and the surrounding trees. While waiting, the people heard the Gospel from Pastor Wilson and his translator or maybe Pastor Wilson translated for a School of Ministry student who presented the Gospel. Sometimes it’s hard to know who is giving the main message. You have to be present at the beginning to know who is following whom.
The building near the road was used for the doctors and treatment. Augustine served as a translator for one of the doctors. Gabriel charged him with “taking care of me” during the event to ensure that my sunburn didn’t get worse, but I released Augustine from that responsibility. I should be grown up enough to think of such things, but alas…I am still burned.
Bethel Covenant School, located just behind the church, served as a dispensary or pharmacy. After participating in worship for the School of Ministry in the main church building, I was assigned to work here alongside Linda, a new Ugandan friend and nurse. Patients brought prescriptions to us and we did our best to read doctor’s handwriting, although Linda was already a near expert. She also knew the different drug names for a single drug, which was immensely useful. We fell into a routine and performed quite well together. This single mother of two is always invited to help when this medical team comes to Uganda and I can see why.
I had a few opportunities to pray for healing alongside Pastor Eddie and Pastor Phillip. I’m thankful for those few moments when I think about seeing God among the busyness of such a mission trip – sometimes I lose him among the many tasks and duties.
Tea (breakfast) began promptly at 8:00 and I was welcomed by Chris, the Ugandan mission coordinator, to enjoy tea with the entire volunteer group. The ladies who prepared the tea worked tirelessly all day long to ensure the comfort of the mission team.
The entire campus of Calvary Chapel and Bethel House Orphanage was utilized. A large tent served as a waiting room and was packed when I arrived at 7:45 a.m. When the rains came, as they did throughout the day, people could be seen squishing up under that tent and the surrounding trees. While waiting, the people heard the Gospel from Pastor Wilson and his translator or maybe Pastor Wilson translated for a School of Ministry student who presented the Gospel. Sometimes it’s hard to know who is giving the main message. You have to be present at the beginning to know who is following whom.The building near the road was used for the doctors and treatment. Augustine served as a translator for one of the doctors. Gabriel charged him with “taking care of me” during the event to ensure that my sunburn didn’t get worse, but I released Augustine from that responsibility. I should be grown up enough to think of such things, but alas…I am still burned.
Bethel Covenant School, located just behind the church, served as a dispensary or pharmacy. After participating in worship for the School of Ministry in the main church building, I was assigned to work here alongside Linda, a new Ugandan friend and nurse. Patients brought prescriptions to us and we did our best to read doctor’s handwriting, although Linda was already a near expert. She also knew the different drug names for a single drug, which was immensely useful. We fell into a routine and performed quite well together. This single mother of two is always invited to help when this medical team comes to Uganda and I can see why.I had a few opportunities to pray for healing alongside Pastor Eddie and Pastor Phillip. I’m thankful for those few moments when I think about seeing God among the busyness of such a mission trip – sometimes I lose him among the many tasks and duties.
Wednesday, October 13, 2010
Amen's Story: Update
I first told you about Amen in June. She is the young mother of Elijah living in the Kampala area. Amen and I have stayed in touch these past few months and when I knew I was coming to Uganda we vowed to be sure to meet for a time of refreshment and encouragement.Amen made the trip to Lauren’s with Elijah (who is five months old now) and Joy, a three year old girl who is now considered Amen’s daughter. The picture shows Joy with a sassy little grin but rest assured that is only a misconception. This girl was pure sweetness. Joy has a 7-year-old brother who is also in Amen’s care but was at school during the day. Amen and Elijah’s father are together but not married, which is not uncommon in Uganda because of the cost associated with the socially required ceremonial marriage practices.
Amen’s boyfriend is brother to the father of Joy and the 7-year-old boy. Their mother left and handed the children over to Amen. But Amen doesn’t complain. When asked how she felt about her new family she sweetly said that she is learning to be a mother. And a very gentle, kind mother she is. Have you recognized the difference between the moms who are completely at home with being a mother and those who are frustrated and uncertain? Amen is the former, definitely.Little Elijah has malaria and was roasting with fever but tried his best to be cheerful. Amen doted over him while bathing him in cool water. Joy sat on a mat made by the ladies in Kyamagemule. She put her little hands together in prayer before nibbling a few bites of pineapple…wish I had gotten a picture of this precious little prayer.
Amen hopes to go to school to learn hair braiding and other cosmetology-related skills to help her family. With these additional two children in her charge she will likely not have that opportunity. Amen’s story is a common one. Circumstances completely out of her control have been imposed such that her life will be dramatically changed. Amen chooses to make the very best of the situation, but some mothers don’t treat their new children as well. Life is so very different here. Amen's story exactly fits the target for Mercy Uganda's ministry. Please pray we find the best way to come alongside Amen as she grows into motherhood and raises children who love God.
Uganda Christian University
Henry and I left Nkumba University and headed to Mokono district where Uganda Christian University is located – just two km before Kefa Sempangi’s home. Uganda Christian University is ranked #2 in Uganda. The ride was perhaps an hour by boda – no helmets, no sunglasses, and more importantly no sunscreen. We hadn’t planned this trip ahead of time, so the idea of sunscreen hadn’t crossed my mind. I am burnt and blistering. Taking a boda was most timely however we had to “get skinny” dozens of times so that we fit between the small space left by taxis and cars.
In true Ugandan fashion, dropping in unannounced was met with a warm welcome. Having met several University professionals, we finally found the associate dean of marketing. Following the formal introduction by Henry and a brief description of my education and experience, the dean began brainstorming ways that we might collaborate. He took my tentative proposal for return trips to Uganda and filled them in with…assignments. We departed with a tentative plan for my next trip (did I just say that out loud?) and gratitude.
Why interview with universities in Uganda? The idea was that I might gain global exposure to teaching styles, resources, methods, and relationships while making a contribution to the community here. Having this experience will help me better understand the culture and the infrastructure in Uganda and thus better equip me to actually make a difference using the education and experience I already have. The kinds of work discussed at both universities will likely be pro bono (does that count for non-lawyers?), but the experience will be immeasurably valuable.
God swung these doors wide open. Please pray that I can step through the doors leading to these opportunities with the same level of certainty.
In true Ugandan fashion, dropping in unannounced was met with a warm welcome. Having met several University professionals, we finally found the associate dean of marketing. Following the formal introduction by Henry and a brief description of my education and experience, the dean began brainstorming ways that we might collaborate. He took my tentative proposal for return trips to Uganda and filled them in with…assignments. We departed with a tentative plan for my next trip (did I just say that out loud?) and gratitude.
Why interview with universities in Uganda? The idea was that I might gain global exposure to teaching styles, resources, methods, and relationships while making a contribution to the community here. Having this experience will help me better understand the culture and the infrastructure in Uganda and thus better equip me to actually make a difference using the education and experience I already have. The kinds of work discussed at both universities will likely be pro bono (does that count for non-lawyers?), but the experience will be immeasurably valuable.
God swung these doors wide open. Please pray that I can step through the doors leading to these opportunities with the same level of certainty.
Nkumba University
Henry, perceptive man that he is, arranged an interview for me at Nkumba University. Nkumba University is ranked #10 in Uganda and is semi-nearby Kawuku. Their School of Business Administration “is one of the leaders of business education in Uganda. Its philosophy is built on producing graduates who are principled, disciplined, respectable, knowledgeable and transparent.”
A short jaunt on Henry’s boda boda was interrupted by a pre-meeting stop at an internet café to print my resume – the most embarrassingly poor printout of anything I’ve ever seen…so much for first impressions.
We first met with the dean of students to inquire about their interest in collaboration, an appointment set the previous day by Henry. He agreed that there might be a match in the Business Communications department and led us up to another office where a student seeking advice from her professor was interrupted by my arrival. The department head welcomed us and inquired about my education and experience and went on to invite me to assist him and the many students who are required to take the Business Communications class.
We brainstormed about some ways to help raise up the marginal students with more small group assistance. We talked about dates and schedules. In concluding, we agreed to talk again very soon. Of course the main obstacle is my availability.
A short jaunt on Henry’s boda boda was interrupted by a pre-meeting stop at an internet café to print my resume – the most embarrassingly poor printout of anything I’ve ever seen…so much for first impressions.
We first met with the dean of students to inquire about their interest in collaboration, an appointment set the previous day by Henry. He agreed that there might be a match in the Business Communications department and led us up to another office where a student seeking advice from her professor was interrupted by my arrival. The department head welcomed us and inquired about my education and experience and went on to invite me to assist him and the many students who are required to take the Business Communications class.
We brainstormed about some ways to help raise up the marginal students with more small group assistance. We talked about dates and schedules. In concluding, we agreed to talk again very soon. Of course the main obstacle is my availability.
Tuesday, October 12, 2010
Olivia's Dorm
After conducting the sponsor update for Olivia, I followed her into her dorm to see where she sleeps. Olivia gets a top bunk because she has a mosquito net, something most of the kids don’t have. The girls swarmed to meet the mzungu. What beautiful faces!Olivia's Poem
Eyes are all along in tears
Mouths are kept busy crying
Every day, every night
Has taken away our mother.
Oh God! Why this now?
He took our mother and left us with the dad
But no, you are back for him
Leaving us as orphans
However much we are young
You don’t really have mercy!
It is really sad.
To see the strong people but pretending,
Trying to tower our dad in the grave
Relatives, friends and in-laws
Are all mad at you,
Where did you come from?
You shameless death.
Mouths are kept busy crying
Every day, every night
Has taken away our mother.
Oh God! Why this now?
He took our mother and left us with the dad
But no, you are back for him
Leaving us as orphans
However much we are young
You don’t really have mercy!
It is really sad.
To see the strong people but pretending,
Trying to tower our dad in the grave
Relatives, friends and in-laws
Are all mad at you,
Where did you come from?
You shameless death.
Child Sponsorship Updates
Part of the business-related work covered during the June trip included developing a child sponsorship form to help collect information that would be useful in whole-child care as well as to gain an understanding the family life and needs. Lauren and I met with three of the sponsored children yesterday to collect the information. A few surprises might interest you.
Frank gives his pocket money (given by sponsors for children to have food in addition to the twice-daily maize porridge and beans) to his mother who has been told she has cancer of the blood and whose father died a few years ago.
Yunus is supposed to have his own bed at the boarding school but doesn’t. In no uncertain terms I instructed the Matron to get a mattress for him that day and that I would be checking back in the morning to ensure he had his own bed. The Matron said okay and that she would just move the second boy to another child’s bed. Very loud, very big internal sigh!
Godfrey was sent home from school because his shoes weren’t good enough. He’ll be back tomorrow regardless of whether he has any shoes at all. Would you like to purchase some shoes for him? The ones I just picked up for Frank and Yunus cost about $20 (including the white tax).
Olivia gave me her letter to her sponsor, my friend. Included was this poem. I asked her if the poem was created by her and she said yes but I’m not perfectly confident that she understood me. I can’t find any of the lines of this poem in Google so I’m inclined to think it really is her own creation. Get out your tissues and read the Olivia’s Poem blog post…the life of a child…oh!
Coolest of all, every child professed Jesus as his or her Savior!
Frank gives his pocket money (given by sponsors for children to have food in addition to the twice-daily maize porridge and beans) to his mother who has been told she has cancer of the blood and whose father died a few years ago.
Yunus is supposed to have his own bed at the boarding school but doesn’t. In no uncertain terms I instructed the Matron to get a mattress for him that day and that I would be checking back in the morning to ensure he had his own bed. The Matron said okay and that she would just move the second boy to another child’s bed. Very loud, very big internal sigh!
Godfrey was sent home from school because his shoes weren’t good enough. He’ll be back tomorrow regardless of whether he has any shoes at all. Would you like to purchase some shoes for him? The ones I just picked up for Frank and Yunus cost about $20 (including the white tax).
Olivia gave me her letter to her sponsor, my friend. Included was this poem. I asked her if the poem was created by her and she said yes but I’m not perfectly confident that she understood me. I can’t find any of the lines of this poem in Google so I’m inclined to think it really is her own creation. Get out your tissues and read the Olivia’s Poem blog post…the life of a child…oh!
Coolest of all, every child professed Jesus as his or her Savior!
Monday, October 11, 2010
Shopping in Kampala
I had a dilemma. I have three sponsored children for which to shop, Lauren has a broken foot, Gabriel was occupied by another project, shopping in Kawuku netted zero results, and I’m “not allowed” to go anywhere alone. Thank goodness for Ronnie, a friend introduced to me by Gabriel while I was here in June.
After admonishing him not to leave me behind and not to allow me to carry anything, Gabriel approved Ronnie as a guide to take me to Kampala for the few errands. He came half the distance out of his way to pick me up at the gate rather than my meeting him at the road, so as to fulfill his directives from Gabriel. After learning my list of shopping needs, Ronnie and I took an overstuffed taxi into Kampala.
After getting more MTN internet time, we headed for the market. The market in Kampala is indescribable. Tin sheets protected the marketers from the sun. Wood plank walls of questionable construction framed…no lined…the outer and some inner boundaries. No air moved in this giant maze of a marketplace. Vendors lined the narrow dirt aisles and grabbed at my arms while calling out “mzungu” or “hello madam, how are you” in their best English. The space was so congested and confusing I didn’t dare take out my camera. I wondered what this place would be like in the rain.
Ronnie knew right where to go to find shoes for the two boys, but as soon as the vendors saw me the price doubled. After negotiating at several different vendors, we got the shoes we needed and went in search of sandals. A street vendor offered some Crock sandals for 2,500 UGX ($1.25 USD) and was “singing out the price” which apparently means the price is not negotiable. We needed a storage box for one of the boys and again Ronnie knew right where to find them among the blocks-wide marketplace. The problem with getting to this next location was that we had to squish ourselves down a tiny path through the food part of the market along with hundreds of other people doing the same thing. It was tough to keep up with Ronnie because so many people wanted to squeeze in between us, but I managed…for the most part…calling out his name when more than one person separated us.
Whew, we found our way back to the taxi park and waited for our ride home. I know I’ve said I don’t like shopping before and I’m sure if I had to shop this way every time I’d really hate it…but today was a fun cultural experience. I’m pretty sure I’ll never want to shop in Kampala alone. Ronnie was a great guide, we got everything we needed for tomorrow’s sponsorship updates, and I was safely delivered back to the gate just after dark.
After admonishing him not to leave me behind and not to allow me to carry anything, Gabriel approved Ronnie as a guide to take me to Kampala for the few errands. He came half the distance out of his way to pick me up at the gate rather than my meeting him at the road, so as to fulfill his directives from Gabriel. After learning my list of shopping needs, Ronnie and I took an overstuffed taxi into Kampala.
After getting more MTN internet time, we headed for the market. The market in Kampala is indescribable. Tin sheets protected the marketers from the sun. Wood plank walls of questionable construction framed…no lined…the outer and some inner boundaries. No air moved in this giant maze of a marketplace. Vendors lined the narrow dirt aisles and grabbed at my arms while calling out “mzungu” or “hello madam, how are you” in their best English. The space was so congested and confusing I didn’t dare take out my camera. I wondered what this place would be like in the rain.
Ronnie knew right where to go to find shoes for the two boys, but as soon as the vendors saw me the price doubled. After negotiating at several different vendors, we got the shoes we needed and went in search of sandals. A street vendor offered some Crock sandals for 2,500 UGX ($1.25 USD) and was “singing out the price” which apparently means the price is not negotiable. We needed a storage box for one of the boys and again Ronnie knew right where to find them among the blocks-wide marketplace. The problem with getting to this next location was that we had to squish ourselves down a tiny path through the food part of the market along with hundreds of other people doing the same thing. It was tough to keep up with Ronnie because so many people wanted to squeeze in between us, but I managed…for the most part…calling out his name when more than one person separated us.
Whew, we found our way back to the taxi park and waited for our ride home. I know I’ve said I don’t like shopping before and I’m sure if I had to shop this way every time I’d really hate it…but today was a fun cultural experience. I’m pretty sure I’ll never want to shop in Kampala alone. Ronnie was a great guide, we got everything we needed for tomorrow’s sponsorship updates, and I was safely delivered back to the gate just after dark.
Shopping in Kawuku
I have a short list of items needed for some of the sponsored children and thought I’d give going to the market alone a try. The Kawuku market is nearby and I’ve been there before so I put on my shoes and headed out – after informing the proper authorities. Wow, it was hot outside. I found the market – outdoor vendors who sell the few things they grow or make or sometimes buy – and walked up and down the streets looking at what they had. I was looking for some specific items but really wanted to get to know what was available in this market should I need to return later.
A few of the items on my list were available but selection was limited so I made no purchases. I didn’t find the big food part of the market that I remembered from my June visit so I took a few side roads to see what I could see. I wandered into the housing part of the “neighborhood” where little storage unit size flats lined the roads, their curtained doorways blowing in the occasional breeze. Half naked children hung out on the front porch and called out “mzungu.” Women swept the debris into the street. I knew I was out of place being so far beyond the market so I hesitated to haul out my camera. Instead I kept walking, sharing the road with a lone bull, until the road reconnected with the market. One last sweep and I gave up for the day.
Overall the trip was liberating and telling, but I came home empty handed.
A few of the items on my list were available but selection was limited so I made no purchases. I didn’t find the big food part of the market that I remembered from my June visit so I took a few side roads to see what I could see. I wandered into the housing part of the “neighborhood” where little storage unit size flats lined the roads, their curtained doorways blowing in the occasional breeze. Half naked children hung out on the front porch and called out “mzungu.” Women swept the debris into the street. I knew I was out of place being so far beyond the market so I hesitated to haul out my camera. Instead I kept walking, sharing the road with a lone bull, until the road reconnected with the market. One last sweep and I gave up for the day.
Overall the trip was liberating and telling, but I came home empty handed.
Live Like Lauren
Mission trips are typically well organized for the safety and convenience of those coming from more modern societies. Many short-term missionaries might not want to come if they knew they had to use a pit latrine or eat rice and beans for dinner every night. Car rental, flush toilets, and restaurants are the way of most short-term missionaries. To truly experience Ugandan culture, such luxuries must be foregone.
My objective for this last week in Uganda (sniffle, sniffle) is to live like Lauren. Uganda lacks a middle class, but living like Lauren is still a higher standard than most Ugandans. We do have indoor plumbing (when there is water although it is never hot) and electricity (sometimes) and mosquito nets. We have no refrigerator and no oven/stove but we do have a single gas burner and a charcoal pot for grilling (if we want to kill our own chicken).
I’ll spend the week doing all the things Lauren normally does in service to Mercy Uganda and I’ll do them in the same way she normally does them. One thing we’ve got to do is exchange currency sent by child sponsors, identify sponsored child needs, shop for those needs, and bring the items back to the children. Sounds easy, right? Remember…there are no Meijer or Wal-mart stores so each item we need will have to be purchased at a different roadside stand or on market day and…there’s always the challenge of public transport.
We eat two or three meals each day, which means we need to shop for food in the market (not a grocery store). Food here doesn’t have preservatives and with no fridge we are somewhat limited in the options. The food is all fresh, which is yummy, but keeping a live chicken (or a dead one for that matter) until dinner time is no easy task. Keeping any food is tough because of ants and fruit flies…and the occasional mouse. None the less, we shopped yesterday for breakfast today and will shop today for lunch and/or dinner today as well as breakfast tomorrow. Remember…public transport and that anywhere I go with Lauren means that our prices are higher because I’m mzungo.
Shopping and eating are just the beginning of what needs to be done this week, but I will fully enjoy every moment of experiencing something close to real life while I’m here.
My objective for this last week in Uganda (sniffle, sniffle) is to live like Lauren. Uganda lacks a middle class, but living like Lauren is still a higher standard than most Ugandans. We do have indoor plumbing (when there is water although it is never hot) and electricity (sometimes) and mosquito nets. We have no refrigerator and no oven/stove but we do have a single gas burner and a charcoal pot for grilling (if we want to kill our own chicken).
I’ll spend the week doing all the things Lauren normally does in service to Mercy Uganda and I’ll do them in the same way she normally does them. One thing we’ve got to do is exchange currency sent by child sponsors, identify sponsored child needs, shop for those needs, and bring the items back to the children. Sounds easy, right? Remember…there are no Meijer or Wal-mart stores so each item we need will have to be purchased at a different roadside stand or on market day and…there’s always the challenge of public transport.
We eat two or three meals each day, which means we need to shop for food in the market (not a grocery store). Food here doesn’t have preservatives and with no fridge we are somewhat limited in the options. The food is all fresh, which is yummy, but keeping a live chicken (or a dead one for that matter) until dinner time is no easy task. Keeping any food is tough because of ants and fruit flies…and the occasional mouse. None the less, we shopped yesterday for breakfast today and will shop today for lunch and/or dinner today as well as breakfast tomorrow. Remember…public transport and that anywhere I go with Lauren means that our prices are higher because I’m mzungo.
Shopping and eating are just the beginning of what needs to be done this week, but I will fully enjoy every moment of experiencing something close to real life while I’m here.
Rodent Problem: Update #2
I had not intended to provide another update on the rodent problem, but this was worth posting. You know I put small tables over the glue so we wouldn’t step in it. We’ve been high-stepping over them for a few days now. Lauren, however, is a little vertically challenged and decided to scootch the table toward the door frame to give her room to move her legs around the table rather than over the table.
Yep, she stepped right in the glue with one foot. Right in it! Um, her sock wouldn’t come up off the floor after that. Then she took her foot out of her sock and headed to the bedroom where she took the second sock off by hand and stepped in the glue from another doorway. To get her balance she stepped in the glue with the second foot. And somehow as she got glue on both hands. I’m not quite sure how this part was possible, but I heard some very loud screaming and wasn’t sure if she stubbed her broken toe or what.
So she tries hard not to touch anything on the way to the bathroom (we’ll see how that worked out) where some petrol was awaiting her for glue removal and she dumped the last little bit down the drain. So, there she stood with her two feet and two hands full of rat glue. Once again our guardian angel, Gabriel – who just happened to have stopped in to say good night, ran (literally) to the Petrol station for her. I asked if Gabriel should get enough petrol to remove the glue and she said, not yet...there might be another mouse. The whole thing was better than anything I could have made up. Hilarious!
Yep, she stepped right in the glue with one foot. Right in it! Um, her sock wouldn’t come up off the floor after that. Then she took her foot out of her sock and headed to the bedroom where she took the second sock off by hand and stepped in the glue from another doorway. To get her balance she stepped in the glue with the second foot. And somehow as she got glue on both hands. I’m not quite sure how this part was possible, but I heard some very loud screaming and wasn’t sure if she stubbed her broken toe or what.So she tries hard not to touch anything on the way to the bathroom (we’ll see how that worked out) where some petrol was awaiting her for glue removal and she dumped the last little bit down the drain. So, there she stood with her two feet and two hands full of rat glue. Once again our guardian angel, Gabriel – who just happened to have stopped in to say good night, ran (literally) to the Petrol station for her. I asked if Gabriel should get enough petrol to remove the glue and she said, not yet...there might be another mouse. The whole thing was better than anything I could have made up. Hilarious!
Sunday, October 10, 2010
Public Transportation
When you think of public transportation you probably think of an organized group of bus drivers such as GRATA (Grand Rapids Area Transit Authority) or a taxi service organization such as Yellow Cab or Metro. In Uganda, the buses only make long trips and are not prevalent for around town trips. Of course the only road in the area is Entebbe Road, which goes from Entebbe airport to Kampala, about 30 km. Kampala has a ton of roads with mortar shell holes that remain unfixed from the Idi Amin days of the late 70s and early 80s.
The taxi vans all look alike and are part of a semi-organized group that doesn’t mind stuffing16 people in space made for 12. You need to know what the place looks like that you want to go so that as you drive by you holler to stop. Half the van unpacks to let you out of the back corner and then you all reload until the next stop.
Boda bodas (125cc motorcycles) are everywhere and are operated by self-employed men (not women). Gabriel knows many boda drivers and has given Lauren their contact information so that she can call a trustworthy driver when needed. Bodas drive on the shoulder of the road, not on the main road in traffic. Bikes also ride on the shoulder and people walk on the shoulder too. Sometimes the shoulder of the road is much busier than the road itself. Whatever the case, the roads are congested, unruly, and require Atari Frogger skills like no other.
After church, Lauren and I wanted to go to Goretti’s Beachside Pizzeria and Grill for lunch. Goretti’s is a beautiful place with outdoor seating on the beach of very warm Lake Victoria. On a hot day dipping my toes in the water is priceless. Gabriel could not come with us so he called two trustworthy boda drivers to pick us up from the way uphill dirt road of the church (remember Lauren’s broken foot). 1,000 shilling each. They dropped us at a taxi stand headed in the correct direction at the bottom of the hill. From there we taxied to some road about 10 km away. 700 shilling (although most taxis charge mzungo more, this one did not). Good thing Lauren knew when to holler. The first thing the boda driver, who took me from Entebbe road to Goretti’s, said was, “You are safe with me.” I’m not sure why but that comment did not help me at all. He was a good driver though. 500 shillings.
So…today was the first time ever that I took public transportation to get anywhere in Uganda. 1,200 shillings (about $0.60) for maybe seven miles one way. Yea me!
The taxi vans all look alike and are part of a semi-organized group that doesn’t mind stuffing16 people in space made for 12. You need to know what the place looks like that you want to go so that as you drive by you holler to stop. Half the van unpacks to let you out of the back corner and then you all reload until the next stop.
Boda bodas (125cc motorcycles) are everywhere and are operated by self-employed men (not women). Gabriel knows many boda drivers and has given Lauren their contact information so that she can call a trustworthy driver when needed. Bodas drive on the shoulder of the road, not on the main road in traffic. Bikes also ride on the shoulder and people walk on the shoulder too. Sometimes the shoulder of the road is much busier than the road itself. Whatever the case, the roads are congested, unruly, and require Atari Frogger skills like no other.
After church, Lauren and I wanted to go to Goretti’s Beachside Pizzeria and Grill for lunch. Goretti’s is a beautiful place with outdoor seating on the beach of very warm Lake Victoria. On a hot day dipping my toes in the water is priceless. Gabriel could not come with us so he called two trustworthy boda drivers to pick us up from the way uphill dirt road of the church (remember Lauren’s broken foot). 1,000 shilling each. They dropped us at a taxi stand headed in the correct direction at the bottom of the hill. From there we taxied to some road about 10 km away. 700 shilling (although most taxis charge mzungo more, this one did not). Good thing Lauren knew when to holler. The first thing the boda driver, who took me from Entebbe road to Goretti’s, said was, “You are safe with me.” I’m not sure why but that comment did not help me at all. He was a good driver though. 500 shillings.
So…today was the first time ever that I took public transportation to get anywhere in Uganda. 1,200 shillings (about $0.60) for maybe seven miles one way. Yea me!
Calvary Chapel, Namulanda
Lauren took a boda boda (motorcycle) to church this morning because of her broken foot. I, on the other hand, had to be all independent and walk there. At one point I started wondering if I’d gone too far. I was paying close attention to the landmarks – kinda hard to miss the big pink building where I was to turn – but I still wondered. I figured if I couldn’t find it I’d go back home and all the worried people could find me on the porch there. The distance wasn’t far, maybe a mile or a little more and half that distance was uphill on a dirt road. I hadn’t accounted properly for the sweat factor, which is pretty high by 9:00 a.m. in Africa in a long skirt.
Special guests Pastor Eddie and Pastor Phillip came from Calvary Chapel in Costa Mesa, California. They’re operating a medical mission this week in Uganda and arrived early just for this occasion. Pastor Eddie installed Pastor Wilson in the Namulanda, Uganda church. I was so blessed to be part of this ceremony for Pastor Wilson and for this church.
Special guests Pastor Eddie and Pastor Phillip came from Calvary Chapel in Costa Mesa, California. They’re operating a medical mission this week in Uganda and arrived early just for this occasion. Pastor Eddie installed Pastor Wilson in the Namulanda, Uganda church. I was so blessed to be part of this ceremony for Pastor Wilson and for this church. Rodent Problem: Update
Glue lines every doorway in Lauren’s small duplex. The tables helped with a few doorways to ensure we didn’t step in the glue and Lauren put a crutch across her doorway. I joked that she shouldn’t shut her door at night because the door might stick shut, but she did anyhow. Rather than the door sticking shut, she stepped in the glue on her first attempt to exit her room. I couldn’t help but laugh. She did a pretty good job containing the glue this time. Now if I could just get her to replace the empty toilet paper roll…
Okay, so I thought no mouse was in the house but I didn’t check under the broom in the kitchen doorway! As I turned to high step over the table in the kitchen doorway with my hands full of breakfast dishes and pineapple chunks, I spotted him. He must have gotten sleepy after fighting to get his little feet loose because he was lying on his side all good and stuck. I thought only a putty knife would get this little guy off the floor. At least he wasn’t in MY bedroom.
After Lauren and I debated about whose responsibility it was to clean him up, we both decided Gabriel should do it. Faithful man that he is, Gabriel left his breakfast waiting and came right over. Apparently the proper way to dispose of such things is by fire.
Okay, so I thought no mouse was in the house but I didn’t check under the broom in the kitchen doorway! As I turned to high step over the table in the kitchen doorway with my hands full of breakfast dishes and pineapple chunks, I spotted him. He must have gotten sleepy after fighting to get his little feet loose because he was lying on his side all good and stuck. I thought only a putty knife would get this little guy off the floor. At least he wasn’t in MY bedroom.
After Lauren and I debated about whose responsibility it was to clean him up, we both decided Gabriel should do it. Faithful man that he is, Gabriel left his breakfast waiting and came right over. Apparently the proper way to dispose of such things is by fire. Saturday, October 9, 2010
Rodent Problem
A theme seems to have arisen as it relates to many of my Facebook posts. They’re animal related. Mosquitoes, frogs, ants, and now…mice. I got home from my early morning walk to Lauren’s sheepish explanation about how the neighbor’s house boy chased a mouse into MY room.
Apparently she saw a mouse in her room, screamed like a very high pitched little girl, and all the neighbors came running. The house boy was summoned to come root that thing out of her room, and neither he nor Lauren thought to close any of the other doors so as to isolate his options for terrorizing others.
Gabriel called and she begged him to come get the mouse. Okay, there aren’t many places for this mouse to go. It’s not like the house is large or has a lot of places for a mouse to hide. My room, however, serves as storage for Mercy Uganda things. Plus, since there are no dressers or closets, all my stuff is spread out on the bed – toothbrush, underwear…so ya, Gabriel picked through all my stuff to see if the mouse nested in my “drawers.” No mouse.
Lauren put rat glue in all the doorways to catch the little guy if he was still in the house. Everything she touched after that was sticky. Shower handle, jerry can handle, kitchen sink handle, broom handle. We put little tables over the glue in the doorway to be sure we didn’t step in the glue too. I hope the table doesn't get stuck to the floor. I wonder how she’ll get all that glue off the tile…
I hoped my mosquito net was also mouse proof as I tried to fall asleep last night. Turns out either they are or the mouse is not in my room. Apparently, the mouse is not in the house because the glue in all the doorways is empty too. Mosquitoes, frogs, ants, and mice.
Apparently she saw a mouse in her room, screamed like a very high pitched little girl, and all the neighbors came running. The house boy was summoned to come root that thing out of her room, and neither he nor Lauren thought to close any of the other doors so as to isolate his options for terrorizing others.
Gabriel called and she begged him to come get the mouse. Okay, there aren’t many places for this mouse to go. It’s not like the house is large or has a lot of places for a mouse to hide. My room, however, serves as storage for Mercy Uganda things. Plus, since there are no dressers or closets, all my stuff is spread out on the bed – toothbrush, underwear…so ya, Gabriel picked through all my stuff to see if the mouse nested in my “drawers.” No mouse.
Lauren put rat glue in all the doorways to catch the little guy if he was still in the house. Everything she touched after that was sticky. Shower handle, jerry can handle, kitchen sink handle, broom handle. We put little tables over the glue in the doorway to be sure we didn’t step in the glue too. I hope the table doesn't get stuck to the floor. I wonder how she’ll get all that glue off the tile…
I hoped my mosquito net was also mouse proof as I tried to fall asleep last night. Turns out either they are or the mouse is not in my room. Apparently, the mouse is not in the house because the glue in all the doorways is empty too. Mosquitoes, frogs, ants, and mice.
Thursday, October 7, 2010
House Arrest
Okay, house arrest may be a strong word but quarantine isn’t quite right either. Gabriel tries to keep me safe by being with me whenever I go out of the house. He says I am too bright and would be an easy target for Ugandans who would assume I had money in my bag. Although we know that not every Ugandan would make this assumption nor would every Ugandan want to steal that money from me, he does have a point. So, while Lauren was gone for three days I obediently stayed close to home.
Wednesday was spent running a crazy lot of errands and doing the Bible study with the widows. While running those errands someone stole the passenger mirror off the car Gabriel borrowed – these are not cheap things to replace here…$150 just for the mirror plate…all in the name of ministry work. Then the post office would not give me access to the box of dollies my mom sent because my name was not on the P.O. Box. (This is a picture of some dollies she’s sending to Laura for a fundraising benefit. Note that they’re wearing clothes made from Rick’s shirts.)
BUT we stopped to see a woman Gabriel called mom while he was at the Africa Foundation children’s home. She hadn’t seen him for 10 years and the look on her face when she recognized him was worth every other setback and all my mosquito bites put together.
Thursday morning Gabriel brought chapatti to go with the pineapple he selected for me on Wednesday. Augustine and Joel were charged with getting me out of the house to enjoy some lunch and fellowship and were specifically told to keep me in one piece. Henry dropped in after lunch and then told Annie I was alone at home when he saw her at the church. Of course, Annie came for a visit. That night, after watching three movies, Gabriel returned with dinner and to play Mancala. The day was wonderful even though I wasn’t allowed to go out alone.
Friday (today) morning Gabriel says he will check on me before starting some non-babysitting-Leslie work he has for the day. Pastor Phillip is coming to visit from Karamoja and we’re planning to talk about how Agnes (his wife) can start a business reselling food for a profit to the family. He’ll take some large sacks of food back via taxi when he returns. Lauren should be home tonight too, although with her broken foot she won’t be taking me out either.
I’ve still got quite a list of things to do so I’ll begin planning how to accomplish them all without the help of Gabriel at every outing. I have a few thoughts on that…stay tuned. Mostly I'm so thankful for all my friends and that they would give of their time for me. Thank you!
Wednesday was spent running a crazy lot of errands and doing the Bible study with the widows. While running those errands someone stole the passenger mirror off the car Gabriel borrowed – these are not cheap things to replace here…$150 just for the mirror plate…all in the name of ministry work. Then the post office would not give me access to the box of dollies my mom sent because my name was not on the P.O. Box. (This is a picture of some dollies she’s sending to Laura for a fundraising benefit. Note that they’re wearing clothes made from Rick’s shirts.)
BUT we stopped to see a woman Gabriel called mom while he was at the Africa Foundation children’s home. She hadn’t seen him for 10 years and the look on her face when she recognized him was worth every other setback and all my mosquito bites put together.Thursday morning Gabriel brought chapatti to go with the pineapple he selected for me on Wednesday. Augustine and Joel were charged with getting me out of the house to enjoy some lunch and fellowship and were specifically told to keep me in one piece. Henry dropped in after lunch and then told Annie I was alone at home when he saw her at the church. Of course, Annie came for a visit. That night, after watching three movies, Gabriel returned with dinner and to play Mancala. The day was wonderful even though I wasn’t allowed to go out alone.
Friday (today) morning Gabriel says he will check on me before starting some non-babysitting-Leslie work he has for the day. Pastor Phillip is coming to visit from Karamoja and we’re planning to talk about how Agnes (his wife) can start a business reselling food for a profit to the family. He’ll take some large sacks of food back via taxi when he returns. Lauren should be home tonight too, although with her broken foot she won’t be taking me out either.
I’ve still got quite a list of things to do so I’ll begin planning how to accomplish them all without the help of Gabriel at every outing. I have a few thoughts on that…stay tuned. Mostly I'm so thankful for all my friends and that they would give of their time for me. Thank you!
Wednesday, October 6, 2010
Super Cool Moments
Two super cool things happened while at the church for Bible study.
David pointed out one woman who was lying on the floor in the back of the church. He indicated that she was sick. Although I may not have followed the proper protocol for supernatural healing, we prayed for healing for her as a whole church. By the middle of the program, the lady was sitting up and attentive. I talked with her briefly during the time of jewelry making and she indicated that she was feeling much better. Whew and yea God!
Later, one of the women brought smiling Betty to me and told me that Betty was also a widow. This mid-to-late 20s Betty told me that her husband died of heart failure just five months ago. According to Ugandan social custom, Betty was allowed to grieve for two weeks. This beautiful woman clung to me so hard I almost couldn’t breathe. We prayed together and enjoyed the presence of God in our quiet little space in the center of the room, while others simply allowed us the time we needed together. Precious and yea God again!
How can I ever explain the truth behind the idea that if you bless others you will also be blessed? I never understood the reality of this economy until recently, and today I would say that my “gift” to these women was absolutely paltry compared to their gift to me.
David pointed out one woman who was lying on the floor in the back of the church. He indicated that she was sick. Although I may not have followed the proper protocol for supernatural healing, we prayed for healing for her as a whole church. By the middle of the program, the lady was sitting up and attentive. I talked with her briefly during the time of jewelry making and she indicated that she was feeling much better. Whew and yea God!
Later, one of the women brought smiling Betty to me and told me that Betty was also a widow. This mid-to-late 20s Betty told me that her husband died of heart failure just five months ago. According to Ugandan social custom, Betty was allowed to grieve for two weeks. This beautiful woman clung to me so hard I almost couldn’t breathe. We prayed together and enjoyed the presence of God in our quiet little space in the center of the room, while others simply allowed us the time we needed together. Precious and yea God again!How can I ever explain the truth behind the idea that if you bless others you will also be blessed? I never understood the reality of this economy until recently, and today I would say that my “gift” to these women was absolutely paltry compared to their gift to me.
Women's Crafts
Following the Bible study, the women sought my business advice about how to improve their crafts and how to better market them. In addition to the traditional bead jewelry, a few women showed designs that were of a higher caliber. The woman shown with this necklace added a stone to the center of her design along with some plastic beads, giving this necklace a very formal design look.
I also complimented the women who offered a variety of ways to use the beads beyond just jewelry – for example as a purse. I did a double take when I realized the beads on the purse were handmade. The purse was also lined, which added a quality feel. I explained that these attributes would set their work apart from that of others and thus improve demand for their products. The challenge now is to find the best place to market their products.
While I’m not sure I helped a whole lot, I enjoyed learning how they made their jewelry and spending more time with them on a personal level. If you are interested in purchasing any of the jewelry or crafts shown here or in a previous post, there’s still time. Just let me know and I’ll get word to the ladies. They use the money to pay for school for their children and to put food in their bellies. Bible Study with Widows
I arrived to the sound of rhythmic clapping and was surprised to find a church full of women waiting to welcome me. The front of the church was set with chairs and a table and the rough benches were packed with women and their babies. Apparently this small Bible study time with widows and mothers would be more formal than I anticipated.Before stepping into the church, David and the pastor greeted me along with piles of children who rushed out of their classrooms to lay hands on the mzungu. Rebecca, Joanne, and Jessica were also there to greet me – women whom I’d met either in June or earlier on this trip. Something wonderful happens when people make you feel so welcome and wanted.
Following a time of worship, our time together was supported by a Bible study called A Mom’s Ordinary Day: Entering God’s Presence. If I may brag for a moment, my aunt Jean Syswerda edited this Bible study series and she gave me enough copies for all the women…except that the weight exceeded what was allowable in my luggage…so I could only bring a few.Together the ladies and I discussed the idea of prayer and then we looked at Ephesians 2:1-10. I said, “Get out your Bibles” and then it dawned on me that many of these women did not own a Bible. Sad sigh. We talked about being dead in our sin and alive in Christ because of God’s great love for us. Then we moved to Hebrews 10:19-25 and learned about how we can enter God’s presence through Christ and that because of his death we are no longer separated from God. Tying the study back to prayer we acknowledged that because we can come close to God we should, and that if we try, he will come near to us. Prayer is one way we can be with him. The study time was closed by talking about ways to teach our children to enter God’s presence.
Once I got the proper sense of the level of knowledge most of these ladies had for Scripture and the stories contained within, I was able to adjust the teaching method and content accordingly. Although I cannot answer for these ladies, I believe the study time was helpful. I encouraged the women to work through the remaining five sessions in the book before I return with the next study guide.
Monday, October 4, 2010
Biblical Life Ministries Business Planning
Kathy strategically designed my week with BLM so as to expose me to the Bible school, the local pastors, the Kenyan culture, and the Johnson’s in action. The end goal was to help best inform me about their ministry so that I could more effectively help Kelly and Kathy create a business plan that grows their ministry.
The hardest part – vision and mission statements – was successfully completed and the rest of the strategic framework was drafted with overnight assignments to Kelly and Kathy. I’m working on a proposal for one-year and five-year objectives that we’ll review and refine before I head back to Uganda. Armed with these and other previously assembled documents I’ll develop the complete business plan.
Have I said how much I enjoy working with the Johnsons? Wow, they make my work so easy!
The hardest part – vision and mission statements – was successfully completed and the rest of the strategic framework was drafted with overnight assignments to Kelly and Kathy. I’m working on a proposal for one-year and five-year objectives that we’ll review and refine before I head back to Uganda. Armed with these and other previously assembled documents I’ll develop the complete business plan.
Have I said how much I enjoy working with the Johnsons? Wow, they make my work so easy!
Church Service in Malindi
We arrived via tuk tuk – a small golf cart-like contraption on three wheels operating a bit like a taxi service. Aside from riding in the luggage compartment of the Land Rover, this was close to the highlight of my adventures in Kenya. Both experiences were reminiscent of the days when it was legal to ride in the open bed of my dad’s pick-up truck.
Manzi, pastor of All Nations Revival Center and graduate of Bible School in a Briefcase, warmly welcomed us to his cozy office. As the 11:00 hour rolled around, we followed Manzi into the cinder block church and were seated in the front row, each in our own blue plastic chair. All eyes were on us as the simple church was packed and hot.
Worship in the African churches I’ve experienced – all two of them – is a beautiful thing. The sound of their language has a rhythm and flow that I don’t recognize in the English language. Perhaps this is because I don’t understand the words and have only rhythm and flow on which to focus. Whatever the case, I thoroughly enjoy meeting with the Spirit and worshipping in these African churches.
Kathy preached about the life of Peter before and after the indwelling of the Holy Spirit as Manzi translated her English into Swahili. Kathy pointed out that after Pentecost, Peter was bold in his faith and she called the church to have that same boldness. The Holy Spirit joined us in a very tangible way during the call to prayer. We laid hands on several people who knelt at the altar and prayed for a fresh indwelling of the Spirit and for a renewal of faith and boldness. I prayed that same prayer for myself – a direction-giving, life-altering renewal of faith and boldness.
Manzi, pastor of All Nations Revival Center and graduate of Bible School in a Briefcase, warmly welcomed us to his cozy office. As the 11:00 hour rolled around, we followed Manzi into the cinder block church and were seated in the front row, each in our own blue plastic chair. All eyes were on us as the simple church was packed and hot.
Worship in the African churches I’ve experienced – all two of them – is a beautiful thing. The sound of their language has a rhythm and flow that I don’t recognize in the English language. Perhaps this is because I don’t understand the words and have only rhythm and flow on which to focus. Whatever the case, I thoroughly enjoy meeting with the Spirit and worshipping in these African churches.
Kathy preached about the life of Peter before and after the indwelling of the Holy Spirit as Manzi translated her English into Swahili. Kathy pointed out that after Pentecost, Peter was bold in his faith and she called the church to have that same boldness. The Holy Spirit joined us in a very tangible way during the call to prayer. We laid hands on several people who knelt at the altar and prayed for a fresh indwelling of the Spirit and for a renewal of faith and boldness. I prayed that same prayer for myself – a direction-giving, life-altering renewal of faith and boldness.
Saturday, October 2, 2010
The Tide is Out
An evening walk on the beach following graduation and all the related activities allowed me to take what I think are some beautiful pictures. The tide was out, although some of these boats definitely did not appear seaworthy. Kathy, Becky, and I are showing a little attitude in the last picture. Well, I might be the only one with attitude but we all tried. Kelly was trying to tell us something historical about the monument in this background, something about Pico De Gallo or maybe it was that in 1492 Vasco Da Gama errected this monument crowned by a Christian cross. Either way, since that time no Bible school has ever been held in Malindi...until now. Yea God!
Bible School Graduation Ceremony
The last week of school is winding down and the widely anticipated graduation ceremony was held today (Saturday, October 2). Pastors and their families came from short and long distances to participate. Everyone, including the children, was dressed in their Sunday best. One pastor located some black caps and gowns with blue hoods for the graduates to borrow – a true luxury.They gathered at a church to robe up and have photos taken – another luxury. By 9:00 a.m. the sun was just plain hot and all the shady spots were jammed with robed graduates. These eager people marched one kilometer through the streets of Malindi with friends and family surrounding them. The sounds of horns and cheering could be heard from a distance. This graduation is a big deal here. They even had to get a permit from the police to hold the “parade.”
The town hall was packed with well-wishers. Fans whirred from every corner. Over 450 people were in attendance for the 26 graduating pastors. Kelly and Kathy went to great lengths to attend to the details that will make this occasion special for each individual pastor. The ceremony was an almost exact replica of one from America: Introductions, singing, a guest speaker, the conferring of the diplomas, and moving the tassel. There was one exception that really made this occassion very moving.After the diplomas were conferred, friends and family began coming to the graduates who were seated in the front two rows. They brought gifts, signs, flowers, and some small money to put into the hands of these most beloved family members. This gifting went on for some time until hugs, photos, and dancing took over every area on the main floor. This is the time when I could really feel the presence of the Holy Spirit along with a little self-centered sadness. I quickly joined in the dancing to the welcoming of Pastor Njuguna and some of his congregation.
Wow, what a momentous occasion and I got to participate!
Pastor Interviews
All of the pastors in the Bible School warmly welcomed me. Their handshakes and smiles were so sweet and genuine. Their hearts were open and they almost glowed with excitement.
I had the opportunity to talk to several graduating pastors after classes finished, while we enjoyed the goat. Without exception each pastor said with great conviction that their lives and their churches had already been changed as a result of the Bible School in a Briefcase program. They commented that the teachings were so practical and that they could see change in their church members already. These comments were not just the polite comments made by appreciative pastors, but they were eager, enthusiastic, and absolute proclamations.
One common refrain was the invitation to remain in Malindi, Kenya so as to continue providing more Bible Schools and more training. Fortunately, the team will return in October to do a women’s conference and to have the pastor’s do a study on the book of Daniel. Kelly definitely has a special something that draws these pastors to him and engenders loyalty and commitment to the program and to changing lives for Christ.
I’m even sad not to be back with these kind pastors to participate in developing deeper relationships with them and their churches. I am not surprised that I continue to find the people in Africa so charming and lovely.
I had the opportunity to talk to several graduating pastors after classes finished, while we enjoyed the goat. Without exception each pastor said with great conviction that their lives and their churches had already been changed as a result of the Bible School in a Briefcase program. They commented that the teachings were so practical and that they could see change in their church members already. These comments were not just the polite comments made by appreciative pastors, but they were eager, enthusiastic, and absolute proclamations.
One common refrain was the invitation to remain in Malindi, Kenya so as to continue providing more Bible Schools and more training. Fortunately, the team will return in October to do a women’s conference and to have the pastor’s do a study on the book of Daniel. Kelly definitely has a special something that draws these pastors to him and engenders loyalty and commitment to the program and to changing lives for Christ.
I’m even sad not to be back with these kind pastors to participate in developing deeper relationships with them and their churches. I am not surprised that I continue to find the people in Africa so charming and lovely.
Friday, October 1, 2010
Kill the Goat
An apparent tradition in the school is to kill a goat and share that meal on the last day of school. I’ve been seeing goats alongside the road in Uganda and I’ve even enjoyed a few meals of goat meat and stew…but knowing exactly which goat I am eating…well…that’s another story all together. This goat appeared on my plate as a delicious and tender stew. Yum!
It Should Have Been Me
As the Bible school came to a close, the final teaching was about the Passion of Christ. Kelly told the familiar story in a way that so touched me on this particular day. I admit that the brutal story often brings tears to my eyes, but when Kelly reminded me that it should have been me on that cross tears ran down my face. I should be the one to pay for my own sins. I should be the one to suffer and die.
Would you be willing to send your child to death to save someone else’s child? To be honest, I’m not sure I would…as a matter of fact, I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t. What parent doesn’t believe that their kids are the end all? That they would do ANYTHING to protect their children? I’m sure God felt this way about his Son too…yet he still sent him to die for me. I cannot even fathom such a gift. Not even close. It should have been me!
Praise God for such a sacrifice that has more meaning to me today than ever before. Because of that enormous gift, I will get to see Rick again. I have the hope of seeing everyone I love again. I will see Jesus, the great comforter. How can I ever thank him?
Would you be willing to send your child to death to save someone else’s child? To be honest, I’m not sure I would…as a matter of fact, I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t. What parent doesn’t believe that their kids are the end all? That they would do ANYTHING to protect their children? I’m sure God felt this way about his Son too…yet he still sent him to die for me. I cannot even fathom such a gift. Not even close. It should have been me!
Praise God for such a sacrifice that has more meaning to me today than ever before. Because of that enormous gift, I will get to see Rick again. I have the hope of seeing everyone I love again. I will see Jesus, the great comforter. How can I ever thank him?
Training Pastors
Kelly takes his responsibility for training pastors very seriously, but he does this training with such humor. The pastors all seem to respond to him in a positive way, which is surely one of the many reasons this program has been so successful. Finding teachers who exude this same passion, humor, knowledge, and love – not to mention a willingness to live and teach in Africa – can be challenging. To expand the ministry, more teachers with these and many other skills are needed.
Are you qualified and are you willing?
Are you qualified and are you willing?
Bible School in a Briefcase
Written and taught by Kelly Johnson of Biblical Life Ministries, Bible School in a Briefcase is one of many ministry endeavors the organization facilitates. This Christ for the Nations certified curriculum is literally taken in a briefcase to pastors in outlying areas of Kenya. Like Uganda, pastors of more remote areas are often assigned that role because of some gifting and passion…not because of a formal education or theological expertise or because of any formally consigned designation. To ensure these pastors are better equipped to deliver the Gospel to their followers, Bible School in a Briefcase was developed.
Just think about this…some of the most remote people groups are on the continent of Africa. Training pastors from outlying villages increases the likelihood that they will in turn reach the unreached. How cool is that!
The groundwork to be laid in preparation for such a school is enormous, but the lifelong relationships developed as a result make all the work worthwhile. The curriculum is designed to be taught for one intense week each month for 10 months. Dozens of pastors come to worship, to receive teaching, and to fellowship with pastors among a number of tribes. Keep in mind that these tribes have not always been friendly toward one another. However, the teaching method Kelly uses helps unite these people and thus has the potential to change entire relationships between formerly hostile tribes. Again…how cool is that!
My role this week is to observe (and very likely ask lots of questions) the school and ministry in action. The result will be finalizing a strategic framework to help this ministry grow and thrive.
Just think about this…some of the most remote people groups are on the continent of Africa. Training pastors from outlying villages increases the likelihood that they will in turn reach the unreached. How cool is that!
The groundwork to be laid in preparation for such a school is enormous, but the lifelong relationships developed as a result make all the work worthwhile. The curriculum is designed to be taught for one intense week each month for 10 months. Dozens of pastors come to worship, to receive teaching, and to fellowship with pastors among a number of tribes. Keep in mind that these tribes have not always been friendly toward one another. However, the teaching method Kelly uses helps unite these people and thus has the potential to change entire relationships between formerly hostile tribes. Again…how cool is that!
My role this week is to observe (and very likely ask lots of questions) the school and ministry in action. The result will be finalizing a strategic framework to help this ministry grow and thrive.
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