Saturday, April 24, 2010

Something From Nothing

After a major fiasco of a garage sale when we moved back to the states several years ago, I refused to ever hold a garage sale again. We had puzzle pieces and straight pins all over the lawn, people dickering over the 25-cent price tag on a lead crystal vase, and women pulling on items of clothing they wanted like they would in a Black Friday sale on a B movie.

No more garage sales.

The problem is, what do I do with all the stuff I'm taking out of my house. Most of it goes to the church garage sale where it will be converted into cash to purchase supplies to build houses in Mexico. I'll even go work at this sale--that doesn't bother me. It's having MY stuff aired in front of the world that I can't stand.

I took 3 boxes of books out today, crossed a couple of bridges and found the Powells warehouse. Picture a warehouse full of bookshelves, books on every shelf, with a busy little army of Northwesterners pushing cartloads of books up and down the aisles to be shelved. One of 6 warehouses that feeds the Powells physical and online stores, it was a bibliophile's delight.

Only the books in the warehouse are not for sale... at least not at that location. If you want to handle to books, you have to visit one of their stores.

I walked into the warehouse with 3 boxes of books and walked out with 1 box and a Powells card loaded with $98.

Mission accomplished. Anyone want to go to Powells?

Tuesday, April 20, 2010

Purging

I've finally come to grips with the fact that we are in this house to stay. So, instead of dreaming of how to increase our floor space, I'm decreasing our belongings...

Starting with books.

15 apple boxes full of books have made their way off the shelves so far... 5 for storage, 4 for the church garage sale, 3 for used book stores, and 3 boxes of homeschool books to sell to younger families.

I know I'll miss some of these books. I'll hunt for them and won't be able to find them. But then, I've been doing that already. It seems when there's a book I really need to lay my hands on, it's gone into permanent hiding. At least now I can blame my purge instead of my memory loss.

Tuesday, April 13, 2010

Henri Matisse is Dead

This probably doesn't come as a surprise to you since the French artist passed away in 1954. But for those of you who haven't met him, Henri Matisse (Henry, for short) was also the name of my youngest daughter's beta fish.

He lived a long and happy life... for a fish.

I'm not sure if it's a sign that we're raising the girl right or a sign that she is heartless, but the mourning period lasting about 22 seconds. Then the shovel came out and she picked the perfect spot to bury him, right beside the 2 frogs she had for about a day last summer. She didn't even flinch when she shoveled the dirt over that ever-open eyeball.

I don't think I could have done it. I'm sure someone else in the family always officiated over my hamsters' funerals while I sobbed into my handkerchief. I remember moping through a whole day of school (3rd grade) when Fluffy died. (And using his untimely death as an excuse for not participating in class activities.)

It's been almost an hour now.

She's campaigning for another pet.

Monday, April 12, 2010

Pavlov and Turkey in the Straw

The ice cream truck just went by, singing Turkey in the Straw at the top of its electronic lungs. Kids from miles around hear the song and, instantly, their mouths start to water. Nothing could taste better on a barely warm spring day than a Sponge Bob Push-up, drastically overpriced at $2 a pop.

"It's the ice cream man," they shout, scrambling for their own money or begging their mothers for some. They flock to the street, waiting to satisfy the craving they didn't even know they had.

I keep a constant supply of fudge bars and twin pops in the freezer for just such an occasion. For the same price as indulging a momentary craving for a minute, I can fill the same craving in all my kids for a week or more.

I don't respond to Pavlov's call. Not when it sings "Turkey in the Straw" (which I find immensely annoying). I must admit, though, that the theme song for the NPR news quiz makes me want to take a walk. And I suspect they put the milk at Safeway right by the donut case for a reason.

How 'bout you? Do you have any pre-conditioned responses?

Wednesday, April 07, 2010

Where in the World?


A handful of you will know where I've been and perhaps the same number will know why.
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Thursday, April 01, 2010

Butterfly Kisses


This butterfly must have recognized this as a child who loves flying creatures. Owls, bats, juncos- even starlings- all flying things deserve to be fed, admired, and studied. She caught a glimpse of a crow carrying nesting materials this afternoon and ran inside to write it down. The great blue heron, the chickadee and the bald eagle have earned their spots in her life list book. Everything but flies and bees are to admired and encouraged.

She deserves a butterfly kiss.

photo credit: Aunt Dana

Tuesday, March 23, 2010

Go with God

It doesn't take as long as you'd imagine to get used to being in a new place. After a few minutes, you stop flinching when cars pass you on the "wrong" side of the street. Funny signs seem normal and the way things are done are the way things are done. New flavors become the norm and the body adjusts to temperature and time zone.

We've been back in the States a couple of weeks now and the memories of our voyage are already fading. I think God must design us this way, to adapt to where we are and let the places we've come from recede in our memories if not in our hearts. How else could we survive? Otherwise, we'd be pining away for the places we are not.

My heartfelt thanks to all those who helped make our trip possible. Your participation in God's timing was a great reminder to me of how things beyond my control are never beyond His control. Many thanks also to the Koonces, Crowsons, Hammonds and Crockers, the Martins and Cashes, Kibi and his family, Charles and all the others who opened their homes and lives to us.

Wherever you go, go with God.
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Tuesday, March 16, 2010

Strangers in a Strange Land


Can you imagine being displaced from your home, being driven from the land and the country and the family you love to a new country? Angelique doesn't have to imagine it--she's living it. Far from the people she loves, in a country where no one speaks her language, she can't even find the ingredients to cook the foods she loves and has to settle for the blander fare of Uganda.

She and I made an instant connection the first time I visited her home, both of us thrilled to find we shared a language and were able to speak and pray together in French. Both of us strangers in a strange land who found a connection in our foreign-ness. At church the next day, when the whole congregation split into groups to pray together, she was left sitting in middle of the room, alone. Edwin nudged me to go pray with her, so I did again.

The topic of prayer was "what has God done in your life to show you his goodness?" A tough question for her, I thought, since I already knew part of her story, about her health problems that kept her in the hospital for months and about how her daughter that came to care for her died on Christmas Day.

She didn't hesitate, though, to share the goodness of God. "He's healed me," she said. "Before, I was so sick, needing care and medicine all the time. Now, it is like I am healed. I can take care of my family again."

We spent a day with her and, as we left, she hugged me and begged me not to come back and see her, perhaps to move to the Congo and work with her, planting seeds for God's kingdom and--above all--to not forget her.

Don't worry, Angelique, I won't forget.
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Saturday, March 13, 2010

He Did Not Meet My Expectations

On the news this week, they announced a program in which Congo residents can trade in a contraband weapon for $50. The problem?--They can turn around and buy another one on the black market for $25. So foreign aid agencies can fund the war with a 2 for 1 special.

With stories like this one, or stories about how ebola and AIDS were born in the jungles on the Congo (formerly Zaire) and spread along its trade routes, you can see why I harbored some pre-conceived ideas about what people from that vast country might be like. Not that I knew I held these prejudices (I honestly don't think much about the Congo in my daily life) until I met someone from there who blew away any idea of what that country and its people must be like.

Meet Kibi.

He lives with his wife and family in western Uganda. He's a refugee, a history professor, and one of the best Bible teachers I've ever met. His wisdom comes from study--sure--but more so from his collection of difficult life experiences. Not that he brought it up or dwelt on it, but Kibi and his family have been displaced from their home. They had to leave their house, their possessions, their jobs, their family.

They gave up everything they had for a chance at safety.

Three times.

He's had to fight for legal status in Uganda so he could get a job and, now that he has one, the school does not pay him what they owe. He keeps working, hoping they will eventually straighten out their finances and give him his back pay. But he's philosophical about it. At least he's got an employment record for the future if the money never pans out.

You'd think that kind of life would make you bitter, or drive you to despair. With Kibi, though, I got the sense that it made him stronger in his faith, that it gives him a constant reminder or where home really is. I watched his affection and patience toward his 4-year old grandson who he will raise as his own since the boy's mother died. Her last wish to her father was that he would teach the child to know Jesus just as he had taught her. I don't think I've ever seen another man in Africa treat a child so tenderly.

God doesn't look at the outside of a man, but at his heart. If God ever hosted a beauty contest, I have a feeling this humble man from the Congo would be a contender.
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Wednesday, March 10, 2010

From the Land of Good Stuff

A box of Oreos. A jar of parmesan cheese. A bag of Craisins.

Simple pleasures, but when they come as gifts of love from back home, they can lift your spirits.

One of the funnest parts of our trips was presenting each of the families we visited with a suitcase full of goodies from home--205 pounds in all.

Members from our church pitched in everything from Kool-aid packets to homemade pillowcases, golf balls to bath gels, Tillamook cheese and a whole lot of goodies from Trader Joe's.

Goldfish crackers for the kiddos. Dark chocolate for the mommies. And a special favorite for everyone: York Peppermint Patties.

Thanks to our church family for helping us take the taste of home to loved ones far away.
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Sunday, March 07, 2010

Getting There

We arrived 15 minutes before our 4:45 a.m. bus departure, but where was the green bus that was supposed to take us to Mbarara? Nowhere in sight. The only bus outside in the parking lot was already pulling away.

It turns out that just because you purchase a ticket on one bus line at a specified time doesn't mean much at all. We hopped on the bus that was pulling away. The more stops we made as we circled through Kigali and out into the countryside, the more I realized that everyone but us understood how the bus "schedule" works in Rwanda.

Instead of a direct line north, we were stuck on the milk run, the bus that stopped at every "station" and bench along the roadside. We didn't even cross the border into Uganda at the correct crossing. Instead, we ended up at a small outpost at the end of the pavement. We dashed from Rwanda to Uganda in a downpour so fierce it took days for my sweatshirt to dry. The books I carried at the bottom of my basket will never be the same.

As we sped along the slippery mud roads that clung to the side of mountains, I reminded myself, "The bus driver does this all the time and he's not dead yet." No one else seemed to mind--no one but Edwin, who flinched every time he looked down the aisle out the front window at oncoming cars, bikes, and pedestrians. I looked out the side window at banana plantations, fruit stands, and an extraordinary number of cell phone businesses in what certainly felt like the middle of nowhere.

When we finally reached pavement, I had to laugh at the first sign I saw. Hand-painted on the front of a building... "Thank the Holy Spirit Merciful God Design Company." Amen to that. The store owner must have named his business after taking the bus.

In Mbarara, we looked for a connecting bus to Fort Portal. No luck. It had already gone. We ended up in a matatu instead, East Africa's taxi alternative.

The joke goes like this:

How many people can you fit in a matatu?

Answer: One more.

And they did. 9 on my row including this boy who sat on my lap against his better judgment. Up to 26 in all in the narrow Toyota van. The more people you can cram inside, the more the driver and his conductor make.

Despite being wet and squished, it was a good day. First up over the mountains where tea plantations stretch in ribbons of brilliant green over one hill and then the next. Then down into a valley so flat and lush I imagined dinosaurs roaming its basin. We didn't see dinosaurs there, but did catch glimpses of elephants, buffalo, impala, storks, and a baboon who barely lost a game of chicken with our taxi. Start and stop, start and stop, over a thousand or more speed bumps and into Fort Portal just in time for dinner.
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Monday, March 01, 2010

Radio Silence

We taxied up to Fort Portal, Uganda, on Friday - a definite African experience, but we arrived none the worse for wear. Internet here is slow and the house we're at doesn't have wireless, so I don't plan to blog again until we return the the States.

Watch for a new post on Saturday. Meanwhile, pray for the work in Fort Portal.

Thursday, February 25, 2010

Death and Life

Yesterday we visited two of the hundreds of genocide memorials that dot the Rwandan countryside. It was a necessary part of our visit here to help us understand and remember what people went through, what people did to strangers and neighbors.

Both sites we visited were Catholic churches. In the years leading up to the events of 1994, there was a series of attacks. At that time, people would flee for refuge in churches and find haven there. In April of '94, the strategy was to wait for people to gather in churches and slaughter them there. The first site we visited was a grave for 6000, the second for 5000. I found myself taking pictures of the horror, using the camera as a buffer between myself and the pain.

NEVER AGAIN read the sign outside one of the buildings. That is our hope, but it already happening again... in the Sudan and in other places around the world.

On our return to Kigali, we were greeted with happy news. On this same day that we chose to remember so many deaths, a new life was just beginning. Cy Shelby, 6 lbs even, is the newest member of the team of missionaries working in Kigali.

Like a phoenix from the ashes, new life springs up in the place of death. And hope for a better future is born.

Tuesday, February 23, 2010

Love in Any Language

We sat next to John on Sunday morning and he passed us notes throughout the sermon to interpret what was being said. His translations were well-worded and thought provoking.

The preacher spoke at an impossible pace in Kinyarwandan. Every millionth word, John wrote a short note. The preacher's not a full-time church worker. He spends his weeks working for a Christian organization training people to pray intercessory prayers for Rwanda.

His message, in a nutshell, was this:

Jesus did not wait until he was on the cross to pray. He gathered his disciples with him and prayed before the time of trouble arrived. We must not wait until we are desperate for help before we start talking to God. Now is the time to begin.
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Sunday, February 21, 2010

Heart of the City

The center of African life is the marketplace. Whether an outdoor market with piles of beans and vegetables and fruit, like this one, or the big new supermarkets like Naccumat, people meet and interact where commerce takes place.

At the market, I was once again surprised by the difference between the people of Rwanda and those of Togo. For the most part, I was allowed to wander through the market, looking, smelling, even taking pictures without being disturbed.

Down in the tourist end of the market, vendors beckoned, but didn't press. No one shoved carvings in my face or begged me not to steal food from their children's mouths by refusing to buy from them.

Long tables stacked with food, piles of banana stalks, floor-to-ceiling booths of household goods - the market scene can't be too different from what Jesus encountered in the temple courtyard. He lashed out in anger for he saw the hearts of men and the ways they had turned away from true worship. I wonder what he sees when he looks into the hearts of people here... or (for that matter) into my heart.


Thursday, February 18, 2010

By the Bootstraps

One of the most remarkable things about Rwanda is how much progress it is making toward taking care of itself. Granted, there are a lot (I mean a LOT) of NGOs and foreign aid programs here. Many of them focus on vulnerable women, others on orphans of the genocide. World Vision, Unicef, Save the Children - if you can name an aid organization, they are probably here.

These ladies are making the baskets that are sold at Macy's all across the U.S. They do beautiful handiwork and are learning a skill that will serve them well. Others are learning sewing skills, others English, and a huge population is working on mastering computer programming, hoping to make Rwanda the technology center of the continent.

The streets are spotless here and the appearance of things seems to be of utmost importance. It is impossible to see in only a few days whether the facade is hiding another reality, but I see in the eyes of the people a great reserve, even sadness.

At this basket shop, I met a woman from near my hometown. She has been building schools here for several years and she had this to say: "Don't plan things that are too easy. You need to dream up impossible dreams, for the people of Rwanda have proved time and time again that they can pull off the impossible."
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Tuesday, February 16, 2010

First Impressions

The city of Kigali is set on a series of hills which divert both traffic and rainclouds in confusing patterns from here to there. Main roads are wide and nice, cobbled roads are serviceable and neighborhood roads remind me that this is still Africa. Rutted red dirt paths wreak havoc on shock absorbers, if you’re lucky enough to have any.

Rain fell yesterday, a light lazy day rain in early afternoon that pattered against the corrugated tin roof next door… a heavier cloudburst in the later afternoon that sent us racing for the car and made the school kids smell like a tumbling litter of wet puppies. Today's rain didn't waste time on sprinkling. We had to shout to make ourselves heard under the metal roof of the ATN (Africa Transformation Network).

We spent the morning at the ATN office where Louise co-teaches a quilting class. They are in the beginning stages of imagining and planning how to best transfer skills to the ladies who come that will add value to the skills they already have. In other words, the class is supposed to give them a new, more readily marketable skill. In this case, they’re teaching quilting in the hopes that the ladies will be able to make a sell quilts. The ideal would be to create a market among Rwandans and not depend on tourist money, but they’re not there yet.

Sunday, February 14, 2010

Between Two Worlds

Amsterdam's snow is left behind and the African sky stretches ahead. Even suspended at 35,000 feet above Ethiopia, with the dry landscape shrouded under a blanket of clouds, I wonder at the sunset, a thin strip of orange that deepens to red then blue then black. The first stars appear and then, the Southern Cross.

Waves of emotion wash over me as I realize this trip is real. My sandals will soon tread through the red soil of a continent that is as much a part of me as the blood in my veins.

When I step off the plane into the jetway at the Nairobi airport, I am greeted by the faint smells of human sweat and duty free liquor. I pull my roller bag through the narrow arced corridor, purposely slowing my steps to match those around me. No one is in a hurry here.

I wait for my flight, letting the sounds of a dozen languages wash past me. My ears perk up at the music of language that could be English, but isn't. It's not important for me to understand, though. They're not speaking to me.

No one knows me here.

Friday, February 12, 2010

Leavin' on a Jet Plane

All my bags are packed, I'm ready to go...

Excited? Yes.

Nervous? A little.

Ready? You betcha.

The hardest part about leaving? I'll miss my kids.

But I'll be back, full of stories and hope and experiences and dreams for God's people around the world.

Check back every few days for updates and photos.

Saturday, February 06, 2010

In Business












It's official! I'm up and running on my new nook, thanks to my family who gave it to me for Christmas and my dad (who shall remain nameless) who gave me an ebook gift card to get me started.

First official downloads?

Anne of Green Gables
The Holy Bible (NIV)
Notre Dame de Paris
Food Rules
Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society

I'm nothing if not eclectic.