Koinonia

goodbyes

2012-01-23T23:20:00.002-06:00

...started tonight. But this time around, in the shadow of the news of a good family friend who yesterday lost a baby that was almost full term...cord tied in a knot. The sickening feeling during the trip to the ER with no movement from the little one inside...the world shattering news of no heartbeat. the painful and grief filled ordeal of the labor of a stillborn baby girl. Her name is Darcy. Her dear mom and dad held her and said goodbye, before they even had a chance to say hello...I can't even begin to imagine.

Oh how thankful I am to have had the opportunity to know, to be with, to be known by, to laugh with, to cry with those that I will say goodbye to this week and next. What an honor and privilege this life is...this life of hellos and goodbyes. They are meant to be experienced in that order. And each one is a gift.

So, as I mourn the loss of the daily presence of my dear brother, of dear friendships, I am reminded to also rejoice in the gift of the time I have been given with them. As I grieve in my goodbyes, I also grieve with my friends, these friends and many others, in their deep loss of even a hello.

hit the ground running

2012-01-22T23:02:00.004-06:00

hm. how'd that happen? yesterday I was up until about now packing for 3 weeks in Colorado...training and skiing. sweaters and balaclava's. this evening I landed on a Southwest flight back in foggy St. Louis, arrived home, dropped those bags back on the floor and within the hour began the 3 loads of laundry from the 3 weeks of travel...or at least it seems that way. where in the world did the last 3 weeks go?!?!

tonight was a flurry of activity here in the Lutjens' residence on Etzel. I stepped foot on the ground here in Missouri and back into my preparations for Africa and Jeff stepped back into preparations for Haiti. It's kinda nice not to be the only one preparing to leave the country :) I was setting aside skirts and sandals and cookbooks, printing financial documents, packing up school books and ski clothes. The Giants - 49ers game was on in the living room as Jeff made trips out to the back yard to burn confidential/personal papers that had been accumulating, paying bills, printing travel documents and instructions, investigating photo transfer options, and somewhere in the mix there was a "dinner" of sorts...

one more week in St. Louis. Strange mix of daunting ("how in the world did the time fly by?" and "oh my goodness will everything get done?" and "oh dear, the goodbyes.") and relieving ("let's get this show on the road!" and "I can't wait to have all these details taken care of, decisions made, things packed, and just get there already!").

The old spiritual comes to mind -

"I want Jesus, to walk with me...all along my pilgrim journey,
Lord I want Jesus, to walk with me..."

"your brain is bigger than you think!"

2012-01-11T17:42:00.004-06:00

On a blustery and snowy day in Colorado, this is the view out the window where I am writing from. My favorite time of day = dusk, and the mountains and the snow are magnificent and mysterious. Language is also magnificent and mysterious - and the exact purpose for which I am here. "So how's your Juba Arabic coming?" you might ask. It isn't. "So you're doing what for 2 weeks?"

PILAT = Program In Language Acquisition Techniques

We are not learning a language, we are learning how to learn a language. Still vague? fricatives and stops and flapped r's vs. trilled r's - was that a voiceless K or a G? low to mid tone or mid to high? Put this picture of a potato on top of the picture of a frying pan and mimic the sentence your helper has said in Hindi for "I fry the potato." Then put the picture of "you" on top of the potato on top of the frying pan and mimic the sentence your helper gives you for "you fry the potato." And on and on. Lots of phoenetics - learning to make new sounds, learning to hear the often very subtle differences in sounds made in other languages - in other words: ear training. Or learning to listen and glean from your language helper what order words go in a sentence by simply listening to several different versions of very similar sentences: method training. Oh, the word for "give" that I just used in your language is insulting in this context? Hm, that's what the dictionary told me to say, but let me see if I can understand what the feeling/sense of this word for "give" is as compared to another word you might have for "give"...you mean you have 7 words for give? oh, you mean pants and trousers are different here? :)

It's exhausting, its fascinating, it's intriguing, it's frustrating...it's good.

One of the biggest things the program thus far has accomplished for me is helping me realize just how big the wall I've built between me and language learning is. "I'm never going to really be able to communicate with the woman I find myself sitting next to in church in Mundri. It's going to be so hard to find a language helper, and I'm never going to be able to structure my time or be disciplined enough to do this well, I'm going to get frustrated and resign myself to situations in which I can get by in english."

That's where this phrase about the surprising size of your brain comes in. It really has been surprising how much I can retain from one step to the next in these projects we're being exposed to. It has been surprising how many new sounds I can learn to make with my mouth. It has been surprising to realize that I haven't lost my intrigue with words, with communicating, with the puzzle that is another language. I am encouraged. And I hope to plaster these phrases of encouragement around my dukul in Mundri (hope that's okay, Larissa!) so as not to despair when it gets really hard and I don't seem to be making any progress. If I go into this endeavor with my mind made up that I will fail, I will fail. Lord knows, I don't want to fail.

"Lord give me grace in this. And help me trust you to do it."

~ Learn another language. Gain another soul. ~

fleeting moments...

2011-12-28T21:41:00.003-06:00

the tick tock of the clock is significantly louder this week.

When I leave monday for Colorado, I will only return to St. Louis for a week before leaving for good. Commence craziness.

"How are you feeling about leaving?" a friend asks..."depends on the moment" I answer.

...at the bike shop today as the man very kindly tells me I should consider a TRAILER instead of a front basket, I leave with his very thoughtful and earnest recommendations scrawled on a piece of paper and without the basket that I came for, because, well, I just couldn't really handle another thing to explain. Do you ever have those seasons? Where you really just want to be able to smile and nod and go with the flow, but your circumstances don't really allow for that?...

...at the computer when I can't really remember how to spell the word "color"...does it have a "u"? two "l"s? an "e" maybe? I seriously tried typing it about 4 times before I settled on no u, one l, and no e...ay yi yi...

...at the bank when I accomplish 6 important tasks in about 20 minutes (wuh hoo!!!)...chatting with Rashad, the guy at the bank who knows me by name...and my mom...and dad...and well, the whole family to be exact...realizing I'm kissing such familiarity goodbye...in full awareness that the efficiency will not be waiting for me on the other end of my plane rides, hoping that at least there might be some familiarity some day...

...at the store when my heart sinks because the man behind the counter tells me he just sold the last of the thing I came for and that I'd need to go somewhere else to find it...nooooooooo!...not really looking for things to ADD to my to-do list at this point...

...when I think about not being able to have my brother walk in the door and greet me with his ever cheery smile at the end of the day...

...looking at pictures of what will be my room in, well, 2 months' time, when I finally arrive in Mundri, South Sudan....eeek! yay!

...reading blogs of teammates old and new, stateside and Africa-side, finding my heart falling in sync with their experiences...

...when I pick up brand spankin' new US dollar bills at the bank that will one day be exchanged for South Sudanese Pounds!!!...

...as I start to pack for language acquisition training in Colorado, where I will hopefully stock up on techniques and confidence for the intimidating task of learning a language without a class or a book...hopeful...

and those were all today...

brain constipation

2011-11-11T21:26:00.003-06:00

come on!? you know what I mean, right? it's the feeling when you just have so much going on up there that none of it comes out quite right? and then you get to the point where you're not sure how to make it come out at all!?!

(see heidi, you go off and say these kinds of things in public forums and then you wonder why people kind of turn and look the other way when passing you in the hall at school or work!...there's always a reason heidi, always a reason)

my excuse? I just got home from another 12 hour shift of craziness...and I spend those 12 hours in a setting in which such topics are lunch conversation...but people, from time to time, let me in on the fact that not everyone in the world does...so let's just hope you're not eating lunch...or any other meal for that matter...

but really, on an entirely serious note - this is a real problem! I have got so many different kinds of things swirling around in my head, its totally ludicrous. How do people with any kind of a reasonably sized world view make it through everyday without their heads exploding like a go-lytely clean out? i mean really, folks?! just to name a few:

the question of how do we know what we know? reason? testimony? faith?
the question of how to translate the knowledge of high and low context cultures into a genuinely changed day to day experience of life in a high context culture as a low context person?!?!
trying to imagine the immense responsibility and love that parents with chronically ill children live in every single day...blows my categories for/experience of such things wide open...
and what about parents of chronically well children?!?! raising. a. human. being. - or more than one. it really is a miracle that any of us survive childhood...
what is the best way for a person to manage money across oceans?
can a reasonable human being in their right mind actually purchase a ONE WAY plane ticket to east africa that has in huge capital letters at the bottom NONREFUNDABLE - knowing that that return ticket won't be purchased for another five years trusting that what awaits them is nothing more than best for them in that time?! this is craziness people. and at the same time, TOTALLY the most sane thing in the world. but sometimes not exactly at the same time...
what is a single woman to do with the Song of Solomon? just askin'. read it. it's totally the makings of a movie without ratings. let alone respond with a 2 page paper including the assessment of what this part of scripture means for my head/heart/and hands?!?! you've gotta be kidding me. but no. totally not kidding. it's definitely an important question. just not sure at all how to answer it.
the job crisis. I am asking friends and family to give me money that I might go work in another country when a lot of those friends are struggling to make money in their own country, feed their own families...seems preposterous at times.
what do we do as a country to provide well for each other...really...what does that look like? then how are we to think about how we might be involved as a country in the lives of our fellow citizens of the world?!
what about the people in this little place in NY that have increased rates of cancer in their area because local industrial plants avoid the regulators who come to assess among other things their environmental output performance and dump tons of crap into the air...and how many other parts of the world in which this is the case they just have no idea yet...who advocates for them?
I love and believe in a Person I cannot see.........whaaaat?!
how to answer the mom who insists that there must be a way to prevent the illness that repetitively affects her son...I'm a nurse and I'm not so sure she's right...I'm not sure there is always a preventative option, or a solution for that matter...but needless to say, she didn't really like that answer.

and it goes on and on and on...

maybe the solution to avoiding back up with the likes of these and dozens of others, is a little something like a dose of miralax everyday...writing more often, praying more often, reading scripture more often, talking more often, asking questions more often? I'm not sure what my "miralax is" on this side of the pond...but something must be done...

maybe it's an introvert thing...maybe you extroverts are reading this incredulously wondering why in the world all this is rattling around in a person's head...not as easy as you might think.

or maybe I should take a dose of my own medicine...maybe there isn't anything that can be done...maybe it's just a part of who I am, how God wired me...put THAT in your pipe and smoke it...yikes.

Has this always been there?!?

2011-10-12T21:28:00.004-05:00

"And Jethro, Moses’ father-in-law, brought a burnt offering and sacrifices to God; and Aaron came with all the elders of Israel to eat bread with Moses’ father-in-law before God.
The next day Moses sat to judge the people, and the people stood around Moses from morning till evening. When Moses’ father-in-law saw all that he was doing for the people, he said, "What is this that you are doing for the people? Why do you sit alone, and all the people stand around you from morning till evening?" And Moses said to his father-in-law, "Because the people come to me to inquire of God; when they have a dispute, they come to me and I decide between one person and another, and I make them know the statutes of God and his laws." Moses’ father-in-law said to him, "What you are doing is not good. You and the people with you will certainly wear yourselves out, for the thing is too heavy for you. You are not able to do it alone. Now obey my voice; I will give you advice, and God be with you! You shall represent the people before God and bring their cases to God, and you shall warn them about the statutes and the laws, and make them know the way in which they must walk and what they must do. Moreover, look for able men from all the people, men who fear God, who are trustworthy and hate a bribe, and place such men over the people as chiefs of thousands, of hundreds, of fifties, and of tens. And let them judge the people at all times. Every great matter they shall bring to you, but any small matter they shall decide themselves. So it will be easier for you, and they will bear the burden with you. If you do this, God will direct you, you will be able to endure, and all this people also will go to their place in peace."
So Moses listened to the voice of his father-in-law and did all that he had said. Moses chose able men out of all Israel and made them heads over the people, chiefs of thousands, of hundreds, of fifties, and of tens. And they judged the people at all times. Any hard case they brought to Moses, but any small matter they decided themselves. Then Moses let his father-in-law depart, and he went away to his own country."
Exodus 18:12-27
It's like it just appeared out of no where...In 32 years as a Christian/in the church I don't think I'd ever read this chapter, or heard it or any kind of teaching about it. In one sense, I am not surprised. We don't take very kindly to Jethro's advice in the church...why is that? We could use a little more "and they will bear the burden with you" in our lives...a few more Jethro's-observant enough to take notice and strong/compassionate enough to do something about it...talk about leadership...

Vancouver, BC

2011-10-07T21:56:00.017-05:00

What a city! So happy Sarah and Harald gave me an excuse to visit this beautiful corner of the world. Sarah (a nursing school friend) and Harald (her new German husband) married last Saturday - a cool overcast day - but inside their small church was a beautiful example of God's blessings. lovely and simply done - communicating well the lives of the people we celebrated. A few reflections on the city these two call home (for now):

a international population with a european feel
coffee shops really are on every corner independently retail is the name of the entrepreneurial game - from coffee shops to grocery stores and restaurants - few chains.
most peculiar traffic signals and patterns (flashing arrows?! everywhere. pedestrians?! everywhere. stop lights with only stop signs on the cross streets?! everywhere. The MOST sensitive and reactive crosswalk buttons EVER. Press the button, count to 5 and the light changes. no joke. makes for pedestrian heaven and drivers'...well....challenge...)
everyone is outside with or without kids no matter the weather - sunshine or drizzle.(many more men out with their kids than in the US)

logs that look like chopped off telephone poles in neatly arranged rows on the beaches....peculiar if you ask me...awful clean cut and organized for driftwood...the Canadian version of the beach towel? no idea...
very stingy with their parking...sheesh...maybe another one of those methods to encourage pedestrianism? if so the method is very effective.
stately forests in Stanley Park

calm cool deserted sands at Jericho Beach

stunning mountain and water views

a drive along the stunning Sea-to-Sky Highway from Vancouver to Squamish
Poutine - the heavy but tasty British Columbian traditional fare (fries with gravy and cheese) with their own delightful Pumpkineater Imperial brew at Howe Sound Brewery in Squamish
conversations with old friends over steaming hot chai to warm the soul
a return to the metric system...dividing the cost of gas sold in liters and Canadian dollars into gallons and American dollars...kph to mph to avoid becoming acquainted with the Canadian law enforcement system...
automated shampoo and body wash dispensers in the shower?!?! clearly I'm not the seasoned traveler everyone says I am...somehow I was a bit uncomfortable with technology moving into the solace of the shower...
pastors with chunky silver chains reading the text for their sermon from their smartphone...another first for sure, but the hip pastor preached a refreshingly honest and poignant sermon pointing out that so often we are afraid to believe - believe that God is who He says he is. Amen cool brother.

last but not least: Sarah and Harald of course - Sarah the compassionate, practical, creative, baker and cook, nurse and church staff person, Harald the smiling German architect outdoorsman and "thinker" (as his friends dubbed him)...a fabulous couple with wonderful families who know how to throw a fabulous party! BEST WEDDING FOOD EVER!

the woods: a soggy tale

2011-09-25T16:06:00.004-05:00

camping. me and camping have a somewhat sordid history. camping was one of those things growing up that my family was always really excited about....everyone except me. I think it was the annoyance of having to walk farther to the bathroom and cooking involved more work as did doing the dishes (most importantly as this was usually my job)...HA! city girl. See, the thing is, once we got there, I always had a BLAST! and life in Africa and camping have quite a bit in common, so I guess it's a good thing I found myself enjoying it :)

However, I digress.

My church here in St. Louis goes camping every September. This was the weekend and I was glad not to be scheduled for work. I packed up my food, my brother's sleeping bag and mat, several layers of clothes, piled it into my friend Katie's car and we drove to Rend Lake, IL. We made it before dark, ate our take-out while waiting for mom to arrive with the real gear. Then it started to rain. boo.

We helped others arriving to get their tents up quickly so they wouldn't be soaked before anyone even got in them...then they helped us set ours up when mom arrived in the dark. We piled our sleeping stuff into the tent and then pretty much went to sleep. It rained some more. On and off (mostly on) throughout the night.

Mom's grand plan of pancakes and coffee on her new birthday cookstove fell to the wayside when it was still raining as we crawled out of the soggy tent in the morning as the campsite chatter got to a point where it's just better to get out of bed than to wish the chattering people would go back to bed :)

The campground was overrun with puddles, so by the time I arrived at the pavilion where some had gathered to cook their breakfasts my pants and shoes were soggy. I began wondering if it was worth sticking around, what fun is camping if it rains the whole time...I finally owned up to the fact, out loud, that I have a hard time when things don't go like I hope they will, like they always have...it's called disappointment, I guess, isn't it?

But we stuck it out and the rain paused mid morning. You never know if the pause is a stop or just a pause do you? Tentatively people stood around the fire pit and the the fire began to grow, with various people chipping in kindling and matches and logs and heavy sharp objects for log splitting and so forth. People gathered around, pulled up camping chairs since the benches were soggy...not sure yet if they were committing to staying or just hanging around until the rain started again - wanting to stay but not sure if it was safe to hope - for fear of what? disappointment.

Most of us hung around and after a while, choosing not to leave means a default choice to stay.

Lunch happened, smores happened, reading happened, chatting happened, laughing happened, the fire continued to happen - then dinner happened, more smores happened, beer happened, holding precious friends' precious children happened, wine happened, singing happened, the fire continued to happen, question asking happened - conversation happened, debate happened, reminders of God's purposes happened, reminders of our failure to live out those purposes happened. And then it was time to sleep again.

Because of thoughts stimulated by our conversation around the fire, I crawled into my sleeping bag and before drifting off to Lilly White's party, I found myself praying. Maybe as an attempt to push back against the disappointment I had owned up to some of earlier, I found myself praying for a gift from God. I found myself praying, as I do from time to time that He might see fit to give me a husband. Crazy, I know. And it only gets crazier. I prayed that this man would be one who loves me, who respects me and who God has made me to be, who is willing to protect me, who is willing to fight back against my ridiculousness with strength and gentleness, who is willing to remind me of what (and Who) is True, who is willing to walk with me through disappointment (his and mine), who will compliment my strengths and weaknesses, and who is willing to lead...and that's as far as I got before...well, before I don't remember anymore...I didn't get to the part where I pray that I would be able to do mostly the same...but I'm sure that's what I would have said next.

Not long after, the rain started back up again. It continued through the night, and when I heard the hatchet splitting logs I knew it was time to get out of bed for another go round of a soggy life. Still raining, but this time, it was Sunday. Even campout weekends have church services, and John spoke from Jonah. He reminded us of Jonah's attempt to flee the presence of the Lord, his willingness even to lose his life in that flight during the battle through a storm, and his inability to escape God's calling on his life. Sometimes I wanna run from God and what He wants for my life, like Jonah did. But 3 days in the belly of a large fish is not my idea of a good time, so despite the likelihood of my own fear and disappointment in response to how God sees fit to answer my prayers, I'm headed towards Ninevah.

PS - I might need some encouragement along the way. Said encouragement may or may not look like fresh bread baking in the oven when I arrive home from soggy weekends in the woods. Thanks Jeff!

the hair twirl

2011-09-14T21:30:00.004-05:00

so, I was crossing a street today when a minivan passed and as I glanced in the window as it passed I noticed the woman in the drivers' seat twirling her hair with her finger. You know, the way a teenage girl does when she's nervous or restless. I immediately jumped to judgement - "women driving mini-vans don't twirl their hair"...or in other words, women who drive mini-vans are moms and moms are too mature for hair twirling.

now. before I go any further, you need to know a little bit about my place in life right now. I spend a lot of time with moms. Most of my dearest friends here in St. Louis and scattered around the country are moms. But I am not a mom. I have a mom, and I talk to a lot of moms. But I relate to them by telling stories of other friends who are moms.

Most of these moms I talk to, tell me - "I have no idea what I'm doing." My own parents said the same thing. "We had no idea what we were doing." But the tendency, as illustrated by my reaction to the hair-twirling woman in the minivan, is for the outside observer to assume maturity - even a confidence or lack of nervousness - in the role. Clearly this assumption is off base according to the reports of my friends.

My dad said recently that despite the fact that parents never know what they're doing from the get-go, God somehow decided that this is how He wanted his world to look and function....in families. He decided He wanted to entrust these little lives into the hands of His people, knowing their fallenness!

I'm not quite sure what the missionary equivalent of the hair twirling mom in the minivan is, but maybe it's the prayer letter or blog photo of a white woman in her long skirt, chaco sandals, and unkempt hair, in a hazy, harried, "foreign" city with a puzzled look on her face. "Wait" you might say to yourself when you see the picture as you read the prayer letter, "missionaries don't get lost."

If only you knew.

Missionaries totally get lost. And not only in big hazy, harried, cities (although it happens there for sure) but on a daily basis in the hazy harried tasks of trying to sort out cross cultural cues in conversations and roles in the community and words in other languages and responsibilities to love one another. Like moms - we have no idea what we're doing. (Sorry guys for blowing your cover!) We've been well trained, prepared as well as possible for what awaits us in the field, but when it comes down to it, we have to figure it out as we go along. And God designed it that way!!!

God made His Word missional and entrusted it to us, knowing our fallenness. He entrusted the task of being His hands and feet to our neighbors to us, knowing our fallenness.

I can't personally relate to details of infant sleep schedules or toddler discipline techniques, but I can relate to not knowing what I'm doing...to a lack of confidence...to feeling inept...to feeling the seemingly impossible implications of a daunting calling. But the truth is, my mom friends and I can both take comfort in the fact that God knows all our shortcomings very well, and He's still called us - and will use those shortcomings and ineptitudes - those ways we don't fit the expectations - those hair twirls and puzzled looks - for His glory. Now THAT my friends, is good news.

hmmmm

2011-09-02T23:38:00.003-05:00

how am I to reconcile the following two paraphrased points from the Convocation address given this morning from the story of Mary and Martha?

Mary was recognized for doing the most important thing by being off her feet and sitting at the feet of Jesus, while Martha was on her feet busy serving.
As Presbyterians we so often pride ourselves in what we consider to be a "deep" faith, when in reality our faith is only deep when it so penetrates our being that it can only escape through our hands and feet.

the most appropriate latin medical term ever: acne vulgaris - seen on my billing sheet as I left the dermatologist's office the other day. At 32 I think I have earned the right, after 20 years of treatments of all shapes and sizes, to deem acne to be vulgar indeed. When will the tyranny be over, FOR THE LOVE OF IT!?!?! (ok, just so you know, I am completely aware that this is totally the rant of a young American single woman who in all reality needs to be on her knees in gratitude for the health she has been given - but it's still annoying. and ugly. and vulgar.) (PS - wikipedia tells me that vulgaris only means "common" in Latin which takes every ounce of satisfaction out of the diagnosis) (PPS - is it sacrilegious to speak of "deep faith" and acne vulgaris in the same blog post?)

overused seminary word of the day: ministry - what does it even mean anyways...aren't our whole lives supposed to be "ministries" of sorts?

the philosophy of knowing...truth...how do we decide what is true? Was Descartes really the hero we make him out to be in the field of science? These are things a mind like mine has no business trying to tackle but it seems important, like the kind of important that shapes people and thoughts and work and words. There are several people - scattered all over the US and the world - who I wish I could be sitting with over a glass of something fun talking about these things...the closest of which is my papa, but he's on vacation - so it will have to wait. Until then, more reading.

how is it that a few hundred American Presbyterian theology students and faculty (garbed in their academic regalia of wide sleeved gowns and floppy hats) belting out "Praise to the Lord the Almighty" with beginning of the semester fervor while accompanied by the organ with hymnals in hand:

Praise to the Lord, O let all that is in me adore Him
All that hath life and breath
Come now with praises before Him
Let the 'amen' sound from His people again
Gladly for aye we adore Him

AND

a couple dozen Ugandans (garbed either in clothes that the Goodwill was giving away or bright beautiful batik wax prints) belting out "Okwesigwa Kwaawe" a cappella from memory with clapping and drums and dancing in a mud walled church as they sweat and sway:

Okwesigwa kwaawe, ai yesu, bukya bukya kuloho
koona eki ndukwetaaga
omukono gwaawe, taata, gukakimpa

BOTH feel like heaven is just a step away?!?!?...it's gonna be some kinda place, heaven is.
Bring it on!

people as privilege

2011-08-14T22:50:00.003-05:00

one of the most incredible privileges we have in life: people.

to know them, to love them, (dare I say?) to hate them, to be with them, to talk with them, to eat with them, to drink with them, to fight with them, to walk with them, to walk behind them, to marvel with them, to disagree with them, to watch them, to help heal them, to be healed by them, to discuss with them, to unload on them, to be unloaded on by them, to miss them, to hug them, to learn from them, to learn about them...

we are given this privilege up close and from a distance.

we are given this privilege whether we like it or not, whether we can handle it or not, whether we are ready or not.

we are given this privilege in every sphere of life, in every stage of life.

we are given this privilege in plenty and in want, in abundance and in scarcity.

we are given this privilege whether we can recognize it as such or not.

sitting with friends as they come out of coma's, sleeping at their bedside so they know someone's there.

getting your dear friends' toddler twins ready for bed and witnessing their no-holds-bar giggles in the peekaboo game that is sliding their pj's over their heads.

what feel like measly attempts at encouraging and supporting families who are trying to hold it together as they try to care for their very sick children.

caring for those very sick children.

challenging a friend to their first camping trip.

being challenged by the experience of wanting to be everything to everyone, failing miserably, and learning to be genuinely ok with that.

having your heart actually ache with loved ones whose loved ones don't love them very well.

the anonymity of sitting by yourself in a crowd of people you don't know who don't care who you are or what you're doing.

failing to love those who are hard to love in exactly those moments in which they are hard to love - wanting to cuss them out - later wanting to learn how to do it differently next time - wondering if you ever will.

watching your friends build families and cherishing moments with your own.

witnessing the art of pretending - namely what we call "acting" and "theater"

being totally exasperated, manipulated, and walked all over.

being totally overwhelmed and discouraged by the condition of the world (which includes you - aka ME).

a walk with a dear friend on a scalding summer afternoon with frozen yogurt at the mid-way point.

cool summer nights with mom and dad on the back porch

clapping along with black church choirs as you sit sweating on a street corner.

the experience of your anger rearing it's ugly head.

The hearts, the minds, the personalities, the sins, the glories, the colors, the diversity, the hurts the love - all privilege. people.

of work and play; reading and fuming

2011-07-30T00:21:00.004-05:00

so, it's 1230...am. Under normal circumstances, definitely would be in bed. Not so tonight.

I worked for 12 hours today. Did you read that?! It said to-DAY...as in DAY TIME!!!!...as in, I worked during the DAY, while the sun was UP!!! definitely a treat. And my patients were treats too. love that.

After work, I caught the Metro to Busch Stadium where I watched the Cards CRUSH the Cubs (huge rivalry for those of you with the double misfortune of not being from the midwest and not being baseball fans) and Pujols managed to add his 2,000th career base hit to the excitement. Webaleh free ticket Sara!

I came home, checking email before bed and came upon a host of new WHM Africa blog posts. This is like icing on the cake of a good day. The sweetness of getting a peak into the lives of the people I love doing work that I love in places that I love but am so far from, is priceless. Pouring over their words imagining them going about their days, soaking in their insights and wisdom, imagining I'm sitting and chatting with them, or walking next to them, I wish I was there with them, but also glad to be here...all in the same moment...one of those life in two worlds moments.

Another dual-world moment - Tuesday night I arrived home from a quick trip to Chicago. Still glorying in the wonders of the Art Institute of Chicago and deep dish pizza, old friends and new ones, I walked into my brother's house. (I'm living there now, have I mentioned that? it's true.) Jeff has sacrificially allowed his older sister to take up residence (with all her crap!) in his minimalist bachelor pad. There has been the exchange of groceries and cooking to sweeten the deal for him a bit, but it's a sacrifice no matter how you slice it.

Anyways, because he has given up his room for me to live in, he's sleeping on a mattress in the living room which means that as I walk in the door late at night, I try to stumble past him quietly, usually unsuccessfully, in the dark. Tuesday night he stirred and I apologized, quickly remarking that it felt like the air conditioning wasn't on. (After freezing my tail off in the frigidly air conditioned rooms of most everywhere in Chicago I was very temperature aware). He sleepily agreed that it wasn't. To which I replied in a slow, puzzled, way - "well...why?"

"Someone stole the air conditioner today."

We are not talking about a little window unit folks, we are talking about what I have learned is called a "condenser"...that big metal box that whirrs outside the back of your house as it turns on and off to cool your whole house...somebody stole it, in the middle of the day, from the back of Jeff's house.

I was PO'd. and no, not taking things "by mouth" for all you medical people...PISSED OFF! Pardon my french. I realized that this was not the time or the place to continue this particular discussion, considering I had woken Jeff from what is now precious sleep in a house where at night the air is warmer than the air outside, so I went into my room, got ready for bed and went to sleep fuming.

Unfortunately this is a familiar fuming for me...you can probably search on the world "stolen" on this blog and find a fair bit about my experiences with theft in the last year or so...these are not some of my better moments, folks. I won't go into the details but I was mad. Mad on behalf of my hard working, sacrificial brother.

Turns out I was more angry than he was. The next day I learned from my brother, that it is possible to be more thankful for what you have than you are mad about what you don't...that it is possible to focus on what you've been blessed with instead of on the ways you've been hurt. I'm not sure how to give validity to the feelings of violation and the wrongness of things like theft and still choose to focus on more helpful things. But evidently it's possible.

Life in two worlds? Who knew theft could unite my two worlds for me. Who knew my anger could unite my two worlds for me. Who knew God would continue to drown me with His grace and show me His perspective. Who knew I'd be experiencing a taste of Sudan as I sweat with my brother in our little house in St. Louis this summer? People here are dying in this heat, but we have windows and fans and a cold shower and ice and strong-ish young-ish bodies, and so much to be thankful for.

Only by the grace of God go I.

P.S. - This is NOT to be read as a sly and/or underhanded way of generating sympathy points or pity or even a new A/C condenser - we really are just fine albeit warm - but rather as the rambling confessions of an anger-prone young woman who desperately needs her Savior (and her brother, it turns out - but not necessarily A/C)!

the other side of the bed

2011-07-13T22:07:00.003-05:00

I've spent a couple nights in the last week in the hospital - not as a nurse, or a patient, but as the friend of a patient. Isabel, who I asked you to pray for 2 Sundays ago, is still in the ICU in a coma, intubated, on a vent, sedated and paralyzed - with an uncertain future which no one short of God knows the details or even the general story-line of. My time with her has been sweet, in which God has taught me much about himself. It's also strange to be on the other side of the bed.

Most all of my time in hospitals has been spent on the nurse's side of the bed. I am familiar with that side of the bed. The other side of the bed - not so familiar. I mean, when I'm on the patient's family/friends side of the bed I can tell what the alarms are for when they go off, I know the general flow of care, I know who's responsible for what, who to ask about what - but it's my role I'm not so sure of, not so familiar with. Part of this situation is that I'm not family, I'm not Isabel's mother (although one doctor did ask me if I was...) or even her sister - which changes things a bit, but I'm not sure how exactly. Part of it is that Neuro is so unpredictable, the brain is a wild place and there is so much we don't know about it or how it will behave.

Should I ask why they just did what they did? Should I ask what their concerns at this point are? What questions are appropriate and when? I know enough to know some but not enough to round out the picture I'm used to knowing when I walk into rooms that look like this one - rooms with oxygen flowmeters and suction canisters and towers of machines with blinking lights and tubes going in lots of different directions...How much stimulation is too much for her? I can totally give the nurse a second set of hands, which with a 20 year old with no muscle tone could be helpful, but maybe that's not my role here tonight...?

I like having my role defined. I realize this more and more as life goes on. Definition is my comfort zone. That's not to say, however, that situations lacking definition are bad or harmful - they're just unfamiliar, with a degree of discomfort. But usually that degree of discomfort is good for me.

Not knowing, not being able to see the whole picture, lacking definition - it means I have to lean on the One who does know, who can see the whole picture, for my comfort.

The other night I was reading Matthew 14 while sitting with Isabel - the 5 loaves and 2 fish, the calming of the storm, Peter walking on water and the healings at Gennesaret - and it struck me that Jesus is quite capable of doing exactly what's best when we trust Him with our whole selves. So that's what I tried to do with Isabel. Over and over, throughout the night, I entrusted her into His care. I might not know, or be able to see the whole picture, but He does.

So, South Sudan, you might be wondering...that doesn't strike me as a place in which lots of roles are defined where the whole picture is easily seen and understood. You would be right. Matt 14 applies not only to the other side of the bed, but also to the other side of the world. My role there is now and may always be fairly undefined, I will NEVER be able to see the whole picture, or even most of it, but if nothing else, my leaning muscles will become well defined!

Happy Birthday South Sudan

2011-07-08T15:36:00.003-05:00

Ladies and Gentlemen…..

Drumroll please…….

In a matter of hours, The Republic of South Sudan will become the 196^th nation in the world, and the 55^th country in Africa. In a matter of hours, July 9^th will dawn and South Sudan will celebrate it’s Independence Day, just 5 days after we celebrated the anniversary of our own country’s Independence Day here in the US.

How in the world do you start a new country?!?! This is my question. Luckily this is not my job and there are people who think about these things for a living J And, luckily these folks share their thoughts in layman’s terms in publicly accessible forums like the internet!

Karen Masso recently posted the following link to the website of the Government of South Sudan (GOSS). Here, if you have questions like I do, you’ll find all kind of information, including a helpful summary of what comes next – “What’s next for the new country.”

Here’s a few tidbits from that document:

· Background: The Comprehensive Peace Agreement (2005) brought an end to 21 years of civil war in Sudan and decades of struggle between the northern and southern parts of the country – this Agreement established the opportunity for a Referendum (January 2011) giving the South the chance to vote whether to remain part of Sudan or secede and become their own country. The vote was deemed open and fair and was overwhelmingly in favor of secession – 98.83%.

· His Excellency Salva Kiir Mayardit will be sworn in as president of the new Republic of South Sudan. (That’s him in the cowboy hat – evidently the hat is his trademark). He has been First Vice President of Sudan since Aug. 2005.

· The flag of the new Republic will be the flag which has represented the Sudan’s People Liberation Army (which during the war fought against northern Sudan for the South)

· The new currency – South Sudan Pound – will be put into circulation in coming months.

· South Sudan is not starting from scratch. For the past six years, the Government of South Sudan (GOSS) has enjoyed considerable autonomy, with an elected Assembly, Government and a functioning judicial system.

· South Sudan is comprised of 10 States, each with their own Governor.

· The official language of South Sudan will change from English AND Arabic, to only English.

· Southern Sudanese Assembly members currently in the Government of National Unity in Khartoum will leave their posts and join the South Sudan Legislative Assembly in Juba.

· The Government is committed to the concept of soft borders with the North, allowing freedom of movement for pastoralists and traders who regularly traverse the North-South boundaries.

· Some critical issues in the CPA remain unresolved such as the final status of Abyei, arrangements for the states of Southern Kordofan and Blue Nile and the demarcation of the North/South Border. These issues are still subject to negotiation, with the support of international mediators such as the African Union High Implementation Panel.

Teammates have said today feels like Christmas Eve in South Sudan, celebratory festivities in preparation, and excitement is in the air!

Please join us in praying for South Sudan! Praying for joyous and peaceful celebrations tomorrow, for peaceful and just finalization of border issues still in negotiations, and for this process to lead to the flourishing of the people of South Sudan.

Isabel

2011-07-03T15:11:00.003-05:00

If ever there were a pictorial dictionary, next to the word "sweet" would be Isabel's photo. She's 20 years old, 2nd born of 7 children to Rick and Mary. Quiet, shy, but a lovely young woman with personality and spunk and a love of life that is quickly conveyed in her twinkling eyes and smile when you talk with her. Her family and close friends may know differently, but this is what those of us around her see :) Sweet Isabel.

Isabel is very sick. Symtoms this last week that could have been any number of minor illnesses culminated in a trip to the ER yesterday, loss of consciousness, and imaging that showed bleeding, causing swelling of her brain. "Throwing clots" but the doctors with little idea why. She's on a ventilator in the ICU and the prognosis is poor. Very poor. She will likely die, and possibly very soon.

If you are of the praying variety, please plead with God on Isabel's behalf. Plead with Him on behalf of her solidly grounded and immensely loving parents and her 6 smart, creative, fun loving brothers and sisters, the youngest of which is 4 years old. Plead with Him for mercy, for life, and for comfort and His closeness for those who love Isabel.

on the road again: 2nd stop - Northern VA

2011-07-01T12:12:00.003-05:00

Friday morning I packed my things back into little blue and headed for the Red and White. I had made plans to pick up my illustrious Bundibugyo teammate Pat Abbott who was in town visiting family to make the trek to Northern VA together, and her recommendation for a place to meet up was nothing less than the best thrift store in Pittsburgh. Classic. Pat could be the best "used clothe-ez" shopper I know and apparently that skill spans several continents :) I left early, leaving myself some time to peruse the depths of the "Red and White" - I didn't even make a dent in my exploration before it was time to meet the Abbott sisters in the parking lot.

I finally got the chance to meet Nancy, Pat's sister who visited Bundibugyo and I'd heard so much about from Pat and from our Babwisi neighbors. Pat's stylin' America haircut and bronzed skin from a recent week at the beach were the visible signs of a rested woman. We loaded her things into the car, said our goodbyes to Nancy and the Red and White and took to the road. Story telling, heart sharing, rehearsal dinner toast writing, and a little Mumford and Sons got us to Sterling VA in no time.

Sterling VA is the childhood home of our also illustrious Bundibugyo teammate Jennifer Myhre. Grammy Aylestock still lives in Sterling and loves hosting any Bundibugyo "family" passing through and had every so graciously welcomed 4 single women into her home for the weekend. Ashley had already arrived when Pat and I pulled into the long driveway. With iced tea and lemonade to greet us we sat on the porch and jumped right into the discussion of the details of the weekend, who needed to be where and when and how...There were showers to be taken, toasts to be written, technology to be gathered, and directions to be detailed for Pat to pick up Pamela at the train...the flurry of activity was a pattern we fell back into with each other like no time at all had passed since we last lived life everyday together in the flurry of activity that is life in Bundibugyo. And Grammy was no exception. Like mother like daughter.

Pat left in little blue to pick up Pamela and Ashley and I left for the rehearsal dinner once we had made ourselves presentable. Working together to write a toast, one writing while the other was finishing blow drying, one copying the toast in a readable manner while the other was driving. With googlemaps and a GPS we managed to get ourselves to the restaurant with even a bit of time to spare. Scrambling to finish the final touches on the toast and figure out how to connect to the wireless network, we each got a drink from the bar and sat down at an empty table, no one we knew had arrived yet. Ashley took a sip of her wine, set her glass down on the table and looked at me and said "So, Heidi, how've you been?" with a smile. She pointed out that we had greeted one another hours earlier but had naturally fell into a pattern of getting done what needed to be done, saving the real conversation for when there was time. We remarked at how it was nice to have friends to fall into those kinds of natural patterns with despite the passage of time apart and proceeded to catch up with the goings on of the last 8 months since we had seen each other last.

The food was scrumptious, italian fare with salads and breads, meats and pastas, with a monstrous piece of chocolate cake to top it all off! Friends of Sarah's who were in the wedding party joined us at our table, along with family friends of Nathan's. Fun to meet people we had heard so much about over the past few years, putting faces to names. Meeting Sarah's sisters and brother in law and Nathan's sister, again, more faces to names and stories. There were pictures in a slideshow put together by Nathan's dad and brother, and then there were toasts. Family and friends attesting to cherished friendships with Nathan and Sarah - fun again to hear a similar theme of genuine relationship. These two love people and love them genuinely.

The Myhre family falls strongly into the category of people that Nathan and Sarah love dearly. Video skype-ing in Scott and Jennifer from Kijabe (along with brief appearances by Julia and Luke I believe) - all to Nathan and Sarah's surprise - was so fun. Scott and Jennifer have been cheerleaders for and mentors to many young people coming to Bundibugyo and living and working and learning cross culturally in ways that challenge and grow and for the purpose of seeing God's kingdom come in that small corner of the world. Part of their sacrifice in this calling and passion of theirs is not being able to be a part of the significant events in the lives of these people whose lives they have poured themselves into. Scott and Jennifer as team-leaders and mentors and friends played integral roles, not only in the individual lives of Nathan and Sarah but also in their relationship together now flourishing into marriage. As a result, Nathan and Sarah are particularly dear to Scott and Jennifer and Scott and Jennifer particularly dear to Nathan and Sarah and so it was so fun to make it possible for Scott and Jennifer to be present in some small way in the celebration of this marriage. The audio connection was great, the whole room heard everything Scott and Jennifer (and Julia and Luke as representatives of the Myhre children) said. There were tears and there was applause! Not only was it special for the couples involved, but everyone in the room who loved Nathan and Sarah know about Scott and Jennifer and really enjoyed this little slice of international connection. It was about 4 am Kijabe time, and everyone was so appreciative that the Myhre's were willing to make that work (including me :) Especially since I had last heard from Jennifer at midnight and apparently Scott had only arrived home from the hospital at 3:30am...THANKS GUYS! It couldn't have worked any better than it did. I was only sorry that I didn't take the opportunity to pan the room with my computer while you were still on and let everyone else greet you too. I was just so surprised everything had worked so well!

After the evening was over and the chatting was done and bar was cleared, we wandered out to Ashley's car and drove back to Grammy Aylestock's house, climbing into bed about Midnight, excited to see what the next day would bring!

THE WEDDING!

There was a lovely breakfast at Grammy's followed by a flurry of shower and bathroom activity with 5 women getting ready in one house! We piled into 2 cars and headed to the church for the 11am ceremony.

Nathan and the groomsmen were standing in the narthex as people filed into the sanctuary. We greeted him and he seemed calm. I called him on it and he could only agree :) He said he had unsuccessfully tried to work himself up about things, thinking he was too calm about it all given this was "forever we're talking about here!", but we assured him there was never a better time to be calm and confident!

What side of the church do you sit on when you know the bride and the groom? Not sure who decided for us, but we ended up on the right, which meant we had a perfect view of Sarah's face :)

Sarah was STUNNING as she walked down the isle with her dad. The photographer was right infront of me so I had NO view of what Nathan's face looked like as he watched his bride walk towards him and a life to be spent together, forever :) But I can assure you he was radiant as well. The halter dress, a Sarah trademark, was perfect for her (not without a few moments of panic in the process we heard later, but mom Reber saved the day with a needle and thread :). The bridesmaids in dark blue with yellow gerber daisies - the color combination reminded me of a kitengi print from Bundibugyo, the guys in black suits and Nathan in a tux. It was a simple service, 2 congregational hymns, the homily, vows, introduction, kiss and recessional. But the most poignant for me - a reading from Revelations 21. An anthem of sorts for us in Bundibugyo, and knowing Nathan and Sarah a theme for their lives together - a creed of sorts - a statement to remind them of what's true no matter what the circumstances.

A simple and lovely reception - just their style. There was food, there was drink, there was dancing (yes, even me - if that's what you want to call it!), there was talk of Revelations 21 when asked how it is we believe Africa will one day thrive in ways not yet seen, there were pictures taken with Pat's camera for documentation requested by Kymigisha and there were hugs and laughs. Although I have oftentimes failed to do it well, I love these two a lot and they love me (or at least they said they did :) and it was so fun to celebrate them, to celebrate their love for one another, God's love for them, and the life He has in store for them together. Watch out world, here come the Elwoods, you'll never be the same again!

on the road again - First stop: Pittsburgh

2011-06-21T12:39:00.004-05:00

The semester is over, summer class finished, moved out of my home of the last 5 1/2 months and in with my brother, got the fuel injector pump replaced on "little blue" along with 2 new tires and then hit the road.

First stop: Pittsburgh (aka childhood home).

10 1/2 hours in the car by myself across 4 states with a John Grisham novel on disc, the time passed pretty quickly. Still not sure what's going to happen to the young corporate lawyer trying to run from his sordid college past, but no worries - there will be plenty more time for brainless entertainment later in the trip. I pulled in to greet my dear friend Caroline and her family. Beef hot off the grill, asparagus and corn on the cob fresh from the farmers market - delectable! Meeting her firstborn Luke and seeing son #2 still occupying the comfort of his mother's expanding belly - priceless. Chatting about the last several years of life and hopes and dreams for the future felt just as natural as it has since we became friends at Penn 14 years ago!!!

The next day began with a "check engine" light investigation - "just google this code" she said...we aren't in Africa anymore, Toto. Then a drive through Garfield. The Babyland is surprisingly still on the corner of Penn and Negley - my young mom friends tell me it's full of high end baby things that people from the suburbs drive in to buy! Babyland? in Garfield? Times they are a changin'! The race car bed that occupied the window display for the duration of my childhood, that Jeff and I drooled over for years - no where in sight. The neighborhood - well, it's hard to tell. It seemed even more overgrown and dilapidated than it was almost 20 years ago when we moved away - but that's to eyes that have seen a lot more of the world in those 20 years.

You know it's interesting...I'm sitting here trying to describe Garfield, the neighborhood I called home for the majority of my childhood...but I'm having a hard time. "Inner-city" I guess they call it. I don't know much about Garfield from a sociological perspective, from a perspective that would sound professional and informed. I only know Garfield from a child's eyes. I only know the sights and sounds, the faces and stories of my friends and neighbors, the houses whose doors I knocked on to ask my friends to come out and play, and the houses whose doors I never knocked on for fear of disrupting the crabby old woman who lived inside, the sounds of the cars beginning their ascent of the very narrow street which would send us running from the middle of the street- where we were riding our bikes or playing "off the wall"- to the sidewalks for safety after someone would yell "Car!!" Now, the street is one-way and the cars park half-way on the sidewalk - making the street much safer but

there were no children playing outside. The yards and porches are overgrown with weeds similar to the rest of the neighborhood. The Mac's house is no longer - something about mining slopes or something - the hill is shifting and many of the houses aren't safe and the land isn't good for anything except planting things - so a local church plant has started an "urban farm" up by the water tower...It was a sad drive down Kincaid street. The one saving grace - our old storefront church building occupied now by a CMA church - carrying on the preaching of the gospel in a place that needs desperately to know the redemption story of the gospel.

There are signs of change in Garfield, at least around the edges. God, I pray it is for the better...the abandoned storefronts along Penn Avenue - trendy new cafes and coffee shops moving in. Two white guys about my age standing in their plaid button downs and hipster dark framed glasses standing with their arms folded staring inquisitively at a completely abandoned storefront that was probably abandoned long before they were born...an art gallery? modern office space? a vegan restaurant? he he he...vegan food in Garfield...who woulda thunk it...Anyways, a trip down memory lane, and an interesting life perspective.

Visiting with family friends who lived in Garfield with us as kids, or whose kids I used to babysit and are now studying to become doctors who I have conversations with about public health and the implications of cultural practices on health in various places...stories about a Holly Hobby dress my mom made for me after reading the pattern upside down - I didn't mind that all the Holly Hobby's on my dress were upside down - "they look just right to me!" I said when holding the skirt of the dress up while wearing it to inspect them :)

The day ended with an evening of laughter and catching up over Thai food at the Smiling Banana Leaf with Allison and Katie, two friends from elementary school. In some ways not much had changed, in other ways - we live in different worlds. We talked about college, careers, love, marriage, children, our childhood educational experience and it's shaping of us, and of course Africa. So much fun - but much to our dismay no pictures taken.

The next day was Becker day. Caroline and Luke and I went to "the blue slide park"! It was a new park for Luke and Caroline, but a favorite of mine from the old days. The highlight - a concrete slide carved out of the hillside and painted with glossy weatherproofed paint. In the old days we used to slide down it sitting on huge pieces of wax paper to make it super fast! Probably not the safest thing in the world, but oh my gosh was it fun! I went down with Luke a couple times, but somehow couldn't get up to the speeds I used to manage 20 years ago...oh well. There was a Dunkin' Donuts treat for lunch and a trip to the water front for a shopping run. What happens when you find yourself in Pennsylvania, on your way to a wedding in Virginia and realize that you've left your dresses for the wedding in St. Louis?! (I know - classic Heidi!) You do a TJ Max and Marshalls run. Luke was beginning to fall apart around nap time, so I hurried it up a bit and found myself with a few things that would do. There was salad, there was chatting and there was Rita's Water Ice! A wonderful day!

Next stop? Northern Virginia!

Magnficence

2011-04-17T19:32:00.004-05:00

Piano Concerto No. 1 in B-flat minor, op. 23 - Tchaikovsky

Sunday afternoon in spring and free ticket with a friend to the St. Louis Symphony. Mostly white/gray heads which remind me of the history behind this music and the pastime called "going to the Symphony". Mostly white skin in the audience. A grand concert hall in what they call "midtown" these days - on a street lined with black "old"-but-actually-new fashioned street lights perhaps harkening back to "midtown"s hey day. Inside - red plush carpet and red plush seats marked with numbers in rows marked with letters. The musicians with skin colors spanning the spectrum: black, white, Asian, Hispanic - but all dressed in black. I suppose the dressing in black is to create visual uniformity meant to prevent distraction from the aural experience of the music.

The cacophany of practice as musicians stroll onto stage as they arrive, the tuning after the entrance of Mr. 1st chair violin, the entrance of the conductor and the guest pianist with applause, and then silence before "the storm".

This is quite a piece. The guest pianist was phenomenal. I used to play the piano. But my fingers never did anything resembling what this Israeli's fingers did for 40 minutes or so over those ivories. From thundering power to feathery dancing up and down the keyboard - I've never seen or heard anything like it. His right foot pounding on and off the pedal, his greying hair thrown about as his head was tossed around in passionate participation in the piece, practically jumping off the bench at the completion of a movement. The speed and ease and power and gentleness this man played with was just stunning...and the sound produced was breathtaking. I wish my words could do it justice, but what a gift to sit and soak it all in.

The culture of quiet from the audience save the pause between movements which was evidently the unspoken cue for everyone to cough and clearn their throat, the standing ovations and encores, the wine and red velvet cake concessions in the main hall outside, the children dressed in their sunday best - suspenders and patent leather - surprisingly none of whom looked as if it were drugery that they were forced to be there.

Magnificent.

The woman jamming on the corner

Upon leaving the aforementioned event, a few blocks away, while stopped at a stoplight, the delightful experience of the freeform groove of a woman, with old school headphones in place over her ears, smiling, singing and dancing her heart out on a street corner. Waving to people in cars as they drove by who no doubt were as pleasantly surprised to see her as I was, her water bottle and towel on the wall several feet from her stage of concrete - it looked like she planned to be there for a while.

In some strangely delightful way, equally as magnificent as the performance in the grand concert hall blocks away.

The church bells of St. Roch's

Walking home from my neighborhood coffee shop last week at 6pm, I strolled past St. Roch's, the neighborhood parish and school that is a pillar of this neighborhood in an unspoken way. As I strolled past, the clock in the steeple struck the top of the hour and the bells announced the passing of another hour. The reverberations of the bells were felt in my chest as I passed, the power of the sound was remarkable. It's a welcomed power. A welcomed reminder of stability. When I stood in my yard in Uganda in the evenings talking to my parents on the phone, I would often hear the St. Roch's bells in the background as they sat on their back porch that faced the church on the next street over...A sound of stability. A sound of establishment. A sound of history.

Magnificent.

"Things change, I guess..."

Said the 15 year old describing the friends who didn't know what to say, and the parents overcome with sadness in her recent diagnosis with a terminal form of cancer. This is the reality of my week this week...not terminal cancer...but the sinking in of reality that has been building for the last 7 months since I've been back in St. Louis...Things have changed since I lived here last. Describing this to someone this week I totaled something like 5 marriages that happened while I was in Uganda - marriages of good friends of mine, mostly to other friends of mine...my community here changed drastically while I was gone, and while everybody else got to adjust gradually, it's been an abrupt change for me upon being physically present here again. Change that has no fault to be assigned, no ill will, no hurt inflicted, just change. Change to be faced and grieved, change that I'd rather try to ignore or insist doesn't actually exist. But it does, and I'm sad. But my Father, He never changes.

Magnificent.

"How Deep The Father's Love For Us"

"...how vast beyond all splendor, that He should give His only Son, and make a wretch His treasure." I stood next to my brother in the communion circle as the piano started into this hymn this morning and whispered to him, "this is a doozy." The familiarity, the reminder of my team in Uganda, and the weathered truth for this treasured wretch this Palm Sunday...

Magnificent.

on a sunshiney day!

2011-03-11T15:52:00.003-06:00

Lovin' it! Soaking in the sun beaming through the windows here at my neighborhood coffee shop where I head when I am car-less and need to be productive...

yep, that's right, momentarily carless. Fuel injector pump...hmmm...deja vous - all over again! :) Luckily the fuel TANK is still intact, let's just say that to start! I've been chatting via telephone all week with my buddy Trey, the mechanic at the shop where I take my little blue VW. I seem to have mechanic buddies all over the world...Trey is way less intimidating than "Dr" Sessanga the king of Land Rover's in Kampala, but both men know cars, and both take time to explain to me what exactly is going on inside the vehicle I've brought to them for their care - very much like a good doctor does for a person they've been entrusted with the care of. I know a bit about the way the insides of people work, I know NOTHING about the way the insides of cars work - so for this I am very thankful.

Anyways, Trey and I have been chatting at least once a day and it's going on a week now, don't worry, just car talk, lest I give you the idea we had other things to talk about ;) But everyday there's more to find out, the process gets dragged out, and it's okay! I don't live 8 hours away, and have my food for the next 3 months packed into a freezer in a local guesthouse...I haven't been stashed in the middle of the shop space in a chair to avoid the evening mosquitos while the boss's minions buzz around the yard in end of the day craziness while texting with a teammate who is supposed to be buying dinner but has found himself inadvertently in what seems to be a brothel - still trying to buy dinner mind you...I don't have to walk around town hugging my Timbuktu bag/suitcase :) (or try not to have to carry it anywhere at all) because it's filled with stacks and stacks and stacks of bills in order to pay my $1,000 balance in cash...

When Trey told me it was the fuel pump injector and asked me about previous work done on the car, I found myself mentally reviewing the last 3 years of vehicle service not on a VW Golf, but on a Nisaan Patrol...confusing for sure...within the last 6 months of my time in Uganda I had to replace the fuel pump injector on the Patrol (or the Zoolander as we affectionately called it)...and now I'm looking at the possibility of having to replace it here on my Golf...

It's nice to be able to hitch rides with gracious friends and family and not have a huge pressure to get the work done NOW NOW in order to drive the 8 hours home to the work awaiting there...(one of the few times in which life in the US has the potential to be slower than in Uganda)...but otherwise, I miss the Zoolander and Ssessanga adventures with a variety of teammates I miss very much...they did get a bit old at times, and I'm sure Scott Myhre is glad to not have to be diagnosing THIS fuel pump malfunction as he did with the Zoolander, which he was less than enamored with ;)...but I miss the Ssessanga lot, I miss having to conjure up the courage to call him on the phone about the vehicle and how it often took other people to help me do that :)...I have been reminded that I, just in general, miss the adventures of life in Uganda...

And oh how I miss the sunshine! (even when "they were many"!)

from a cup of tea to soapbox

2011-02-20T13:49:00.004-06:00

It’s Sunday. I’ve had a bug the last few days that have had me down for the count, missing work, missing gourmet dinner parties planned for weeks, and this morning missing worship. The sunshine is pouring into the front windows of the sunroom in my “new” apt. and I just made myself a cup of tea. Not just any kind of tea, this is Turkish Apple tea. This is my first use of my “souvenir” purchase while in Istanbul what is now 9 months ago. It’s reddish color (and in theory it’s taste, but to be honest my nose is too stuffy to actually taste it L) reminds me of the city and reminds me of the laughs and cultural observations and sightings of gorgeous tile on almost every corner and evenings on rooftop terraces that I shared with dear friends while I was there, along with the embarrassing appearance of my freakishly strong tendency towards insecurity that reared it’s ugly head while traveling with said friends.

It’s these memories, memories of watching small starving children re-learn to walk, memories of working side by side friends/fellow nurses who taught me soooo much, memories of worshipping with brothers and sisters in a language I knew very little of, memories of relaxing candle lit dinners after really long really hard days and retiring to the “more comfortable seating” afterwards to chat, memories of dinner around the table with my family chatting and laughing about everything under the sun, memories of hot summer evenings sitting with binoculars at the Muny trying to see as much of the Grease production on the stage as we could hear through the speakers amplified up through the hundreds of rows of spectators…these memories that while you’re in them you don’t want them to end, but they do.

This last week a Seminary staff person spoke about loss, about change, in these terms…in terms of the momentary and eternal schemes of things. The tears came a tumblin’ down. In the moment, we don’t want these glimpses of heaven to end, but because this world is finite, they must. But what we (or I guess I should speak for myself) or I don’t think about is the eternal scheme of things. These moments we never want to end but do, these friendships we never want to end but are taken away, these situations we never want to change but do, they are only a foretaste, but not the goal. My tendency is to make these moments my idol, to long for them and others like them, to say “one day, eternity will be like this!” What I learned this week is that these moments PALE in comparison to what we were made for. Yes, they are FOR SURE a taste, but we were made for and will one day experience MUCH MORE! In fact, eternity will be far better than this!

One day there will be relationships that will never be severed, there will be community that will never be lost, there will be feasts that will never end, there will be life without death, there will be experiences of the wild/wonderful world God has made with people we love and who love us that are not tainted with insecurity, not tainted with sin against one another or in the world around us…God gives us glimpses of what that might look like but even the best glimpses POINT US to something bigger and better, to our Father and to His kingdom which is coming!

When I think about leaving again in a year…leaving people I have only grown to love more in my time here in the US again, in the likely eventual deterioration of relationships from so much change and distance...the tears come a tumblin’ down. When I think about committing to live my life this way, one of constant change and loss, I wonder “what the h*&# am I thinking?!?!” I’m still not sure of the answer to that question, but it helps to know that these gifts are not the goal, but point to the life we were made for, the home, the stability, the relationships with Father and Brother and others we were made for which are to come.

Be still, my soul: the Lord is on thy side.  Bear patiently the cross of grief or pain.  Leave to thy God to order and provide;  In every change, He faithful will remain.  Be still, my soul: thy best, thy heavenly Friend  Through thorny ways leads to a joyful end.

Be still, my soul: thy God doth undertake  To guide the future, as He has the past.  Thy hope, thy confidence let nothing shake;  All now mysterious shall be bright at last.  Be still, my soul: the waves and winds still know  His voice Who ruled them while He dwelt below.

Be still, my soul: when dearest friends depart,  And all is darkened in the vale of tears,  Then shalt thou better know His love, His heart,  Who comes to soothe thy sorrow and thy fears.  Be still, my soul: thy Jesus can repay  From His own fullness all He takes away.

Be still, my soul: the hour is hastening on  When we shall be forever with the Lord.  When disappointment, grief and fear are gone,  Sorrow forgot, love’s purest joys restored.  Be still, my soul: when change and tears are past  All safe and blessèd we shall meet at last.

ahhhh yes. I'm back...

2011-01-27T10:16:00.003-06:00

back in America : after my last post and the delight I had in interacting with "the little dude" at the hospital, and the freedom I found in being able to communicate with such ease, 2 shifts later I was brought back to the reality that kids have parents..."Are you f*&%'n serious? That f*&%'n nurse better get in here right f*&%'n now with that f*&%'n medicine!!!!"...this mom's daughter had woken up with a fever at midnight and somehow it was my responsibility to have predicted that would happen and that I should have been standing just outside their door at all times as to provide the most speedy care possible to them, since they are, of course, my only patient...the flip side of the coin that includes delight in children is the reality of the not so delightful existence of their parents. And then there's this picture of a couple American cultural expectations that this statement personifies...the expectation that all discomfort can/should be prevented/solved and the expectation that one not need wait for anything. Both are fascinating, and exemplified in my life most likely everyday, but when I'm faced with them in other people, they are horrifying.
back out of hibernation: a few weeks ago it was 11 degrees in St. Louis...eleven! Painfully cold. When looking back to this time last year, I realized that Bundibugyo this time of year, in dry season, is easily 100 degrees hotter than that...one hundred! No wonder I'm such a wuss! But this week, there have been days with sunshine, days when I've brought out my sunglasses, and days over 30 degrees...balmy I tell you! There's nothing that says this will last, but I'm enjoying it.
back to school: I'm sitting outside the room that just held the first class of my grad school career...crazy. It's been a long time since I was last a student. I don't even really remember how it all works, especially since technology has changed so much. I bought notebooks this week...as in paper, written on with pen...almost everybody else in the class had their laptops out...I thought that might be the case, but I think my brain needs pen/paper to be engaged...we'll see how this goes.

"you! you! you!"

2011-01-15T23:27:00.003-06:00

My back was towards him, but you know how you can tell by the texture/quality of sound if someone's voice is directed towards you, even if your back is turned? I could tell he was yelling at me. I was standing at the computer in the hall, charting one of any number of details that are all digitally documented in this day and age. Location: 8East, my old floor at St. Louis Children's Hospital...now my "new" floor. A lot has changed in the 3 years I've been gone, and as with the rest of life, most of it is in the realm of technology. When?: Yesterday. It was my first shift back on the floor. I was trying to keep on top of the details, a battle I'll likely be struggling to win but not likely ever succeeding in the months to come.

The little dude yelling at me was probably 4 or so...his cute little self jumping up and down on his bed; trying to eat a snack and jump and point and yell at me all at the same time. Little dudes really are remarkable multi-taskers...and he was managing to do pretty well at all of those things, and be super cute at the same time. I couldn't help but be distracted from my charting to yell and point right back at him. "you! you! you!" He giggled and we went back and forth with the yelling and pointing until his mom returned from grabbing something to drink. She was very apologetic as she approached the room, "I'm so sorry" she said. "No, no, please, don't be. I love it" I answered. I went on to ask the little yelling dude what he was eating and whether he was feeling better and so forth. He just smiled and kept yelling "you! you! you!" and I leaned my head back and laughed, turning back to the computer to try to remember what it was I was doing before I was so cutely interrupted.

Of all the crazy computer documentation, the insane access to inordinate volumes of supplies, meds, food, information, resources (the list is un-ending), the wonderful nurse/patient ratios, the number of doctors of all kinds wandering around with packs of medical students and interns and residents in tow...it was the cute little yelling dude that stuck out in my mind as a light bulb moment in my first day back in the thick of western medicine. You know why? Because I could understand what he was yelling at me! AND he could understand me when I yelled back! Most of the kids I've interacted with in the last 3 years, I haven't been able to understand. And even when I have been able to understand, I rarely knew how to reply in a language they could understand. While it's true, if a kid in Bundibugyo was yelling "you! you! you!" ("weh! weh! weh!) I actually could understand that, and could reply in a similar fashion, it never amounted to much substance. I did manage to banter with the kids on the ward and at my door, even if we couldn't understand each other and laughed a lot doing it. But there was always a nagging desire for more; a desire to hear more, to say more.

So my cute little yelling dude made me so happy. He probably wasn't making his mom so happy...I guessed he must have been an asthmatic or something, hyped up on albuterol and almost literally bouncing off the walls and driving his mother batty...but that's the beauty of it all - I'm not his mom, (or his nurse actually), just the "lady at the compooter" (which he called out to me when I went back to my charting :). So, in that moment, he made my day.

2011, a NEW year

2011-01-03T22:48:00.003-06:00

Today was the first monday of 2011. It was a big day for me.

For the last 3 months of my life, I've been "in between."
"In between" usually that means that you are in a space after something and before something else; or next to one thing on one side and another thing on the other.
I was going to say that I've spent the 3 months trying to figure out what that "something" is that I was in the space before...but I think it's been bigger than that. I've been trying to figure out what it is I am in a space "after" AND what it is I am in a space "before"; or in other words, trying to figure out what it was/is that was/is on either side of me.
What was it that happened in the last 2 1/2 years of my life, and what is it that will happen in the coming weeks, months, years...
And just now, sitting here in my bed with my computer on my lap, I've realized that that "in between" space has gotten bigger and bigger as the 3 months of time has ticked by. As time has gone on, I have felt further away from either of the events/places/people at either bookend.
It could be that for some of us returning to the US from the field, there is a 3 month low point (which is often described/predicted in one's adjustment period when arriving in the field from the US)...past the "honeymoon" stage of how wonderful it is to see everyone you've missed and eat familiar food, and take long hot showers...and into the realization that this isn't just a visit...that this may be life for a while...maybe that's the explanation...I don't know...
December has been hard. Real hard. Full of doubt, questions, uncertainty, waiting, lack of clarity, lack of motivation, anxiety of anticipation, and biggest of all - lack of connection...
I have not felt connected to Africa, I have not felt connected to the US.
I have been "in between."

But today, was the beginning of movement.
Today I moved towards something and boy did that feel good!
Today I started orientation to my "new" job (which is actually really a re-orientation to my old job) - a staff nurse on my old floor at St. Louis Children's Hospital. I'm not going to say too much about how all of this came about, but let me just say that God has been crazy good to me.
And, can I just say, that if one is going to move towards something in the workplace, how's the mission statement of a hospital that says "We do what's right for kids." I think I can get behind that!
It feels good to be a part of something again, or at least to be moving towards being a part of something again.
In another couple of weeks I'll move towards something else I haven't moved towards in a long time....school! I don't even have a bookbag, or a class schedule, or a notebook...
And after a year or so of school, I hope to circle back around to that thing that was the last 2 1/2 years of my life...life in Africa...

So today was really just the first actually step of movement. One step which I hope will be followed by many more. But my new motto is "one foot in front of the other" so the movement might be slow.

As I close my today, my friends in Sudan are starting their tomorrow, but it's a closing of sorts for them too...they leave their homes in Mundri, Southern Sudan and are unsure of when/if they will be able to return. I'm not sure if you can imagine packing your bags and leaving your home with no certainty of your return, but it's loaded. Totally loaded. Pray with us that justice and peace might be wed in the referendum in Southern Sudan next week.

At the Moolah: The King's Speech

2010-12-29T23:31:00.006-06:00

Where can you see a new movie for $5 these days? Not many places. How often in your life do you have a lengthy period of time set aside without "work" and responsibilities? Not often. So, what did I do tonight? I went to the movies!

The Moolah is an old Masonic Temple/Lodge/Shrine turned into a movie theatre, bowling alley, bar/lounge, and loft apartments. And this is no ordinary movie theater! Imagine a ballroom of sorts, 2 stories tall, one wall entirely occupied by a movie screen and the ballroom floor filled with leather couches and chairs in rows, with a handful of rows of ordinary stadium seating on the wall opposite the screen. There's even a balcony that I didn't get to explore due to it being closed on weekdays. I was delighted to notice what seemed to be a random mural of the Blue Mosque in Istanbul on one wall in the lobby that I got a quick glance of while moving through the line of people waiting to get into the theater, and Regina Spektor's Far album was serenading the spectators in the theater once they found their seats and waited for the movie to begin. I followed the line into the theater and found a leather chair to settle into. I crossed my legs, leaned back and sighed, "now THIS is how to see a movie!"

The King's Speech (Colin Firth & Geoffrey Rush) was the feature film this evening, and I quite enjoyed it. Definitely not an "on the edge of your seat" kind of a film - but that was fine because sitting on the edge of my luxuriously relaxing leather arm chair was not was I was really in the mood for. Both men did a fantastic job playing the roles of King George VI, and Lionel Logue respectively. The setting was the 1930's-40's in England and the topic was the rise of Prince Albert, the Duke of York, to the Crown, and his audibly crippling stammer. Logue (Rush) is the "not interested in your royal shenanigans but very interested in helping you with your problem if you play by my rules" speech therapist, and Firth the "struggled for as long as he can remember with getting words out of his mouth in a timely and respected fashion" younger brother of the expected heir to the throne now thrust into the Crown of England.

I've spoken on numerous occasions of the "culture of fear" that exists in Bundibugyo, that has a crippling effect on the people who call it home. The truth is that we all live in fear of things that cripple us in one way or another. Prince Albert/the Duke of York/King George VI lived in fear of his father and brother and others who might judge him and this was manifest in his patterns of speech. When Logue gave him a non-threatening audience who didn't judge him, who encouraged him, who believed in him even when he didn't/couldn't believe in himself, the stammer which had crippled him faded away as he relaxed.

I also live in fear of people's judgement of me most days of my life which leads to a crippled voice of sorts. Some days/weeks/months/years are worse than others and generally speaking this is something that God is growing me in. As the heavy curtain is drawn back and I'm able to see the unconditional love of God and others for me, I relax and my voice comes back.

Sappy, you say? Maybe, but my guess is that most of us could see some part of ourselves in this movie, and while that's not a requirement for a good movie, it sure does help. (Rated "R" for language as far as I could tell.)

sprinting across the parking lot: reflections on holiday shopping

2010-12-20T15:00:00.008-06:00

This morning I saw a woman in her work out attire, sprinting across the parking lot pushing her cart to return it and then sprinting back to her SUV parked at Hobby Lobby. "Wow, now THAT is a shopper," I thought to myself.

Shopping. It's not really my favorite activity, but I do love putting a dark line of ink through items on a to-do list and a shopping list is kind of like a specialized to-do list. In Uganda we would do blitz trips in Kampala, carrying water bottles and shopping lists that have been filling up on our fridges for the 3 months since the last shopping blitz. Shopping for 3 months is a task:

But the nice thing is once it's done, you're done for a while. And it was generally a communal activity, something we did together. And in this shot, Anna is in what might have been her inauguratory entry into Kampala shopping with full decision making responsibilities...and look, she's smiling! What a pro! Now, if only I had a shot of Nathan having one of his grocery shopping freak-out moments in front of the mayonnaise jars...decisions decisions! (BTW - he tells me he's enjoying grocery shopping these days - says it makes him feel like a real person when he uses it as a study break from his med school madness.)

There are a lot of funny shopping stories from my time Uganda, most of them having to do with a Christmas grocery and gift blitz day 2 years ago...

N: "I'm pretty sure I've seen all of these things before." (while perusing our 3rd Banana Boat gift shop of the day)
H&A: "Nathan, you ready to go?" (look who we had to "drag" out of the store :)

and

H: "Hey, Nathan, can you give me a hand back there?" (trying to see out the foggy back window of the vehicle in order back out of a parallel parking spot in a crowded parking lot in the rain without hitting the vehicle behind us)
N: "It's no problem. You've got like 8 feet!"
H: (after slowly easing the vehicle into reverse and hitting the vehicle behind us!) "Are you kidding me?! 8 feet! Give me a break!" (He insists to this day we did not in fact hit the vehicle, but we totally did...and yes, "we"...this was a collaborative effort!).

A few weeks ago I was freezing my toushy off in my warm-ish but not warm enough fleece jackets and so I went to a department store's discount store looking for a winter coat with a coupon, and I had a couple of "are you freakin' kidding me?!" shopping moments...

I drove into the parking lot and noticed a group of about a dozen women standing outside in the freezing cold by the front door of the store...Uh oh. Protests? Picket line? What in the world is going on? On approaching the store I passed a limo pulling up in front of the group of women who began piling their bags into the trunk (did you know limo's had trunks?!) and getting in...this was a chauffeured shopping trip. Kind of like our shopping trips in Kampala I guess (with the multiple people using one vehicle and piling bag after box into the back)...minus the limo and the chauffeur :)
Sadly after not finding any coats suitable I was on my way out of the store when a man rushed in the front doors yelling "Jackie?!... Jackie?!...oh Jackie?!" I stopped dead in my tracks, being taken quite aback by such a scene, looking around wondering who this Jackie might be...when he got to the cash registers he continued: "oh, there you are! What are you doing?" (when I thought to myself, well what do you think she's doing in a store?! shopping perhaps?) "Oh, you're buying panties...ok, well, I'll be outside in the car, ok?" Wow, at the top of your voice?! Really? Let the poor woman buy her underwear in peace!

So, it seems shopping brings out the best in lots of us ;-) Seriously though, I really do like giving meaningful gifts to people so I also actually really do like that part of the shopping experience, finding something you know someone will really enjoy, or even better finding a good bargain on something you know someone will really enjoy!

Here's what Nicholas Kristof has to say about gift giving this year:

"One of the paradoxes of living in a wealthy country is that we accumulate tremendous purchasing power, yet it’s harder and harder for us to give friends and family presents that are meaningful."

~ NYTimes "The Gifts of Hope" December 18,2010

He does a good job of offering the public great ideas on ways to invest their "purchasing power" into their neighbors domestically and internationally, and I have a few suggestions myself.

Christ School Bundibugyo Student Sponsorship: Sponsorship of a secondary school student in Bundibugyo, Uganda

BundiNutrition: Nutritional support for Bundibugyo, Uganda

Sari Bari: blankets, scarves, bags, and pillow covers made from old sari's by women coming out of prostitution in Calcutta, India

Happy Shopping!

the leopard and the goat, AMEN

2010-12-16T14:23:00.004-06:00

A shoot will come up from the stump of Jesse;

from his roots a Branch will bear fruit.

The Spirit of the LORD will rest on him—

the Spirit of wisdom and of understanding,

the Spirit of counsel and of might,

the Spirit of the knowledge and fear of the LORD—

and he will delight in the fear of the LORD.

He will not judge by what he sees with his eyes,

or decide by what he hears with his ears;

but with righteousness he will judge the needy,

with justice he will give decisions for the poor of the earth.

He will strike the earth with the rod of his mouth;

with the breath of his lips he will slay the wicked.

Righteousness will be his belt

and faithfulness the sash around his waist.

The wolf will live with the lamb,

the leopard will lie down with the goat,

the calf and the lion and the yearling[a] together;

and a little child will lead them.

The cow will feed with the bear,

their young will lie down together,

and the lion will eat straw like the ox.

The infant will play near the cobra’s den,

the young child will put its hand into the viper’s nest.

They will neither harm nor destroy

on all my holy mountain,

for the earth will be filled with the knowledge of the LORD

as the waters cover the sea.

In that day the Root of Jesse will stand as a banner for the peoples; the nations will rally to him, and his resting place will be glorious.

- Isaiah 11: 1-10

How long have I been reading the Old Testament Messianic prophecies during Advent, or if unable to read them for whatever reason had them read to me? Um, 31 years. How old am I? 31 years. So, all my life. Every year, I have read, or had these scriptures read to me. And EVERY YEAR I see/learn something new that I had never taken notice of before.

This year...the leopard and the goat. In my experience, we in the western church have this affinity for the phrase, "the lion and the lamb." I'm not quite sure why we have attached ourselves to this pairing, because it's not directly from the Bible, but maybe it's because culturally we imagine lions to be the ultimate predator and the lamb to be the ultimate docile prey? In any case, one of the pairings that is actually made in this passage (and actually the one with the unlikely peaceful language/image of "lying down together") is the leopard and the goat.

The leopard ("leh-o-pard" as Ugandans say). Elusive, carnivorous, territorial, solitary, nocturnal, predatory, thieving, stealthy...supposedly they are the most numerous of Africa's big cats (due to their adaptability to several climates/terrains), but I have yet to see one.

The goat. Domesticated, milk giving, herbivorous, the prey of the leopard, herd lifestyle, affectionate, generous...so populous in Uganda that often you have to dodge them in the roads.

Two antithetical animals. For anyone who has read about them, or even better having encountered either or both of them, the thought of them lying down in proximity to one another is laughable, outrageous, unimaginable.

Isaiah 11 tells us that one day the unimaginable will happen...mortal enemies in the animal kingdom will live in peace.

What about mortal enemies in the human kingdom? Most readers of Isaiah 11 that I know of, interpret the peace demonstrated among animals in Isaiah 11 to illustrate such peace among men as well.

I've been thinking a lot about judgement between people, about my own heart's tendency to jump to judgemental conclusions about those I've just met, known for a long time, or even people I've never ever met, people I love, people I dislike, people of all kinds. Differences are key participants of judgement. I don't like your style choices, your accent, your personality, your politics, your religious convictions, your philosophy, your lifestyle, your bumpersticker(s)...and I will judge you, make assumptions about other parts of you, decide that you must also think or be like x, y, or z. I pride myself in loving diversity, but the truth is, part of that appreciation involves a keen ability to try to put people in boxes.

Judgement is a key participant in conflict. And can I just say that conflict between people (interpersonal conflict) is rampant, my friends. It's why people leave foreign mission fields, it's why people leave jobs and churches and marriages...Judgement and conflict bring our defenses up, they bring out dread in our heads and hearts, they make us afraid of one another...

Just this week this has been my experience.

That's why Isaiah 11 has struck me so...

"...The Spirit of the LORD will rest on him—

the Spirit of wisdom and of understanding,

the Spirit of counsel and of might,

the Spirit of the knowledge and fear of the LORD—

and he will delight in the fear of the LORD.

He will not judge by what he sees with his eyes,

or decide by what he hears with his ears;

but with righteousness he will judge the needy,

with justice he will give decisions for the poor of the earth..."

That He might make me like this!

"the leopard will lie down with the goat...

They will neither harm nor destroy

on all my holy mountain...

and his resting place will be glorious"

That the human kingdom might be at peace!

That we might not judge each other; harm or destroy one another...

That we might rest.

Amen.

*and if only with reading that Amen you could also hear the chorus of "Amen's" (concluding the section titled "Worthy is the Lamb") that serves as the conclusion of the entire Handel's Messiah (probably my favorite piece of music of all time). I have been newly intrigued by this chorus particular chorus this season. Magnificent. Gives me chills.*

**totally random tidbit: when I googled "the leopard and the goat" the top of the results list was this very amusing video telling the story of what is supposedly a Ugandan myth re. the hostility between the leopard and the goat. An interesting take on this animosity/conflict.**

Uganda Gold

2010-12-12T15:52:00.002-06:00

The first time I drove through Bundibugyo Town (sometime in the first few weeks I was in Bundibugyo) I was in the passenger seat of Clifford the big red Myhre truck. Scott was driving and just after passing the boda stage under the mango tree in town, Scott slams on the breaks and throws the big red truck into reverse, exclaiming: "Did you smell that?!" I had gotten a whiff of something remarkably fragrant but not enough to identify the scent..."That's vanilla, one of the only nice smells around here. See over there on that tarp, they're drying it. I always take a big whiff when I pass it." I inhaled deeply and oh. my. goodness. I cannot even begin to describe the intoxicating aroma that a tarp full of fresh vanilla beans exudes. I was a quick convert. There are certain places around town that dry it, so you always look and inhale when you pass.

When I left Bundibugyo I had it on my "to do before leaving" list to buy some vanilla to bring back to the US with me. Well, you know how those lists go, certain things never get done. I had talked to Pat "I-know-a-guy" Abbott about where to find it in Nyahuka, I had just never made it a priority to make it down there on a market day and strike up the courage to deal with yet another male businessman. Well, the night before I left I said to Pat "shoot, you know what I never got around to? Buying some vanilla." "Oh, it's no problem," she says, "lemme just give Habibu a call" as she picks up her phone (which holds the contact information for someone in Bundibugyo who can help you with just about ANYTHING). 15 minutes later a boda honks from the driveway out front. Pat goes out and comes back in with 1/2 kilo of vanilla beans. Amazing I tell you. She's got the hookups.

So, I quadruple bagged my vanilla beans in ziplocs and with Pat's instruction poured in about a 1/2 cup of vodka to keep them moist while I traveled home to the states. Now, traveling to the US with fresh vanilla beans means a trip through the Agricultural line in customs Stateside, but it's worth every minute. When I pulled out my "agricultural products" in the ziplocs and explained what it was they said, "This is it?" "Yes ma'am." And I was motioned to move along.

By hope was to make homemade extract from these beans but I hadn't the foggiest idea how to do that, so I began scouring the internet for instructions. It turns out that everybody's got a different idea on how it should be done...ratios of beans to vodka, splitting the beans or not, cutting the beans up into pieces or leaving them whole, scraping out the caviar or not, length of time for "extraction," etc. etc. etc. I made a few middle of the road decisions and have been patiently waiting.

Now that I've had my beans "extracting" for almost 3 months now, I'm ready to start attempting to use it. People also have differing opinions on this but as I've been looking around today I found a guy who seems to know a bit about what he's talking about, and is open to suggestions and varieties of approaches and such (which I like in a person). And I noticed that he mentions that he uses Amadeus Trading's Uganda Gold vanilla beans. Well Well Well. So according to this vanilla guru and his dealer, Uganda's vanilla beans are top notch...THE top notch....how cool is this?!

Now, if you're curious enough to explore the site, you'll find pictures of their purchasing trip to Uganda and so forth. The not so cool part of this story is the financial realities of this situation. As you'll notice, these sellers will get ~$65 for 1 lb of vanilla beans grown in Uganda by these farmers they have their arms around in the pictures. How much did I pay Habibu (the middle man who buys from local farmers and sells to exporters in Kampala) for my 1/2 kilo (~1lb?) 15,000 Ush (~$7.50)...and how much did my teammate John tell me afterwards that local farmers in Bundibugyo get for a kilo (~2 lbs: ie TWICE the amount of vanilla) when they sell it to a middle man like Habibu? <>

Now I, my friends, am far from being an economist, far from being an agricultural specialist, far from knowing anything about growing or trading vanilla, but I am a consumer, and I can do simple math at least some of the time (check me, please!) This is sickening!

Vanilla is FAR from sickening, and my jars of currently "extracting" beans will ever remind me of the fertile land of the Pearl of Africa. But simultaneously, those jars can't help but remind me of the injustice in the appropriation of resources around the world...

out of sorts

2010-12-08T23:24:00.003-06:00

Feeling a bit out of sorts today.

Not sure why.

It's 11:30pm and I'm sitting in bed here in my basement abode with my laptop in my lap on top of the fleecy blankets keeping me warm.

The guys next door are chatting on their front porch, and the smell of their Marlboro's is drifting through my closed window. Porch chatter and cigarette smoke are the urban America equivalent of the compound laughter and cooking fire smoke that drifted through my open window in rural Uganda.

With the funny out-of-sorts feeling tonight, I resorted to a familiar vice...suspenseful/humorous crime show tv...I laughed out loud a few times, but the cackles reverberating back from the empty concrete walls quickly reminded me that my onscreen "friends" at NCIS are poor substitutes for the "been through the thick of it together" friends I used to gather with 'round the same screen to laugh and be entertained.

As I write, the tears come and I realize what the out-of-sorts feeling is...it's homesickness.

But you are home, you say. I am. I'm not.

This last Sunday at church our congregation said a tearful goodbye to a family in the church that is moving away. They were sad to go. Our community is sad to see them go. And in the prayers that we sent them off with, someone mentioned that the tears from both parties demonstrated the longing for our true home that we all feel at one time or another...our true home where there won't be any more leaving.

When I spoke at another church a few weeks ago, that church community surrounded 2 particular women in prayer that day. One of these women is probably younger than me and was headed into surgery a few days later to have a mass of unknown origin removed from her abdomen. I have learned since that this young woman had a total hysterectomy and was diagnosed with a rare form of ovarian cancer and was to learn this last week whether the cancer had spread and how far. In our true home there will be no sickness.

We all will long for home with a big "H" for a long time, no matter where we are or who we are.

We will long to be with people we are far from, we will long for familiar sights and sounds and tastes and smells from places dear to us, we will long for sickness, death, injustice and tears to be no longer; we will long.

It's good for me to long. It's oh so heart wrenching but it's good. It's good not because of it's value as an emotional exercise, it's good not because the things that are so heart wrenching are of ANY less value...it's good because of what is at the end of the longing...it's good because it focuses my mind and heart on what's true...it's good because God promises to come back to right all wrongs and take us Home (with a big "H").

I heard a radio broadcast the other day in which the guest spoke of his disappointment with the egotism of a particular group of people - writers I believe - in their tendency to view everything in the world through the light of their own lives, that they somehow would turn every situation into a story about them. I got scared. Maybe that's me. If it is, my most sincere apologies.

overstimulation...

2010-12-07T14:21:00.002-06:00

a theme throughout my life in several arenas...this time, namely in reference to the visual experience of my blog. Too much. Way too much. I don't look at it very often, usually just writing and then posting. But when I have looked at it recently I've been overwhelmed...wondering how in the world you have been able to stand to read it...must simplify...so here you have it. Hopefully the changes make for a more enjoyable blog reading experience...

Thankful

2010-11-26T13:32:00.002-06:00

...full of thanks...

this year it's the little things. little things that are not so little, really.

thankful for the opportunity to celebrate a holiday with my family!
thankful for food to put on the table. and not just any food, but food in abundant variety.
thankful for my "bijuma bia double-color" apron that Nathan gave me for Christmas last year that I sported proudly as I cooked yesterday..."heidi, those look like pills on your apron...why, yes, they are." "Bijuma bia double-color" is how the Babwisi describe the dual colored capsules that are so common in their drug shops and health centers...Amoxicillin or cloxacillin for example. And when they print patterns on cloth, they often use known objects...such as capsules. So I have an apron made from kitenge cloth that has orange/blue capsules all over it that Nathan gave me in honor of my profession...in honor of the number of times that I gave instructions to mothers as to how to administer the capsules to their children..."na, bijuma bia double-color - kachweka mirundi esatu bulikilo." (pardon my spelling...)
thankful for friends who are willing to drop by and come hang in the kitchen with me while I cook (with hot cinnamon rolls as a door prize :) and laugh with us along with the craziness of the Lutjens'
thankful for finally figuring out a holiday role reversal that leaves everyone in the family much happier: Heidi in the kitchen, mom entertaining guests...
thankful for friends to share the abundance of the table with...guests who seemed to enjoy themselves (and even the food!)
thankful for a rousing game of speed scrabble with the family to close up the day even though my first hand I had the X, Z, AND Q with only one vowel... needless to say I didn't come out at the top of the winner board at the end of the night...
thankful for the dusting of snow we got in the afternoon that added to the festive nature of the day
thankful that my brother and I walked to our cars at the same time at the end of the night, because my car doors were frozen shut and Jeff threw his weight around a little bit and with a little teamwork we managed to get them open...my only complaint about my little VW...it happens EVERY winter and I can't figure out how to prevent it...
thankful for today - so far it has been the November version of Boxing Day. Love it.
thankful for washing machines and dryers...a couple hours later and 3 weeks of dirty laundry now clean!
thankful for the things I am missing this Thanksgiving (the sweating up a storm in the kitchen in Bundibugyo as we try to make do with what we have, the discussing and sharing of American traditions and holidays with African friends, the teammates I've celebrated the last several years of holidays with, etc) because that means I am blessed with things worthy of missing!
thankful for a God who continues year after year to shower an abundance of blessings on me

Thanksgiving Eve

2010-11-24T19:40:00.003-06:00

So, the "holiday season" is now upon us...

(photo = Thanksgiving 2009, Bundibugyo)

I've had a hard time believing this is the case, even though I'm here in America where everywhere you go, everything you listen to, everyone you talk to is thinking/planning holidays...the little cardboard turkey do-dads in stores, commercials on the radio, sale announcements in the email inbox...it's all pointing that way but somehow I'm in denial...

Funny thing is that I felt this way in Uganda too because the weather was so warm and sunny and such, it never really felt like what I knew to be the "holiday season"...until that day came...the hustle and bustle, cooking and decorating and such...that worked everytime in Uganda and it's proving to be the same case here this year. I'm cooking most of the Lutjens family thanksgiving meal...let's all take a moment and say a prayer that there might be something edible on the table tomorrow around 1pm :) I did the meal planning and list making on Monday night, grocery shopping yesterday, and started the cooking this afternoon. Two pies done. Two vegetable casseroles done. Stuffing to be prepped yet tonight but currently taking a pause. I am finally tracking with the "holiday season." Cooking has done it once again. I miss cooking. Haven't really done any since I came home. Way to decide to jump back in the saddle for the biggest cooking day of the year, Heidi. I'm enjoying it though. Pandora playing from my computer here on the kitchen table, sticking to the usual recipes so as to not capsize the boat in my American debut, a little spiced cider along the way and now a glass of red wine.

observations from the week:

"There is something about orange juice that makes the world seem like a better place." - Heidi

"I feel that way about cold milk with ice in it." - Dad

"I feel that way about red wine." - Mom (as she reaches for my glass :)

People in America talk to themselves a lot. In public. It seems like I'm noticing this phenomenon more often since I've been back. I've been trying to figure out why this is...is it because we don't have other people to talk to? Is it because we're always talking so that dialogue doesn't cease even with there's no second party to dialogue with? I do it all the time, but I didn't know And, well, now that I'm thinking about it, I'm quite silly as I realize that it could be an observation of a technological phenomenon, known as Bluetooth...that would be really silly of me, but I really haven't noticed the little do-dads in people's ears when I've noticed what I thought was someone talking to themselves...oh dear...I'll get back to you on that cultural observation...

I signed back into the online world of the University of Pennsylvania today. I was attempting to request a transcript. When I finally succeeded in signing in, my account brought up all of my old information, like no time at all had passed. In fact it's been almost 10 years (!!!!!) since I roamed the West Philly campus. The first screen had this picture of me...must have been the picture I had on my PennCard or something, one of those you have taken within your first week of school that follows you around for the remainder of your time there. Who knew it would follow you for the rest of your adult life!!! Anyways. I had forgotten my hair could be that straight somedays...when it felt like it...when it was long and heavy...and I look so young! No wonder my patients used to ask me if I was old enough to be catheterizing them or drawing blood or putting an IV in...Well, in any case, I was young. Still am, kinda. And then I looked at my transcript...sheesh...Fall 1999 was NOT the highlight of my collegiate career...the low-light in fact...sheesh. My GPA that semester was a full point and a half below what it was the other 7 semesters I was at Penn...glad to say that it wasn't a trend...I remember it being pretty miserable...I remember struggling to keep my head above water and not really succeeding...glad to say that that semester is behind me, but sobering to think that the struggling to keep my head above water has continued in one way or another ever since!

phases of this ever unpredictable journey

2010-11-09T14:25:00.004-06:00

thursday 4 Nov: hitting the wall of exhaustion

fact: I love to sleep. and am pretty darn good at it, if I do say so myself

fact: the night before I had hardly slept

fact: it is unbelievably insensitive to demand answers about baby clothes and borrowed items from a new mother of twins who hasn't slept for not only one night but the previous 14 nights.

fact: I am guilty of the above.

fact: friends and family of people like me, in this crazy unpredictable journey of cultural adjustment and international movement, have a huge challenge in front of them. I can only speak for myself I suppose, but to try to anticipate my needs/next steps and plan accordingly would be an impossible task...

fact: my newest friend to become a Nalongo (mother of twins) and I have a remarkable amount of similarities in these new stages of our lives...as she says "my new thing is living in the moment, so maybe we'll just wait and see."

saturday 6 Nov: hitting the wall of communication exhaustion

fact: since arriving in the states, I have thoroughly enjoyed talking to people about my time in Uganda and about what's ahead of me in my future

fact: all of my stateside family went to DC this weekend for a wedding.

fact: the best conversations we have as a family often occur over meals shared together.

fact: saturday morning, my mom/brother/sister and I were sitting together at brunch, and conversation shifted to what I was thinking about my future.

fact: in that moment I could NOT do it. I could NOT talk any more about me, even to my family.

fact: it was not wrong of them to ask, but I needed the freedom (and took it) to say, "I can't really go there right now, sorry."

sunday 7 Nov: debriefing me/the last 3 years of my life

fact: a debriefing program is structured to help ME thinking about the last period of MY life and how it has impacted ME thus far and will impact ME in the future (more or less)

fact: just the day before this program started I had come to the realization that I was NOT in a place to talk about ME....

fact: the first two facts don't go very well together...

fact: after dinner I was feeling ready to crawl under my covers and go to bed for the night and my roommate looked at her watch and said, "it's only 6:30pm, we need to keep you awake for at least a little bit longer, don't you think?"

monday 8 Nov: the paradox of life and death

fact: "It was the best of time, it was the worst of times." Charles Dickens (A Tale of Two Cities) describes the last 3 years of my life remarkably well.

fact: I wouldn't change it for the world.

fact: in our discussions of this missionary life phenomenon, tears rolled down my cheeks, for the first time since coming home to the US, in regards to my life in Uganda.

fact: the tears came when I realized the following: that never before in my life had I lived/experienced LIFE and DEATH to their fullest.

tuesday 9 Nov: the paradox of living stress artfully and knowing one's limitations

fact: stress is biblical and to try to live life without it would be fruitless/unfaithful/impossible

fact: knowing one's limitations and attempting to live life within them is a good/healthy goal.

fact: I have no idea what the melding of the above two facts looks like.

tuesday 9 Nov #2: it's SNOWING!!!!!!

goodbye october...

2010-10-30T12:50:00.002-05:00

~ leaves...they are a' changin'

~the sky is blue, the sun is shining, but somehow I'm FREEZING!!!!! how does THAT work?!

~latest paradox realization: I miss the simplicity of all of my day-to-day life occurring within a mile of my front door, and in the same moment really enjoying the diversity found in most parts of life here

~ diversity of people - different colors, shapes, sizes, music/movie recommendations, backgrounds, passions, interests, life experiences, book suggestions

~ diversity of ideas - NPR programs/interviews highlighting political rifts/polarization, new technology, people investing their lives in vastly different arenas...this week's favorites from time in my car driving around the city:

*Oliver Sacks - professor of Neurology and Psychiatry at Columbia University Medical School and author of "The Man Who Mistook His Wife for a Hat" speaking of patients' and his own experiences of a visual/neurologic disturbance called "facial blindness"...fascinating

*Stanley somebody-or-another - world renown writer for Marvel Comics

*George Wills - author/historian/theologian answering questions varying from the intersection of faith/politics to his invitation to the White House and a study showing that people that don't believe in God know more about religion than the the religious...

*A biographer of Houdini, whose name I cannot remember, and a museum curator, whose name I can also not remember, in charge of an exhibit of the famous magician's life/work

~visits to 3 area hospitals this week reminding me how much i enjoy and miss clinical nursing

~realizing that I breathe a sigh of comfort/familiarity when entering hospitals, institutions that invoke discomfort and funny smells for a good portion of the population

~the walking of the tightrope of balance between being a friend and a nurse...the balance I hope to strike looks like a friend who happens to be a nurse, not a nurse who happens to be a friend

~the incredible experience of getting to hold the precious little babies that God gives to your friends, having them fall asleep on your chest and snooze there until you get the feeling someone else wants a turn :) ...not having to wake up 5x/night with them, not having to figure out whether they like bouncing or swinging or both or even worse, neither...etc...this phenomenon is known to me as baby therapy. Jennifer Myhre introduced me, and I'm pretty sure it's a therapy that only works for people who are NOT the parents of the baby involved...I'm also pretty sure it's extremely effective :)

~having a hard time focusing these days...helps for people to ask questions

~best "what was life in Uganda like" question of the week: "Do they have Santa Claus there?" (my dental hygienist)

~interested to see what November will bring

I miss...stateside edition

2010-10-24T20:01:00.007-05:00

Pat “ keep my options open” Abbott: her particular experience of changes in barometric pressure, the way she knows very well what she likes and how she likes it, her eye for style and color, her bravery around snakes with the pestle usually used for pounding sombe, her empathy and compassion for people, her knock-your-socks-off gin and tonics...

Anna “I’ve got a few bites” Linhart: her particular experience of temperature extremes, her tendency to sing nursery rhymes around the house, her affinity for guys by the name of Chuck, her gut m.o. that everything will be alright in the end, her love of baked goods of all shapes and sizes, and her depth of experience/understand of the good news of the gospel…

Travis “Captain Awesome” Johnson: his mad pizza oven skills, his dreams of being able to “do it all” and that it will all be “awesome,” his delight in his kids, his tolerance of a team full of women this past summer, and his heart that yearns to teach in almost every context from the hospital to the opening of God’s word together…

Amy “Martha Stewart” Johnson: the fact that she’s not and doesn’t pretend to be an early bird, her passion for organization, her gracious and beautiful hospitality, her affinity for labeling things, her kindness and grace in the role of Johnson house bouncer, her willingness to see past my rough edges…

Lilli Johnson: the firstborn big-sisterness I know so well and see in her, her full head of beautifully straight, silky blond hair, and her eye for style…

Patton Johnson: his passionate experience of and response to most everything in life, P-A-T-T-O-N, his goofy and oh-so-genuine grin.

Aidan Johnson: his absolutely incredible naturally occurring blonde Mohawk, his “hey guys, what’s going on here?” laid back look, and last but certainly not least: Praise Baby (aka: baby crack)…

John “classic Carhart man” Clark: “Is there anything we can do for you?”, his knowledge about/passion for things I know nothing of, his inclusion of me into the life of their family from the beginning the intersection of our lives at Assessment and Orientation 3 ½ years ago, his lettuce and sweet corn rendering the singles’ dinner table silent with enjoyment…

Loren “now wait a minute” Clark: “So, how’s Heidi?”, her honesty and vulnerability, our shared common experiences/joys/frustrations in nursing, her willingness to chat when I stop by for something or to say hey and usually to stop what she’s doing, she says it like it is…

Bryan Clark: his sweet little voice, “what’s going on dude?”, his shoulder shrugging ear to ear smiles, his articulate thought processes, explanations and questions about every part of life…

David Clark: He’s just so darn cute! And he falls asleep on my shoulder J Just my type…

The pediatric ward: the little ones toddling around wearing next to nothing (even if they would scream when I got close, it was so fun to be around them), laughing with the staff (when we had staff…), the challenge of listening to patient histories in Lubwisi and trying to decipher what’s going on, the opportunities I had to be part of teamwork with Ugandan staff and the joy that was, Mr. Biguye and his story telling…

The mountains: the days when the rain had cleared the dusty haze and the mountains were crisp, clear, snow capped, and seemed within arm’s reach…

Motorcycle rides on the the dirt roads of our part of Bundibugyo…with or without pants…er, I mean trousers…

Susana: her singing church songs while she worked

Zainabo: her funny English phrases (“the sunshine’s! they are many!)

Ngonzi: his “fine and you?” answer to any English greeting

George: his smiling and nodding as I tried to figure out how life in Bundibugyo worked or told him about something that happened that day…

Assusi: her calm, steady, wise, presence

Olupah: her freedom to laugh with and at me

Baguma: his one liners that made my day each and every time

Lamech: his laugh

Pauline: her yellow yolked eggs that topped any in the whole country

And the list goes on…

fingerprints

2010-10-04T16:17:00.006-05:00

Not sure how many of you know this, but before I decided I wanted to be a nurse, I seriously pursued an education in Forensic Science. My life's aspiration was to work in the FBI's crime lab. Forensics is fascinating. That explains a bit why I'm going to compare my adjustment to life in the US after 2.5 years of life in Africa to fingerprints...

Every person on earth is different, I know this isn't rocket science but isn't it fascinating? Every person who has ever lived has a different set of fingerprints; the loops, arches and whorls bend and swirl to tell part of a story. Each one of us has a different story. Part of our story is how our fingerprints leave a unique impression on everything they touch. When I took the NCLEX (nursing board exam) 9 years ago(!!!), as I stood at the front desk at the testing center in suburban Philadelphia, they asked me to leave my thumbprint as part of my signature in signing in for the exam. (I was so nervous about the exam waiting for me that I forgot to press my thumb into the inkpad before stamping it onto the page they had waiting - "um, miss, you'll need to use this inkpad first." - "oh right, yes, of course.") Why did they want my thumbprint? They wanted to be able to ensure that I was in fact Heidi Lutjens and not Meredith Krieger or any other person trying to pose as Heidi Lutjens - trying to ensure that I hadn't sent someone else to take the exam for me, trying to make sure I wasn't cheating. And how does a thumbprint accomplish that? My thumb leaves a different impression than the thumb of some random person named Meredith Krieger, different even than my own brother - born of the same parents and the same upbringing - the loops and arches and whorls are different. Each of our stories are different, even when we have the same last name, the same blood, the same circumstances, the same home culture, our fingerprints leave different impressions.

But it's hard, isn't it, not to look around at the stories walking around near you and want for your story to look like theirs, or to assume that their story should be similar to yours in certain ways, or to wonder why your story doesn't look like theirs.

Where am I going with this, you wonder. Well, the most recent part of my story is that I just moved 1/2 way around the world. There naturally are reactions, adjustments, and acculturations that take place when a change like this takes place in one's life. Frankly, I don't think there's any way to know what those reactions/adjustments/acculturations will look like, but because there's no way to know, I look around, wondering what it is I'm feeling/how I'm doing and wondering if it's the way I should be feeling/how I should be doing.

So that's where I am. I'm struggling to let me be me. Since I have lots of teammates who have made similar moves, from the same place 1/2 way around the world, I'm struggling to not look around and wonder if my feeling/doing should look like theirs does. So far, the US feels mostly normal, I mean, sure, I'm well aware of the differences in my surroundings but so far they're not so much a shock to my system or disorienting or frustrating...but maybe they should be? Does that mean I didn't really make a home where I was, does not thinking about Uganda first thing when I get up in the morning mean I didn't really love people there well? I do miss Uganda and the people there, but my re-entry into the US has looked different than I thought it might, than others have thought it might, different than others' re-entry experiences as of late. I don't really know what to make of it or how to describe it, but I do feel a good deal of guilt/shame for the "normal" that I feel. The things is, Uganda feels "normal" too...it's strange to have "normals" that look very different, that are 1/2 way around the world from one another...but right now, this is what I know, how I'm feeling/doing, and I'm tryin' my best to roll with it.

I think it's related to this notion of fingerprints, but in reverse...not only do we as individuals make different impressions on the world, everything we touch, but everything we touch, the world, leaves different impressions on each of us as individuals...The impression left on my life of any significant (or even insignificant) event can be very different from the impression left on my brother/sister/friend/teammate/colleague. Both our fingerprints on the world and the world's fingerprints on us affect how we feel about/react to changes in surroundings/circumstances.

So, I'm not sure what exactly my fingerprints look like on the world, or what the world's fingerprints look like in me, but for now, I'm just realizing more and more that they're most certainly different than any one else's, and that's a start.

hellos

2010-10-04T13:33:00.008-05:00

Carrieta and Geofredito (aka Carrie and Jeff) siblings extrodinaire
twins #1: Maceo (L) and Bram (R); mama = Dana
twins #2 - Sophia (L) and Andrew (R); mama = Becca
twins #3 - both boys (twin mama #3 last week at 33 weeks); mama = Leslie
the fam on mom's birthday

24 hours of travel and 5 movies later, after the goodbyes ended with Pat and Assusi at the Entebbe airport, I started the process of hellos. here are a few of those.

Now, you may not know, that being friends with Heidi Lutjens is linked to a high probability of giving birth to twins. The three "twins" photos are 3 friends of mine that by the end of next month will have given birth to twins over a period of 12 months...all of them dear friends of mine, all of them room/house-mates of mine at one point or another, all of them asked me to be a part of their wedding, all of them very lovely and talented women who I respect and admire and love very much, all of them had/having twins. Craziness if you ask me.

Hellos have also included:

fabulously hilarious conversations with 4 year olds (ahem, Daniel T.) about the intricacies of pit latrine use

D: "but you can't pee in a hole!"
H: "oh, but you most certainly can, Daniel, I'm quite sure of it."
D: "i mean, you can't poop in a hole."
H: "oh, but you can indeed, Daniel. I'm certain of it."
D: "but it can't be too deep."
H: "ooooh yes, in fact it *has* to be deep, the deeper the better, actually."
D: "I mean, the hole can't be too long."
H: "well, actually the longer the better too sometimes..."
D: "But it can't be too wide...the hole..."
H: "You're most certainly right about that sir, the hole cannot be too wide, that would for sure be no good at all."

(ah the joys of having fabulous friends who in turn produce fabulous children! Not so sure mama Sylwinn will be very happy with me for trying to prove to her son that one can in fact pee AND poop in a hole, but she gave me no evil mom glares so I'm hoping I'm ok :)...until Daniel tries to make a restroom out of a hole in the neighbor's yard...sorry!)

overwhelming culture shock moment #1: The AT&T store...it actually succeeded in making me question whether I needed a phone to do everything shy of tying my shoes...luckily I took a deep breath and realized that I need a phone to make phone calls and I'm pretty sure that's it...okay okay, maybe also to send the slightly more than occasional text message, but that's really it!

"definitely not in Africa anymore, Heidi" culture shock moment #2: When coming out of the mall, after putting to rest my Chick-Fil-A craving of the last year and a half, a kind, (and rather handsome) man, and total stranger, held the door open for me and looked me in the eye and smiled! I'm pretty sure my mouth almost dropped open, but don't worry, it didn't, and I just returned the smile and said "thank you!" and moseyed on to my car. If you're not quite sure how this might be shocking, then I'm not quite sure I'll be able to explain it to you, but let's just say I was pleasantly reminded that chivalry is not dead.

a lovely evening spent chatting over spaghetti, complete with a nice bottle of Winking Owl Cabernet Sauvignon (webaleh Aldi's - missionary budget, remember!), with Jeremy and Courtney, newlywed's as of July of this year, both dear friends of mine who started dating and married while I was in Uganda...none of us realized how fast the time had passed as we sat in their kitchen enjoying Italian food, wine, and oh, can't forget the Trader Joe's Molten Chocolate Cake, and talking about everything under the sun, laughing as the hours flew by!

2 hugs and a fabulous bowl of hot apple crisp and vanilla ice cream at the home of Mynda and Jason, 2 more dear friends who started dating and got married during the time I've been in Uganda. In addition to the great company and wonderful dessert, the evening was complete with conversation about just how long I've been gone and all kinds of things that have both changed and stayed the same during that time, how behind the times I am with pop culture, how it is that your surroundings and environment influence your perception of culture and entertainment, and lots of other things that I now forget because I had spent the previous 24 hours flying around the world with little to no sleep...I did manage to drive "little blue" home and arrive in one piece, albeit sleepy.

and many other things. If you have not been mentioned or I have not yet had the priviledge of greeting you with a hello, do not dismay, it just means there's only so many hours in the day and I'll be back in St. Louis in a few weeks to continue making my rounds! Save me a bowl of salad or a glass of wine and we'll pick up this conversation then!

Proverbs Project here she comes!

2010-10-03T17:13:00.004-05:00

For some of you, this woman needs no introduction, for others who don't know her, let me tell you a little story. This is a story about a woman named Pat Abbott. This is a story about a woman who God has moved in marvelous ways to further His kingdom. From the "Backporch Screamery" to Bundibugyo (you know, it's just as I'm writing that I realized that based on the name of the former - a restaurant in Winston Salem, NC which I only know second hand stories about- the two must be remarkably similar places of employment :) God brought Pat, 17 years ago, to Uganda where she has, according to popular local opinion, "become a Mubwis." "Omaniye Lubwisi!" (she know's Lubwisi!) you'll often hear as she moves around the HIV clinic talking with patients who have known her for years, as she shush's small children in church trying to get them to pay attention to what's going on up front (which is in fact in *their* native tongue and not hers!), as she welcomes the steady stream of people that flock to her door everyday starting at ungodly hours of the morning as far as I'm concerned, and often lasting until dark, as she councils young men and women in the next steps on the narrow path of following Jesus...she was made for this job, this place, these people. The exciting thing to watch as this story unfolds is how year after year God continues the process of shaping a calling for this daughter of His named Pat. Lately the calling has taken a turn towards the arts. Pat is fantastically creative, from the food she makes in her wonderfully cozy home, the notes she draws in her journal, the painting of murals for sick children, and my most recent experience is in the gifts she gives.

This is the gift Pat gave me the morning I left Bundibugyo a few weeks ago...

a month of her labor of love put into this quilt and I can't quite put words to how beautiful it is! She crafted it on a local sewing machine, the kind you pump with your feet and is mounted on a wooden table. And not only is it a gift, but it's the begining of a new calling on Pat's life.

The "Proverbs Project" (as it was being called at least for planning purposes) is only in it's infancy, but people have started to gather around Pat and help her plan for a project that teaches high quality textile arts/color/design to women in Uganda with Bible study and fellowship intertwined throughout. Please join me to pray with Pat that he would use this new work to provide for Ugandan women and to draw them closer to himself. Pray that he would provide the partnership she needs with Ugandans and with those living far from Uganda, pray that he would provide the funding the project will need and pray that ultimately God would continue to be glorified in and through Pat in this new chapter of her story!

And last but not least, WEBALE MUNO MUNO MUNO, Pat. What better gift to leave Bundibugyo with?! Plain and simple, you rock. :)

Goodbyes

2010-10-03T16:02:00.020-05:00

Pahti!
me and my little buddy Bryan (Clark)
most of the rest of the Clark family (sans David, the newest addition who was asleep)
Larissa, George's daughter, namesake of the lovely Larissa Funk I believe
Robert, Hannington, and Janet - gracious, hospitable and God fearing friends
Janet, Pat, and Ngonzi
Assusi, me and Gloria
Illuminate and Justine
Byamukama and Asita
Asita, Bahati, and Zainabo
Susana and Joyce
Pattony, Olupah and Patris
Kymanuel and Kwik
Esimo and Night
Owen
Susan and Page

"Tutex" time (everyone loves to paint their nails, boys and girls) Tumusiime, Kwik, Richard

Two weeks ago, I said goodbye to dear friends. They were truly "good-byes" I think, or as "good" as goodbyes can be. I miss their smiling faces. Here are some of those smiling faces...

last week

2010-09-16T14:17:00.007-05:00

so, I had a nice, cute, post written about last week in Bundibugyo, but it got lost in cyberspace when I thought I posted it, so instead you get just the photos :) sorry, but a picture speaks louder than words anyways, right?

where my heart finds rest these days...first for Bundibugyo and then for me

2010-09-11T03:51:00.002-05:00

"as it is written, "I have made you the father of many nations"—in the presence of the God in whom he believed, who gives life to the dead and calls into existence the things that do not exist. In hope he believed against hope, that he should become the father of many nations, as he had been told, "So shall your offspring be." He did not weaken in faith when he considered his own body, which was as good as dead (since he was about a hundred years old), or when he considered the barrenness of Sarah’s womb. No distrust made him waver concerning the promise of God, but he grew strong in his faith as he gave glory to God, fully convinced that God was able to do what he had promised." ~ Romans 4:17-21

"For I know the plans I have for you, declares the LORD, plans for welfare and not for evil, to give you a future and a hope. Then you will call upon me and come and pray to me, and I will hear you. You will seek me and find me, when you seek me with all your heart. I will be found by you, declares the LORD..."
~ Jeremiah 29: 11-14a

run of writing...

2010-09-06T07:52:00.000-05:00

3 new posts follow...read as you feel so led...

"Mortality rates are high"

2010-09-06T07:50:00.001-05:00

So, nothing like a discouraging email to wrap up one’s time…from Dr. Fred, our primary contact at UNICEF in the Kampala office:

A team from UNICEF, including myself, visited the district last week and noticed a number of technical challenges at Nyahuka HC IV with the Inpatient care management [of malnutrition]; protocols don't seem to be followed and health workers there seem not to be knowledgeable on what they are doing, mortality rate is quite high. We would like to come and support the staff directly by having an on site refresher training on key elements of management of acute malnutrition.

Please inform the hospital and Nyahuka HC IV staff about our visit.

I was pretty bummed when I saw these observations in print. Some of it is the truth and some is not the whole truth...not surprising from a huge organization who made such judgements on a visit of an hour or two in length, but it does accurately reflect my discouragement most of the time with the state of things…it just hurt to see it in print from someone who matters, who makes decisions on whether or not to continue to help us help Bundibugyo…
So, starting tomorrow Monday 6 September and extending throughout this week, UNICEF takes on Bundibugyo pediatric malnutrition firsthand. What you don’t see from the email portion taken from above is that in addition to their onsite training at Nyahuka, they also hope to use this week to encourage/support the initiation of an inpatient pediatric malnutrition unit at the district Hospital in Bundibugyo. This will benefit all of us in Bundibugyo, hopefully lightening the burden of disease at Nyahuka and extending access of care to people on the other end of the district who may not have previously had access as easily to care.
“They are welcome. They will find us here” said Mr. Biguye, the in charge clinical officer at Nyahuka when I told him yesterday of the upcoming visit. “If they are coming to train us, they are most welcome.” Thankful for the staff’s welcome of information and training, I pray that staff will in fact be found there and active and ready and willing to learn and act on what they learn. This is another opportunity for handover of responsibility from World Harvest to the district health staff and the one most directly involving me sphere of influence, so what happens this week and more importantly what happens as a result of what happens this week, is very near and dear to my heart. How will Bundibugyo continue to provide for it’s own? Please pray with me.

Photos, Observations and Reflections on 5 days in Sudan

2010-09-06T07:30:00.018-05:00

Sudanese girl who followed us around the health center from afar
from the air
ECS (Episcopal Church of Sudan)
I think I like the choice of kitenge better than the toilet paper for decorating
Christine, Kim and Larissa chillin' by the river
Gaby showin' off his mad kayaking skills!
...and his chivalrous side by rescuing Miss Anna
stunning color grown in Scott's garden and cut for our enjoyment
dinner out on the town
ful, addis and kebob (too bad the pita didn't make it in the photo, bad move Heidi!)
Larissa the chef in the team house kitchen (homemade "hint of lime" tortilla chips with fresh black bean and corn salsa on the menu - scrumptious!)
safari tent (where the guys sleep when they're staying at the compound instead of at their place in town)

The Dukul (2 bedrooms and sitting room - this one belonging to Larissa/Christine)
The team house (living room and kitchen and library)
and last but not least, the choo!!!!!! (combined with shower rooms)

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• People are tall and black
• Smiles are readily offered
• Land is very flat aside from the random hills/mountain-esque highlands that seem to pop out of no where from the air
• It does in fact get cool and green during rainy season
• Roofs of homes are almost exclusively thatched (instead of tin sheets)
• Compounds are open, spread out, and often built around a central tree
• Military presence is prominent
• Churches are decorated with scraps of kitenge fabric instead of toilet paper
• Food has a lot of arab influence (pita, ful, lentils, etc)
• Partnerships seem to succeed (NGO & Gov’t, NGO & NGO, NGO & church, etc)
• people have settled in Mundri from all over the place
• family units are usually severed in one or more ways
• people are well traveled both in southern sudan and internationally (Uganda, Kenya, etc)
• town is quite spread out
• people keep relatively to themselves
• there are several restaurants and guesthouses in town
• while I didn’t stay long enough to discuss politics there was no presence of anything that suggested that anyone wants to remain part of a united Sudan while there were a lot of strongly stated posters/t-shirts re. unity = death.
• Dance involves a lot of small shuffle-type steps
• Men are forward and marriage proposals are frequent and in English
• “Mikado” which I think is both a question and the answer to the same question re. are you okay/good; I am okay/good in Moru (one of the local tribes/the name of their language)…isn’t it also the name of an opera? (mind you, I know nothing about opera)
• people are in fact familiar with the notion of a line/queue and in fact had to usher me into my proper position in said formation
• first missionary on record arrived in Mundri in 1912, yes, almost 100 years ago and Mr. Kenneth I-can’t-remember-his-last-name is very highly regarded and spoken of frequently
• hibiscus tea is very lovely, very red, and very sweet
• Shani soda is akin to the Mirinda fruity of Uganda and slightly akin to the Cream Soda of the US
• The traditional African high pitched “ai yi yi yi yi” exclamation by women is very loud and very prominent in large gatherings
• People are quick to offer their help with endeavors they feel are valuable to them and their community
• Community and church groups are very organized and active
• Things are expensive to buy
• Limes and guavas are in plenty
• Health center had nurses/clinical officers/midwives/eye nurses/dressing changers/VCT counselors AND patients present and active but only a few lab supplies and meds available
• Critters such as scorpions and skinks are super sized

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After a crazy summer of coming and going in Bundibugyo we were hesitant to impose on our sister team, but they were so very gracious and excited to have us, telling us we weren’t visitors, but more like family. And family they were for us as well. They know where we come from and know the people we know, love the people we love, know what to ask and how to take our responses with a grain of salt given who we are. We were invested in Mundri before we even arrived because we love them, they are invested in Bundibugyo even they no longer live here because they love us and love the people here. We know them and respect them and it was so fun to see their new home and their new lives with our own eyes…

There was a fabulous mix of doing nothing and a bit of exploring and getting the lay of the land…trepsing around town and the market with Scott, seeing Larissa with her hands dirty in the soil in the Bible College garden, shuffling around a circle in the dark on the football pitch in town with drum accompaniment while trying out a bit of local dance with the added bonus of having guys around to watch our backs when we needed it, biking what I was told after the fact was about 10 miles round trip with Larissa to her Arabic/Moru speaking church and rebelling by refusing to go and sit in the front by myself as the visitor, watching movies, dance party in the drizzling evening rain including everything from eastern European line dancing to the Macarena, eating delicious food and even being given the chance to cook once for them – the least we could do in light of their gracious hospitality, biking by the health center with Christine and Anna who patiently accompanied me on a tour given by one of the clinical officers on duty, enjoying meals of ful and addis with fluffly pita bread at a roadside restaurant as the sun sets on Mundri town, sleeping in during morning prayer because, well, I could, killing super chubby scorpions on the wall of the shower, kayaking on the river nearby, watching the Masso kids star in their latest movie adventure filmed while one staycation the week before we arrived, also delving back into WHM East Africa archives by watching “Scott and the Dragon” produced in Bundibugyo by Annelise and Scotticus in honor of the birthday of Scott Myhre several year back, driving 2.5 hours to the next closest airstrip because of bad weather and chatting about reubens and childhood vocabulary lessons along the way…it was an all around good time.

There was however one glaring piece of the puzzle missing, Miss Bethany Ferguson ☺ Bethany is a peer, colleague, and friend currently on break in the US but usually a present member of WHM Sudan. You know how people reflect their surroundings differently based on their gifts and talents and passions? Well, we missed out on “Sudan according to Bethany,” and while Anna was able to sleep in her empty bed, her presence was dearly missed. We’ll catch ya on the flipside, friend!

If you are of the praying variety, please do keep our brothers and sisters in Mundri in your prayers as they move forward in uncharted territory as a new team in a new field in a relatively unsettled political situation. It was so encouraging to see their gifts at work in creative ways and their growing love for their new home. Might God be glorified by his Kingdom being furthered in Southern Sudan!

Bad Juju

2010-09-06T07:29:00.000-05:00

Recently Pat wrote me a text that said “you are having a very long stretch of bad juju.” I’m not really sure how to define “juju” but in my mind it’s kind of an onomatopoeia…rhyming with “voodoo” I guess, and similar to me in feeling…bad juju is like bad vibes, combined with bad luck/curses/and the like…kind of the same kind of phrase as a “black cloud” which I was often noted to have over my head relatively frequently during my shifts at St. Louis Children’s Hospital…everything that could go wrong, did go wrong (which is not usually what you want in a nurse come to think of it ☺). Not really what you want in a travel companion either…poor Anna.

So, you’re familiar with the fuel tank incident, following the next night by the infamous theft…so when Anna and I left Bundibugyo two weeks ago for some R&R, we were hard up for just that…rest and relaxation. We decided to take Kalita, the bus, because I was not in favor of driving the Zoolander that had just lost the fuel tank to Kampala and back while in search of rest…so 2 Friday’s ago, Travis ever so kindly drove us to Bundibugyo town at 4:15am and we got on the bus with our friends Musafara and Bahati. Between Fort Portal and Kampala the bus blew a tire and we stopped by the side of the road for a half hour or so while the tire was changed and then we were back on the road. Not a big deal, but big enough that I was glad I wasn’t driving and having to change the tire myself.

Moving the story along…Monday evening we were sitting at Café Java’s, I had just closed my computer after using their wireless internet and rifling through my wallet to pay the bill and then: HUGE explosive noise coming from the parking garage below…then 2 gun shots….EVERYBODY at the café hit the deck, staff, customers, EVERYONE. In a city which not a month previous had seen almost 80 people die in bomb attacks in 2 locations across the city, you could tell what was on people’s minds…it turns out the little rent-a-cops in the vicinity said it was thieves in the parking garage that the police shot at…shady in several ways (first of all it doesn’t explain the super loud explosive noise and second, since when do police SHOOT at thieves?!) anyways, TIA. Never a dull moment.

Then we fly to sudan. Another post entirely but JUST what Anna and I needed.

Monday night at the dinner table, I asked Michael how often they have MAF flights cancelled or postponed due to the airstrip being too wet or storms during rainy season… “So far, we’ve never had a flight cancelled” was his response. Well, you guessed it, the next morning we (Anna and I along with Kim, Larissa and Scott from the team there) were scheduled to fly out around 11 or so, and it rained ALL morning…Michael spent a good part of the morning assessing the weather and communicating with MAF and surrounding airstrips about the feasibility of landing in Mundri vs. Maridi… persistent rain and low lying cloud cover meant: 11am and everyone save Karen, Liana, and Gaby piled into the super snazzy new LandCruiser for a road trip to Maridi (2.5 hours away). Scott had an international flight to catch the next day, so the wait it out with the possibility of cancellation was not really a possibility…Nonetheless, it was a fun ride with typical road trip type chatter and complete with snacks (delicious chocolate chip cookies thanks to Phil and John!) and police stops and 4 wheel drive opportunities ☺. Like I said, never a dull moment.

Two days later Anna and I head to the bus park in Kampala, arriving at 7:30am for what we thought was a 9am bus so that we would be able to choose a good seat and have enough space to store all of our crap (suitcases, trunks, coolers, etc) underneath the bus…the bus didn’t leave until noon…soooooo, after waiting in the bus park for 4.5 hours, we got on the road. 2 hours to Mityana because of the status of the road, then another hour to Mubende. Anna scouted out 2 very nice pieces of chicken muchomo (chicken roasted on a stick) and roasted gonja and we ate well. 15 min. later another explosive noise followed by several windows shattering and a thump-thump-thump from under the bus…we stopped and a tire on our side of the bus had blown, along with something that looked to me like a wheel well cracking into 2-3 pieces…still not sure how or why the windows on the opposite side of the bus shattered leaving huge shards of glass in passengers’ laps just across the isle from us…this part of the story ends in us getting out in Fort Portal instead of staying on while they fixed the tire more completely and started over the mountains after dark…

So, yeah, that, ladies and gentlemen, is a long stretch of bad juju.

I’m not quite ready to discuss the theological implications of bad juju…so don’t ask, but in a place where the spiritual world is quite readily acknowledged to be a reality, bad juju is very much a reality. I am ready, however, to agree with the line that followed in Pat’s text though, “Praise God that He’s powerful over bad juju!”

Mundri

2010-08-27T07:17:00.002-05:00

South Sudan...

here safe and sound. having a blast, moseying around the house and town, listening to and telling stories with friends who feel like family, eating great food (who woulda thunk one would eat hot homemade lime tortilla chips with fresh black bean and corn salso for dinner in South Sudan coupled with homemade Guava juice?! Thank YOU Larissa and Scott :)), meeting people who live not so far from Bundibugyo but whose life experiences seem in some ways so very different, whose faces look so very different, whose languages are so very different...God has created such a fascinating world for us to live in!

So thankful for Michael, Karen, Acacia, Liana, Gaby, Kim, Christine, Larissa, Scott, Phil, and John for hosting us so graciously.

more later...

The Silent Army

2010-08-23T13:08:00.002-05:00

So, ALL of that said, Anna and I are currently in “the big city” for some R&R. What does R&R look like in the big city? Alarmless mornings, boda’s, restaurants (ie. diversity of food without having to make it from scratch!), and the list goes on, but probably the most fun thing we do when we’re in the big city is go to see movies!

Travis and Amy told us they read in the newspaper when they were in Kampala the week before last about a movie showing that was a Dutch movie about the child solier tragedies in Africa. Maybe some of you have heard about the work of Invisible Children, some of you have read or seen reports in the news in the last 2 decades or so of Joseph Kony and his LRA, but the horrors are real. And these stories are not alone, in various places throughout this continent, men like Kony have been terrorizing societies by literally stealing their children, physcially, psychologically, emotionally, sexually...This movie, The Silent Army, tells the story of a young African boy and his young Dutch friend and the story of how their lives intersect with these horrors. The story is not particular to Uganda, but was partially filmed here and Ugandan actors/actresses star in the movie, made by a Dutchman who was raised in the DRC, filmed partially in South African and based to some degree on the story of Charles Taylor and the rebels in Sierra Leone. A story of child soldiers in Africa...a winner at the Cannes Film Festival, but not the Oscars...

But before you all rush out to find and watch it (since the topic is so enticing and all…), this movie is NOT for the faint of heart. This movie, in my opinion, makes Blood Diamond and it’s story of child soldiers in Sierra Leone and their intersection with the diamond industry, seem almost like “child’s play” (no pun intended). Maybe it’s just my current frame of mind or recent experiences, or the literal proximity of the situation to my own current one…I’m not sure, but it was raw…up close and personal whereas Blood Diamond is a bit more polished and Hollywood-ified…there are cultural tidbits throughout the movie that drew me in, phrases in Luganda that children in my life use everyday, cultural norms, topography, views of bridges I have driven over, that make the reality of the horrors hit close to home, that makes the horror more horrible…

Don’t get me wrong, I thought it was VERY well done, but I did spend a good part of the 2 hours with my sweatshirt infront of my eyes…

filling in the blank...mon/tues

2010-08-21T02:56:00.005-05:00

Monday: There wasn’t much sleep that night, and today began within moments of getting out of bed…8 hours of “investigation” and conversations. Between conversations/dealings with Mission staff later in the day, I laid down on the couch to gather my thoughts and rest, an hour later I woke up from a drool inducing nap when Anna sneezed. I was exhausted!

In addition to serving African tea to the UPDF who had diligently hung around to see the situation handed over into the hands of the police, there were many hours of standing around talking about the goings on of the previous 12 hours, and a couple of trips to my least favorite place in Nyahuka, the Police Station. The Bundibugyo police station’s are some of my least favorite places, my discomfort levels are pushed every time I visit – not sure if it’s the seeming façade of justice, a crew of policemen sitting around usually not doing much, the heebeejeebees I get when standing at the counter next to what I not-so-fondly refer to as “the cage” – a 7’x7’x7’ cube made out of wide pieces of lumber with tiny gaps between the planks - the “holding cell” which suspects are held in until they are either released or moved to either “the cage” in BGO Town or the district prison in Bubukwanga. When you fill the cell with African men, all that’s visible to those of us on the outside is the reflection of the light from the front doors behind me in the eyes of their dark faces…catching a glance of a cell full of eyes peering at you through the gaps as your information is recorded in the books is rather unsettling. So, when sitting to wait to have my statement taken, or waiting for people to translate the discussion of the situation from Lubwisi into English, I usually spend a lot of time staring at the ground, at the shiny black boots of the police officers and/or UPDF soldiers gathered or the light blue crocs which in the past have been on Jennifer’s feet sitting next to me, but now have my own feet inside.

The day also included some CSI Bundibugyo work by John and myself, tracking the indentations and smudges of gumboot foot prints running into the Demo Garden, over the fence into our yard - complete with brush/plants crushed under the weight of the intruder, and back out of the Garden again; marking each print, taking photos…I was typically cynical that anything will come from it, but John pressed on, so I continued.

Highlight of the day: The return of one of my wallets containing both of my driver’s licenses, my health insurance and ATM cards, and my PASSPORT!!! The details of course are VERY murky, but the most important things were recovered. Why did it take 12 hours for them to surface from a Mission staff member’s home? Why did no one responsible mention it to John or I? Was it before or after the rain? Why were the items dry when it had rained off and on during the night/morning they were reported to be found in the grass? On and on and on the conversations went…

So, Anna held down the fort, received concerned guests/friends who heard news of the events of the previous night, made tea for the soldiers, talked to concerned teammates who were out of the district and managed to get some work of her own done amidst all the drama.

When the sun began to go down we were spent…frustrated, thankful, frustrated, thankful. There were gin and tonics, 3 episodes of Chuck and Ghiardelli triple chocolate brownies to cap off the day.

Tuesday:

First thing we headed back to the police station where the official we had talked to the day before seemed somehow slimier than he had the day before…Anna gave her statement of the events that occurred on the night of Saturday the 7th of August 2010, and we moved on, we still had a car to get repaired…remember that? The fuel tank that fell off? Yeah, we still had that to care of. Never a dull moment.

So, off Anna and I went in the Clark’s vehicle with George the vehicle savvy houseworker on loan from Pat who was out of the district, AND Vincent who wanted to see his mom who lives near the Bishop, AND a fellow teacher of his who needed a ride to town. We went to Bgo Town to find the mechanic named Hakim on Vanilla road…Hakim turned out to be about 12…okay, so maybe he was 20, but he was smiling and respectful and had a yellow mechanic’s jumpsuit on, so I told him to get in and we’d take him to see the damage. We drove to the Bishop’s in Bumadu and assessed the situation, found the size of bolts needed to replace the tank to it’s original position, went back to town to find the bolts and a few tools, returned to Bumadu and we waited. Janet brought chairs for us to sit under the shade tree next to the vehicle, George was the assistant mechanic helping Hakim the whole time, Vincent went to visit his mom and tried to help when he could. At 6pm we were “cookin’ with gas” as my dad says. George drove the Zoolander and I drove the Clark’s vehicle and we were on our way back to Nyahuka…5 hours and $30 later (60,000 Ush) we were golden – fuel tank in it’s proper position and full-ish of fuel. Above are a few photos documenting the tank’s being on the ground and in process of repair. Note the rwenzori water bottle funnel, bafu and jerry can fuel storage, and the Nomi container scoop…perfect…So thankful for Janet and Robert and all of their help, the Bishop and his wife for their kindness/patience with us, for Hakim and his respectful good work, for George and Vincent and their help…and so thankful for a fuel tank properly attached to the vehicle and effectively powering the car where we needed it to go. It’s the little things in life that are actually not so little, you know?

Favorite quote of the day (from Janet after watching the mechanic wipe his filthy hands on his grease stained jumpsuit): “Being the wife of a mechanic, ah!, it’s a big work!”...note to self...

Hardest part of all of these incidents: the thought of facing them alone. I usually pride myself in my independence, in my ability to handle the mechanic, the police, the UPDF…by myself. But this week, I’d had enough of independence…I didn’t want to do any of it…I realized, I’m tired of having to do all of this stuff myself, in not having a husband to share the load of life with, the commitment of another person who has to stick through this crap with you, and you through their crap.

Best part of all of these incidents: the community God has given me. John spent most all of his day on Monday helping me sort through the theft stuff, spent most of his evening on Saturday helping us get towed and Loren was willing to have him do all of the above, leaving her with a toddler and a brand new baby to face the craziness of the day – and she even cooked dinner for us TWICE (when we should have been cooking for her)!, Anna spent all of her day on Tuesday waiting with me since she knew I was struggling with doing it myself. Pat and Johnsons and Myhre's praying from varying distances of afar...Janet, Robert, George, Vincent, Bihwa, the UPDF, and the list goes on…in the end, I faced very little of it alone! Mukama Asiimwe. Asiimwe Muno.

Filling in the blank...Sunday

2010-08-18T09:40:00.002-05:00

** sorry for drawing this out, but I warned you, a lot went on in a span of 4-5 days, so bear with me!**

Sunday:

Wuh hoo for days of rest, for being creatures that require rest/sleep to survive, for alarmless mornings, for pancakes, for American Garden Pancake Syrup that’s less than 2% maple syrup.

Not so much of a wuh hoo for dogs who get out of the fence and go missing at various times requiring search parties of various kinds (todays was a pajama wearing sort of search party)…

Wuh hoo for Kapu who LOVES Bhootu (the Johnson’s dog) and took him for a walk this particular morning and took off in a run every now and again for Bhootu to chase him (just like Americans do with their dogs), for the freedom to skip church and worship at home when moving and the energy to pay attention for 3 hours sounds impossible, wuh hoo for Redeemer NY sermons online that we can download for free as WHMers, and most of all…

Wuh-hoo for the guy that found Chloe in a PIT LATRINE and found George at church to tell him, and wuh hoo for George who got Chloe OUT of said pit latrine which was thankfully empty!

Wuh-hoo for Loren Clark’s Reuben Roll hot out of the oven for dinner. Wuh-hoo for babies who fall asleep on my shoulder. Wuh-hoo for the Count of Monte Christo. Great movie. Wuh-hoo for nights to chill and catch up with teammates.

And the understatement of the century: Not so much of a wuh-hoo for returning home to find that your house has been broken into and that your passport, ATM card, drivers’ licenses, and health insurance cards are gone along with a large sum of money and the 3rd of Anna’s blankets to be stolen in 2 months!!! Absolutely infuriating actually…

Details:

OK, so I could wax eloquent (or attempt to) on the subject of theft, and cultural value systems, and the intricacies of my emotional reaction and the like, but the truth is that it’s nothing I haven’t already said before. I’ll just leave the report to the facts:

Sunday night at midnight we return to find someone had: opened the screens, reached through the windows, used curtain rods to fish my messenger bag into their reach. 2 wallets containing the already mentioned items, a small pouch that was a gift from my dear friend Margaret containing personal items, my sunglasses with their case, and the blanket and top sheet from Anna’s room were stolen.

After tallying the damage, I set off in tears with my phone in hand to find the night watchmen to report to them what had happened. I found none of them at the workshop, none of them at the Myhre’s, and on the way down found the UPDF sleeping at the worshop who I greeted and reported the problem to. Rubbing his sleepy eyes (it was midnight and I had woken them up from their sleep on the concrete floor of the porch of the workshop), one of the 4 soldiers told me his name was Asiimwe and that he wanted to assess the situation and look for the watchmen who they had yet to see since they reported that evening.

We showed Asiimwe what had happened and he and I went up to try to find the watchmen in the Johnson’s kitubbi, but alas, they were not to be found. I went back home, cried some more, went to bed and cried some more.

Filling in the blank...#3

2010-08-15T08:20:00.002-05:00

The sun is now down, it’s dark and hard to identify people without the light of a torch. Semoli’s vehicle goes to town to find a tow. John calls, he’s in Town, we arrange for him to pick up the tow, find Semoli to bring his vehicle back to tow us. And we wait some more. Pat checking in on us every now and again. My phone now working again after taking out/putting back the battery (thanks, anna!). I turn the hazard lights on so that other vehicles can see us. Various trucks and bodas stop to see what the problem is, and can they do anything to help.

Then the glow of brake lights ahead as the party wagon (now quiet) backs into position to hook us up to the tow John had arrived with. They turn the engine off this time and hook up the tow. John brings out a Tupperware with dinner thanks to his fabulous wife (thanks Loren)! After unloading the things from our vehicle into Johns, deciding to take the Zoolander to the Bishop’s place in Bumadu (safer than leaving it in town overnight) and having a mechanic come work on it there, I gave John the keys for the Zoolander and he got into the drivers’ seat, and I got behind the wheel of their vehicle. And we waited. There were lights, but no movement. The party wagon begins to move in reverse towards the Zoolander, John yells for the driver to stop. He gets out and goes to talk to the other driver, then comes to tell me that the reason the party wagon had kept the party going before heading to town in search of the tow was that their starter does work. But before hooking up the tow they had turned the engine off and now that the tow was hooked back up, they were going to need to roll start the vehicle…requiring them to, of course, remove the tow hook up…again, we laughed, and waited…

After a while everyone got back in their vehicles and we began to slowly make our way through a dark but somehow bustling Bundibugyo Town branched left before the Police station and to Bumadu. Janet came running out with smiles and hugs all around, then the Bishop and his wife came out to greet us. We tried our best to express our gratitude to each of them and eventually got on our way. Pulling into our driveway safe and sound at about 10pm Bihwa offered to carry Lydia, who remained very patient, calm and quiet throughout the hole ordeal, home. We accepted the generous offer and unloaded our few things from the Clark vehicle and made our way inside, turning on a few lights. HOME. Home sweet home.

As we went to put our veggies from Fort in the fridge Anna noticed the propane was out. Nice. Fun. Perfect. I love changing propane tanks and relighting the fridge at 11pm. But God was gracious and the fridge lit on the 1st attempt. We stumbled down the hall, opened our shutters, took showers, and climbed into bed. Thankful for friends, for laughs, and for safety – all gifts from God. Did that really just happen?! Yes, yes it did.

filling in the blank...cont.

2010-08-13T06:14:00.002-05:00

“…yeah, the fuel tank…yep, I’m pretty sure...so I guess I’m just wondering what your recommendations might be? Uh huh, uh huh, yeah, right, without fuel I won’t be able to move the car so I’ll need a tow, and no power steering or breaks...I hadn’t thought of that but makes total sense…so, I’ll call Pat and get in touch with a mechanic to come and check it out and bring a towing vehicle/hook up…no, I think we’ll be fine, I’ll let you know if we need something.”

H: “…dwee dwee…dwee dwee…hey Pat it’s Heidi. I’m doin’ okay. So the thing is our fuel tank fell off.”
P: “crap.”
H: “yeah, so we need to get a tow so I’m calling to find out if you could send me a number for Hajj or any other mechanic in Town you might recommend who would be able to bring a tow.”
P: “wait, why do you need a tow?”
H: “because our fuel tank fell off…”
P: “your FUEL TANK FELL OFF?!?!?!”
H: “yeah, isn’t that what I said?”
P: “I thought you meant the propane tank fell off of the vehicle.”
H: “yeah, no, the fuel tank, the one I just spent 120,000 Shillings to fill up with diesel…”

Well, so I’ll try to keep the ramblings to a minimum, but in the flurry of text messages with numbers for mechanics and other folks that might have recommendations, my phone froze. Yep, nothin’ doin’…pressing buttons and nothing’s happening…like the spinning circle of death on a Mac but with no spinning circle or “force quit” option (Anna, the technological wizard later thought of taking the battery out…Genius!). Anyways, yet another reason it’s good we don’t travel alone. I switched to Anna’s phone and in the process of the mechanic being out of town, and waiting for Robert (the Bishop – who has a vehicle and lives near Town – his son) to make his way to where we were stopped to make his recommendations, John calls back and he’s on his way with Bihwa…said it felt like the right thing to do and did I mind. Heck no, come on, I just didn’t want to be a burden.

So, we wait. In the mean time, Vincent and Anna have gone down to the site of the fuel tank, found a few tubes/hoses that fell off with the tank, and patched up the filling hole and the empty hose with a pastic bag and pieces of banana fibers - there's nothin' like the cavela and banana fibers trick! As I stood with the vehicle, several men with various English speaking capabilities or lack thereof come up to offer their suggestions, and when I thanked them but indicated I had another plan they usually moved closer to my face and spoke louder hoping that maybe I just hadn’t heard them…why else wouldn’t a white woman follow their suggestions. I did end up following one of them in the end. The fear in the tank being down the road from the vehicle as it got dark was that since it was full of fuel, people would start to cut into the tank to siphon off the fuel inside. So in the end I paid a few guys to move the tank up the road to sit next to the vehicle.

And as we waited for Robert to arrive to get his recommendations for a mechanic a white truck with huge speakers booming with music on the back pulls up behind the Zoolander. The engine stays on, the music blaring, the campaign posters for Minister of Parliament Candidate Vivian Semoli plastered to the truck and speakers came into view in the fading light of dusk, and the doors open and close and the men inside start walked towards us. “Robert is here” Vincent said. And so was Semoli himself. A crowd drew to the Semoli party wagon’s side, dancing ensued, women trying to drag Anna into the action. Surprisingly she wasn’t really in a dancing mood…

Not sure if you can imagine the scene, but it was pretty unbelieveable, like out of a movie, or a crazy dream…fuel tank sitting on the ground next to the Zoolander with the Semoli party wagon with speakers booming parked next to us working in some campaigning action, Anna in her “we’re out of the district” jeans and a t-shirt both covered with dirt and grease from her mad mechanic skill demonstration, Heidi with curly hair going berzerk from under the dusty, sweaty bandana wrapped around her head, luckily a kikoy wrapped around her waist over the sweaty bottomed pants (er, I mean trousers) from a full day of travel on the vinyl seats…

Anyways, with the speakers booming, discussing the plans for mechanics and tows and jerry cans to empty the fuel into with Robert and Semoli became shouting matches that luckily I was laughing through most of the time…you just have to laugh, you know? Where the heck am I? Am I really on the side of a dusty road without a fuel tank and a campaign party going on behind me?! Anna and I just look at each other and shake our heads and laugh…no words could then or can now really quite describe the experience…

filling in the blank...

2010-08-12T07:14:00.002-05:00

Saturday:

“Wow, the Zoolander is behaving itself so well, I’m so proud” I thought to myself. It was about 5:30pm and Anna and I (with dearest Lydia in tow) were tooling along the flat straight away between the hot springs and Ntandi when we heard a clang of sorts. It sounded a bit as if we had just driven across a small metal bridge/panel, but there is for sure only one of those (the bridge of delightful smoothness) and we hadn’t yet reached it. So, I picked a relatively unoccupied part of the road and slowed to a stop where I got out and realized that the cover for the fuel tank had begun to drag on the ground with only one side still bolted to the vehicle. Hm…well…I wonder if that does anything except protect the fuel tank from trauma (which on these roads is no small task)…well, not being exactly at the top of my “kumechanica” game (actually I have no kumechanica game to be at the top of…), I decided to call John Clark (recently returned from the US after adding a small ka boy to their family) for help. Anna meanwhile had shimmied herself under the vehicle in true kumechanica fashion and was advising the phone call with firsthand information. We agreed that we could take the cover off (is it called a cover? I don’t know, but that seems the best way to describe it) for the remaining hour or so of the trip home, and then repair it from there. So, I found a “spanner” for lug nuts on the tires that miraculously fit the bolts of the fuel tank cover and Anna expertly removed the remaining bolts from the cover with minor assistance from a few English speaking men who were miraculously not drunk and spoke respectfully to us (webaleh yesu). “Wow, I just took the fuel tank cover off, I feel so…independent!” Anna exclaimed as she held her grease covered hands in mid air so as not to get anything else dirty.

We moseyed along with the cover added to few pieces of luggage we were carrying in the back of the vehicle and in Ntandi someone on the back of a boda zooming past us flagged us down. It was Kawa Vincent, a friend of ours from church wanting a ride back to Nyahuka with us. “It’s fine, hop in” we told him. We told him of our car repairs of a few minutes back and continued on our way, so proud of ourselves. “I wish I had photo documentation of your mechanic skills, sorry Anna!” I said.

We begin the slow climb up the winding hill to Bundibugyo Town and about 15 minutes after our first repair stop we hear a loud bang under the vehicle that sounded like I had accidently hit a big rock. Vincent begins to yell “Stop stop stop, something has fallen off the vehicle!” So again, I pull over to the side of the road to a stop and look back. Several yards down the road is the fuel tank lying on the side of the road…THE FREAKIN’ FUEL TANK FELL OFF!!! I kid you not.

“Holy $#%&” I thought to myself…I wish I could say that something a bit cleaner came out of my mouth but I’m not entirely sure that would be a truthful reporting of what actually happened…in fact I’m pretty sure that’s exactly what came out of my mouth.

So, you might ask, what does one do when one’s fuel tank falls off?! That, my friends, is a very good question! If you’re me you scratch your head a few times pondering the fact that your fuel tank is lying in the road instead of attached to your car and then get on the phone just as fast as your fingers will dial the number!

“Hey John, it’s Heidi again. Yeah, we’re fine. So, the fuel tank fell off. Yeah, no, I’m not kidding ☺…”

to be continued....

oh Bundibugyo how I _______ thee

2010-08-11T07:47:00.002-05:00

fill in the blank...what words would you use? the words I would use change every day, every hour...

If I recounted to you the goings on of the last 5 days you might understand why...and I will, don't you worry, but the days have been such that there has not been much (read: ANY) internet time, or writing time, so you will have to hold your horses...or goats...or fuel tanks as it might be. Until then...!

I miss...vol 3

2010-08-03T07:45:00.003-05:00

The Pierce family Jan. 23, 2010 the night before they said goodbye to Bundibugyo

Annelise: Her cinnamon raisin bread hot out of the oven, her creative/visionary mind and heart, the random and all too infrequent conversations we would have while I sat at her kitchen counter on a stool...about Community Supported Agriculture in the US, chic flicks, American baby paraphenalia, sex ed curiculums, etc...

David: His sense of humor, the game of trying to figure out if he's serious or kidding, his appreciation of "Arise my soul Arise" at 6:30am, his bass voice singing harmony, his appreciation of a good gin & tonic...

Naomi: Her fashion sense, her LOVE of cabbage salad, her African english, the few times she saw fit to "play" with my hair, her creation of the V.S.P., her passion about lasagna, her passion about history, her compassion in asking friends to send stuffed animals for the kids on the pediatric ward...

Quinn: His curly blonde hair, his rough and tumble enjoyment of every day, his appreciation of the Sound of Music ("These are a few of my favorite things..."), his passion about sausage, his throw-back-the-head-laugh, the way he and Gaby kept Miss Ashley laughing...

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

And this third volume completes the series...all the people I've said goodbye to in the last 8 months...Love to you all, you are missed.

Anna #2

2010-08-02T07:23:00.002-05:00

Summer lovin' had me a blast

Summer lovin' happened so fast

I met a girl cute as can be

From New York...not NYC

Summer days workin' away, chasing those rats in the nights
Uh Well-a well-a well-a huh

Tell me more, tell me more
Why did you come this far?

Tell me more, tell me more
To teach Anna the car?

Uh-huh uh-huh uh-huh uh-huh

She arrived, jumped right on in
Sunday soccer, helping myhre kids win.

She saved some lives, biked all over town
Aida and Judith love having her around

Summer sun, season 2 has begun,
oh watching Chuck in the night

Uh well-a well-a well-a huh

Tell me more, tell me more
Was it love at first sight?

Tell me more, tell me more
Did she put up a fight?

Uh-huh-uh-huh-uh-huh-uh-huh

She cooked dinner and took lots of movies
We went biking, drank mango smoothies

We like your tunes they really rock
We stayed up 'till ten o'clock

But oh the Mobile disco keeping us up
on those summer nights

Uh well-a well-a well-a huh

Tell me more, tell me more
Riding with Lamek on a boda

Tell me more, tell me more
Going to church at Bundikyorla

shoo-bop bop, shoo-bop bop, shoo-bop bop,shoo-bop bop, shoo-bop bop, shoo-bop bop, shoo-bop bop, YEH

Insect bites I’m gonna scream
Don’t forget the cortizone cream

She was sweet, just turned twenty-two
When she goes we’ll all be Blue

Woah!

Summer heat, God and girl meet, but uh-oh those summer nights

woo, woo, woo

Tell me more, tell me more
Will she get those letters they sent?

Tell me more, tell me more
Mujungu will you be my friend?

Riding Safari might seem like the end
But don’t worry we’ll still be friends

We’ll be praying that’s our vow
Wonder what God will be up to now?

Summer dreams, skirts ripped at the seams,
bu-ut oh, those su-ummer nights....

Tell me more, tell me more!

------------------------------------------------------

Thanks to Anna Linhart for organizing, the single ladies wrote this cover of "Summer Nights" from Grease (she had never seen or heard of the song, but I think enjoyed it nonetheless), in Anna Smith's honor. She'll say goodbye to Bundibugyo in less than 48 hours. Ohhhhh, those summer niiiiiiiights! :)

the goings on...

2010-08-01T09:09:00.001-05:00

• The ward is full. Busy but not terribly intensive care-ish. Friday was one of those 3:30pm days…long and busy but not terrible…but left me completely exhausted. I realized again the reality that some days the sheer volume of need (most of which I cannot meet) that exists is exhausting. Yesterday was one of them.
• The night jasmine bushes are in full bloom these days. Aaahhhh.
• The duplex patio is still a most delightful place to enjoy an evening. Friday night there was eggplant parmesan, breadsticks and Greek olive oil, green beans, and red wine served in candlelight…a most ro-tic dinner (which for those of you who have been married for too long means “romantic” without the “man”) for Anna the intern’s last “ladies night” with us. Thanks again to Nathan and John Elwood for their design/direction/supervision on my behalf!
• Somehow nighttime in rural African can be way louder than nighttime in any American city I’ve ever been in. I think it’s because there’s absolutely no such thing as a right to quiet, and therefore no such thing as a “noise violation”… blaring music ALL NIGHT LONG is the right of the celebrant individuals…you’ve just gotta laugh! I actually woke up several times throughout the night on friday, and managed (due to my keen ability to sleep through just about anything) to fall right back to sleep. Thanks mom for that gene!
• The guys in the boda park in Nyahuka are still obnoxious.
• I’ve decided that the market is a much more enjoyable place when it’s really busy…there’s far less attention paid to us bajungu as we wander around. Yesterday was not one of those days.
• I love it when God smiles on me, or anyone for that matter, in really specific ways. Friday night I was reminded of my kitenge-envy for this beautiful piece of kitenge Pat often uses as a table runner, and telling Amy yesterday morning that I dream of finding something like it – in the same color scheme – but doubting I would since it seems to be of an old kitenge generation. Lo and behold as I passed through the outside of the market, where all the “pre-made” outfits are sold, there it was…a whole 3 pieces of a beautiful aqua/brown kitenge with this smallish print that’s just gorgeous. Speechless.
• Last night it was the goats making a racket instead of the mobile disco…I don’t think I’ve ever before Bundibugyo gone to sleep to the bleating of goats…
• We wandered to Bundikiyora today to worship with our brothers and sisters “in the village”. What a walk (1.5 hours each way). Bee-u-ti-ful! What an encouraging service with singing, dancing, and the truth. What more does a church service need?!

I miss...vol 2

2010-08-01T09:00:00.002-05:00

(for posterity's sake: not sure exactly how old this picture is, but this is what I knew of the myhre's 3 years ago, a photo I stole from their blog for use while fundraising). Needless to say, the height of the family has changed rather significantly since then!)

Jennifer – her wise and respected presence on the ward, her tendency to count anything remotely repetitive, our chats about “the state of the union” in the store room before heading home after rounds, her eye for color/pattern combinations I would never think of…

Scott – his rolling of the eyes when learning there was yet one more patient in the kitubi, but his patient dealings with them time after time, his enjoyment of 80’s music, his ability to stir a crowd with a few dance moves when they least expect it, his eye with a camera…

Luke – his plopping down at the kitchen table during “internet time” while home on school breaks to discuss the goings on in the world, his latest thoughts on college (Go Ivy’s!), and occasionally leaving the end of his Bitter Lemon for me to finish ☺ (ok, so that only happened once, but man did it taste good!)…

Caleb – his guitar playing drifting in from the front room while he was home on school breaks while we sat at the kitchen table during “internet time,” his witty one liners at the dinner table, his ability to sleep for LONG periods of time that I appreciate very well ☺, his appreciation of time alone as balanced with time with family and friends…

Jack – his sms’s begging me to come and play Family Soccer on Sunday afternoons (one of which I have saved in my phone for rainy(or frustrating) days, his appreciation of a good molasses crinkle, his ability to appreciate Anne Shirley and her antics even though he’d have rather been watching just about anything else ☺…

Julia – her occasional requests for a hug (that usually put words to something I could use very much as well ☺), her smile and “Hi Miss Heidi” whenever I saw her, her love for and devotion to Girls Soccer at CSB and her community there on the team, and her affinity for bandanas of all colors…

I miss...

2010-07-31T02:09:00.005-05:00

Asalah - her laugh, her macaroni and cheese, her ability to remind me of the truth when I've lost sight of it, her enjoyment of NCIS, her tolerance of me and my crap as my prayer partner, the way she twirls her hair when she's thinking about something or nervous, her endearing tendency to switch syllables of various words she strings together in absolute hilarity...
Nathani- his "bachelor garden feet," his tugging on the shoulders of his tshirts when he's concentrating in the kitchen, his knack for making me laugh, his bat removal - rat and ant killing expertise, his african english, and priceless gems such as "how much does a matutu cost?" and "but how am I going to hold my headlamp?"
Salah - her big strong hugs, her stopping by after school to chat about the news of the day, her uncanny ability to remember little random tidbits of information, her enjoyment of calculus, her vast knowledge of the chickens and goats of BGO from her favorite end of the month meetings, her cravings for take out chinese, her LOVE of spiders, her always wearing socks to wednesday morning prayer...
Scotti - his ability to produce AND consume large quantities of baked goods and to convince others to do the same (ahem...anna linhart...), his singing as he comes into the ward in the morning, his great clinical judgement, his example and reminders to me of how to love people well, his ability to get Agnes to do air guitar in her pink nurses uniform...

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

So they say that when you're trying to grieve well, one of the ways to do that is to name the things you're grieving. So, this is a cursory attempt for me at starting that process...so yep, I miss these guys. not the functions they served here in Bundibugyo so much, but their persons (hear "pah-sons"), their quirks and endearments...and the lists could go on...and on...and on...

light blue crocs

2010-07-29T07:33:00.002-05:00

…they’re big shoes to fill! What you see documented above is pretty much the only way I feel capable of filling them.

You see, 2 years ago, when I came back to Bundibugyo from spending 2 months in Kampala, Jennifer had these light blue crocs she was wearing to the health center everyday. She told me that Grammy Aylestock (her mom) left them for her when she came to visit while I was away. Jennifer proceeded to wear these shoes to the health center everyday for the next 2 years, they’re comfy, cool, easy to clean and protective of the toes from whatever grossness is going on on any given day. Now she’s gone, but she left her shoes behind (both literally and figuratively). The last couple of days I’ve been wearing the light blue crocs to the health center. That I can do. It’s kind of a reminder to me when I am missing her presence on the ward and look down and see them, that she’s with us in spirit and prayer! Now, the figurative filling of Jennifer’s shoes? I cannot.

But today I couldn’t help but think there might be one more way I can reasonably try to fill a role that Jennifer held while she was here. And that’s the Bundibugyo status blog updates…what is the state of things here and rallying prayer and action from the ends of the earth. Articulate I am not, but honest I am, so here’s the first installment of Bundibugyo today.

Nyahuka Health Center:

• In the biggest news of the day, I walked into OPD and found our Clinical Officer who had gone off to medical school seeing patients. After greeting him and thanking him for the work, Biguye took escorted me over to the hospital store and along the way I asked if medical schools were on break/holiday right now (in Uganda grade schools and colleges and medical schools are all on different schedules it seems to me…). Biguye (senior in charge Clinical Officer – NP/PA level clinician) informed me that the school had “pushed him out.” So, it seems he’s back for good (or at least until the next educational opportunity presents itself). Biguye said, in true African fashion, that “for me I am clapping, but for others maybe they are crying” (translation: this is good news for me but maybe not for others).
• I mentioned Biguye was walking me over to the hospital store. There’s not usually much to be done at the hospital store because there’s not usually much of a supply of medicine or supplies there, but he walked me over to show me the contents of the recent National Medical Store delivery! Talk about big news! It’s so much easier to provide medical care with medicine! Imagine that. So, we reviewed the supply, delivered in July, ordered in April (2 delivery cycles behind) and not actually what we ordered, but I guess they expect that we should be happy with whatever we get. We are thankful but not exactly happy.
• It’s also a lot easier to provide medical care when you can do lab testing to determine the actually status of diseases in a patient instead of just having to guess based on their clinical appearance. Well, currently there are no HIV patients in Bundibugyo getting CD4 testing done. There used to be NGO funding for this test which helps clinicians determine the stage of the virus in a given patient based on their ability to fight infection. Ie. There is currently no way to tell objectively whether an HIV patient has moved from HIV into AIDS and therefore in need of Anti RetroViral (ARV) therapy, leaving it up to the clinical judgement of the clinician. There used to be NGO funded support for this testing (done at a private laboratory center), but it has ended. The Ministry of Health funds PCR testing (testing for the presence of the virus in a person based on virus DNA), but not CD4 testing. A Ministry of Health team came to Nyahuka this week to evaluate the Early Infant Dianosis process provided to patients and what could be done to improve the process. Staff from a Baylor University program in Kampala was part of this group. Assusi presented the current CD4 issue and they made no promises but said they would report the issue and get back to us with recommendations. They evidently indicated that it could be that CD4 testing could be made possible within the district instead of having to send all of the testing to Fort Portal for processing. We’ll see what comes of it all, but it’s encouraging to me that all of this is going on despite our transition and lack of involvement in such details. God is moving! Thank and pray for real follow through in improving care for HIV patients in Bundibugyo.

Team:

The Clarks are coming, the Clarks are coming! The Clark family has been in the US making an addition to their family and as of email check yesterday it seems will be returning to Bundibugyo next week with a new little dude in tow: David August Clark. Can't wait to meet him, and have the rest of the Clarks back!
We will make our second attempt at post-Myhre pizza tonight. Last week's attempt was most successfull if I do say so myself. Travis was pretty proud of himself, and rightly so! Several rounds of "go Travis, go Travis!" rang out throughout the evening (which also included a showing of a movie on the big screen with the projector!).
I think 5 new missionaries were approved for future service in Bundibugyo yesterday at the WHM "sending center" in Philadelphia. You're most welcome Pamela, Ann, Josh, Michael and Leslie!
Pat Abbott made some kick-butt bagels for us for dinner the other night. Hot sesame bagels, in Bundibugyo?! "go Pahti, go Pahti!"
isn't it interesting how much of life here revolves around food?! I love it.

So, I’m sure there’s a lot more going on that I’m not privy to, but here’s the news from my little slice of life.

A study in rain

2010-07-28T07:45:00.002-05:00

It has slowed to a drizzle, but it has now been raining for the last 12 hours. I like the rain, and especially the quiet it brings, the slow-to-a-standstill halt it brings to the hustle and bustle of life here. In Bundibugyo everything stops when it rains. No one goes to their garden to dig, no one comes to knock on the door to ask for anything, no one brings their sick kids to the health center, no one comes to nutrition programs or goat trainings scheduled…expectations cease during the rain. I like that. Even our 6:30am prayer meeting scheduled for this morning ☺ It was raining torrentially, and I was up, dressed, and about to press the button on the electric tea kettle (webaleh grid electricity!) to get tea/coffee ready, when I heard the “beep beep, beep beep” of a text message delivery on my phone. Prayer meeting called off. “Ok, I’m going back to bed then” I responded. As the bedroom doors began to open down the hall I instructed the Anna’s to do the same. “You don’t have to tell me twice” Anna #2 said as she started to close her door. Anna #1 pumping her hands in the air with weary eyed excitement as she went back in to her room.

Pat wandered over around breakfast time and we talked for a while about the phenomenon of rain…I was sitting at the dining room table with my steaming cup of Good Earth tea, wearing pants (er, I mean trousers!) and 2 longed sleeved items of clothing due to the chill brought by the rain. We talked about the fact that nothing stops for the rain in the US; expectations remain. Everyone moves around with their umbrellas and boots, or in their car from covered garage to covered garage, jobs go on, school students still late if arriving after the bell, meetings scheduled still starting on time, buses/trains/subways still moving on schedule…

The sticky thing is that not everything in Uganda stops for the rain. International flights, for example. Uganda is connected to the rest of the world, and it’s in circles of influence like the airline industry that cultures collide. The Warfields have a flight to catch tomorrow I believe. I think the plan was for them to get to Fort Portal today in order to get to KLA tomorrow in time for their flight. Well, it’s raining here, and has been for 12 hours, the dirt roads will be a disaster! Will their travel plan work out in the end? Somehow they have to get to Kampala. They will have to move despite the rain…their Emirates flight will not be postponed, their money will not be refunded because it was raining in Bundibugyo for 12 hours…some things do not come to a halt for the rain. But these are things that most people in Bundibugyo know nothing of, airplanes and time schedules and such. They do know that if it rains torrentially for 12 hours the river will be flooded, and since it has no bridge, it will not be crossable today. Whatever business they had on the other side of the river will have to wait.

The health center is another circle of influence with colliding cultures of rain…there is the culture of treatment/diagnosis and provision of care without interruption that is for sure inbred in me, and is expected on at least a theoretical at the governmental level from the Ministry of Health, but if you are a nurse and live on the other side of the river and it’s raining, you’re not going to come to work. If you’re a nurse and don’t have an umbrella or gum boots and it’s raining, you’re not going to walk to work. Then there are the patients on the ward who have varying degrees of expectations for care despite the rain…if you are a Mubwis and your child is critically ill, you don’t so much care that it’s raining, or that the river is too high to cross or that the nurse couldn’t find his/her umbrella, you want a nurse there to treat your child…value’s collide. It’s the story of my life!

Never Alone

2010-07-26T07:22:00.003-05:00

As I sit at my desk next to the window, to the right of my computer screen is a black picture frame. Inside the frame are a series of black words on a white background. Every now and again, I glance in it’s direction when I pause to think of what I will write/do next. Usually I’m not really looking at anything in particular, but simply in the frame’s direction with a blank stare. But this morning the word “sin” caught my eye as I paused in thought. How depressing, you say. Well, maybe, but I didn’t recall ever seeing anything about sin there before.

The words in the frame are of a song that the choir at my church in St. Louis sang on my last Sunday before moving to Uganda, and snuck into my luggage by Leslie (Fisher) now Bley. The words are as follows:

I’ve heard the lightning flashing, and heard the thunder roll.
I’ve felt sin’s breakers dashing, try’n to conquer my soul.
I’ve heard the voice of Jesus telling me to fight on.

He promised never to leave me, no, never alone.
Never alone, oh, never alone, never alone,
He’ll never leave you alone.

The world’s fierce winds are blowing, temptations sharp and keen.
I’ve felt a peace in knowing my Savior stands between.
He stands to shield me from danger when earthly friends are gone.

In affliction’s valley, I’m treading the road of care.
My Savior helps me to carry my cross when heavy to bear.
My feet, entangled with briars, ready to cast me down.

The word “sin” caught my eye because the song is about the struggle of loss and loneliness, and I not before recently had I ever thought about my own sin in regards to response to loss. The line reads: I’ve felt sin’s breakers dashing, try’n to conquer my soul. And the chorus repeats: He promised never to leave me, no, never alone.

Turns out I’ve been feeling alone. I wasn’t really aware of it, but that line about sin’s breakers dashing and trying to conquer my soul couldn’t have been more true last week. I was full of anger/bitterness/resentment. Quite the trio, let me tell ya! Oooooh boy, it was bad. Watch out world. I didn’t feel like myself, but I had no earthly idea what was going on inside of me. Turns out it was grief. Who woulda thunk it?! There has been a lot of loss in my life in the last several months, and I think it all came to an ugly head last week. Turns out that grief is sneaky, and not only pops up when we don’t expect it, but it shows it’s face in ways we never would expect. Fear, sadness, anger/bitterness/resentment, everybody has their patterns.

Who wants to be around an angry/bitter/resentful person? I thought to myself. No one. But the song is true, I did hear the voice of Jesus telling me to fight on, because of His promise never to leave me alone.

So, the take home lesson of the day: take a moment to look around your computer screen every now and again, you never know what you might find.

The New Semuliki Presbytery

2010-07-25T08:25:00.007-05:00

members of the new Presbytery
leadership: Kisembo, Jofrey, Charles, Bazara
Travis
Bishop Hannington
and last, but definitely NOT least, FOOD!

Last Sunday, church was packed, surpassing even the crowd that showed the week before to say goodbye to the Myhres. Sprigs of various bushes and trees decorating the windows, pink yarn strung across the sanctuary with toilet paper, pastel colored balloons, and pink ribbon tied to the yarn added quite the air of festivity to the room.

And festivities there were. Those gathered had the pleasure of hearing the Bubandi choir - decked out in matching yellow shirts, the Bundikiyora choir - decked out in their blue collared shirts (who managed to get the church leaders and the congregation on their feet and dancing, hip gyrations and all!) and the Bundimulinga children’s choir. Kisembo Vincent lead worship, Charles Musinguzi thankfully kept the preaching brief from Romans.

After the church service, a brief intermission followed and then the Installation service commenced. Is Installation the right word? I’m not sure…my medical speak, along with my PCA church piety speak have gone to the dogs since moving here…There was singing and then there was prayer. 4 chairs were set up in the middle and the names of 4 men were called to fill them as the leadership of the new Presbytery: Charles Musinguzi (Moderator), Bazara (vice moderator), Jofrey (clerk) and the biggest chair of all and interestingly enough announced as the biggest of the big men, Kisembo Akleo (Treasurer). It’s interesting to me that here the Treasurer is a “bigger man” than the Moderator (I’m just a mere pastor’s daughter with very little expertise in the matter but it’s my understanding that in the US the Moderator is the “bigger man”…).

Then of course, to fulfill all protocols, there were speeches. The LC1 was unable to come, but Vincent Kawa spoke briefly on his behalf (I think I understood Vincent to say he’s the Secretary of Education for Nyahuka Town Council??? I’m never sure if I’m catching all of the details correctly…). Noteable quote: “We are very happy about this new Presbytery because no matter what happens, God knows better.”

Then the LC3 spoke well, with 2 main points: Patience and Cooperation. What he said in regards to the first point seemed particularly poignant for us as a team. He spoke of patience describing the work World Harvest Mission did to start the New Life churches and said something like “and back then we never thought we would have Bishops of our own from Bundibugyo” and used this Installation of a New Presbytery to illustrate the necessity for having patience and perseverance in the work God has given us. Amen. And how encouraging for me (and hopefully for all of you reading who have invested in the church in Bundibugyo) to hear the community testifying to the encouragement it is to them that they now have leadership of their own, that it takes time, but God has been faithful. So, Rick Gray, Dan Herron, Paul Leary, Alan Lee, and many others that I am forgetting, be encouraged. Unfortunately you’re not here to hear all of this with your own ears, and see all of it with your own eyes, but God is good! There was not a single muzungu sitting up front where the “big men” sit…there were Ugandan church leaders from all kinds of churches/denominations gathered and testifying to God’s work.

And as for cooperation, also poignant come to think of it for our little team at this juncture in our lives, he also spoke well. He called for cooperation between all parties, that the church, World Harvest, the government leaders, all of us need to literally co-operate in order to do good work (or from our perspective, to do God’s work, to further His kingdom here). Too true. Might God bless us with cultural agility, a cup overflowing with love and grace, and courage to stand with and against and the wisdom to tell the difference as we feebly attempt to work together with various parts of the community.

Travis was called on to represent “the Mission” and he did well. It was his first “solo performance” as team leader representing the team at a community function. And what he had to say was the core of what we believe to be true, the core of why we are here, and why the church exists. The core = the good news. “Beautiful are the feet of those who bring good news.” There was truth and feet stomping involved, what could make for a better speech?! What is this truth, this good news? It’s that Jesus loves us…He loves us black and white, doctors and church leaders, Ugandans and Americans. That this new presbytery is a demonstration of that, somehow the departure of most of the “old guard” missionaries is a demonstration of that…we can look forward to the leadership of the Presbytery and the cooperation of the Mission and the community, and be confident because of God’s love for us. Plain and simple.

Bishop Hannington brought the speeches to a close, representing the Charasmatic Episcopals. He called the crowd’s attention to the diversity of Christians represented, the Anglicans, the Charasmatic Episcopals, the Baptists, the Church of God, the Roman Catholics. I’m not quite sure what else he said because in my memory it wasn’t translated so was totally lost on my ears for the most part, but the body of Christ rejoicing together seemed poignant as well.

Then of course there was food. Piping hot food, it was 5pm and everyone was hungry. The food preparation started before the church service did, but somehow it was the hottest Ugandan food I’ve ever eaten. Yum!

So, there you have it. The new Semuliki Presbytery in the Presbyterian Church of Uganda. Pray with us that this new entity will first and foremost glorify God.

Today is Sunday, a week later, and we’re playing hookey from church. The all night rain that extended through most of the morning contributed to wanting to stay in, for sure, and the truth is that we’ve spent about 14 cumulative hours in church/celebration services in the last 2 weeks, so today, Anna L. and I worshipped virtually at Redeemer NY via ipod from our couch. Scott Sauls quote of the day: “Stop trying to be like Jesus and start doing what you can to be with Him.” Note to self.

goodbyes

2010-07-19T07:45:00.019-05:00

So, a week ago today the Myhre family left Bundibugyo. Hard to believe it's been a week already. We are pressing on here, after a couple of days' rest in Fort Portal (pictures to follow). It's a strange limbo we are in here...a small band of us in a wide variety of siutations, some lingering emotionally in the past, some focused ahead towards the future, all of us meanwhile trying to get whatever presents itself to us today, done...so getting by day to day, but not all that sure that we are doing very well much below the surface... I have a few photos to capture a few of the events that led up to the departure of the MAF flight piloted by Samuel last monday morning. First: take off! Wesaloeh!
our attempts to say what's important!
the Myhre's and their boys.
church on Sunday, the begining of a day of celebration of what God has done, and in this moment, prayer for what God will do!
the proud purchaser of a single papaya in the offeratory auction for a mere 21,000 Ush!!!! Given then as a gift to the Myhre's
The celebration at Christ School of what God has done in the last 17 years. The highlight performance = Alpha Kindergarten's muleddu
Scott and Jennifer with 3 of the doctors in training they leave behind...seeds in the ground for the future of health in Bundibugyo. So glad to see the faces of these guys.
Jack at work
drumming attempting to keep cool
Desmond testifying to God's work at CSB with the backdrop of the Rwenzori's
Jofrey and Vincent testifying to God's work in the church. I would post pictures of Pat and Scott and Jennifer's words of testimony and encouragement but it was so close to dark by the time that came, the pictures aren't very good.
RMS commencement for Jack and Julia on Friday afternoon...small but sweet.
stellar student - recipient of the "most helpful" award = Julia Myhre
teacher and students - the end of an era of RMS teachers in the Myhre family's life

NHC staff - 17 years of working side by side
fun and games in the process :) Scott and Biguye.

So, there you have a few snapshots of the festivities. What you don't see are the tears. What you won't read are the words we didn't have...what to say. WE LOVE YOU MYHRES!

just a few tidbits on a saturday morning

2010-07-10T01:03:00.002-05:00

killed 2 HUGE rats in our house this week...both in a 24 hour period of time...picture this: Heidi with the push broom, Anna Linhart with the aluminum t-ball bat, a slightly poison-drunk rat the size of a small ferret shimmying across the front room floor...shrieks, cracks of the bat on the cement floor...a squish followed by groans and a high five in the hopes of a couple nights of ratless sleep! Wuh hoo!!!!!!!
torrential downpour at dinner time yesterday shortly after a conversation with my sister about monsoons in India...pretty sure this was something like she's seeing in Mumbai...but as our porch began to flood I donned my rain boots (thanks to Susannah Eisenbraun!) and braved the monsoon of sorts in order to unclog leaves and brush from the rain ditch that runs around the side of the house...I wasn't quite sure if it was effective in the least, but when I had done all I could, I looked up at the porch and the water had receded...success!
last team mtg. with the Myhres on thursday...quiet tears during priority prayer and praise, a heavy hearted dance party.
"Mujungiri" (stubborn one) = Jeff and Carrie tell me that I'm the most stubborn person they have ever met, and many others would probably join them in that claim. This has been a week of battles waged inside my head and heart...thursday I realized I need to give up the fight. I am not in fact an orphan that has to fight for and stick up for herself in order to survive. Giving in is like death to me...I've done a lot of dying this week, and believe me, it's not pretty.
Last saturday morning walk with Jennifer. I don't get up at 6:30am on Saturday mornings for just anyone. These have been really sweet times, blessings of friendship in the midst of work. Again, quiet tears.
Anticipation of the party of a lifetime! Tomorrow there will be church followed by a meal and party to celebrate the work God has done over the last 17 years of service in the time God has given the Myhres and Pat here in Bundibugyo...There will be choirs (like 4-6 of them I think), there will be dancing, there will be testimony. I most look forward to the singing and dancing of the choirs...the drums, the harmony, the voices - so beautiful...gives me goosebumps...
Anticipation of many tears monday morning on the airstrip...I'm thankful for the tears, it means there's much to be thankful for.

4th of July: Bundibugyo Style

2010-07-09T08:38:00.010-05:00

Miss Anna and her older students sporting their red, white and blue
The current RMS contingency singing the Star Spangled Banner to wrap up their parade
Mama (Amy) and Aidan
Miss Anna gettin' her hoolahoop on!
The hoolahoop toss face-off...a penalty toss elimination round...Amy vs. Scott
The cheerleader's focus
the hoolahoop toss is serious business...

Standing in the gap, vol. 4: the REAL deal (the BEGINING and END of the story)

2010-07-05T08:07:00.001-05:00

I know, I know, enough with “the gap” already…but bear with me for one more volume, because this is probably the cream of the crop…and I can take absolutely no credit for it…this is what came from sitting with my computer at the dining room table on a Saturday at lunch time. Anna was Miss Scripture Interpretation and Amy was the source of the tip, so they are clearly the brains behind this operation! I guess you can chalk it all up to teamwork, but I’m just the messenger. Bear with me as I put on my “Pastor’s kid” hat and sermonize a bit.

Amy mentioned the other day that there was an Old Testament reference to this idea of “standing in the gap.” The gap is a two layer analogy of sorts…there is a gap between what WHM used to be, and what WHM will be in the future, but the supernatural “gap” is a chasm between us and God that is full of our sin that separates us from Him. Unsure of exactly where this passage was, we talked about being interested to find the context and situation in which the term was used to begin to make comparisons. Webaleh biblegateway.com ☺ I typed “stand in the gap” into the search engine and voila, there it was, Ezekiel 22:30. I know virtually nothing about Ezekiel, so I went and started by reading the whole chapter.

It seems Jerusalem was pretty much a hotbed of sin. The chapter goes on and on about the evil and wickedness going on there at the time…bloodshed, idol worship, mistreatment of the poor and needy, sexual craziness, bribery, extortion…sounds like most places in the world today, eh? The United States and Bundibugyo both. Well, God wasn’t so fond of the situation. God speaks very clearly of his wrath that will surely come to Jerusalem, fiery wrath in fact. Doesn’t bode well for Jerusalem.

Well, this is where verse 30 comes in…

"I looked for a man among them who would build up the wall and stand before me in the gap on behalf of the land so I would not have to destroy it, but I found none.”

When I read it, I thought, hm, he looked around for someone willing to speak up and say no, don’t destroy Jerusalem, but no one was willing. But here we are in Bundibugyo, willing to stand in the gap and say, no, don’t destroy Bundibugyo. Well, Anna went way deeper. She pointed out, “He couldn’t find anyone because there wasn’t anyone, there was no one who could, no one who could save Jersusalem from their sin.” Likewise, there is no one who can stand in gap between God and me and save me from my sin that separates me from God. No one except Jesus.

Jesus is the only one who can save Bundibugyo from it’s sin. We can be physically present in the gap, but we cannot “mind the gap” so to speak, we cannot fill the gap. We can be representatives of God, we can be the hands and feet of Jesus, but we CANNOT be Jesus to Bundibugyo. But because we are physically present in the gap, physically present here in Bundibugyo, people will look to us to be Jesus to them, they will look to us to save them, but we cannot be their savior. We will fail them. We will be offensive and not love them well. As far as saviors go, as far as looking around for someone to stand in the gap on behalf of Bundibugyo - there is only one, and His name is Jesus.

Standing in the gap, vol 3: not the end of the story

2010-07-03T01:42:00.003-05:00

The valley of death is rough, but it isn't the only view from the gap.

There are few bigger pleasures in life for me than making sick children smile. And yesterday, smile they did!

Baluku, the malnourished boy who we put on TB meds after noting the older sister with a dramatic spinal TB protrusion
Kabugho, Baluku's older sister with the dramatic disfigurement from TB - I remember her initial diagnosis admission and referral to Kampala and remembered that she had become my friend during that admission and had brought me an avocado as a discharge gift.
Byamukama, the malnourished toddler who came for weighing and as he swung in the basket scale, I looked smiled and cooed at him in lubwisi and english and he shot me half a dozen ear to ear grins that were life changing at that moment :)
Simon, who has a hole in his rear end the size of a tea saucer (his rear end isn't much bigger than a tea saucer) where an abscess from an private clinic injection gone bad was removed, but who reaches for his sweet and after we caused him a great deal of pain and anguish in changing his dressing still found it within himself to smile at Travis and I...likely because we were heading out of the door on our way home.
Masika, a malnourished developmentally delayed girl with microcephaly AND sickle cell disease, who managed a little slobbery grin when I took her picture sitting on her mom's lap.
The 17 year old mom who was sitting on the bench when I arrived on the ward with a 750g premie born 3 hours earlier (EGA 20 weeks based on mom's self reported LMP, but clearly would not be breathing and alive if 20 weeks were accurate...) tucked inside her dress for warmth. When I asked if it was a boy or girl, she reported girl and smiled when I said "ah! Webaleh."

Then there was the middle aged woman who Biguye (the lone clinical officer at the health center) was seeing last week when I stopped into the Outpatient Dept. to ask him a question. She looked strong and healthy and was in her last month of the 6 mo. treatment course...a result of Biguye's wise clinical judgement and functional diagnosis and TREATMENT, totally outside of the realm of influence of any of us World Harvest staff.

Also the Antenatal Care seminar that the In Charge Midwife, Rose, applied to the district for funding for and got it and was fully underway with posters and handouts when Pauline and I did inventory of our Nutrition store the other day.

The Christ School crisis last weekend when a teacher was locked inside his house by students, and the strong calm that Deus handled the situation with, the wise spiritual input and presence of Eric; riots averted.

The presence of 2 teachers at the Bible Study the Anna's are doing for the female CSB Orphan Sponsorship students, and their friendship with and encouragement to the Anna's this week.

Speaking of Pauline, meeting with her and Lamech and Baguma (our Agricultural and Nutrition Extension Officers) the last few days (speaking of standing in the gap...) and hearing their view of the gap. It is so encouraging to have wise, insightful, experienced coworkers in the gap. Pray for them too, they feel the effects of the gap probably just as much as we do as they are seen as extensions of us in the community.

And that bring me back to the subject of prayer...

I hope you get the picture: We are FEW, the expectations and needs and resulting challenges are MANY, but God is at work, giving us the HOPE we need to continue on.

But PRAYER is needed. The minute we think we can do this on our own, we fall flat on our faces...We are in desperate need for you to join us in putting Bundibugyo before the Creator and Sustainer of the Universe in these ways:

Pray that people will to turn to God with their needs/hopes/desires and not only to us
Pray that God will bring health and wellness to Bundibugyo through the Ministry of Health
Pray that corruption will be brought down
Pray that Christ School would have the resources it needs to raise up Christ-like leaders for the future of Bundibugyo
Pray for unity, and spiritual growth and encouragement among the church leaders and therefore in the churches as well
Pray for the provision of clean water for the district since the water system which is precariously positioned just below the surface of the road will get displaced when the road is paved
Pray for the gospel to encourage and sustain Pauline, Lamech and Baguma Charles, the Nyahuka Health Center staff, Deus and the rest of the Christ School staff, in their work
Pray that the culture of fear and jealousy will be replaced with hope and love
Pray that we would see Bundibugyo and every interaction we have everyday in light of God's movement of redemption in us and this place.
Pray that God would give us opportunities for rest and rejuvination.
Pray that God would help us discern how he would have the few of us spend our time, energy and resources, on a daily, monthly and yearly basis as we look to the future.
Pray that God would send us "fresh blood" so to speak, just the right new teammates we need to do the work He has called us to and has set before us.
most importantly, pray that the GOSPEL will reign in power here, in all of us

Standing in the gap, vol. 2: Look, listen, feel

2010-07-02T08:16:00.001-05:00

What does life look like in the gap? Here is a snapshot from my view:

Upon arrival in Bundibugyo you realize quickly that if there were a book written in Lubwisi about “love languages” there would be only one chapter. The title of this lone chapter would be “Ompeh” (“you give me…”). Gifts are the currency of friendship and the demonstration of love. Combine this cultural norm with the following cultural norm - relationships are communal…if you are “friends” (in a relationship involving the giving and receiving of gifts) with one person, you are by default friends with all of their friends/family/clan, etc – and for our team right now you get: a lot of saying no.

When you have a history of 20 + years of WHM missionaries in this community, that equals a lot of inherited “friendships” and a lot of expectations for our, now very small in comparison to the past, team. So, when any of these friends loses a family member or gets sick or has any problem, they come to us as their friend for assistance. The fact is, we cannot be “friends” to all of these people, not by Babwisi or American cultural standards. Now, that might be easy for you to understand, but for the person who just lost their cousin-sister’s daughter’s child and is expected to contribute to burial costs but doesn’t have the money and was friends with Alan Lee (for example – a pioneer WHM missionary in Bundibugyo), it’s not only impossible to understand but also offensive when we tell them we will not give them the sum of money they are asking for. So, with such a long history of friendships and so few of us, that’s a lot of saying no. With such a long history of really cool ministries and programs and resources, that’s a lot of blessing God has given our team the privilege of doing. It’s also a lot of expectation. Does that mean that the cool friendships, ministries, programs and resources are/were not so cool afterall? NOT AT ALL, please hear me out on that…it is just a reality of “the gap” and what it looks like to be standing here.

Saying no so much is exhausting…way more draining than saying yes. So, standing in the gap is what? It’s exhausting. But it’s what God has called us to right now. I believe it’s good for us and good for the community, but it’s hard.

When there have been 17 years of cutting edge community health initiatives; health promotion, disease prevention, outreaches, community education, acute care diagnosis and treatment, PhD’s in Public Health, PhD’s in Nutrition, several MPH’s, PA’s, and MD’s – the word gets out…there’s health care to be had…we were making contacts with people all over the district and people flooded to a health center that is poorly staffed at best. Medicine was provided, care was provided, lives were saved, medical and spiritual training was done, all as work was done alongside our Ugandan coworkers.

We are now a part time nurse and a part time doctor, Ugandan staff are few (many off getting more education), no National Medical Store essential medicine deliveries in several months despite bimonthly orders, hunger season getting underway (gardens are small and cocoa is in it’s off season), our own WHM medicine stock depleted and plans for purchasing still yet to be made amidst all of the transitions…The word is out that medicine is scarce, that those of us with white skin are few & far between, the wards are eerily empty compared to their usual packed to capacity volume, the ones who are coming are coming on their death beds, and we offer what we have but most often it’s not enough. Death is frequent, common, and has cast a heaviness in the air on the ward. The malnutrition section of the ward was totally and completely empty this morning, save a lone bottle of Normal Saline hanging at an empty bedside where the last of the occupants died yesterday. A few nutrition patients remain scattered throughout the ward, but nobody wants to be moved into a section where all but one patient died instead of being discharged. I don’t blame them. I stand here, 3days/wk I stand in the gap with my Ugandan coworkers, as does Travis 2-3 days/wk. I am honored to stand there with them. I am honored to stand where few white people have stood before, not able to offer the necessary solutions only able to offer a few resources, and mostly support and encouragement. This honor is mine not because of anything I’ve done, but because this is where God has called me right now, for just a time as this. Watching death is hard, it’s not what we were made for, it’s not what children were made for, but it’s where God has called me right now. What does the view look like from the gap? It looks like the valley of death.

But the valley of death is not the end of the story…

Standing in the gap, vol. 1 : the BIG picture

2010-07-01T08:22:00.000-05:00

So yesterday morning the tears came….they came as I watched my little buddy Chance take his last breaths sitting on “the bench” next to the nurses’ desk, in the arms of his mom as tears trickled down her smooth dark skin…You should see the “deaths” column of the nutrition admission book…take my word for it, there are far too many check marks. I admitted 4 nutrition disaster patients last wednesday, and a week later, they are all dead…So, my tears joined mama and mamba Chance’s…but none of my coworkers seemed so affected, so I tried my best to keep them to myself…they probably thought I’m getting the dreaded “red eye disease”…no, instead, I have the disease of privilege…

These are hard times around here…the times they are a changin’. I’m going to try to do the best I can, from my meager 2 and a half years of experience, to describe just how it looks and feels and gets worked out here on the ground…it will likely take me a few installments to get all that jumbled around in my head down in some coherent fashion “on paper.” And I’m likely to get details wrong…and granted this is only my perspective on reality, so it is likely skewed.

When I came to Uganda in January of 2008 the ministry of World Harvest Mission here in Bundibugyo looked very different. We were a team of 4 families and 6 singles, each of us directly involved in ministries in the areas of Health/Nutrition, Education, and Water.

3 or so months before my arrival, God called the Gray family away from Bundibugyo in order to care well for the medical needs of their children. After their many years of service here, their departure necessitated the handover of the church planting efforts here in Bundibugyo into Ugandan leadership (no more missionaries whose primary responsibility is mentoring the leadership of and overseeing the churches in the area that have been planted by World Harvest over the course of the last 25 or so years).

2 weeks after my arrival, God called the Bartkovich family away from Bundibugyo after spending 10 years spearheading and nurturing the establishment of a Christian secondary boarding school for Ugandan youth here in Nyahuka called Christ School Bundibugyo. 2 years later, God called the Pierce family away from Bundibugyo after serving in leadership at Christ School after the Bartkovich’s moved. After strong solid leadership from the Barts and Pierces, Christ School also moved into Ugandan leadership with it’s first Ugandan Head Teacher, Tumwesigye Deus.

About 9 months after my arrival God called the Masso Family away from Bundibugyo to start a new WHM team in Mundri, southern Sudan. After establishing a water system that provides access to clean water for a large part of the district of Bundibugyo, Michael handed over control of the water system to the district water office. Now water is also in the hands of Ugandan leadership for operation, maintenance and repair.

So that means that the ministries of church planting, education and water have all been handed over to Ugandan leadership. This is a big deal! It is so encouraging to me to see God working in Bundibugyo in ways that make this possible! You also should know that this is not the end of the story for the connection of World Harvest to any of these ministries. We still support the Ugandan leaders in the church (for example, bringing the opportunity for Biblical teaching and education to them with visiting pastors), we still support the leadership and students of Christ School (with financial oversight, staff encouragement and Bible studies, farm consultation/oversight, accountability for the Head Teacher, and in Direction of the Board of Governors, etc), and we still support the water system’s leadership in communicating to them when maintenance/repairs are needed, in bringing Michael back for assistance with ongoing mechanical issues, etc. So, we are very committed to all of these ministries and are glad to remain connected and involved. It also all takes time.

All of these steps towards Ugandan leadership require steps of faith on our parts. It requires faith and trust in God’s love for Bundibugyo, to believe that these churches, this school, this water system can and will not just survive but THRIVE without primary involvement from one of our missionary staff, to believe that God will continue to raise up capable and hard working and Godly leadership in Bundibugyo. We COVET YOUR PRAYERS for each of these ministries as we trust God with them.

In less than two weeks we will add to the family departures from WHM Bundibugyo with the Myhre family’s move away from Bundibugyo for scheduled furlough and the new role of WHM Africa Field Director for Scott. This means, with the departure of 2 physicians, that in large part the health portion of our ministry here will be returned more fully to the national leadership in the Ministry of Health who have technically been in charge throughout the Myhre’s time here.

This is where God has called us: today is the first day of July, and when this month comes to a close, we will be 2 families and 3 singles, with all of the same ministries present as there were with the 4 families and 6 singles here when I started. Not sure if you noticed those numbers…but it is exactly ½…we will be half the size with the same number of things on our plate as a mission. The solution: our roles will simply have to look very different – how exactly? That’s a VERY good question. We are in the throws of figuring all of that out (and it may never get totally figured out), there are many decisions to be made in this regard. For how long will we be few? All that said, I really do believe that this is where God has called us as a Mission. I believe very strongly that God’s hand has been at work in the callings of each missionary away from this place in the last 3 years, both for their good and the good of the community here. I simultaneously believe that His hand has been at work in the call of each of us here right now. We are each here for a reason, we are few for a reason, and our Father is sovereign for exactly this reason! I haven’t got the foggiest idea of what the reason is, but my comfort is in the fact that there is one, and for now that is enough…most of the time…

So, what does this mean for us? It means that we are few, and will be even fewer…but this is what God has for us for now. It means that we need A LOT A LOT A LOT of prayer. It means that the Bundibugyo community needs a lot of prayer. It means that the Mission’s involvement in the community looks very different than it has in the past, and it means that a community not very welcoming of change is having and will continue to have a hard time accepting and adjusting to that. It means we are standing in the gap – the gap of what there once was and what there will be.

What does life “in the gap” look like?…stay tuned…

Jane...er, I mean, DENISE Austen

2010-06-30T07:29:00.001-05:00

So, here in Bundibugyo, exercising is a challenge. Ever tried running in a skirt that keeps your knees covered? Give it a whirl sometime…not easy…or even more of a challenge – ever tried running in pants with something wrapped around your waist to cover your rear end and knees? Picture it…right arm pumping with each stride, left hand clutched at your waist holding your wrap in place…yeah, no. Okay, well, say that was not enough to stop you, picture steeling yourself to run with hoards of children or at your heels or young men taunting you from the side of the road as you pass – “I love you, I love you” “tsst, tsst, mzungu mzungu!” “you hot love me!”…well, how about early morning, you ask? The sun begins to rise about 6:30am…just about the same time school children begin to leave for their walk to school…remember the hoards of children I mentioned? Perfect example. Or how about the old ipod-headphones-in-the-ears trick to tune out the verbal taunting? You might as well take your life and put it on the line with the boda drivers zooming around the corners and lorries rambling along the road at breakneck speeds.

So, in search of other options, post baclava and gelato filled vacation, Anna and I have turned to exercise videos…I know I know, how “mom” does that sound? (Actually, come to think of it, my mom never did exercise videos I don’t think…) But you’ve gotta do what you’ve gotta do…

Now, our sisters up North in Sudan told us a story of their friends at a local secondary school telling them one day, “we saw you yesterday jumping up and down in front of your computer!” ☺ At least here in Bundi we have the luxury of enough space and reasonable enough temperatures inside to do such things in some semblance of privacy…so we gave it a whirl…

Our first attempt was a 45 min. Fat Burning Workout DVD, so we cleared the room, pulled out one of our computers and popped it in to see what we had in us…well, let me just tell you, if you could have been a fly on the wall in that room, you would have had the entertainment of a lifetime! There were arms and legs flailing every which way while we tried (totally unsuccessfully, mind you) to keep up with the samba-ing and sashaying aerobic instructor. “Can’t we just do one thing at a time?!” we whined as she kicked our butts through the computer…BUT instead of letting ourselves be totally demoralized, we said to each other hesitantly, “well, maybe with practice we can get it slowly by slowly?”

Yesterday, for our second attempt, we thought we’d try another DVD to see if they’re all as crazy fast and furious like that one or if there might be one a bit more our pace…so we popped in “Denise Austen” (who I mistakenly referred to as Jane Austen when I went to borrow it from Pat. “Ah, no, Heidi, not Jane…this is a bit after her time…” – whoops! Am I my mother’s daughter or what?!) and her Personal Training System DVD…not sure what we might encounter we were pleasantly surprised. With the room cleared and our cans of garbonzo beans in hand we found a challenge lacking total demoralization…how nice…I mean, granted, we’re still talking about Heidi trying to follow steps requiring movement of her upper AND lower body simultaneously (sound at all like, dancing?!), so it was not without it’s amusement, I assure you, but generally speaking I was moving in at least the correct DIRECTION for more than ½ of the time ☺ Anna, on the other hand, she could have a third career as an aerobics instructor, I’m sure of it. She’s totally got the pep and smile for it! I can see the cover of the DVD now, “Aerobics with Anna, Bundibugyo Basics vol. 1”. It might be up there in contention with Tour Guiding on her list of future possibilities. Or maybe she could combine the two… “Aerobics for Tour Guides”…

Ok, I digress. Back to Denise Austen. I do have to admit that I was way more sore after the demoralizing workout madness last week…but I’m not sure I can face that 3 times a week! But maybe it beats the running in a skirt option, or the taunts from the side of the road…

for a few laughs...maybe just a few :)

2010-06-28T08:02:00.003-05:00

Carebear and Scotti: Here's to bad customer service and hellish travel experiences...

saturday morning

2010-06-27T07:57:00.007-05:00

Owen
Owen, Joyce, Ann
Dan and mama Dan
Joyce and Nabalongo
Rhoda
our audience
our "twins" - Aidah (Heidi) and Aidah (in red shirt), Ann and Ana (blue jumper)

on unannounced grief and dreams

2010-06-20T07:08:00.004-05:00

So, I've gone through a good amount of transition in my life...and I *rarely* remember my dreams...(don't worry, the two are connected, I promise)...

In May and early June, I said goodbye to half of my closest community during my time in Bundibugyo (following the first quarter's departure in December)...but I haven't really had time to think about it, or haven't made time. I think today the grief is seeping in; the grief of the recent past along with the future grief of even more goodbyes in July, and then more in September...Today, I'm feelin' kinda funky...

and I've been dreaming about the States...dreaming that I had the privilege of attending Court and Patch's wedding (which in reality doesn't occur until 10 July, but in my dreams occurred on Thursday night, I believe)...the privilege of hanging out with Dana and Andy and their boys (which in reality won't happen until September, but in my dream life occurred last night)...but both were kind of weird dreams...the encounters were nothing like I would have expected, and involved a good deal of relational distance, much to my dismay.

So, nothing is ever predictable...I'm not consciously grieving transitions (the frequency of such here in Bundibugyo has been unparalleled in my transition-full life thus far), but the grief is bubbling up unannounced...I'm not consciously stressed about going back to the US, but the fear of distance where there once was closeness is bubbling up unannounced as well.

What to do? I don't know. But Ash and Nathani (and Salah, as well), you are missed dear friends. Walking past your empty room and empty house is weird, and dinners/team pizza's are not quite the same...And Court/Patch, Dana/Andy (and all of the other relationships you represent in the US) - I do look forward to hang time with y'all...time that doesn't involve an agenda, and maybe involves some good food/drink/movies/music and most of all LAUGHS :)

And for today, a few more hellos. WELCOME to Anna #2 (our summer intern) and Ann, visiting for a week. And for tomorrow, will there be blood in the lab? will there be staff on the ward? will there be ICU patients for us to manage to the best of our ability with what we have? I don't know the answers to any of these, but I do know there will be kids, and I hope a couple of them will be smiling :)

Taking Public: Vol. 3

2010-06-15T08:00:00.001-05:00

The road is being widened in preparation for paving (so they say). The Asian contractors (Chinese, I think I’ve read) directing large machines and vehicles, building for office/housing space quickly constructed for the project off to the sides. We rock and roll up and down through the switchbacks as we cross the mountains. I had never before heard the term “acute corner” pronounced “acute cohnah” by the Kalita Inspector lady who had taken a seat across the aisle from me. Well, it reminds me of the medical term “acute abdomen.” I don’t really remember what an “acute abdomen” means exactly, other than the fact that it’s no nonsense – time to get the patient to a surgeon pronto or the patient could die! Well, an “acute corner” is somehow similar and feels a bit like the bus you are traveling in is going to topple…like you need to get the bus back down with all 4 wheels on the ground or else people are going to die. Often occurring often in switchbacks, caused by too much speed, not wide enough angles for turning radius? I don’t know, but whatever it is an alarm goes off on the bus…and then when all 4 tires meet the ground again, it turns off…twice this happened…nothin’ like a little excitement. I notice that the forest covering the mountains has a sweet smell of sorts…kind of like the smell I imagine on a diabetic’s breath who is in ketoacidosis…but I digress…

The excitement continues when we reach flat ground again after descending from the mountains. Now the driver is convinced he can do anything now that he got us down through all of those switchbacks, so he puts the pedal to the medal and we reach speeds no vehicle should ever reach on a dirt road…I grab onto Anna’s leg at one point as a boda approached and no decrease in speed seemed to be in the plan, and she tells me of a fatal accident scene she and other teammates passed on that stretch of road several months ago with mangled vehicles and blood in the road…ai yi yi!!! As I inhaled deeply when we passed the boda, I noted that the rainforest here on the other side of the mountains has a different smell from the forest on the mountains…the rainforest smells like…dirt. Now believe it or not, this city girl does in fact know what dirt smells like…and loves it!

We are approaching Bundibugyo town at dusk, my favorite time of day…the mountains are lit up in the hues of the setting sun, the clouds above them pink like cotton candy…an awesome glimpse of the red ball of fire setting in the west…sheesh this place is beautiful!

“You give me money!” said the first boy I saw when I stepped foot off the bus in Bundibugyo Town at 19:00. Welcome home, Aidah. After my momentary ideals of a beautiful place where everything is happy came crashing down with that statement, I saw Lamech’s smiling face, a comfort for sure, honored by his willingness to help us get transport to the Mission from town with all of our stuff. “It’s no problem. I thought you would be reaching late and I know what happens here” he said.

We pulled up in front of our house as the last moments of the sun’s light was fading away. “Do you have the house key, Anna?” “Oh shoot!” Saved by the combination lock!

The End

Take home: Taking public was overall a good experience and I would do it again. Beats driving the whole 8 hours any day!

Taking Public: Vol. 2

2010-06-13T23:25:00.000-05:00

11:00 and we’re on the move. As the driver maneuvers the huge bus through the streets of Kampala, I am thankful the vehicle I have been entrusted with is a fraction of that size! We rock and roll towards Fort Portal, speedy for sure, but I am not yet uncomfortable with the speed with which the bus is moving. About an hour and a half in, the bus rolls to a stop along the side of the road with nothing in close proximity. Men and women begin moving off the bus and in the grass along the side of the road they begin assuming the gender appropriate positions for using the bathroom, all in plain sight of each other and those of us still on the bus…women hiking up their dresses/skirts and kneeling on the ground – in all of the times I’ve used the bathroom when hiking/camping I’ve never thought to try kneeling…note to self…men thankfully facing away from the bus to do their business…people finish and mosey back onto the bus. Cultural norms with issues of modesty are so interesting…

A while beyond the potty stop is the “in your face chicken place” – Ugandan “fast food” is my favorite variety of Ugandan food I think…roasted chicken and roasted sweet bananas….yummy yum yum. Around 16:00 we reach Fort Portal, leaving people off in one place and moving to another place across town to pick more people up. As we waited for people to board before leaving, I noticed a woman sitting by her seguili (sp?) breastfeeding her baby…I quickly realized it had been a month since I had seen a woman breastfeeding in public…more notes on cultural modesty norms…

16:30 the bus resumes movement and we leave the pavement behind. The dusty roads lead us to believe there hasn’t been rain for some time, but the green of the surroundings indicates otherwise. I quickly realize that my comfort with our traveling speed has in fact ended…the driver no longer seems to care that the size/nature of the road had changed, but rumbles through village after village honking to let people know he’s coming and I hope they respond accordingly! Our fellow passengers seem to think that Kalita offers door to door service as they shout and request drop offs every 3 minutes it seems. One stop in a trading center results in drive-by grocery shopping. We conveniently receive a text message from teammates Travis and Amy who are in Kampala, telling us they just finished their grocery shopping at Capital Shoppers’ Delight, meanwhile we’re sitting with a “Kalita Shoppers’ Delight” of sorts happening practically in our laps, people leaning out the bus door (which, you’ll remember, is just in front of our seats) to buy onions and tomatoes, vendors climbing/reaching in to ensure they get their money.

As the shopping drew to a close, the conductor closes the door and off we go towards the mountains…ahhhh, the mountains. As my eyes are drawn to their green peaks and slopes, I am comforted that I am almost home. I hear Lubwisi being spoken as a few stragglers climb on the bus, and I am further reassured that home is in sight. Slightly leary of repeating the Kalita Shoppers’ Delight experience at every drop off I wondered in Karagutu how long we would be stopped, but then I saw the mangoes…I love mangoes. Anna had been hoping we would find some along the road to buy as the season was likely to be over or at least almost over to our dismay. We bought 20 mangoes for less than 50 cents, almost totally emptying the old woman’s basin that had seemed rather full when she rested it on the bus stairs…ahhh, mangoes…

Taking Public: Vol. 1

2010-06-13T07:18:00.003-05:00

So, the blog has been quiet...what I failed to tell you all is that our team said goodbye to two of my closest community for the last 2.5 years and then I was traveling for a while...WHM Mission wide retreat was in Greece and we decided to do a bit of traveling in the Mediterranean vicinity before the retreat, so I have just returned to BGO and the following is the first installment of a lengthy post about our return to the district...

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Thursday morning, 08:45am, Anna and I arrive at the bus park in Kampala...the definition of “hustle and bustle,” I am sure of it. Currently the bus park sits in the shadow of 2 huge billboards singing the praises of Ethiopian Airlines…we chuckle to ourselves in honor of Scott Will’s hellish travel experience in their care (or lack thereof) several weeks ago. We ask and are directed to the bus heading to Bundibugyo. We are the first 2 onboard (save a young possibly drunk guy sleeping in one of the seats who was shoo’d off by Kalita staff).

We stow our 4 pieces of luggage (backpacks and 2 coolers of frozen food), pick our seats and settle in, knowing we have about an hour before the bus is scheduled to depart. A great place to people watch (a favorite pastime of mine), we notice 2 bazungu walking to the ticket counter, I wonder aloud as to what their destination might be. We soon learn the 2 of them along with 2-3 SIL (Wycliffe Bible Translators) staff from Bundibugyo will all be “moving” with us to Bundibugyo that day. “The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases; his mercies never come to an end; they are new every morning; great is your faithfulness.” (Lamentations 3:22-23) As young women with friends who have been treated inappropriately on public transportation in this country, we smile and laugh in honor of God’s tenderness towards us.

As the bus begins to fill, and we reach what we thought was a 10:00 departure time, no one else seems to mind we are not making any movements toward leaving. In fact, a snazzy dark green Land Rover pulls up alongside the bus, and out steps a nicely dressed African woman who begins giving directions to the Kalita staff around the bus to help her with her luggage. Next thing we see is a 40 inch Sony LCD flat screen television being hauled onto the bus and stowed in the aisle at the front of the bus, next to the driver and blocking 2 more rows of seats filled with people. “It’s no problem.” There is always room for something/someone else. How best to protect such cargo? Goat ropes of course…yes, the ropes used to tie goats to a fence or tall grasses while they graze, aka goat ropes. So, indeed the goat ropes were expertly twisted and knotted to fasten the gargantuan television to the metal bars around the driver’s seat. Remember, “it’s no problem.” While this TV/goat rope scenario is playing out as we all sit in the sun in the now full bus in the bus park, there are other people walking up and down the aisle selling things…primary school science review books, loaves of sliced bread, fruit, and the most interesting item for sale: antifungal cream. For all of your antifungal needs, don’t worry, you can always buy it on the bus.

Being the rookie Kalita travelers that we are, we didn’t realize that the seat numbers printed on your ticket are very much adhered to…it’s so interesting, you never know when people might get in a fluster about details…most of the time it seems like Ugandans could care less about details, but sometimes they can lead to quite a tizzy. We were the cause of such a tizzy as people tried to find their seats…long story short we were moved but in the end it was for our benefit for sure! We ended up in the first seats next to the door, which meant a bit more room and air movement. Thanks Kalita!

history

2010-04-27T07:55:00.014-05:00

Sometimes you get muddled down in the day to day goings on of whatever place you are in life. What is on the to-do list, what is weighing on your heart, what is going your way, who is standing in front of you. Often I have to be snapped out of detail mode and nudged to take a few steps back in order to see the big picture. In today's case...well, actually, now that I think about it, this applies to the majority of my day, but the instance that started today off, was a conversation about the "bush" (hear "boosh").

When I came to Africa, I wasn't so sure about this term "the bush." I wasn't sure if it was a derogatory white man's terminology for rural or rain-forrest-y parts of the continent, or if it was a legitimate term that Africans used to describe their place. It turns out it's the latter...well, at least, it's current use in Bundibugyo is the latter (I guess it's origin could have been in the colonization process, but everybody here uses it). People in Kampala use it to refer to what they also call "the village," and it's also used to describe just what it says...the "bushes".

In the States, a "bush", is kind of an autonomous shrub or low-ish plant growth...singular...there's one of them, distinguishable from the plants around it...or maybe there are "bushes" a series of said plants that are intentionally grown together. Well, in Africa it's a bit different. "Bush" is indistinguishable plant growth that serves no purpose that the average person is aware of...or at least not for whatever sentence or point you are trying to make.

so Smith, a guy who usually is the water guy, the one in Travis' phone as "the plumber," who moonlights as a landscaper, was working in our yard yesterday (with someone who must be his brother because they look just alike)...they were doing "bush" control...whacking away at the "bush" around our fence and house so that little (or even worse, big!) critters who might be living in said "bush" might be forced to find other homes. They didn't do a very good clean-up job yesterday, surprise-surprise, and so I was pointing out to them what else needed to be done today before we would consider the job completed and therefore pay them. We were standing outside the back of the house, just outside my bedroom window, next to the water tank discussing what "bush" exactly needed to be taken care of, and him instructing me that cleaning out the gutters would be "wasting our time" because they run into the tank that is inoperable (I disagreed, by the way, because at least the water would be taken away from the house instead of just pouring out of the gutters against the house...but I digress). Before I walk away, a small grin spreads across Smith's face and he points at the water tank with his panga and says "I remember when this tank was built...I was this many years (gesturing with the very sharp knife at a height about at his knees or a bit above). And now I am having 6 children." (My guess is that he is currently this many years: 30 - or about as old as I am maybe?) He continued "and there was this boy who was even smaller than me," (gesturing again with the razor sharp panga at about his shins) "I was carrying him. His name was Benjamin Lee. That son of Alan Lee."

I hit the pause button on the to-do list in my head, on the play back of all of the patients I saw yesterday that may or may not still be there today, on the wearing on my spirit that comes from dealing with men here who have little respect for women especially those who are not married...the pause gave way to space for thought as I walked around the house and got onto my bike to ride down to the health center...I don't know Alan Lee, or his son Benjamin, but they built my currently non-functional water tank...There is so much history here...so much I know nothing about...many have gone before me...many have riden and walked this road, have smiled and laughed with the people they've encountered, have learned this language, have said hellos and goodbyes again and again...I am not alone, we are not alone. In fact, I have all those who have gone before me to thank...to thank for the water tanks, the houses, the cultural and other life tips/ins/outs of life in a rural place with far fewer amenities than we have here now, for their faithfulness and compassion that precedes me, and the list goes on.

So thanks Alan and Benjamin. Thanks to all of the WHM Bundibugyo Missionaries who have gone before me, whose names I have only heard in stories, but who I will share the Supper of the Lamb with face to face one day. Until then...

Here a goat, there a goat, everywhere a goat goat

2010-04-27T07:55:00.013-05:00

Many of you very generously gave financial support to our Give-a-goat program here in Bundibugyo over the winter holidays, and I'm wanted to finally get around to giving you some "proof of purchase" for your contributions.
There will be about 100 goats distributed to malnourished children, HIV exposed children under the age of 2, or other particularly vulnerable families in need of protein rich nutrition for their children.
The 100 goats will be distributed in 3 distributions through the year, the first of which was held last month, 8 April.
Lamech (tall man on the left) is "the goat man" he trains all of the recipients in goat care, distributes them and then provides follow up veterinary care for them. Currently he has about 500 goats in his care and we are working on trying to make that a bit more manageable for him.
John Clark (WHM teammate, white guy on the right :) is mr. agriculture, overseeing all of WHM's agricultural work in BGO including the goats, a chicken project, demonstration gardens, income generating farms for Christ School, etc.
The women come from near and far and all leave with one of these super cute goats that are purchased by WHM with your contributions, that then provide life saving milk for their families. They leave the Mission so happy, with a bit more hope for their lives. We are unable to match a particular goat/recipient family with a particular donor, but I wanted to share with you a few photos of the resources we are privileged to distribute because of your generosity.
Here is the where the goats are kept on Mission property before they are distributed.

And here's a part of the herd distributed a few weeks ago. Thanks again to all you who gave so generously!

"Use caution near the edge"

2010-04-25T07:40:00.003-05:00

see, it's the little things in life that try to put you over the edge...(photo from Grand Canyon National Park, Arizona, USA)

God has been doing a lot in my heart and soul these days, I wrote an update about it and have tried sending it about 6 times and yahoo's updated spam protection or some annoying thing like that has stood in my way...so that made me think, well, maybe I shouldn't send it to everyone...my tendency is to be too vulnerable with too many people, so maybe God is trying to protect my heart for me...so I tried sending it to a smaller group...still no go...grrrrr

Another "anonymous secret" posting from today reminds me that I'm not alone in my struggle to maintain some semblance of balance between vulnerability and "indecent exposure" of sorts, when it comes to my heart...

"my kids don't know my baggage...to tell them might destroy them [or me]. Not telling them means they don't really know me."

So, maybe you'll find an update in your inbox, maybe you won't. In any case, you can take my word for it and praise God with me and continue to pray for me when you think of it.

31.

2010-04-20T09:23:00.003-05:00

• Team pizza – BBQ sauce, pepperoni, onions, mozzarella, garlic cheese bread, Krest Bitter Lemon. Scrumptious.
• An unparalleled African sky show of sorts, courtesy of God. A stunning sunset in the west, storm clouds rolling in from the east over the mountains threatening to soak our pizza but amazingly refraining, and somewhere in the middle where the two met – brilliant blue sky met grey clouds, and in that blue sky a sliver of a moon with it’s halo, and a few twinkling stars, and in those grey clouds a lightning show lit up the evening. Dazzling.
• Little Bryan voices, “Miss Heidi!, Miss Heidi!” beckoning me to come to the patio for dessert. Precious.
• Ghiardelli brownies with sparkler candles and homemade coffee ice cream. Exquisite.
• Gifts and creative cards. Thoughtful.
• “Good try, Heidi Jeanne” performed by the VonMyhre family singers, to the backup of Elton John’s rockin’ piano hit - “Goodbye, Norma Jean.” Brilliant.
• The chance to honor two friends, teammates, coworkers, travel companions (and the list goes on) in ~ 300 photos summarizing the last 2 years of their/our lives. Fun.
• A sunrise walk down Butogho road with the lovely Amy Johnson including spectacular views of the snow capped Rwenzori mountains. Breathtaking.
• Pancakes with MAPLE SYRUP for breakfast. Tasty.
• 2 hour ward rounds with the lovely Jennifer Myhre (as compared to the 8 hour solo marathon from last week). Priviledge.
• Visiting Assimuwe Gloria, firstborn daughter born to fellow nurse, Eliza, a few hours before. Cuteness.
• PEACH!/mango smoothie for lunch. Refreshing.
• Drool on the pillow mid-day nap. Lovely.
• Afternoon delivery of a full plate of cookies from the lovely Loren Clark. Delicious.
• Burial for a church elder and fellow nurse’s father. Sobering.
• Chats/calls/messages from family and friends.Encouraging.
• Evening plan of pasta and hot bread (yeah carbs!) for dinner and a few episodes of NCIS. Relaxing.
• In summary: It’s looking like 31 will be a great year.

Wednesday

2010-04-14T08:11:00.003-05:00

attempting to dodge cow pies in the mostly dark first moments of light on the way to Team Prayer
singing a bit of "it's a beautiful day in the neighborhood, a beautiful day for a neighbor..." in the cool of the morning sunshine on the way home from Team Prayer
an 18 month old kid in an unbuttoned onezie literally RUNNING (or toddling as most toddlers do) as fast as his little legs could carry him up the road to greet me as I walked to the health center.
after I greeted and shook said toddlers hand, the chorus of the 1980's Celine Dion (?) hit whining from the neighboring Boda repair shop (it seemed particularly fitting after moving on from such a greeting):

Must have been love, but it's over now
Must have been love, but I've lost it somehow

a thin woman, the middle rider of 3 adults on a motorcycle, clad in orange and yellow kitenge's, being helped off the boda and into the HIV clinic.
best name of the week: Goodyear.
pushing a 200ml blood transfusion 10ml at a time through an IO needle...using gentle force to push blood right into a 2 year old's bone injecting it directly into his bone marrow. Marveling with each syringe that this is even physically possible.
Baluku Thomas code team: Jennifer Myhre, MD (code team leader); Travis Johnson, MD (IO placement and ongoing site assessment consultant); Nathan Elwood, (MD in about 4 short years) (equipment supplier, procedure preper, limb stabilizer); Heidi Lutjens, RN (IVF/blood/drug pusher :) and dressing changer); Assusi Mildred, Nursing Officer (patient care idea source and IV attempts expert); Balijukya Wilson, ECN (IV placement master); Kalibatira Betty, NA (ward secretary).
Celebratory sweet and sour pork dinner with FRESH SWEET CORN (from chez Clark!!), chilled chocolate pudding pie for dessert (thanks, mom!), and mojitos to top it all off...in celebration of Nathan and Sarah's grad school decisions (Sarah, we celebrated on your behalf, in your honor; you were in absentia but present in spirit for sure! Congrats again!).

my minds eye

2010-04-10T02:00:00.001-05:00

Sundays: Ashley and I were just sitting at the table, eating tuna sandwiches for lunch after church...and she says "listen to how quiet it is." The only sounds were the chirping of the birds. No cars, no motorcycles, no people talking...aaahhhhhh. Nice. Conversation turned slightly to what Sundays in the Wood and Lutjens households were like...both of which included the "sunday paper". To this day, even when living in different houses in the same city, the Lutjens kids often descend on mom and dad's house after lunch on Sundays for the purusal of the Sunday edition of the NY Times...fighting over the coveted Magazine section, reviewing the "Week in Review", the arts, style, sports, travel and front page sections, we pour over it all. Today, the online edition will have to suffice...Sudan elections, Indian cuisine in Delhi...what else will I find...

Dreaming and Waffling: In regards to big decisions in my life, what happens next kinds of decisions, I've always weighed facts and feelings and come to a decision and gone with it...good and hard things have followed but it's always been clear to me that I'm ultimately not alone.

dream (v): indulge in daydreams or fantasies, typically about something desired
: waste one's time in a lazy,unproductive way
: contemplate the possibility of doing something or something that might
be the case

dream (n): a series of thoughts, images, sensations occurring in a person's mind
during sleep
:a state of mind in which someone is or seems to be unaware of their
immediate surroundings
:a cherished ambition, aspiration, or ideal
:an unrealistic or self-deluding fantasy
:a person or thing perceived as wonderful or perfect

waffle (v):to fail to make up one's mind

waffle (n):a wonderful traditionally breakfast food, made spectacular when topped with fruit, ice cream, and/or lots of syrup

I'm in a dreaming period right now. A period of time in which I'm free to dream about what I might do next. My time here in Uganda will come to an end sometime in September and I'll head home to St. Louis for a few months, and then who knows...it's a beautiful thing really...to dream...to not feel pressured, to consider "thoughts, images and sensations" in wakefulness, "contemplate possibilities", to be in a state of mind which takes into account my immediate surroundings and the surroundings of my past life to piece together what my future surroundings might look like, to consider what "things (I) perceive as wonderful"...

I'm not sure that I've ever taken this much time in advance of a decision to dream...and it's funny, I'm not sure that I've ever waffled so much either. In "the fall" (aka. months of sept/oct/nov), I was thinking seriously about going back to school - purusing Nurse Practitioner programs. Then after a medical education conference in Kenya decided being an NP was not for me, that I really enjoy the role of an RN. When I was in the US in Feb. this is what I was telling friends and family who asked...it felt good, I was at peace with the preliminary decision...then on Thursday, after rounding on the ward without Jennifer, I began to think again about maybe going back to school...

Hmmmm. I'm not quite sure what's going on, but maybe this is what dreaming is all about...I'm not worried, I'm not stressed, but rather curious about what's going on inside my head and heart and curious about what might happen in the end.

Having fun, dreaming on.

Global Mosaic

2010-04-09T07:48:00.002-05:00

I'm in Africa, my sister's in India, my parents and brother are in the US, I have friends in various parts of east Asia, the Middle East, western Europe, central and South America...I love to think about what's going on in all of their lives...how different and how similar our surroundings look and smell and feel...a photo only captures one of those (look)...maybe two (feel).

Here's a cool project that I just came across on the blog displaying the work of the NY Times photographers (combined with other photojournalists from around the world). Thanks for the tip, Care, it's great site!

What are you doing at 15:00 GMT on 2 May? Whatever you're doing, have a camera with you and take a "snap"...

tidbits

2010-03-29T08:09:00.001-05:00

It seems to me that Ugandans speak faster when they're praying than at any other time in their conversant life.
Every church has a slightly different take on the offering basket...at the church on the Mission, they use these plastic buckets that I first knew as "potty buckets" (aka. chamber pots) in the duplex. At the church in Bubandi we went to on Sunday, they use a desk drawer...whatever works.
Yesterday, when I went to give a dose of IV gentamycin to a sick little baby with meningitis, and there was a bug in the partially used ampule of medicine, I actually considered fishing the bug out and giving a dose from the rest of the ampule...don't worry - quickly the American nurse in me snapped into action, was appalled I would actually consider such a thing, and I went and found a new ampule. Little Atuhaire deserved a sterile ampule, or at least one without a bug in it.
There are a couple of big malnourished kids on the ward right now..."big" as in like 3-5 years old instead of < 2 yrs...and all of them are just sooooo precious. Constance: you just look at her and smile and shrug your shoulders and she giggles up a storm and hides her face. Biira, gets her groove on to her mom's cell phone ringtone every now and again (yeah, her mom has or at least had a cell phone...maybe she should be buying food for her kids instead of airtime...), and Baraka's face is so swollen with Kwashiorkor, but when I waved to him he totally shot me a huge grin through the puffy cheeks and eyes. We gave him a Hot Wheel car today and I played a bit with him on the porch. The power of a smile. Amazing. I guess i hope that my smiles are as healing to their souls as theirs are to mine.