Magnficence

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!

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

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...

• 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!"

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

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

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.)