I love you with all that I am. I trust you when my mind is foggy, when there is a threat of danger, when my heart is a mess, when I feel as though I could lose my mind, when nothing goes my way, when all I hear is no and do better, when my best is not enough . . . in all that I will still trust you, I trust you, I trust who I have always known you to be, I trust that the plans you have for me are good and are for your glory. I trust that you know what is best for me and that I will hear you behind me saying “this is the way, walk in it”. I trust that you are not looking only at my faults. I trust that you have put me together in a way that pleases you alone, even if the whole world hates who I am. I trust that you love me and that you will never stop loving me, ever. I trust that you will speak to me in a way that I can hear; because you know I want only the things that you want no more and no less. I trust you alone with all that I am, all that I can possibly pull up from my feet and deep within the places that shake when I am afraid, I will push past the fear and the unknown and see only you and focus with all that I am on you and your glory, being seen in these eyes though they cannot smile, in these hands though they cannot touch, through this mouth though it cannot speak, through these feet though they cannot go many places, through this heart that longs to love all regardless.
My heart with in me is distressed.
I remember the days of old; I meditate on all Your works; I muse on the work of Your hands. I spread out my hands to You; My soul longs for you like a thirsty land. Answer me speadily; My spirit fails! Do not hide your face from me, lest I be like those who go deep into the pit. Cause me to hear your lovingkindness in the morning; for in you do I trust; cause me to know the way in which I should walk, for I lift up my soul to You, alone.
25.8.08
12.8.08
a surprise guest
so as i previously said many things are different here. well today a funny thing happened. i had a guest, a man. this in the states is really no big deal, but here it is different. many ladies here have stories of "guests", luckily there is mounds of grace lavished on us khawajas (foreigners). our fridge has been broken (parts strewn around the eating area) for about 2 weeks (as i said thing are different) so there have been a slew of men to "fix" it, with varying opinions of what the heck is wrong, finally the actual fixing is happening (a new part at last; we could have had it done if we knew refrigerator repair). however, i was inadvertently sequestered to my room. the men did not check that i was here and i did not volunteer it as i am not dressed appropriately. in the state a "wife beater" is OK, here it is not. so there i am stuck in my room, with no access to more clothes, as they are kept in the other room. i had to laugh at this. i love to laugh. hope you do too!
8.8.08
Life is an adventure.
There are two things every westerner must remember when planning an outing with Africans: 1) Time is irrelevant 2) Be fluid. The day started for me early, departure was set at 8:30am. Running fashionably late I arrive around 9am. People are milling about, men are sitting in the corner cutting meat, and the ice delivery arrives on a bicycle, in chunks probably measuring 3 feet by 1 footish. It gets broken in to pieces on the edge of the foot wash basin in the courtyard rinsed off and stored in coolers. We depart no earlier than 10:30am.
Traveling in three buses that traditionally seat 30, it is now housing upwards of 55 people each (sitting mainly six to a row, with many standing). There are containers of fuul simmering warmly at my feet and chairs, coolers, cooking equipment, propane, speakers, more chairs and of course the meat stored in various places among us and on top of the bus. As soon as the bus moved the music begins Ethiopian tapes get passed forward, a cappella Bob Marley and of course Celine Dion ballads are sung and re-sung, some even get creative and start clapping making up their own words.
Upon arrival everyone sets to tasks. Unloading, moving in for the day, ladies start the morning meal of fuul, tamiyah and noodles, all eaten with bread. We are served on large trays, sitting 10 to a mat and eat collectively from the tray with our hands. The day’s program begins with an endless line of games, skits, songs, games, prizes and “interviews with the khawagas” (the two of us foreigners). The ladies work all afternoon, preparing the sheep meat, over a very small fire, it was amazing to watch the resourcefulness of these young ladies. Using cleaned sticks to stir, hand mash the seasoning, making the eggplant salad (cooked) and cutting mounds of vegetables.
The picnic area amounts to shade as the only qualifier, kind of significant in 100 and something degree heat. So we are sitting all under huge mango trees. The largest tree I have seen here by far. There are no pavilions or toilet facilities, no power sources or water fountains and certainly no filtered water for the foreigner ( filtered water: highly over rated i think. I drank about a gallon of fresh water, we'll see how that goes in the coming days). The generator we brought doesn’t work, one of the countless other family groups brings theirs over for a small part at the end of our program, right before our afternoon meal. The food was amazing! All afternoon we sat around and chatted about various things, many trying out new words in English, but mainly just being with my good girlfriends, a reunion. Just chatting, going for walks, meting people and relaxing.
About the time my brain was mush (trying to keep up with Arabic conversation and failing to stay less that 4 sentences behind), or asking “what are they saying?”, “what does this ___ mean?”), and posing for more pictures or videos than i care remember, it was time to pack up. The “park police” with their semi-automatics came around telling us to leave, “it was closed”. We all crammed back into the sardine can and headed south. All the familiar things happened again, the tapes get passed forward and back, the clapping starts, the singing began, and the laughter and celebratory tone that pervaded the day continued all the way home. We passed over the same rickety bridge, that I pleaded with God to hold up one more time, as the Nile (high, swollen, fast and dirty this time of year) travels quickly a mere feet below us. We arrive work as a team to unload, greet each other (ladies hand to hand and kiss on the cheek) and separate.
It was as we passed over the bridge that I thought of you, those that I hope read this. The ones longing to come back here or those of you in your particular areas. These little treasures are everywhere, grant it they are more fun, more colorful and loads more delightfully unpredictable here. Clearly life is an adventure or it should be. Live it out, own it, for that one purpose to seek those that might be brought back to him and to love all you come before fully and deeply, that is all this day was essentially. This is one of those days for me, hard and full, delightfully spent. Live hard and full.
Thanks for taking the time to read.
Traveling in three buses that traditionally seat 30, it is now housing upwards of 55 people each (sitting mainly six to a row, with many standing). There are containers of fuul simmering warmly at my feet and chairs, coolers, cooking equipment, propane, speakers, more chairs and of course the meat stored in various places among us and on top of the bus. As soon as the bus moved the music begins Ethiopian tapes get passed forward, a cappella Bob Marley and of course Celine Dion ballads are sung and re-sung, some even get creative and start clapping making up their own words.
Upon arrival everyone sets to tasks. Unloading, moving in for the day, ladies start the morning meal of fuul, tamiyah and noodles, all eaten with bread. We are served on large trays, sitting 10 to a mat and eat collectively from the tray with our hands. The day’s program begins with an endless line of games, skits, songs, games, prizes and “interviews with the khawagas” (the two of us foreigners). The ladies work all afternoon, preparing the sheep meat, over a very small fire, it was amazing to watch the resourcefulness of these young ladies. Using cleaned sticks to stir, hand mash the seasoning, making the eggplant salad (cooked) and cutting mounds of vegetables.
The picnic area amounts to shade as the only qualifier, kind of significant in 100 and something degree heat. So we are sitting all under huge mango trees. The largest tree I have seen here by far. There are no pavilions or toilet facilities, no power sources or water fountains and certainly no filtered water for the foreigner ( filtered water: highly over rated i think. I drank about a gallon of fresh water, we'll see how that goes in the coming days). The generator we brought doesn’t work, one of the countless other family groups brings theirs over for a small part at the end of our program, right before our afternoon meal. The food was amazing! All afternoon we sat around and chatted about various things, many trying out new words in English, but mainly just being with my good girlfriends, a reunion. Just chatting, going for walks, meting people and relaxing.
About the time my brain was mush (trying to keep up with Arabic conversation and failing to stay less that 4 sentences behind), or asking “what are they saying?”, “what does this ___ mean?”), and posing for more pictures or videos than i care remember, it was time to pack up. The “park police” with their semi-automatics came around telling us to leave, “it was closed”. We all crammed back into the sardine can and headed south. All the familiar things happened again, the tapes get passed forward and back, the clapping starts, the singing began, and the laughter and celebratory tone that pervaded the day continued all the way home. We passed over the same rickety bridge, that I pleaded with God to hold up one more time, as the Nile (high, swollen, fast and dirty this time of year) travels quickly a mere feet below us. We arrive work as a team to unload, greet each other (ladies hand to hand and kiss on the cheek) and separate.
It was as we passed over the bridge that I thought of you, those that I hope read this. The ones longing to come back here or those of you in your particular areas. These little treasures are everywhere, grant it they are more fun, more colorful and loads more delightfully unpredictable here. Clearly life is an adventure or it should be. Live it out, own it, for that one purpose to seek those that might be brought back to him and to love all you come before fully and deeply, that is all this day was essentially. This is one of those days for me, hard and full, delightfully spent. Live hard and full.
Thanks for taking the time to read.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
