- Step 1 Re-entry: Check -

The visa has come. Now it is time for me to go. The mixture of Joy and sadness. Joy to return, sad to leave. Transitions = yuck.

Ode to a Headlamp

Oh headlamp Oh headlamp how great thou art.
You’re faithful and bright down to the last might.
How I love thee still.

Many people like to grit when I wear you;
They are blind to see that you are a hit.

You shine while I brush my teeth;
And read my hadith.

You allow me to read on the street or under a sheet.
When Ramadan power cuts takes my light;
You and me are OH so tight

Your uses are many and few truly understand;
The complexity you have in that simple band.

Oh headlamp Oh headlamp how great thou art.
You’re faithful and bright down to the last might.
How I love thee still.

Hannah gets bent laughing when I wear you;
One day when she lives in a tent she’ll wish she had you.

In the past you helped flat 2 shower in the dark;
And how grateful we are that you did not nark.

Your LED bulbs are modern and bright;
You make studying a surra quite a sight.

Oh headlamp Oh headlamp how great thou art.
You’re faithful and bright down to the last might.
How I love thee still.

Your power is glorious;
The freedom you give is joyous.

Hands free I can see and do it all;
Nothing will fall, nothing at all.

I love you head lamp and love to have you near
But I love power more and the AC is so dear.

-to be continued

Laughing and loving as we journey together!

Recalibration

Tonight, as I ought to be sleeping, I have thoughts of thankfulness running through my head . . . thankfulness for recalibration some might say . . .

Well it goes like this you know when you walk through life sometimes and you end up having experiences, feelings and awairness' pile up on each other? Sorta like a congo line in first grade that comes to a complete and abrupt stop. Its messy, jostling and fun, but no one really understood or experienced deeply the minutes of giggle that followed or just sorta goofily reenacted it over and over. I think life for me can get like that sometimes, just silly skating or goofy fumbling . . . not really focused or purposeful just well sorta routine or even worse numb robotics.

I get up, eat, go to school, pray-study-read, study arabic, hang out with people. Some days though I can do that with out being all the way there maybe when I am talking to someone, I can leave that conversation and ask myself what just happened there? Or I space out in class and not really understand something or I can ride everyday past friend and strangers alike and never really have seen them . . . robotics.

But recently in one area the Lord gave me the generous gift of recalibration. I had one drone-like way of expecting this one thing and way to low standard of expectation and he straight blew that away with a really amazing version!!! Its like having a frozen grocery store brand cheese burger with waxy cheese verses like an IN-n-Out burger, soft bun, greasy patty that makes grease heavenly and artistic, just the right amounts of condiments . . . just a great burger!! The two are no longer comparable and you now have a much better flavor in your mouth!

While I feel there are excellent nuggets of truth for us to excel in the external way we walk through life, I mainly feel this 'congo line crash' inside. I find myself having way to many things piled in the 'I will think that through later' pile, and I fear that as those things turn back into brain slime waiting for me to tend to them, that I might loose out on some lovely little truth! A mind is truely a terrible thing to waste.

I long to walk through life using all my faculties and really seeing deeply into people as they are and loving them as Christ loves them! Some days are better than others, we all feel that, for sure! But for me through this one little area of recalibration, I am feeling its rippling effect through my whole heart and spirit. It seemed like a sweet little gift, at first, but more and more its tentacles of love break loose the hard, numb, even lazy places in my heart, warming it a new as only the Lord can. I think that numbness living in the muslim world is a risk, a quiet foe, but tonight it's fully exposed for its folly for Jesus is bigger.

As we journey together for truth's sake.

I have not forgotten about my blog, much to the reflected dates, but I am not sure what to post, of late!

I have had a couple great experiences however little time to process them into written form.

Life consists of school, taxi rides, time with the amazing friends that the Lord has provided, church, studies and oh two great trips out of town. I count it a complete gift and priviledge to study arabic in Cairo.

The Joy of the Lord alone is our strength!

Some Quirky and Some Refreshing

This city is MASSIVE! She is littered with tall buildings, narrow cars and streets. Her people are many, varied and wonderful!! That being said there are few experiences that make her a distinct city and I have been refreshed in some old things too . . .

1- Traffic is a serious commitment of time and energy, not to be trivialized. One must seek to maximize this time suck, bring a good book or fun people to talk with!

2- If in this traffic ones child wants to sleep, said child has to be OK with 'anywhere' as acceptable options for instance: a parents shoulder moving or still in any location regardless of sound, handle bars of a bike or moped, leaning on a sibling in the train, on a mothers head straddling her shoulder walking down the street . . . the point is really not where but that one gets a nap in! Right?

3- Clothes Pins are GREAT! And one needs many, being a large population exists close together there are many high buildings, one usually dries their clothes outside on the balcony from any height. This makes clothes pins your best friend and ally. This also strengthens your relationship with the Lord as you feel a compulsion to pray as your clothes dangle from, for example, the 12th floor. Though sadly I am not sure pleading for your clothes earns you any eternal rewards . . .

4- Parking options are as varied and tricky as napping locations.

5- Personal space is as rare and unheard of as a the phrase 'parking lot'. This really just a western notion though so . . . and really who wants everything to be the same!!!

6- There is one thing that is the same . . . people are people everywhere! They have the same things going on in life in differing degrees . . . there are Americans that are struggling to pay bills concerned about their families, there are Sudanese not making enough money to care for their family as they want to, there are Egyptians feeling pinched by the wage they can't seem to work hard enough to increase. There are young women every where longing for love and men everywhere looking for that special someone. Kids all still think the same things are funny!

So really anywhere can be 'home=comfortable and familiar' with the right people no matter how things swirl around you, no matter how many mistakes you make with strangers, no matter how uncomfortable certain things might 'feel'! The Lord seems to provide the comfortable and familiar in dear friends as you make a new like and family together helping and caring for each other! The Lord Will provide for all our needs as we trust and look to Him to be our everything.

Reading

Reading is a gift and I love christian biographies, love them!! I am reading a compilation of several men and their ways of thinking and life experiences. TodayI made three pages of notes. There is though a quote I must share from my reading today.

'Such earnestness and thoroughness of endeavors, is the ordinary means that God makes use of to bring people into an acquaintance with themselves, to a sight of their own hearts, to a sense of their own helplessness, and to a despair on their own strength and righteousness . . . It is experience of ourselves , and finding what we are, that God commonly makes use of as the means of bringing us off all dependence on ourselves . . . It is therefore quite a wrong notion that some entertain, that the more they do, the more they shall depend on it. Whereas the reverse is true; the more they do, or the more thorough they are in seeking, the less will they be likely to rest in their doings, and the sooner will they see the vanity of all that they do. -J. Edwards'

Heroes, Murray, pp. 14

Lego's Lead to Dying?

There are some that have the ability to craft a story from a simple experience and can pull out some eloquent truth, I less often have this ability. I admire it! Tonight I was reading one such person's blog about Lego's and got to thinking . . . about dying.

My grandparents lived their retirement years in Tucson, Arizona. We would go visit them most summers. I always declared that 'people were not meant to live in the desert', deserts are desolate and dead, you have to claw for food from the hard ground and create dams to gain water, crazy!!!

Now, I find myself calling a desert 'home'. All this week the desert has been blowing getting everywhere, blowing in the streets (i even saw a small but strong 'dust devil' a mini tornado), creating a fine dust coat on anything still. A positive is that it has caused a dusty haze over the normally brutal sun. It has been cooler. The desert has been well even desirable, oddly enough.

Then tonight the winds started really blowing and the power flickers. As we stood on the roof tonight marveling at the limited view and the grit in our teeth and eyes, using our tarha (head cover) as a dust mask, I thought about the change that comes with dust and death.

Every time we experience the awesome yet gentle prying that the Lord does in our heart, minds and attitudes, a death happens, but it also brings life. I am reminded that the Lord calls asks even insists that parts of us die, but the good news is He also is in the practice of resurrection. He will bring life in spite of death, maybe not life how we thought, but life that lifts His name higher!

I find this whole haboob season a lot like how we dye to things. It's ugly, scary, unpleasant, painful and usually effects others, it can sometimes even limits our view of life and the future. We travail and weep, we pray and read, we do everything to cling to sanity and Jesus. Then it slowly lifts and we feel dazed and a bit stunned by the change around us, then eventually cleansed, fresh and definitely more in love with Jesus. The Lord brings life to us by our death. An upside down logic that our Savior loves!

This dust that is swirling and gusting outside now seeming even scary will continue through the night. It might even cause some damage. But when it blows through and has poured out more and more sand, it will rain, always it rains. It will rain, it might even thunder and lightning. It might even pour and flood. But oh that rain is a treasure! That rain cleans everything! Absolutely everything cars, cats, dogs, the air, sidewalks, roof tops, clotheslines, railings, streets, and people. Jesus can and will come and wash us afresh and anew like that. Oh the Glory!

This has been a season of dust and grit, pain, even embarrassment, for me personally. But I can with confidence say I am thankful for it. I know that in those seasons change is happening! I am moving along with Jesus, closer to Jesus. We are moving!

Rats Rats Rats

When we got back from Kenya for Holiday we had rats in our flat . . . beyond GROSS! there are two things to bear in mind when thinking about this suybject:

1-I sleep on the floor

2- We live on the second floor

We settle in for the night and my roommate arises for the next day and our friend #1 runs across her foot. These kinds of experences happen off and on for a week. We then go for death . . . at this point we know there is one and he is using our washing machine as a place of refuge. In Sudan death of rats is not usually routine. A fact that baffles me. So we set the trap (that will leave them alive), FWAAAM! Got one in the middle of the night. I arise first and he's caught! I then see his friend a few minutes later. Friend #1 gets death by drownding. Contestant #2 is hiding that day in the washing machine, that night we suit up to get him. Unsure if he has escaped.

He was gone . . . sadly.

A few days later he met the end of his life. We never caught the #3 we saw a few days later . . . but a few days later the "plumber" came and found 5 plugging the sewer to our building. Beyond Gross!

How we got them living on the 2nd floor i don't know, but we were told later they probably crawled up the toilet, gag me! I am not convinved that is possible.

Just another day in Khartoum!

care, he does.

i got on here the other day reading some friends amazing blogs and realized that i have not posted anything since august. so much has happened . . . most of it hard, ugly and painful, not really blog worthy.

coming back after the summer was exciting and dreadful all at the same glorious time. i love the land and the people. but knew that this was going to be tough in other ways, in me. the Lord in his sovereign will knows what i need, to become who He wants me to be. that alone is my priority. my life is not my own.

my mother always drilled into us as kids that if we had nothing nice to say then to say nothing at all. i have carried this into adulthood and further found value also in the idea of idle words being of no use. and a source of invited judgement upon ourselves in times to come. the spirit of the rule she taught us is true, self control to hold your tongue. the letter of the rule though was done to avoid saying something hurtful and impulsive.

all that said and life with the Lord being the journey that it is . . . there are many layers to this idea. while i am "practicing" the discipline of purity in all things but specifically in my heart and mind, as much as one can (a whole other matter and discussion). i have had the amazement to watch the Lord move and speak on my behalf. this side of holding your tongue, allowing the Lord to be defender, is something that puts me in sheer speechless amazement. our father and his love and protection over His children. this, i did not expect. it makes me more devoted, more loving, more adoring and feel more safe in Him. might be carnal to say that it takes proof of his love. yeah it is, but honest. sometimes in a love relationship, even with the creator and redeemer of the world, you want to feel protected, guarded and watched-over.

some might say that idea makes the Holy Lord, too human-like. those people would be missing something that makes him more Holy to me. He is so aquainted with my needs as a human that he would think to show himself strong on my behalf in such a way, baffles me. it's seemingly so insignificant of a situation and circumstance. why would a Holy God care? But He does, so much.

so again i am humbled to find a reason to say, thanks mom, probably not said enough. you've laid a foundation that the Lord is making sure and strong. because the author of time and love cares, He does.

love letter of trust

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.

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!

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.

time and more time

The visa dance. Which means i am waiting and praying . . . praying . . . waiting . . . so while i wait . . .

Enjoy the Black Raspberry Season; the picking and freezing for the Fam.

Doing some reading. Loving the time to do this!

Enjoying the sites and often rain storms and clouds.

And of course quality time with the parents and close friends.

coming "home"

home, when i looked up the definition there were 31 ways to describe this one word and its uses, 31. i take great effort in checking my head and heart to make every attempt at not clinging to things or places. i have come to believe that home has very little to do with a place, it has more to do with a feeling and the people, at least for me. i have lived a very transient life in the past 8 or so years. i have used the term "home" to label many of the places i have lived. not because they were where i was raised or because my blood family lived there, but instead it was a place i could breath deep and find a certain amount of rest.

for me the trick to making any place feel like home is peace. the peace i receive through the presence of our holy God is something i pursue with a fierce tenacity. i believe it is His gift to us and its what keeps me sane. His peace is pervasive in any situation and can make any place feel like home. we can take this where ever we go, it is the constant equalizer in a shifting and trying world. may you enjoy the peace that comes through heavenly and earthly fellowship.

living a wet ground life

it was about 4:30 this morning and i was awakened by pounding wind. dogs were howling and lighning lit up the sky in front of me. i did not know weather like this happend here. it reminded me of storms back home, minus the deafening thunder (so glad of that). as i sat on the pourch enjoying the wind and the lightning, the rain began to fall, filling the potholes on the street and wetting the ground around me.

there is a common practice here to wet the ground in the morning, i guess to keep the dust down. in the end in ends up packing the dirt more and more. so then when water falls from above like last night it just sits on the road. i was thinking about that this morning. what areas of life am i packed and hard, what areas do i need water to saturate and make soft again?

a friend of mine here has a wonderful way with words. i often put him in the position, by my free expressing, to tell me to "quit whining". he usually frames it in a kind way such as "when you let your disappointment run for too long and start to dictate your mood and what comes out of your mouth- it's whining". this is so true. the hardness in my heart, a lack of child-like faith and trust.

Uncut . . .

"They" (people, others) say to take all your pictures in the first 6 months of arriving in a new place, after that everything looses its zeal and becomes "normal". I had to grin to myself today as thought passed through my head. There are somethings better off not photographed, try these on for size:

I think I saw at least 4 grown men launch snot rockets today, on the street in broad daylight, in mid-step (very impressive). I often wonder how it doesn't get all over their pants or shirt. Then there is the "wall peeers" (my personal favorite, because I have to watch for them carfully, they will "drop 'em" at a moments notice), this is the practice of relieving ones-self, well basically anywhere, some can even manage without a wall. If you see a man squating you better walk on the other side of the road. This next one is very common. It's nothing to walk down the street and see men holding hands, with their fingers inter-locked. It's not as comical, but is quite stunning to your senses the first few times, coming from the west we have an immediate "other" ideas about such actions. Then there are the spitters. Again this is common practice and at times you might even wonder about their aim. They could be spitting seed shells, tobacco spit, water or well snot again, I personally have never had anything spit land on me, but others have, very unique.

Hope you got a little laugh out of this, I know I did/do.

no words needed

the 2 weeks or so have been a little on the stressful side for me. so many unexpected and some days unwanted responsibiblites, he uses this though, i am finding to purify my heart and thoughts, so i am trying to say more please, "bring it on", whatever to make me what you want me to be. today i feel that i might be looking at the other side of it.

now to my new friend: across the street from where i live there is a IDP family squatting in an abandoned property, VERY common. there are some children in this family, in the night you can hear the youngest crying before bed. i have given candy and tried to talk in my broken arabic. but yesterday, the little girl who i shared a book with the other day came running over when i pulled up. it was so sweet, she wanted to talk and looked at me yearning to share, her eyes smiling and face excited, but could not.

language is the heartbeat of a people, no doubt, but in this case it was not necissary. there was no feeling of i want something from you whether it be money, candy, clothes, food. just I want you, your time, your attention, your smile, just you. moments like that while they are fleeting and short are what make weeks of yuck, twisting, challenge, conviction, strain, stress and sleeplessness worth it all.

1 down millions and millions to go

I have never really been one that is squeemish, however, I have a real intolerance for mice, rats and snakes. And I understand living in Africa one is going to see them, often. However, it is one thing to "know" something, it is quite another thing when that truth meets you or is chillin in your lunch bag . So far my last few weeks here I have seen and expereinced more rodents=rats and mice than I have in the last 10 years in the states.
Today I had the very rare priviledge to bear witness to one such rats demise and I rather enjoyed it! It invovled a screaming teacher (not me), a LARGE rat, a metal cabnet (its shelter) and two grown men with sticks, Oh and me on a table (a safe view)! It was glorious rat running here to there and grown men trailing close . . . sticks flew and evenutally broke from the great force and BAM dead rat, well really bam bam bam bam. Sort of grafic maybe, but wonderful. This is the first rodent I have seen killed in anyway, it's something I am finding that is on the rare side. This was my friends visitor (Hector). My unwelcome visitor is still out there lurking, waiting again to get into my lunchbag. I call him Herbert.

Imagination

The air is full of make-believe sounds. Sounds that only little boys can decode. Make believe crahes, hovering planes, swords slashing at one another and robots transforming. These are the sounds that fill my floor tonight. I can hear them making the bed into a launching pad, feet running the porch even racing; wisely using their last puffs of energy before bed. They are transformers tonight . . .

A wonderful gift: imagination!

Ending one chapter.

Look guys you made it on my blog. We have read stories on here from my friend, remember the funny bathroom story?
My time to leave has arrived to say tootles. Our last week was full of surprises, coloring, gluing, eating, hugs, "please don't go's" and more surprises.
Here is a little photo montage of last week together:














Thanks Ms. Pratt for taking on the design and don't my guys look great in their uniforms!

Coloring in the design. It's way more fun inside. Hope Johnathan's head is not permanently squished, come on Chase scoot over.

After such a full week of parties and coloring a nap is in order on our new bean-bags! I don't know what's up with the thumb thing?














And after such a fun week this is what I'm left to do . . . Pack those lovely containers. Dude I don't think it's all going to fit!
I wonder what my guys are doing this week?

I love you third grade and am so very proud of you!
Always Your Ms. Laura