Dinner Out

I am back from dinner at my new friend Naomi’s house. I walked in to Naomi’s tiny mud house, the front room was completely filled by a small table. Behind one faded curtain are sleeping quarters. Behind the other I heard clucking of the other residents... three turkeys. We sat as the charcoal smoke from the cook fire wafted in, faces glowing with lamp light. We got more and more excited with each pot Naomi brought in as each one moved us closer to the feast. And I do mean feast. Africans eat like none other. The spread consisted of rice with peanut sauce, beans, and sombee. Sombee is a leaf that has to be beaten for about and hour to release the cyanide, then cooked to be something like the greens we enjoy in the south, all these piled high in a bowl. Then one eats and eats. I thought it might be smart to eat quickly so that I could finish it all before I felt too bloated, then Naomi started scooping me more sombee. By the time we left I was far beyond full.

Naomi lives with her grandmother, Mamba. I like Mamba very much. Mamba greeted us warmly and smiled revealing pink gums and a tooth something resembling a fang. Supposedly she has 2 teeth, I have yet to see the other. She goes on and on in Lubwisi I smile and say “mmm..” (equivalent to the smile and nod) She occasionally will revert back to the traditional greetings, as this is the only thing I understand and can make a reply. Mamba just likes to talk. My roommates Sarah and Ashley and Heidi (a nurse in Bundi) are better at communicating, but still there are a lot of mmm...s. Mamba laughs. She then starts to count to 10... in English. Amazing! Hardly anyone here speaks English, but this old woman is learning. She wants to talk that much. The other school kids in the room laugh as she attempts other words. I understand this feeling well... many giggle at my awkwardness in a place and culture so unlike my own. A feeling that is soon to be a constant companion as I will really be trying to learn Labwisi these next couple months. Pray that I would be like Mamba, having a strong desire to communicate with these people as well as the ability to laugh at myself. Pray that I will be disciplined and that God would provide a good Babwisi language helper and friend for me.

A few snaps

In Bundi taking a picture is called taking a snap. So here are some snaps from my last few days is in Bundibugyo.

Two days ago I left Kampala in a tiny little four seater plane, even got to sit in the copilot’s seat. We flew west over a green Uganda. After crossing the Rwenzori Mountains we circled around to be in position over the the small green strip below... our runway. And we landed. Kids waved from the tall grass. Then when the plane landed stood behind the profellers so their shirts would balloon out. The team greeted us also waving, some standing on top of their vehicles. It was so wonderful to meet these people I have so long to be with.

Yesterday I visited the health clinic where several of my teammates work. I was shown in the delivery room, a tired mother rested and a healthy newborn lay bundled only minutes old. It was amazing the baby had survived because it had been a twin and the twin had died long before. The cause of this child’s second chance at life was being in a different amniotic sac. “Not something you see every day Jennifer” said... EXACTLY what I was thinking.

Nyahuka is the closest village to me in Bundibugyo. Today was market day and because Christmas is soon it was very crowded. The plies of shoes on the mats were higher... more fabrics, more clothes as the second hand stalls. Coco, the cash crop is in. This means people also have money to spend. My favorite scene: A boy herding two goats through the mazes of muddy streams, stalls, and people with a basket of live chickens on his head.

I was walking up the path by myself making my way to a teammates house when from behi

nd I hear someone called out, “Anna” I stopped and turned around. A smiling face with bright white teeth and warm dark eyes greeted me. “How are you?” she said. I was relieved that she was communicating in English and embarrassed that I did not know her name. I explained that I had met so many people and could she please tell me her name again. She said, “Oh I haven’t met you yet. I just heard that you were coming and wanted to greet you, my name is Pauline.” That pretty much sums up the happiness I feel at being here. Can’t wait to share more.

God Sighting = Joy

This afternoon I sat at Mrs. Everhart's desk making my last notes about my week of subbing, when a stampede of about 15 of my previous students came in to give one last hug. (I LEAVE OCTOBER 26TH !!!) This morning I was presented with a rubber band ball from another former student. (Glad to know that those rubber bands won't be used to shoot hornets across some classroom.) ...just a few precious memories to file away. While my heart feels a little torn in two, I can't help but stop and thank God for the blessing of knowing and being a part of these awesome kid's lives.

Another thing I learned at MTI is how important it is to remember all the times throughout the day God shows up. I know he is always there, but man do I forget when things don't go according to plan. Other times it is so obvious you can not help but have full heart. I know God will continue to be present at Brown Middle and I look forward to hearing from my colleagues about how he shows up.

A fellow teacher shared with me that God is not only all over Brown Middle school, but he is Bundibugyo Uganda too. This brings me great comfort as I head out, a little warily, into the unknown. I'm can't bring someone who is already there. But God has seen it is best for me to go and be a part of what He is doing in the sticks of Uganda. He also shared a great quote:

"God is in the slums, in the cardboard boxes where the poor play house. God is in the silence of a mother who has infected her child with a virus what will end both their lives. God is in the cries heard under the rubble of war. God is in the debris of the wasted opportunity and lives, and God is with us, if we are with them. " -Bono

So whether it is the kids of davidson county or the poorest of the poor in Uganda, God is there pouring out his love in ways we don't always see or understand. But we can cling to the truth and join in his work. I really think I have no idea how BIG God is, how involved and so in control he is. I am excited about what he will show me about himself.

I did it! All by myself

This week I have grieved my independence. At times I have viewed this part of my personality as a virtue but this week I have seen it as the vice that it can be. I see how it saddens God, even robs Him and myself of joy in our relationship.

As a kid I remember my dad taking me down to the school parking lot with my first two wheeled bike. It was a glorious pink and white beauty, now training wheelless. My dad held the bike steady as I climbed on. My legs were just long enough to make the rotation of the pedals. This was a bike to grow into, and I was feeling very grown up. He gave me a good push. Hands gripped tightly to the handle bars, the words, "Lean into the fall, lean into the fall" cycled through my mind as my feet pressed against the pedals, muscles contracting, and... I was doing it! Oh what joy... I was riding my bike all by myself. This feeling became one I would love and cling to for years to come in many more circumstances. There was one sad thing... I didn't need my dad to go with me anymore.

This week I have seen this desire of my heart with different eyes. And I have felt sorrow at my many lone bike rides down the road of life. This weekend God sent me down a hill and his ordained forces of physics sent me racing out of control. I longed for my father's steadying hand, but I wasn't sure where he was. I thought I had left him back in the parking lot. So I closed my eyes and anticipated a painful crash. Imagine my surprise that despite my efforts to remain independent my loving father was there and instead of crashing into asphalt I slammed into his arms, and found myself sobbing into his chest. I heard him rejoicing over me with familiar words, "Anna, I did it all by MYself. I will always be here to catch you, in fact I pushed you down the hill so that I could chase you down. I so want to love you. Rest, rest here against me."

Another phrase I recall my dad saying in the bike riding lesson, "You know how to fall" To which the correct response was to stick out my legs release the handlebars and and let the bike crash to the ground without me on it. Falling is inevitable, my heavenly Father says the same thing... he is showing me how to fall straight into his arms.

The Weak Hand

Currently I am at MTI (Missionary Training International) in Colorado, with plans to leave for Uganda by the end of October! Yesterday in one of my classes I had to draw a characterization of myself, portraying the current journey on which God has taken me... with my left hand. Being the perfectionist that I am I was not particularly thrilled by this task. My pitiful stick person self portrait had a large purple crayon stroke down the middle. One red curve of my mouth going up in a smile, excited about my soon departure to Africa, the other curving down as I am sad to part with family, friends, church, and job that I love so much. Somewhat reluctantly I shared with the others at my table what was depicted... as explanation was most definitely needed.

So what was the point? The immediate application is that when I arrive in Uganda I am going to be weak, helpless even, awkward and inept in my attempts at learning foreign culture. But with practice it will come more easily. Upon deeper pondering spiritual implications came to surface. God loves to give us all left handed tasks in which our attempts just aren't pretty. At this point it becomes less about us as we have nothing to take pride in. Really the only thing of worth is the story that we tell. As believers our lives are about telling the story of the gospel and letting it motivate us to love others. But so often we do this poorly. God in his goodness and graces still uses our feeble attempts and the story goes forth with Him, it's author, getting his rightful Glory!

You just know

Two of my best friends got married this summer. Beaming, I stood beside each of them as they cast their lot in with this person whose life God had collided with their own. Who doesn't love a good romance. I mean how many times have I read Pride and Prejudice? Love is something every human craves, not to mention the fun of getting dressed up, dancing, and eating cake that goes with weddings. I've always wondered how one knows they have found the one person with whom they want to spend the rest of their earthly days. Upon my queries I get a pretty standard response. Exhaling softly they say, "You just know." But I think we both know there is more to it than that. God has an amazing way of making the way plain. And we can be confident to take the next step because it is obvious that only God could have done such a thing.

Those that have known me for a while are aware of my love for travel. I have been in and out of relationships with this place and that. It has been a long time desire of my heart to live in Africa. This past year has been like a romance with Africa. My acquaintance with Uganda began last summer. When kids clamored with dirty hands grasping for mine, I was smitten. Since my return there have been mixed emotions, confusion over what I should do, a lot of waiting and praying, even the surreal feeling when World Harvest asked me to go to Bundibugyo, Uganda. In the back of my mind the question loomed... "Is this it?" These past few months assurance has filled my heart as God has called people to partner with me and funds have quickly come in despite the current climate of our economy. The road just keeps materializing as my foot nears the ground, step by step. And... I JUST KNOW this is what God has prepared me for and where He is leading me right now. So for the next two years I am casting my lot in with the people of Bundibugyo, hitching my wagon to the gospel and expecting the ride of my life!

I can't believe I did that!

This past week my sonship study sent me spelunking, crawling deeper into the dark caverns of my heart and I have to say I don't like what the head lamp reveals.  As I've already shared my heart is full of self-dependency and self-righteousness.  When I am faced with something I can't do or don't want to do, I am learning to cry out to God. I feel relieved, excited even as God rescues me and I briefly draw close.  Then pride creeps me in as I feel satisfied at the insight I have gained into myself.  But insight is not repentance. My self righteousness flares as I say to myself, "I can't believe I did that again" and I make resolutions.  But this reveals a darker heart attitude, and how alienated I really am from God, to think that I could actually not sin.  An article I read by Nancy Leigh DeMoss puts it this way, "Our hearts are an underground network of caves, all interconnected, and all full of sin.  As light shines in, it reveals a cave together with passageways to ten more.  Travel into another cave and we find more passageways." Making resolutions to do better is futile.  So instead of blundering around in the the cave of my heart.  I need to say instead, "I did do that... I can believe I am like that! Lord, forgive me you are my only hope."

So, I've had to repent about my repenting... pretty pitiful huh?  So what is true repentance? First of all seeing the grossness of my sin, and truly feeling grief and brokenness over it.  Hating it because it hurts God.  By this sin I dis God.  Then coming face to face with God in my disheveled messy state, knowing he desires to break the cycles of sin in my life.  Then clinging to the undeserved grace that I have and receiving quietness because of the pure, perfect heart of righteousness from Christ. With caves not full of darkness but treasure and riches from the Father.