It's Christmas Eve

It's 12:08am on this side of the world, and that means Christmas Eve has arrived. I'm not sure yet how that happened:)
Christmas is going to be very different this year . . . Thanksgiving was a hard day in many ways, yet sweet in others. I expect Christmas to be the same. I am learning that for the things we give up, we lay down, we let go of--there is yet more joy found in the brokeness we are left with.
Sure, I'd like to be in the car with my family headed to Texas right now. Dixie, my dog, will be frantically panting and steaming up the van windows. My brothers will be leaning against the windows, asleep in that awkward wadded-up-jacket-for-a-pillow position. My mom will be "resting her eyes", leaning against the yellow bone pillow I think my grandmother made. And Dad will be driving, squinting a little against the sun. And yes, I'd love to be with all of my extended family . . . for spice tea and cousins and catching up . . . for bodies crammed onto the open floor to sleep . . . for late nights of laughter and the real popcorn ball making event . . . for the richness of love and togetherness that I am blessed with in my family.
And yet, with all that I could be doing right now, I am here. And I am exactly where I am supposed to be. I am incredibly thankful for the privilege of being here, for the sufficient grace that's been poured upon me, for the sweet gifts I have been given in this place. I would love to have both worlds in my grasp right now, but even in my wishing, I know that I have the most precious Treasure of all. I have a King who became a Man so that I might live and never die. What greater gift could I desire?
Have a Merry Christmas, friends! May you remember that the best gift is not the silver one under the tree, or the family around you, or the security of your world . . . . but the truth that Jesus was born for you .

A Sweet, Sticky Taste of Home!

Mmmmm. So Bev, the team "mom" apparently emailed my mom to find out what some Christmas traditions of my family's were. Mom sent her the recipe for popcorn balls, which is an annual Flanagan/Denton/Hisey/Pshigoda/Phillips and others treat! Of course half the fun is in the making--the gobs of sticky goo all over the place, the hands diving in for a taste, the voices and laughter and warmth that make home and family what they are. Tonight we made green popcorn balls, and I thought I'd share the fun with you!

It's the simple things in life, really:) It's going to be fun to share these with my E. coworkers tomorrow!

Thanks, Mom!

The End (of this, anyway!)

Ok, folks. I am ending my collection of photos from Kenya and Aaron's trip! I've got other stuff that's happened since then, and since I am a little on the OCD side of life I couldn't say anything because then it would be out of chronological order, wouldn't it?!
Today is a beautiful day--it's warm and sunny. Can Christmas really be only 8 days away? We've got a baby Christmas tree and a nativity (thanks, Mom!), and today we added a wreath to the door. We listen to Chrismas music and hum carols through the day, and I think I am going to put some chocolate in my stocking--but is this all really "Christmas"?? It's not, but it's easier to see that from here than there, I think. Sure, I want the Christmas sweets and parties and frost and people--but even that wouldn't satisfy. We have a Treasure far more grand than any of these things, and that is worth celebrating!

But on to Kenya . . . .

The "tent" we stayed in at the safari camp--let's just say that's the nicest tent I'll ever sleep in! It made for a pleasant stay:)

My view of Aaron for a good portion of the trip:)

With my elephant friends

Wildebeests roaming the Masai Mara--there were hundreds of thousands. We missed the annual wildebeest migration, but it was still pretty incredible.

Giraffes are incredible creatures--they cope with awkwardness gracefully. I wish I could do that! Seriously, they made the whole safari worth it!

The Masai Mara

The Other Half (Almost)

I just realized I have fleas crawling on me, so I'm going to make the word part of this brief! I need a monkey friend right about now:) So here's some more pics from Aaron's trip--it's not all but it's close!! These are all from Kenya.

We spent a couple days on a safari on the Masai Mara:

Aaron is standing with Tanzania stretching out behind him

In Nairobi we went to an elephant orphange, where Aaron took this pretty charming photo:

Then we went to a giraffe center, where Aaron again took this cool shot:

Mmm, yummy!

Now you see it, and . . . .

Now you don't!

Half of the Long Expected Post

Time keeps on ticking by—I can’t believe that Aaron came and went, we flew to Kenya and northern E and back, I got kissed by a giraffe, I stepped back into the busyness at the project, I celebrated Thanksgiving here and survived the Great E Run!!
This could get really long, but instead of being wordy I’m going to attempt to let the photos share my stories:) BUT, this server has been blocked AGAIN and I can’t load any more photos now.
It was really great to have Aaron here—I’ve probably said this on here before, but one of the greatest struggles of being in a place like this is the feeling that everyone in my “other life” (you, probably!) can’t comprehend my life here. Thus, it’s difficult to share what life is truly like here and the burdens in it. For this reason, I am glad that now I have another bridge between my worlds, that now Aaron knows some of the faces of these dear ones I work with and cry over.
It was also pretty great to have a break:) I definitely needed some time away and some space to process life and to think about this great big looming “what’s next?” question I’m facing. I didn’t come up with any answers and feel like I am a long way from them, but I was reminded that it’s not my life and it’s not about ME. So hopefully these photos will give you a glimpse into our journeys! If this allows me to post more later, I will post all the ones I intended to. I would like to clarify that Aaron’s photos are exponentially better than mine, and really I should just wait for him to finish putting them online and send you there. But until then, enjoy these!
*I was uploading pics backward so they'd be in chronological order (I am slightly OCD, I think). But alas! that means the safari pics didn't get loaded before my technical troubles started in earnest. So sorry, hopefully they will come later!

After being in Nairobi, I felt like I had been to the West and back! Here I am pretty excited that we got to order pizza and have it delivered. Wonders never cease:)

Headed to the aiport in Nairobi

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We flew up to Northern E to the town of Lalibela for a day. It is home to these incredible ancient rock-hewn churches. They are all carved below ground level, so you can't see them when you are just standing in the town.

St. George Church, probably the most famous one there.

A and I with St. George Church in the background.

These are called "tukels" and they are the traditional E. style of building. They start with a stick frame, then plaster in the walls with a grass and mud mixture that is actually harder than cement. The roof is regrassed every few years. The 2 story tukels were used to house animals in the bottom and people in the top.

Dusk view from our window--the town was peaceful. Life continues much as it has for centuries there--the placid evening was interrupted only by the lowing cows, bleating sheep, and the high pitched shout of children playing soccer in the streets.

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*Due to the E gov. heightened security right now, PLEASE use discretion in any comments you may leave! Not that my readers usually post politically sensitive comments, but just be aware! Please don't mention the country, the government, or the political situation. Thanks.

I'm really . . . .

going to post!!!
But this server has been blocked again, so it makes everything more complicated!
I'm still alive and breathing--and I got turkey, mashed pototaoes, cranberry sauce, and pumpkin pie for Thanksgiving, so that made me pretty happy.
I hope you are all well and had the chance to sit and wonder about the blessings in your lives this last week!

The Struggle

This world has nothing for me and

This world has everything

All that I could want and

Nothing that I need

--Aaron Tate

Just Thinking

I'm really alive! We didn't get eaten by lions or trampled by wildebeests or drowned by hippos! I promise a real update soon, maybe even with pictures:) Oooh, betcha can't wait!? Haha, really I will post soon, but until then wanted to share something someone else said that I've been thinking about.

Can we give up all for the love of God? When the surrender of ourselves seems too much to ask, it is first of all because our thoughts about God Himself are paltry. We have not really seen Him, we have hardly tested Him at all and learned how good He is. In our blindness we approach Him with suspicious reserve. We ask how much of our fun He intends to spoil, how much He will demand from us, how high is the price we must pay before He is placated. If we had the least notion of His lovingkindness and tender mercy, His fatherly care for His poor children, His generosity, His beautiful plans for us; if we knew how patiently He waits for our turning to Him, how gently He means to lead us to green pastures and still waters, how carefully He is preparing a place for us, how ceaselessly He is ordering and ordaining and engineering His Master Plan for our good—if we had any inkling of all this, could we be reluctant to let go of our smashed dandelions or whatever we clutch so fiercely in our sweaty little hands?
“We have not loved Thee with our whole heart; we have not loved our neighbors as ourselves.”
If with courage and joy we pour ourselves out for Him and for others for His sake, it is not possible to lose, in any final sense, anything worth keeping. We will lose ourselves and our selfishness.

We will gain everything worth having.

Elisabeth Elliot, The Path of Loneliness

Off

to the wilds of Africa! Haha:) Aaron and I are leaving tomorrow for Kenya, and I am supposed to be packing right now. But packing requires decisions and as we all know that is one of my least favorite activities in life!!
Have a great week, all!

The Burger Queen Experience

The other night most of the staff went out to "Burger Queen" after work. It was pretty impressive--country music from the satellite radio in the background, real burgers and french fries and ketch-up. Mostly, though, it was just a great time of laughing with this group of people who have become some of my dearest friends!

It's still a little wierd to look up and realize my brother is here, in my Ethiopian life. I'm happy he is:)

Danny, me, and Aaron, in case you didn't figure that out!! :)

My half eaten basket (yes, a real basket to add to the experience!) of food:)

Mmmm, good. It's really just one of Danny's favorite places to eat in Addis; that's why we went!

*For all of you observant people out there who already commented or were about to--no, I still don't like kettle korn or burgers. But they don't kill me and I can still talk about them:)

The Original Kettle Korn

Today three other "feringe" women and myself ate at an Ethiopian friend's home. She always amazes me by her hospitality and generosity out of the very, very little that she has. We said "baka" (enough) over and over but she kept giving us more food!! After the meal, there was a coffee ceremony, which is a integral part of culture here. They roast coffee beans over an open flame, grind them up, and brew dark espresso-like coffee. Then they dump in spoonful after spoonful of sugar into the little teacups, and give you cup after cup of it! It is around the coffee ceremony that community is often nutured, that business deals are made, that stories and secrets and just lives are shared. Generally alongside the coffee they serve kolo (roasted barley) or popcorn. Today it was popcorn, bought by the handful because that was all the money she had to spend on it. It was properly popped in a little kettle over the flame, poured onto a platter, and generously sprinkled with precious sugar!! Hence, my title--maybe this is where it all started! We laughed over our bad Amharic blunders, talked about why feringe women don't put butter in their hair, ate too much, got caffeine jitters from drinking the darkest coffee you've ever seen, and most of all had the joy of getting to share a few hours with several women whose lives we can never comprehend.
On another note, I am HAPPY!! My big brother is coming to see me in 23 hours (hopefully!)!! I am so excited to get to share this life with someone from my "other" life, to in some way attempt to bridge the gap between my two worlds. And . . . I am glad that a break is coming soon! We are going to play complete tourists and go to Kenya and on a safari and buy lots of African souvenirs:) I'll share stories and pics later!

Mystery

“There cannot be two different faiths—one for you and one for the poor. The question on which the whole social problem really pivots is whether you recognize in the less fortunate, even in the poorest, not merely a creature, a person in wretched circumstances, but one of your own flesh and blood: for the sake of Christ, your brother . . .

There is suffering round about you, and those who suffer are your brothers, sharers of your nature, your own flesh and blood. You might have been in their place and they in your more pleasant position. The Gospel speaks to you of a Redeemer who, although he was rich, became poor for your sake so he might make you rich . . .

Just as the rich and poor sit down with each other at the communion table, so also you feel for the poor man as for a member of the body, which is all that you are as well . . .

Divine compassion, sympathy, a suffering with us and for us—that was the mystery of Golgotha.

You, too, must suffer with your suffering brothers.”

--Abraham Kuyper in The Problem of Poverty

My black scarf is on my desk at the office again, waiting for the trek to more lyksos (wakes). I cry for Habtamwa, for my friend who two months ago was laughing and joking about my bad Amharic. I cry because I didn’t get to hold her hand, to tell her I cared, to say again, one last time, that there is hope. I cry because there are more Habtamwas. I cry because I know how little I see myself as the poor, the broken, the blackest of sheep so desperately needing a rescuer. Because I fail to and refuse to acknowledge that truth in its entirety, I cannot suffer with and for the Habtamwas of this world as I am called to.
The mystery is inexplicable. Riches for me? From Him?

Slippery Grip

"I felt my edges start to slip . . ."
"It's just a fear, unnamed
We shouldn't have to do this to ourselves
We shouldn't have to do it this way . . ."

--Ellery

Today I am tired, a little unsure about life in general, joyful yet pained in my soul. My head is swirling, and I sometimes just don't know how to process it all. What to do, how to react, to one of my women who is dying, but doesn't want me to come see her bacause I am a foreigner and she is still so afraid of the stigma from the community. She's dying, and I know that and I ache to hold her hand, to tell her again of the only Hope there is. I want her to know that so desperately, to not spend these last days, weeks, eternity itself in fear. And thinking about the great big huge gaping "What's next?" question. Wondering how I can ever reconcile my two worlds, how I can bear to not be a part of either of them. Yet not for a moment wanting to not have had the chance to love and be loved, to share in the great joy of walking through life alongside others in these places. There's a lot more, but that's my bit of honesty for the day. I'm not honest enough--with myself, with my Father, with the people in my life. Is that driven by fear? Yes, probably. I'm so glad that His perfect love can drive out ALL fear--of death, of uncertainty, of loneliness, of heartache, of doubt. I am glad that one day I will understand that in a way I don't now.
On a much lighter note, today I had a chest x-ray (I am fine to all of you who are freaking out right now!!) and it cost me less than $10 US. What??!! That's crazy. When I had that dumb foot surgery a while back my total bill was like $4000 dollars, and I think a couple hundred of that was the 3 xrays I had on the offending appendage. The healthcare system is, well, not really a system at all here. It's a constant struggle to work with, to wish there was more. But today it was nice to only pay 10 bucks for 2 x-rays!

Of Rats and Women

It's lateish on this Friday night, and I should be thinking of finding my sleeping spot. But I am dreading the moment right before I drift into neverland and the stampede of elephants overhead begins! Yes, folks, I have rats in my walls and ceiling. I don't know if it's true or not, but my furry little enemies seem to be of the nocturnal tendency. Right before I slip into blissful oblivion, they start crawling, scampering, and scratching their way through the wall RIGHT BESIDE my head. UGH!
But, never fear. I've never been particularly scared of bugs and small furry creatures. I killed Mr. Mouse, right? (See prior posts if you don't believe me. Were I cool and talented and not tired right now, I might even add a link right here). I could, however, use some suggestions here. Do I use the sticky stuff, then deal with live squirmy ROUS-sized creatures? Or find some coumadin and let them die scattered in heaps around the attic? Or borrow the neighbor's cat and put him up there for a couple of days? The first problem is, of course, the fact that there is no way that short me can even get INTO the 1 foot hole leading into the attic! Chairs, cabinets, the stove--it's just not sufficient!
Maybe the fleas in the bed are raining down from the rats in the attic . . .

Snapshots

This is a random collection of photos taken over the past several months. At the moment, I can't even get the rest of them to upload, so I am not sure if this is ever going to make it into an actual post! There's not a theme or particular reason for most of these, but perhaps they will give you another glimpse into "my world" here!

View from a big hill overlooking one of the many volcano lakes in the country

In the country about an hour outside of Addis

I thought this was SO cool. Separating the chaff from the grain. Every time I look at this photo, I think again of the One we serve and the work He is about.

Taken at a June medical clinic--from left: Eyob, Tim, and Danny

With my dear friend Laura at one of the June medical clinics

A candid photo of Heilemy at one of the June medical clinics; she's in some other pics as well

Robs, I need you to come empty this!! I think I reached the limit of how much you can ACTUALLY put in the dishdrainer!!

One Sunday awhile back I went with a friend to visit her family in a town about an hour from Addis. We went the last little stretch by this mode of transport (it's a smaller town and they use horses instead of taxis for "public transport")

Took this out the window on the bus ride back to Addis that same day. So amazingly green!

This is one of the oldest support groups in the project--they are a wonderful group! Anyway, on this day they were taking advantage of the sunshine and decided to meet outside.

Deborah! My sweet baby:) Her mom's got her arm, but she was spending time in the office showing us her little steps and giving out slobbery kisses!

Betty (a fellow staff member) and Deborah

I stood on tiptoes on my porch to try to capture the sunset!

Verdict?

Well, the jury hasn't been unanimous in the great ugly blog debate! My friend AnnaLauren just revamped her blog, but I'm afraid if I did that, I would totally mess everything up and would never, ever find the lost remnants in cyberspace. I'm not exactly computer savvy--if it weren't for another friend, Caroline, I would never have had a clue how to even change colors on here. HTML?? What's that?! And how come they think people like me can figure it out on our own? Who are they anyway?
Thanks for the input, readers, and if you have more to share, feel free. For now I'll keep the questionable colors and one day perhaps I will wake up and be bold and daring and say, "Today is the day I will change the blog!"

Rain on the Brain

I don't like Saturdays here very much. Particularly the grey, rainy ones. They always tend to yield these pockets of time that quickly spiral from contemplation to introspection to loneliness to self-pity, which is an asinine position from which to view myself, especially living in a place like this! Oh, how ugly it can be to really see oneself! Today I wanted the comfort of warmth, home friends, my car, a phone with quick (and cheap!) access to a welcome voice on the other end, diet coke . . . it's always something:) And in my more level headed moments, I see all of this for what it is: sweet blessings given for seasons by a Father who cares more about my soul than how warm my toes are, but yet is caring enough to usually allow the toes to be warm. I really, really hate cold toes.
But, happy thought! I just made some oatmeal-raisen cookies. Now if I just had a glass of ice-cold skim milk . . .

Opinions Needed

I have to ask. Is my blog ugly?
On my computer screen, it shows up as this dusky green and a mellow brown, and I like the combination. But the other day I was using another computer, and it came up as this ghastly combination that looked like a 70's era bathroom gone bad! So it's time to make your opinion known--if you've been thinking for months, "Does Sara actually like this??!!" then now is the time to tell.
And perhaps I'll snag some of you who read this and never make your presence known. I know you are out there!! :)

Happy New Year's!

It's 1999!! Yea!
So today is New Year's Day here, and it really is 1999 as of 6:00. Well, that would be midnight our time. And today is the first day of the month, not the 11th. Would you like to be more confused?
It's the biggest holiday of the year, and the past few days there's been an air of excitement much like the pre-Christmas spirit we have. Minus all the commercialism and malls and fake Santas standing around.
But you know? Some things don't change no matter what culture you are in. They will celebrate today with family, yes, but mostly by . . . eating! There will be "doro wat" (chicken "stew"), bueg wat (sheep), and of course all the normal wats, like lentils, chickpeas, cabbage, beef, potatoes, and spinach. MMMM. Last night I went out back to my landlord's for a few minutes to join the New Year's Eve celebration of burning special wood and shooting up a few fireworks. In the corner of their little yard adjoining mine sat their sheep, peaceful and content, little knowing . . . . well, I won't go there!! In another part of the city, the Sheraton put on this enourmous fireworks display at midnight. I, however, was gloriously asleep at that point! I did think back to all the times we've kept the neighbors up on New Year's Eve and July 4 by our fireworks and sparkler bombs. Ok, that wasn't me making the bombs. You know who you are:) There was much shouting, singing, chanting, and generally excited noise through the night--until the monster rain came, at least.
It is a odd to see the celebration here, yet know that it is such a somber day in America and so many other places. My worlds are split right now--but I hope to find the balance between sharing in the joy here today and remembering the sorrow there.
May your day be peaceful.

Izote

This afternoon another staff member and I set out to visit a new beneficiary whom we had heard was sick and had sent some medicine to yesterday afternoon. We anticipated a short check-up visit, maybe a chance to encourage her a bit. When we stepped down into the painted mud-walled home we immediately realized the situation was much worse than we thought. She was curled in her bed, moaning and furtively glancing helplessly around. When we tried to ask her some questions, she couldn’t even focus but instead seemed to be staring far beyond us. She was acutely dehydrated, and had no family or friends to care for her. Apparently she’d been in bed for about 5 days and hadn’t had any food or much water. I held her hand, checked her pulse, counted her breaths—all the while holding mine as I prayed that we would be able to do more for this precious one than just hold her hand. She kept moaning, alternately grabbing us and pushing us away. We knew she needed to go to the hospital, but you can’t take someone without having family or someone to stay with them. So we called all the neighbor women in. Within a few minutes, the little one-room house was filled with old women whose lives are filled with their own struggles. After much discussion, one sturdy woman said she could come to the hospital at 7 tonight. So we sent someone out to get a taxi to come as close as possible. Then we awkwardly pulled her out of bed, tugged her wet dress down to cover her legs, and slowly lurched out the door, along the rock-imbedded path, down an alley to the waiting taxi. Three of us squeezed into the car with her and headed to the main government hospital. As we sped along, I was facing the back window, helping to support her body with mine—all the while thinking, “This is the craziest ‘ambulance’ ride I’ll probably ever have”. When we arrived at the emergency department, we got a stretcher and again clumsily shifted her onto it. As we rolled into the dimly lit hospital entryway, we sighed in relief to see a nursing friend of ours standing there. Had it not been for her, we wouldn’t have made it past that entryway regardless of how sick our patient was. Eventually we were allowed a spot along the hallway wall, so we wheeled her in between people, stretchers, patients, IV bags, infusing blood, and medical staff. I stood there with my hand supporting her head on the pillow-less stretcher, wanting to give her the help she needed yet feeling as though my hands were tied by so many things. All the while, she continued to moan and look up with unfocused eyes, clutching me at times and breathing rapidly. Ever so slightly she turned her head into my gloved hand and it seemed as though she gave me the slightest kiss. My heart heaved.
All I could do, all I could say even as I prayed this whole time was “Izote, Izote”.
Be strong, be courageous, press on.

In the Dark

I find it an odd trait of human nature (mine, at least!) how disturbing darkness can be to us. This evening I was in my little house doing some Saturday night clean-up when the electricity cut off Counting Crows’ “Hanginaround” in mid-sentence. Suddenly, a place that had seemed comfortable and safe seemed foreign and slightly unnerving. Why is that? I mean, I knew where the flashlight was and had my matches and candles easily accessible, as this is a frequent happening. Then, and this is just odd and amusing to me, when the electricity whirred back on it only came back at about 100v. Everything here is 220v, so the lights were on but in a dim, eerie way. Now it’s gone off again, so I am typing by the candlelight dancing on the walls. Talk about eerie!!
I haven’t been the best of post-ers lately (what is the correct way to phrase this?). I’ve said before but will say again, that it is difficulty to say what truly needs to be said. This place, these people cry out for a voice, and maybe more for an audience who will listen and respond. But I struggle to know how to form their cry into appropriate words, and how to string the words along into sentences that truly communicate reality.
It’s been a rough week in the project—facing death is hard and confusing and heartbreaking. But that is a relentless reality here. It’s impossible to cover in platitudes the harsh truth that a seven year old little girl is now an orphan. Her mom had a name and a face; yet, for most—even for me, so often—she will only be remembered because she added to some statistic of “the rising death toll due to HIV/AIDS in sub-Saharan Africa”.
Her name was Gannet. And her face was tired, simple, and lovely.

It's Always Interesting

I can pretty much guarantee that going to a restaurant to meet some people for dinner rarely causes this much thought process to occur; then again, it's not nearly so amusing anywhere else either!
So this evening I was walking to the intersection where I could get a taxi, and thinking to myself how at the same time people around you can feel reasurring and threatening. I got to a spot where several taxi drivers were waiting, told one where I was headed (to which his "I know where that is" was slightly dubious), and asked for the price. His was ridiculous, and when I won the price war a minute later by telling him in no uncertain Amharic that that was my final price, the other drivers laughed and called me "Gobez" (smart). I chuckled about that for awhile. About 2/3 way through our bumpy trip, the taxi driver turned on the headlights (yes, it was dark the whole time). Hmm, those could be useful, I guess! We got to the general vicinity of where we were going and ended up turning around; then my taxi driver stopped the car in the road and left to go ask another taxi driver if he knew where the restaurant was (this happens frequently). When he got back in the car, of course it wouldn't start! So my ever so gobez taxi driver proceeded to attempt to push and drive the car at the same time--onto a busy road with oncoming traffic!! After some guys hanging out on the roadside gave us a little push (and we almost ran into some federal police), we were up and running; obviously, I made it there and back alive:)
I'm still smiling. Life is never dull!

Just Another Walk?

One dreary, spitting, muddy morning this week I was headed into the project office via public transportation (which makes it sound so orderly and neat and efficient!). Between minibus stops, I was moving with the jostling crowd, picking my way over mud holes, all the while keeping my hand securely on my bag. I realized how draining this trek was, how assaulting all the reminders of where I was. Noise, constant noise: people, honking, the shrill cry of vendors, diesel engines, the plaintive call of beggars. And there were smells, overpowering smells: the black smoke that fills the sky and lungs, dirtiness, food, sheep, dogs, donkeys. But mostly I was overwhelmed by the sights, the images that are beyond disturbing. Women, children, men in too little tattered, dirty clothing; men and women without arms or legs or both scooting through the chaotic streets on strips of tires; nursing mothers huddled under scraps of plastic, holding out their deformed hands for change. It brought again all the questions: “How do I react? What do I do? Why is it this way? Why them and not me?”
This morning I was confronted with a new thought—what do they, these people on the streets, the crowds I push through, the children who grab my hand—what do they think of me? Of us, the ones who so obviously don’t “fit”? Do they think we are proud, selfish, stingy? Do they look in disgust at us, who think we have all the right answers? Or do they understand the turmoil that their very presence brings?

It Was . . .

a happy birthday. Thanks for all the cards and emails and happy thoughts. Just to prove it, I took a pic of myself being happy with some of my cards. See?

On the Journey

The settled happiness and security which we all desire, God withholds from us by the very nature of the world: but joy, pleasure, and merriment He has scattered broadcast. We are never safe, but we have plenty of fun, and some ecstasy. It is not hard to see why. The security we crave would teach us to rest our hearts in this world and oppose an obstacle to our return to God: a few moments of happy love, a landscape, a symphony, a merry meeting with our friends, a bathe, or a football match, have no such tendency. Our Father refreshes us on the journey with some pleasant inns, but will not encourage us to mistake them for home.
–C.S. Lewis in The Problem of Pain

Sunrise in Arba Minch, Southern Ethiopia

For in this we groan, earnestly desiring . . . that mortality may be swallowed up by life.
–II Corinthians 5


The past months have lent both time and experiences to deepen this understanding that the soul restlessness we have will not soon fade. I am thankful for joys along the way; today it is for friends and family and emails, cards, and prayers. It is for work and tasks that allow me to see a glimpse of the big picture of life, for women and children and faces of both sorrow and hope. It is for simple and petty things: chocolate, music, sunny days, hugs, jokes, potato soup. It is for the people I work with, and the people whose work allows me to be here.

The ghosts of our glories are grey bearded guides
The sound of our sorrows has stirred us inside
But I think maybe I’ve never felt more alive
I think maybe I’ve never felt more alive
I asked you just once if you thought we could be found
You never did tell me; but I think I know now . . .
--Ellery, album Lying Awake

Some of our boys playing outside of the community building we use (I was trying to babysit . . . and I don't really speak the language . . . it was funny . . . "Wait!", "Stop!", "Come here!")

Showing off his personality in my sunglasses!

Sorting meds in our office building . . . with some helpers:)

The rainy view from my desk this afternoon

Kerempt (Rainy Season)