tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-88051596554322959212024-03-05T00:46:03.936-06:00a dime in the sunthe Simpson familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17823181439550603017noreply@blogger.comBlogger64125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8805159655432295921.post-21600699378844140222015-09-05T11:55:00.004-05:002015-09-05T12:09:29.194-05:00First post from Phoenix<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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I have three unfinished documents
saved in my computer that I intended to be blog posts.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They all start similarly: “It’s been one week
since we arrived in Phoenix.” “It’s been 3 weeks since we arrived in Phoenix.” “Today
marks 7 weeks that we’ve been in Phoenix.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Finally, after the third attempt, I came to the honest conclusion that I
was wasting my time. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I just wasn’t ready
to unpack my heart here yet.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was all I
could manage to unpack our <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">stuff, </i>keep
my kids from killing each other in our 600 sq. ft. apt, not die of a heat
stroke, and get a decent but cheap meal on the table every day.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We were in survival mode, so I gave myself
permission to just survive.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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<br /></div>
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Now, today is our 11 week
mark.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Things are beginning to feel a lot
different.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We are in our house and not
an apt; I have the phone numbers of a few new friends in my phone; it’s been
two whole weeks since my kids have cried any tears over leaving Africa; and the
high today is supposed to be only 95 degrees as opposed to 105!!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I think we are over the first hump.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Undoubtedly, there will be many more humps to
come, but I’m ready to breathe deep after this first one.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWczd6ECGJNdvawV4vuioKpob5iF88ZZeuGDWZ7XPuMzDi9sQjTX85fJ7XyvlSOQ7q246wEE4Z2eBBRwZoPBeKzPm_7gs-0hs_ChyloOfdgj3ZfCRiJ40l-4UQ36DUvHCDp_sjO6A73j0/s1600/IMG_1938.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="476" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWczd6ECGJNdvawV4vuioKpob5iF88ZZeuGDWZ7XPuMzDi9sQjTX85fJ7XyvlSOQ7q246wEE4Z2eBBRwZoPBeKzPm_7gs-0hs_ChyloOfdgj3ZfCRiJ40l-4UQ36DUvHCDp_sjO6A73j0/s640/IMG_1938.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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I have also concluded that it’s not
necessary to write one, long, comprehensive blog post where I analyze how much
we miss Uganda, our present love/hate relationship with the First World, our
dreams and plans for ministry here in Phoenix… aren’t you relieved??<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Not that I won’t feel compelled to publically
share all that in the near future, but, for today, I think I will just share
some first impressions of this place we now call home.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So, let me introduce you to Phoenix… </div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpFirst" style="margin-left: .75in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">-<span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";">
</span></span></span>She has a population of over 4 million in her
metro area, making her the 6<sup>th</sup> largest city in the U.S. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>(Do any of you remember my husband saying he
never wanted to live in a big city? How ironic is life?!)</div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: .75in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">-<span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";">
</span></span></span>She is called the “Valley of the Sun” because
she gets over 200 days of sunshine a year, and the other days are only partly
cloudy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> (that's what I'm talking about!)</span></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: .75in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">-<span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";">
</span></span></span>And because she is in a valley!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There are mountains on the horizon no matter
which direction I drive, and, with the palm trees in the foreground, I find it
a stunning combination.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">-<span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";">
</span></span></span>She is conveniently located 5 hours from Las
Vegas, 5 hours from L.A., and 3 hours from a lovely beach on the Mexican coast…
I mean … just in case we take a notion and want to be somewhere cool before
bedtime.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: .75in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">-<span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";">
</span></span></span>She is laid out in a beautiful grid-pattern so
that even a directionally challenged person like me would have a hard time
getting lost.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>(To truly appreciate what
this means to me, you would have to look at a map of Kampala, Uganda, which is
laid out like a plate of spaghetti noodles!)<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span></div>
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<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">-<span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";">
</span></span></span>Her summers are brutal, but (I’m told) the rest
of the year is sublime.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">-<span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";">
</span></span></span>And she is wonderfully diverse!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Hispanics, African-Americans, Asians, Middle Easterners…
we still feel like the minority and we ABSOLUTELY. LOVE. IT.<br />
<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrY2jwmwvMAMJtIA1MYvuoEtAhqiVjdu9dl6Hs96glmPvzOrxVh1adSRRGlkbSzzR6b5Gmu2Yeg0H2iAheVREtBUoXs08CvZPSXZow5X4BQ90rgzLt_0WlYiw_XMMpjOKcCsBMgu6N_h8/s1600/11130233_10206361159290758_3057609682456581346_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrY2jwmwvMAMJtIA1MYvuoEtAhqiVjdu9dl6Hs96glmPvzOrxVh1adSRRGlkbSzzR6b5Gmu2Yeg0H2iAheVREtBUoXs08CvZPSXZow5X4BQ90rgzLt_0WlYiw_XMMpjOKcCsBMgu6N_h8/s640/11130233_10206361159290758_3057609682456581346_n.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
</div>
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<br /></div>
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A few other random things I’ve learned here that you might
find interesting…</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpFirst" style="margin-left: .75in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">-<span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";">
</span></span></span>In the summer, the taps on the faucet are not “hot”
and “cold,” but rather “hot” and “hotter.”</div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: .75in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">-<span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";">
</span></span></span>It is simply a MUST that <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">every time</i> you leave the house, you take a bottle of water.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And, if you have three kids, you might as
well just pack a cooler.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: .75in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">-<span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";">
</span></span></span>That you really <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">don’t</i> want to touch that cactus… </div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: .75in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">-<span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";">
</span></span></span>That my driver’s license won’t expire until
2074??!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: .75in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">-<span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";">
</span></span></span>That it is perfectly acceptable here to spread
gravel all over your yard and call it landscaping.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpLast" style="margin-left: .75in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">-<span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";">
</span></span></span>And that it is also perfectly acceptable to
just. Survive. </div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpLast" style="margin-left: .75in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
<br /></div>
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So, if you also find yourself in a
season of just surviving, allow yourself to create some margin and don’t feel
guilty about it!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Not every season of
life is meant to be poured out for others.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sometimes we have to remind ourselves that our value is never measured by the amount of our output, but only by the
value God says He puts in us… which is infinite, by the way!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: .5in;">
So, my theme verse for this season – </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: .5in;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Dwell
in the land and befriend faithfulness. (ESV) Psalms 37:3</i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: .5in;">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 5;"> </span> </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: .5in;">
Grateful
to be dwelling here in the Valley of the Sun, </div>
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</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: .5in;">
Mika </div>
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<br /></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0WH73lYl8mI5NFcYHhHhyA9Q0qC5O5VefEOq3kxoEZgFNbhcOw5OTU5ysi6AqWJVJf90NMi-_JtIxTVh2MxQ6xs-QDzneeKFwCWyzefFJsBq91r_FTtwLPDCYoYxEyBhuQ8AQK2Hu5hs/s1600/IMG_2257.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0WH73lYl8mI5NFcYHhHhyA9Q0qC5O5VefEOq3kxoEZgFNbhcOw5OTU5ysi6AqWJVJf90NMi-_JtIxTVh2MxQ6xs-QDzneeKFwCWyzefFJsBq91r_FTtwLPDCYoYxEyBhuQ8AQK2Hu5hs/s640/IMG_2257.JPG" width="478" /></a></div>
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<span style="mso-tab-count: 9;"> </span><span style="font-family: "Rage Italic"; font-size: 18.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span></span></div>
the Simpson familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17823181439550603017noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8805159655432295921.post-26558082756285633552015-06-15T22:48:00.001-05:002015-09-05T15:13:51.217-05:00We go WEST!<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
<sup> </sup> </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I wrote my last post as I caught the last few available
minutes of solitude before we left Uganda on April 20<sup>th</sup>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So, in keeping with that tradition, I am
writing this post in my last few available minutes before we begin our next
journey to Phoenix, AZ. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Technically,
we’ve already began our journey west, but this is my last opportunity to sit
with my lap top open.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m riding shot –gun
on I-40 somewhere west of Nashville.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The
boys have discovered the Hardy Boys on audio books, which is a GREAT discovery!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’ve not heard a peep out of them for two
hours, and the high-action narrative has put Reynah to sleep.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Hopefully, this will continue to make our long,
westward road trip more tolerable. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Tomorrow, we pick up our moving truck in Memphis, take it
back to Jackson and load it with our junk.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Tuesday am, we hit I-40 again, Thomas driving the truck and me in the
mini-van with the kids (and the Hardy boys!).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>After pushing through Arkansas and Oklahoma (bc what is there really to
see there??) and making a few kitschy stops along Route 66 in Texas and New
Mexico, we hope to be in Flagstaff, AZ by Fri. pm.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We will finish our trip Sat. morning by
rolling into Phoenix, and will begin an adventure that we have been talking and
praying about for months!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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<br /></div>
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In case we’ve not been able to personally catch you up to
speed… </div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
A couple of posts back, I talked about our desire to live
and minister in the Southwest.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We’ve now
narrowed down that desire to say that we want to <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">plant a church in Phoenix, AZ</i></b>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The reasons in a nutshell are #1 - There are
lots of ppl and not so many churches. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>#2 – The climate and culture seem to be a
good fit for our family.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Of course, there
are more layers of reasoning than that, but I’m trying to keep this brief.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Thomas and I spent a week in Phoenix last
month, and God confirmed to us that planting a church on the west side of
Phoenix is not just a crazy idea in our head, but it is what our hearts most
desire to do in this season. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I refrain
from saying, “It is the only thing we are called to do right now!” because the
call of God can often be so ambiguous and open to personal interpretation.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>However,
we can confidently say that we have seen a spiritual need, and we are very eager
to volunteer to help meet it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>(side
note: Thomas is ordained in the Assemblies of God, and this is the denomination
under which we are church planting.)</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
We know very little about planting churches.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We are making ourselves students through
books and conversations, but, still, there are more questions than answers in
our heads right now.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Church planting is
a slow process, and has a statistically low margin of success.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Woohoo!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We love doing things the hard way!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Honestly, our faith is being tested on a
daily basis.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There are more convenient (and
financially stable) options that we could pursue in familiar venues of
ministry, but we can’t think of anything else that so stirs our hearts right
now.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And I also think this is a
beautiful season where we can show God how much we trust Him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We trust HIM, not ourselves.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Thomas and I keep reminding each other that
we are really moving to Phoenix to plant<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">
JESUS</b>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The truth of the gospel is
fool-proof, and it is not contingent upon statistics or expertise – thank goodness!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Oh, dear, Frank and Joe Hardy AND their dad have now been
captured by the smugglers and are being threatened to be shanghaied to the Far East!!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This is really a terribly distracting
situation while I’m trying peck out this update.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Focus,
focus…</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
There are lots of details that I would love to elaborate on,
but we really don’t know all those details yet.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>We do know that the kids will be starting 6<sup>th</sup> grade, 5<sup>th</sup>
grade, and Kindergarten on July 30<sup>th</sup> at a great charter school.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Crazy, I know!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We do know that we have a temporary apartment
to stay in when we arrive later this week.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>(Otherwise, please pray that God will lead us to a home, preferably SOON.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The housing market is simply insane in
Phoenix right now… as in, houses are staying on the market for only a matter of
hours!)<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We do know that God has been so
faithful to us so far, and He will continue to prove Himself to be ALL that we
need.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>More details will follow as we
discover them…</div>
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<span style="mso-tab-count: 6;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 6;"> </span>Love
from the lush, green hills of Tennessee,</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Mika<br />
<br />
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<br />the Simpson familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17823181439550603017noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8805159655432295921.post-31886877197076503542015-04-19T22:13:00.002-05:002015-04-19T22:13:45.582-05:00last post from Africa (at least for now)It's 5:30am on our last day in Uganda. It's not productive for me to be up this early. There's no power, and it's no use trying to pack those last few things by candlelight. But my head is just too full to let me sleep longer... or maybe my heart's too full. Many people have asked me the last few days about how I feel about leaving. I don't think I can give a good answer to that unless the person inquiring is in the mood to sit and listen to me talk for an hour. (I've only subjected Thomas to that.) And, the truth is, I am tired myself of analyzing all of my emotions on the subject. <br />
<br />
But, I've determined that there is one emotion that overrides all the other fickle ones. <br />
<br />
GRATITUDE. <br />
<br />
If I could express anything before I get on that plane, it would be how incredibly grateful I am. I'm grateful to Watoto as an organization for allowing us to serve with them for the past four years. Child-care ministry is messy, but it is <i>beautiful</i> and Christ-like. We believe in what is happening on these villages, and will continue to find creative ways to love and support Watoto from across the ocean.<br />
<br />
I'm grateful for the many, many friends here that make saying goodbye so difficult. We have been showered with home-made gifts, cards, and hugs for the last few days. Beyond the souvenirs in my suitcases, we are taking with us some life-long friendships. What a treasure! It makes the leaving painful, but I'm thankful our hearts are so knitted to this community. <br />
<br />
I'm grateful for all the unique memories that our family has been able to make here. <br />
<br />
I'm grateful for all the ways we have been stretched and tested, and to find out again and again that His grace is enough. <br />
<br />
I'm grateful to God that He was so gracious to even give us this season in the first place. He has protected us - we've had no major illnesses and only petty things stolen. He has allowed our children to thrive here. I can't even begin to know all the ways that our time here has shaped our family! There are so many good gifts in my life right now, and I have to acknowledge that He is the giver of ALL of them!<br />
<br />
I'm grateful for the next adventure and the opportunity to see God be faithful in new ways. <br />
<br />
I'm grateful for the peace I have in my heart that, even though leaving is hard, it is right.<br />
<br />
I'm even grateful for these 10 suitcases that have given me such a headache for the past week. I'm grateful for the pile of stuff we are leaving behind. They all represent an chance to simplify and be reminded once again that we don't NEED as much as we think we do. <br />
<br />
And I'm grateful for you who might be reading this. So many people have loved us, prayed for us, and supported us for this season of our lives. Such a blessing beyond words. <br />
<br />
I know I could continue to gush on and on except for the fact that my computer battery is at 18%. I want this posted before it's too late! (so, you are spared my hour-long dissertation.) Just like the song bird I can hear outside my window right now ushering in the sunrise, I felt I must sing out a bit of the song in my heart. Because sunrises are beautiful things. the Simpson familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17823181439550603017noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8805159655432295921.post-16282803018014247402015-04-01T15:15:00.000-05:002015-04-03T14:03:32.436-05:00signs and seasons<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">There
have many long stretches of time between my inconsistent blogging in the past 5
years.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I'm sure this last stretch sets
the record, however!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My excuses are
tired from being used so often, so forgive me for not dragging them out
now.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>:)<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I will (attempt to) give a nutshell update on life for the past 6
months...</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">We
very much enjoyed spending autumn in the US.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>It was wonderful to visit with family, reconnect with friends, and share
with churches in different States.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>God
truly blessed us in so many ways!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Through the unprecedented generosity of individuals, we were able to
return to Uganda in December with literally suitcase after suitcase full of
ministry supplies for the pastoral teams here on the Watoto villages - from
musical instruments, Bibles (LOTS of Bibles!), children's church curriculum, to
even printers and sports equipment.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It
was our 4th Christmas here in Uganda.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We
had definitely already had our "fill" of cold weather by the time we
departed the US, so we didn't mind one bit singing Christmas carols in the hot,
equatorial sunshine!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We were pleasantly surprised at how easy it
was to transition back after being away for 3 months; 48 hours after being
here, it seemed that we had never left.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Our roles, relationships, and the simple routine of life here was as
easy to resume as putting on a favorite jacket.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Thomas has filled his days this year by continuing to serve the
pastoral/discipleship team.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Discipleship
for 3,000 children ages 2 - 20 entails multifaceted challenges, which Thomas
loves being part of!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He has written
curriculum/ sports devotions, compiled an "operations manual"
explaining the discipleship paradigm on the villages, taught discipleship
classes for university students, as well as conducted theological training for
the pastoral team.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Meanwhile, he
continues to coach basketball teams and invest relationally in some very
special young people. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Basically,
the "nutshell update" is that doing life and ministry in this
beautiful place with these beautiful people has continued to be incredibly
fulfilling to us.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And that makes the
real reason that I am finally breaking "blog-world-silence" even more
unexpected.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Our family has now entered
into a season of transition in order to do ministry in the U.S. again.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Yes, even I have to take a moment and process
that sentence!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I feel a flood of
emotions when I re-read the line I just typed. I feel torn between ending the
sentence with exclamations !!!!!! or with understated periods...... or with
?!?!?!?!?!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We are excited about the
future and also very sad that our season in Africa is coming to an end.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Bitter-sweet sums it up better than any other
words I can think of.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">When
we returned to the U.S. last fall, we were quite convinced that we would be
back in Uganda for another two years and that the end of 2016 would be a
convenient time for us to relocate.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We
always knew that Uganda was going to be a special “season” for our family – a
few years, not a life-time commitment.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>We confidently announced our plans to everyone while we were home.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>However, by the end of our time in the
States, God begin making it clear to us that His plans were different than our
plans.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Lately, I’ve thought a lot about
Proverbs 16:9 - <i>A man's heart plans his way, But the LORD directs his steps</i>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We are very much at peace with how God has
chosen to direct our steps, even though the timing has caught us by surprise. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">So, we
aren’t leaving Uganda because we feel unhappy or unfulfilled.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We aren’t leaving because we had a “falling
out” with our ministry team or we just can’t get along with someone.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This team has truly become our family here,
and we are going to miss them terribly!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>We simply know that for a variety of personal reasons, it is God’s
sovereign time for us to move on.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Even
after we determined that 2015 would be a transition year for us, we were still
not exactly sure when or how.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We are
still working on the details of the HOW, but we at least know the WHEN.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We fly out April 20th and will land in Greensboro,
NC.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We will spend a couple of weeks with
T’s family.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Then, the first week of May,
T and I will fly to Phoenix, Arizona to meet with church leaders and explore
some ministry opportunities there.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>After
that, it is<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>- dot. dot. dot….!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Our goal is to give ourselves the summer to
settle, so that our kids are ready to start school by the end of July.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There are many variables between now and that
date, however.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We are completely open to
however God chooses to direct us!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">At
this point, I’m sure you are wondering what there is in Phoenix that has our
attention.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Actually, it is more what
there isn’t.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>God has given Thomas and I
a strong desire to live and minister in the western part of the US where the
percentage of the population having a "religious affiliation" is
significantly low.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Phoenix is
consistently in the top 10 list of American cities that need more evangelical
churches.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The other cities on that list
are located in the extreme Northeast or Northwest – which means extreme COLD
WINTERS.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It may not sound very
spiritual, but we’ve determined that our family can absolutely do without
winter!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A hot climate suits us just fine.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">There
are many things about AZ that appeal to us, but the main thing is that we want
to continue to be missional in ministry.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Not unlike the physical terrain, the spiritual soil in the West is drier
and harder than the tilled-up spiritual soil of the Southeast.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We are very aware that planting and growing
and harvesting spiritual fruit would not be as easy there as it may seem to be
in our familiar “Bible Belt.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But we are
drawn to the challenge.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Really, to put
it more accurately, we are drawn to the challenge of putting the GOSPEL to the
test.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We know that the Gospel has power
to change lives.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We just want to be a
channel of the Gospel message, and watch it do its thing!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This part of the transition makes me very
excited.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Other details can threaten to
choke me with worry if I let them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Details like … I don’t actually have any FRIENDS in AZ.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And we gotta find a place to live.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>AND we have to buy a vehicle.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And I’m pretty sure that I don’t even have a
frying pan in storage – much less any furniture!!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">It’s
interesting for me to remember what a huge step of faith it was to move our
family to Africa 4 years ago.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I would
have never thought then that it would be an equally big step of faith to move
our family back to North America!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But,
it is once again gut-check time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I keep
telling T that I have that same feeling as when I’m strapped into a roller
coaster that has just made its slow, clicking ascent to the top of the
rails.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You know that exhilarating and
terrifying pause before it plunges down and the real ride begins?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I remember feeling that way in the beginning
of 2011, and I think that’s where I am right now.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>God is again prying my fingers loose of the
people and things in this place that was once so foreign and has now become
HOME.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He is reminding me all over again
that the only secure thing I have to hold on to is HIM.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And He is enough. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">We
sincerely ask for your prayers for the coming weeks/months.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I imagine that I will be highly motivated to
post updates on here more often in the near future, just so I can solicit those
prayers!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I need to feel the support of
friends and fellow-sojourners as we continue on with the next adventure.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I don't feel like our journey is ending in
any way, but there is certainly a sharp bend ahead in the road!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So many of you have faithfully shared with us
in this journey the past four years, and we are grateful beyond words.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Actually, I think T did a pretty good job
putting it into words in the newsletter he just wrote, so allow me to just
quote him, "<i>The bottom line is that so many of you have simply trusted
us.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You have sown seeds of prayer,
finances, and encouragement into our lives because you trust that we are
authentically ministering the gospel of Jesus Christ.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Thank you.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Thank you for believing in our family and our calling.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Thank you for every encouraging word and
every prayer whispered and every dollar given.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>We are leaving Uganda with our hearts overflowing with gratitude at
God’s goodness in our lives through YOU</i>." I wholeheartedly agree! </span></div>
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<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">September 18
- 10:10pm</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Tomorrow
will be two weeks that we’ve been back on American soil – two fantastic weeks
with T’s family in North Carolina.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My
kids have been in heaven having all their cousins to play with, PawPaw’s
tractor to ride, and the yummy goodies in MawMaw’s kitchen.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>At this precise moment, we’re on our way to
Florida… somewhere in South GA, hoping to make it to Jacksonville before
midnight.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Allow me to
pause here and just appreciate what I see before me - a smooth, 6-lane
interstate with white lines, reflectors, and informative road signs where we
can speed along at 75 miles an hour.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>(That’s a 100 klm an hour for my friends who don’t speak “American.”)<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A road with NO bodas, bicycles, goats,
potholes, and <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">especially</i> no
over-sized trucks coming at me in<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"> my </i>lane
blinding me with bright lights!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s
beautiful.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Really.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I am already missing some things about
Uganda, but her roads are not among them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">We’ve had
just a few culture shock moments here since re-entering.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Interestingly, for me, most of these have
occurred at Wal-Mart.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Actually, I guess
that shouldn’t be interesting or surprising, since lots of shocking things happen at Wal-Mart. First, there was the lady
spending 20 bucks to buy a Halloween costume for her dog!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I don’t even know what to say about that. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Then, there were the countless cereal options.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Oh. My. Word.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>How did I ever make a breakfast decision before in less than 15 minutes? In
Uganda, it’s either over-priced Kellogg’s cornflakes or over-priced generic
cornflakes from Nairobi.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And then, I
couldn’t help but think about how my stylish Ugandan friends (who love
button-up shirts and high heels) would be so amused if they could see how
Americans dress to go shopping. For my
fellow Americans, I’m sure you have plenty of visual images right now, so I
need not reinforce this point.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">T and I both
agree that it feels a little weird being around only white people all the time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In fact, we’re pretty eager to get to
Jackson, TN, see our African-American friends, and have some color back in our
life! But, for the most part, we’ve eased right back into the familiar
abundance of food, water, electricity, conveniences, Wi-Fi.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I'm sure that when December arrives, we will be ready to head back to Uganda, but, for now, we are here and America feels like
home.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As the title suggest, however,
there is one little person in our family who has a very different perspective
on America.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Reynah was
just one when we moved to Uganda in 2011.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>She was two when we visited the US in 2012.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She remembers some people from that visit, but little else.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>She is 4 ½ now, and this is her first real impression of America.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s been quite interesting for us to watch
her as she learns some basic things for the first time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Here are some conversations and situations
that I’ve been jotting down in a notebook the last few days… </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Day of Departure - Entebbe Airport
parking lot, Uganda</span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Reynah:
(chanting) We’re going to America, we’re going to America, we’re going to
America…` I’ve never been to America before!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Judah: (in
the expert, big brother voice) Yes, you have.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>You were BORN in America.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Reynah:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>(in her tattle-tale voice) Mama, Judah just said
I was born in America…</span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">******</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Lay-over – Doha International
Airport, Qatar</span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">The boys
gleefully spot water fountains and make a dash to get a drink.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Reynah:
What’s that?</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Me: It’s a
water fountain.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Reynah:
(looks at me blankly)</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Me: Look,
you hold down this button and water comes out and you drink it.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Reynah:
(pushes the button and watches in wide-eyed fascination for a whole minute)</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_CX8TBPeUC5mFA6EsLWrKTINS99OYkNncHY1YlbJOuTtO30nou_8fOdNZae0Ri2cfjQJ6nlj_ekOse0PWE5yboMjO2e9XnC9tNdIlcRGX80tC8XWCoPhm9na9yZOIZLQxgEPAlJIxNvY/s1600/rsz_p9041874.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_CX8TBPeUC5mFA6EsLWrKTINS99OYkNncHY1YlbJOuTtO30nou_8fOdNZae0Ri2cfjQJ6nlj_ekOse0PWE5yboMjO2e9XnC9tNdIlcRGX80tC8XWCoPhm9na9yZOIZLQxgEPAlJIxNvY/s1600/rsz_p9041874.jpg" height="298" width="400" /></a></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">******</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Arrival – Philadelphia Airport </span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Customs
Officer (who is a pretty African-American lady) leans over the counter and
talks to Reynah:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Well, hey there, little
Mama!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>How are you?</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Reynah:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>(in her perfected, sing-song Ugandan accent) I
am fiiiiineeee.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And yoooouu??</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Me (thinking):
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Oh dear, she’s going to address every
black person she sees for the next 3 months like a Ugandan!</i></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">******</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">First morning in the U.S</span></b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">. - I wake up from my jet-lag coma
and find Reynah has already eaten breakfast with her grandma.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Me: Did you
enjoy breakfast?</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Reynah: Yes!
I ate circle cereal!!!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>(she makes little
circle motions with her fingers)</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Me: Ummm… Cheerios??</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Reynah:
Yep!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Cheerios! </span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">******</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">After an outing with her aunt and
cousins -</span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Me: What did
you do?</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Reynah: I
played in water and ate black circle cookies with white icing inside…</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Me: Oreos?</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Reynah:
Yeah.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And we saw smoke trucks…</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Me: Fire
trucks?</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Reynah:
Yeah. </span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">******</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Bathroom at Wal-Mart - </span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Me: OK, you
go in this stall, and I will go in the one beside you.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Reynah:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Wow!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Mama,
that’s a whole lot of toilet paper!!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>(side
note: Public restrooms in Uganda are generally <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">not</i> equipped with toilet paper.)</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Two minutes
later: The toilet automatically flushes while Reynah simultaneously screams and
runs out of the stall with her panties still around her ankles. </span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">******</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Driving through down town – </span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Reynah:
Daddy, what are those yellow thingies that are green and red? </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Daddy:
(looks at me with that <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">“What in the world is
she talking about??”</i> expression)</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Me: Reynah,
what yellow thingies?</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Reynah: You
know, those yellow thingies on a string on a pole…</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Me: Ooh,
those are traffic lights! </span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">******</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">At Mawmaw & Pawpaw’s house – </span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Me: Reynah,
take your snack out on the porch to eat it.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Reynah:
What’s the porch?</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Me (opening
the door and motioning with my hand): This is the porch, Reynah.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Reynah: I
don’t see a porch. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Me (stepping
out of the house):<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Look, Reynah, I’m
standing on the porch.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Reynah: You
mean on the veranda? </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Me: OK, yes,
sure!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Go eat your snack on the<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"> VERANDA.</i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhVN3Ri8FCogjMbqchd7tGjxVBx3bUt4JM1V11yGqk8OsxnDb6-i4QcMxWB2eQAAjdGp2pRT5kKH3kCOqe5yJm5MFIPGH-SuYf5ZRCBg2v_WF4pmz5o6-qF4Ey7KHlzxKQNwAtfXwgxU8/s1600/rsz_p9161924.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhVN3Ri8FCogjMbqchd7tGjxVBx3bUt4JM1V11yGqk8OsxnDb6-i4QcMxWB2eQAAjdGp2pRT5kKH3kCOqe5yJm5MFIPGH-SuYf5ZRCBg2v_WF4pmz5o6-qF4Ey7KHlzxKQNwAtfXwgxU8/s1600/rsz_p9161924.jpg" height="288" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"> with some of the cousins</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"> </i><span style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">There also was the occasion when she discovered what a vacuum cleaner is, which kinda started out like when she discovered the automatic toilet flush... except, of course, all her clothes were in their proper place. She has developed her own version of the "punch bug" game, and has yet to grow weary of playing it. Every time (and I do mean <i>every time</i>) she sees an American flag or a playground, she loudly announces her discovery (and I do mean <i>loudly</i>), punctuated by over-the-top gestures and bounces. But we do love her exuberance. Thomas and I had a conversation a long time ago about how fun it would be if we could teleport some of our Ugandan friends to America and watch them experience it for the first time. Little did we know that we would get a similar experience with our own little, white African. So, if you find her talking funny or getting alternatively excited/ scared over random things, maybe you'll find it as amusing as I do. </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"> </i></span></div>
the Simpson familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17823181439550603017noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8805159655432295921.post-18668851400447418542014-08-28T08:35:00.000-05:002014-08-28T09:17:11.593-05:00my humble tooth<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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</xml><![endif]-->I'm gonna tell you a story about my tooth. I really do have lots more important things to do right now
than to write a story about my tooth.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>And I'm SURE you have better things to do than read about my tooth. But my tooth has just been so ridiculous lately!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sometimes ridiculous stories have to be told
so you can laugh about them instead of cry, right?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Right. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So, just laugh with me today and make me feel
better.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
This story began precisely 13 years ago. Thomas and I had
been married only a couple of weeks.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We
were being giddy newlyweds and having a water fight one evening… and he knocked
out ½ of my front tooth…with a ceramic mug. (I told you it was a ridiculous
story.)<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The dentist then said that
because my root was exposed, I’d have to wait 3 weeks before he could fix
it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>THREE WEEKS! New bride with a half a
front tooth- you can imagine how mortifying!!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Not to mention all the jokes I heard.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I’ll never forget lying in the dentist chair when ALL the dental
assistants came in to have a peek and exclaim something like, “Oh, you’re the
bride whose husband knocked out your tooth!”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>“Bless you heart.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“What a great
story to tell your grandchildren someday!”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span><i>Uh, yeah - sure.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Eventually, the
tooth was satisfactorily repaired, and it served me well for 11 years. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Then, New Year’s 2013, the cap came off while eating
chocolate cake. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>(again, how ridiculous!)
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This is the part I wrote about
previously <a href="http://thomasandmika.blogspot.com/2013_01_01_archive.html" target="_blank">(here)</a> – my first visit to the dentist in Uganda.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I won’t re-tell that story now, but the end
result was a slightly more yellowed, irregular-shaped version of what I’d had
before.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was functional, and I’m sure
not as noticeable as I felt like it was… still… I’d never come to full terms of
acceptance with this tooth.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So, last
Friday, I was in the dentist office again (different dentist), for the boys to
have a check-up.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I casually asked him if
he thought he could match the color of this tooth any better.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He said, “Sure, we can do it right now!”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So, I happily plopped in his chair - 20 min.
and $100 later I walked out with, not perfectly matching, but much more
acceptably matching front teeth.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Then Saturday came – oh, what an interesting day!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have no photo-documentation for this post
(thank heavens!), but if you have ANY sort of imagination at all, then you
should have no trouble following along.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Saturday was a hard-core, domestic work day for me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We have friends moving into our apartment for
the three months we are gone to the U.S.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>So on Saturday, I commenced the crazy, cleaning marathon – as in, pulling
everything out of my kitchen cabinets to clean out the gecko poo, making stacks
of throw away/ give away / take back to America piles.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It doesn’t take much to disorganize a 700 sq.
ft. apt. anyway. But Saturday was a real special endeavor in this
department!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And, because it was a
cleaning day, I thought it best to attire my old, paint-stained clothes, hair
in a bun, no make-up… to really play the part, you know?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And since my face has been especially
broke-out lately, I also thought it a great idea to apply acne cream to these
trouble spots.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>At 2pm.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>(<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">What… doesn’t
everyone do this</i>?)<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So, are you
getting a picture?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It gets better… I must also mention that as
I’m cleaning, I often find Reynah’s hairbows or lost clothes pens lying around in
random places, and I clip them to the hem of my shirt so I can amass a stunning
collection before putting them away.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
So, here I am – adorned with pasty, white cream on my face
and bows and clothes pens on my garments in the midst of my disaster-zone house.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And then.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>THEN, the blasted tooth came off again! – WHILE CHEWING GUM!!! (beyond
ridiculous!) <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>At this point, I promise I
look like a bona fide character off of some red-necked reality TV show.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><b>AND THEN</b> - within 10 min. of my tooth popping
off – I heard a vehicle pull up and a team of <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">mzungus </i>(white people) whom I have never met, started walking up
the stairs to our apartment.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was frantically
licking my fingers / swiping at my face as I walked to the door while
practicing a smile that didn’t show too much teeth.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They were Americans that Thomas had met the
week before, and he had asked them to drop by and get an address from us.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>(Of course, Thomas was far away in Gulu at
that moment! Convenient for him.)<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They
were very gracious and did a fabulous job of pretending like everything was
normal and that perhaps they were <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">not </i>on
the set of a red-neck reality TV show.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
did a passable job of unobtrusively pulling bows and pens off of myself, while
refraining from blurting out, “I don’t always look like this!!!”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
AND THEN …<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
(I do apologize if you are getting weary of my story, but
the tooth is not fixed yet, you see?)<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
So, yesterday, I finally returned to the dentist and I sat
in his chair again.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He kindly explained
that he would have to add more “filling” behind my tooth to prevent it from
coming off again.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He used words like
“bonding” and “setting” as he worked; I patiently waited with my eyes closed
and mouth gaped open.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Then, just as he was ready to drill down the
extra… whatever the stuff was he “bonded” into my mouth… what should happen but
that his compressor should decide to stop working?!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Well,
of course.</i> Which means none of his little gadgets were working either!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
He patted my arm as he got up to investigate the problem and
said, “Sorry, my dear.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It seems you will
be here a bit longer…”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Oh, for the love of…</i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Just close your mouth and relax a bit.” </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I closed my mouth, only to make the horrifying discovery
that this <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">thing</i> in my mouth was
HUGE!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So huge, in fact, it was poking
out between my lips, and I couldn’t even seal them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He and his assistant were having no luck with
the compressor.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Meanwhile, he had the
preposterous notion that I’d like to actually <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">see</i> what I looked like at that moment, so he handed me a
mirror.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And, yes, just as I feared – there
was one enormous rabbit tooth sticking out and down – at least twice as big as
my other teeth!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
He was then on the phone with a “technician,” who apparently
couldn’t come until later in the day.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
began preparing myself –<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Mika, you are going to have to just leave
and come back in a few hours.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You’re
going to just walk around Kampala like this.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>And you are <b>NOT</b> going to cry right now!</i><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Then, my other thoughts were – <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">But I want to eat!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m
hungry!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m just going to have to go
find some stupid soup to sip until this thing gets out of my mouth!!</i><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Finally, the dentist came back around with a dusty, old
electric drill he had pulled out of some cabinet. It was a long, uncomfortable
process that followed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The drill rattled
my whole head, and he had to keep turning it off every minute or two because it
was over-heating.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But, at least, I had
hope then that I would leave his office within the hour!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Finally, he gave me another pat on my arm
and said, “My dear, I will never forget you… I usually don’t remember my
patients, but this has never happened before, so I will remember you!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>… Oh, and this is a life-time guarantee!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I will fix it anytime if it comes off again,
my dear.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Well, that’s nice.</i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I couldn’t say that the finished product looked any better
than what I originally had when I walked into his office the week before.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But who cares?!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I sure didn’t at that point! I had a tooth in
my head, it wasn’t sticking out between my lips, and I could finally go eat a
real lunch! <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Time to leave well-enough
alone</i>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I met some friends for that said lunch.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>After sharing my story and venting my
frustrations, they all asked the most obvious question – “Why didn’t you just
wait until you went home to fix it? <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You’ll be in the US next week!”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And my most obvious answer was that, “Well,
it’s a lot cheaper to get it done here.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Yes, that’s true.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But
really, though, it’s my own vanity that wouldn’t let me wait.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’ve already had these silly concerns about
not wanting to look like the stereotypical “missionary fresh from the field”
when I arrive on American soil.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Concerns
that have led me to ponder things that I normally don’t care a whit about –
like what the popular nail polish colors are now, and if ankle boots are still
“in” on that side of the ocean cause that’s all I have, and the benefits of
perusing Pinterest in order to educate myself on fall fashion 2014 .<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Amidst these concerns, I couldn’t possibly
land in the US with part of my front tooth missing!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
But this little tooth has been, not for the 1<sup>st</sup>
time, a good little reality check for me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>For goodness sake, I’m not walking off the plane and onto a red
carpet.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If my guesses are correct, we’ll
be walking off the plane and heading to a McDonald’s. And within 24 hours will
be wading Jacob’s Creek with the cousins and bumping over the pasture in
Grandpa Simpson’s golf cart.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Perhaps it
is best to go ahead and publicly acknowledge the fact that I’ve not bought
new clothes since 2012 and my hair is several months past a decent haircut and
these “freckles” on my face are most likely permanent souvenirs from 3 years
of living on the equator.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s OK.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s a real life I’m living and not a
filtered Instagram snap.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But, hey! – At
least all my teeth are intact!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And I
pray that I have no more “tooth” stories to share for a long, LONG time!!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">See you soon, America!!!! </span></div>
the Simpson familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17823181439550603017noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8805159655432295921.post-40218346385696772592014-08-21T15:57:00.000-05:002014-08-22T09:55:02.248-05:00the art of stopping<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<b><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="color: #444444;"><i>Christopher Robin: Pooh, what's your favorite thing in the whole world? </i></span></span></span></b></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<b><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="color: #444444;"><i>Pooh: My favorite thing is me coming to visit you, and then you ask, "How about a small smackeral of honey?" </i></span></span><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="color: #444444;"><i><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="color: #444444;"><i> </i></span></span></i></span></span></span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="color: #444444;"><i><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="color: #444444;"><i>Christopher Robin</i></span></span>: I like that, too. But what I like most of all is just doing nothing. </i></span></span></span></b></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<b><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="color: #444444;"><i>Pooh: How do you do just nothing? </i></span></span><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="color: #444444;"><i><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="color: #444444;"><i> </i></span></span></i></span></span></span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="color: #444444;"><i><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="color: #444444;"><i>Christopher Robin</i></span></span>: Well, when grown-ups ask, "What are you going to do?" and you say, "Nothing," and then you go and do it. </i></span></span></span></b></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: xx-small;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="color: #444444;"><i><b><span style="font-size: x-small;">Pooh: I like that. Let's do it all the time.</span></b> </i></span></span></span></div>
<br />
My Aussie friends have a way of describing life when it gets
busy; they say it is “full on.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It works for me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So, life here has definitely been
full on the last few weeks. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s been ridiculously,
gloriously, exhaustively full on…<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>budget
planning meetings (not so glorious), 6 days of Celebrate Purity event, small
groups, curriculum writing, 6 days of kids’ SHINE camp, a wedding, an <i>attempt</i>
at homeschooling… that’s just in the last two weeks!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Now, I’m a laid-back girl.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I really don’t get too excited when the full
on switch is flipped.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My hubby is an all-or-nothing
guy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He thinks that a full schedule is just
buckets of fun - and even <i>he</i> was calling “STOP!” by the time the last camp
session ended.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
So, we stopped.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We executed
a well-timed escape to Jinja (about 2 ½ hours down the road) and spent 2 nights
on the bank of the Nile River.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><i>Without
the kids.</i> (which is very pertinent information to relay!)<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We arrived in Jinja and did something that we
have never done together in our 13 years of marriage – we did absolutely
NOTHING!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
This is really significant, because Thomas and I are
adventure travelers.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We are the people
who do crazy, irrational things like drive 17 hrs. one way to the Upper
Peninsula of Michigan just so we can spend 36 hrs. there collecting pretty rocks
before making the 17 hr. trip home.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Or sleep in a different location every night
of our anniversary trip to Maine, so that I get on the home-bound plane with serious
constipation.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>True story.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>OK – TMI, sorry.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The point is, every waking moment of our vacation-time
has seemed to require us going somewhere we’ve never been and/or doing something
we’ve never done.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
This is also significant because Jinja is known as the “Adventure
Capital of East Africa.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In Jinja, you
can raft the Nile rapids, bungee jump, rent ATVs and tear off to explore the “bush.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Of course, there’s the fact that these
excursions are not exactly part of our budget.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>And there is also the fact that we are just plain getting old…well, I mean,
we ARE well past our 20’s!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But the
decisive fact was that we both knew we needed REST.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Real rest. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As in, more than a good night’s sleep. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Interestingly, this resting was more of a
challenge than I realized it would be. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Here are some excerpts from my journal…</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>Sunday 3:30pm</i></div>
<i>
</i><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>Convincing my brain to relax is going to take longer than I thought.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was just beginning to dose here in the
sunshine when I became absolutely certain that Rey was standing right beside my
bed calling, “Mama, MAAAMA…”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
automatically went into “play possum-for-one-more-minute-mode.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Then, I realized it was just a loud bee
flying around my head.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Ahh, I’m glad we’re
here for two nights and not just one! </i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<i>
</i><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>Monday 9:35am</i></div>
<i>
</i><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>Solitude.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Just me and
the river bank and these gorgeous tropical birds and a baby Nile Monitor and a
hundred red dragonflies.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Privacy and
silence are two very rare commodities in my life.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I take them greedily when I can.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So, I’m relishing the physical space.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The mental space, however, is apparently
something I don’t know what to do with.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’ve
spent the last 45 min. convincing myself to just stay.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>To sit.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>It’s really ok that I don’t have a book in my hand.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s ok that I’ve not been online for 48
hours.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The headlines on CNN homepage can
wait another day.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My Facebook newsfeed can
wait much longer than that, I’m sure!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s
like if I sense any empty space in my head, I compulsively feel the need to
fill it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I think I should be inputting
something in my brain right now, or, in the very least out-putting something…
so I have <b>something</b> to show for this time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Pretty sure that’s the real reason I just picked up this pen to journal
again. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Ok. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Input/output off.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Pen goes down.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m just gonna sit some more.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I. will. just. be.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKRr5CYBlILwipYZxvsB9HOArLvwb3carv1ZKrygXapuR2MJMYjCqkGQvu2i1AvG49u7MTNaSvnQ0Havc5ms-5koqgmOqcZVpMx7fehqLJFjthncsemOELOk-5P5pFy3wueEPgLb60svM/s1600/rsz_p8181698(1).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKRr5CYBlILwipYZxvsB9HOArLvwb3carv1ZKrygXapuR2MJMYjCqkGQvu2i1AvG49u7MTNaSvnQ0Havc5ms-5koqgmOqcZVpMx7fehqLJFjthncsemOELOk-5P5pFy3wueEPgLb60svM/s1600/rsz_p8181698(1).jpg" height="224" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<i>
</i><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>Monday 3:10pm</i></div>
<i>
</i><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>I just went for a swim.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I didn’t swim for exercise.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I didn’t
swim because my kids needed me in the pool with them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I just swam for fun like I used to do when I was
10 (uh, yes, complete with an underwater flip!)<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I was contemplating how I always approach my devotion/ Bible reading
time with an agenda.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Like my first
thought is – ok, what am I supposed to learn/memorize/get out of this
today?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I want to learn to swim in God’s
Word- just for the refreshing pleasure of it! </i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<i>
</i><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>Tuesday 10:20</i></div>
<i>
</i><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>So, it seems the ripples of my thoughts have finally dissipated.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This doing nothing is really great.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Really.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I feel like I can now introduce a new thought stream in my head without
causing chaos and disruption to another one.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>And spiritually, I am more centered.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Being still and unnoticed helps me remember that I’m small and not so
important as I like to think.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The world
can go on just fine without me for a couple of days.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Being alone by the river helps me remember
that God is big.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>BIG.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And Christ is supreme above all this stunning
creation around me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Oh, I wish I could
do nothing more often.</i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4QO4kTvIsZpoccaLv8QQSXAXqipaAXkKMTbKkZ9HXLjpUIYY7CmyZUIelkiOoi1XISanso3hLDgnThWS3FfCvVvJd6KuOUwwg_e39jJkdS6xVZdp5xaTu1QpLDpXdpt20-YzD9aoURPk/s1600/rsz_p8181733.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4QO4kTvIsZpoccaLv8QQSXAXqipaAXkKMTbKkZ9HXLjpUIYY7CmyZUIelkiOoi1XISanso3hLDgnThWS3FfCvVvJd6KuOUwwg_e39jJkdS6xVZdp5xaTu1QpLDpXdpt20-YzD9aoURPk/s1600/rsz_p8181733.jpg" height="470" width="640" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
*******************</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
So now it’s after 11pm.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I’m propped up in bed back home at Suubi.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>T is already off again, to Gulu for a few
days.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My plans for tomorrow include another
meeting and dentist appointments and driving in Kampala Friday traffic – ugh!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have no majestic river vista now, just my
VERY disorganized bedroom – a suitcase that still needs to be unpacked (because, yes,
we are <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">those</i> kind of travelers as
well), and a stack of suitcases that are waiting to be packed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Two weeks from today, we peace out for the
US.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So, yep, you guessed it, it’s full
on again!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I am new to this art form of
stopping, but I am committed to developing it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>It’s hard to fathom right now, but someday I will learn how to stop,
even if it’s in the middle of a pile of dirty clothes or a pile of 5<sup>th</sup>
grade school books.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And I will learn to be
still, even if “privacy” and “silence” have left me high and dry and are
nowhere to be seen.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And someday I will
become adept at doing nothing… even if it’s for 2 min. instead of two
days!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Yes, someday I will master these techniques.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But, for now, I’ll start with some
sleep<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">... and maybe dreaming about this view again.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGu6OAOTmEinIaqhCXV6KJBT1O9jqXWJNeAJrvdc5Vh8Uwv2yrAYGxdVlQjj1YJ5GQZfd-nbjbKClET3E4FnvLVtq_ULibnTDm6Ki1P_6MOrMtUB0EZgi_arBraoOkQONcBDsxBNceb3M/s1600/rsz_p8181577.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGu6OAOTmEinIaqhCXV6KJBT1O9jqXWJNeAJrvdc5Vh8Uwv2yrAYGxdVlQjj1YJ5GQZfd-nbjbKClET3E4FnvLVtq_ULibnTDm6Ki1P_6MOrMtUB0EZgi_arBraoOkQONcBDsxBNceb3M/s1600/rsz_p8181577.jpg" height="480" width="640" /> </a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcrxLcYdCH4DGXiv1Ty_JEFaxGFrapYIcL-RdW-cGoNp4SiYGry2zDrJ_oX5q-f4-VgfnDzniBXHf5k1NTTDqvDvRKLgVtSZ3hosJbxayp7ipqDVn7vl55GjYuCk0gr_Ps_b5tOS6tzK4/s1600/rsz_p8181669.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcrxLcYdCH4DGXiv1Ty_JEFaxGFrapYIcL-RdW-cGoNp4SiYGry2zDrJ_oX5q-f4-VgfnDzniBXHf5k1NTTDqvDvRKLgVtSZ3hosJbxayp7ipqDVn7vl55GjYuCk0gr_Ps_b5tOS6tzK4/s1600/rsz_p8181669.jpg" height="478" width="640" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><br /></span></div>
the Simpson familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17823181439550603017noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8805159655432295921.post-39868244140594256752014-07-06T15:11:00.000-05:002014-07-20T05:29:09.997-05:00Community - Grow Where You're Planted<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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I think it was the assortment of dainty delicacies on my
plate – small, triangle-shaped sandwiches; pesto, crackers, and cheese;
chocolate chip cookies.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Maybe it was the
lovely home that smelled good and looked pretty and that had a yard with a
swing set.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> A swing set! </span>I could almost imagine I was
sitting just down the street from our old address, <i>154 Clement Dr</i>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Actually, though, I’m fairly certain it was
the circle of women that I was sitting among. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They were all white like me, foreigners like
me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It occurred to me that it had been a
long time since I had been surrounded by so many white women!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Really, they were the main reason I felt a catch
in my throat.<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
We had all gathered on that afternoon in Kampala a few weeks ago to celebrate
a new, precious, little life.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I had not
been to a baby or bridal shower since before we moved here 3 yrs. ago.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As a pastor’s wife, there were times I belly-ached
about having to go to showers out of obligation, but the truth is that I really
do enjoy them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They are part of the
rituals of womanhood in my culture.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
love them because, even if you aren’t a bride or a new mother, you can still
enter into the joy of it and feel that bond of sisterhood pull around you a
little tighter.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
So, I was delighted to be there… and I was over-the-moon to
be eating chocolate chip cookies!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was
thrilled to celebrate with my dear friend who is now a mommy and excited to make new friends.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Still, I couldn’t help it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As we went around the circle and shared Scriptures
and prayers, I couldn’t help but remember another circle I used to sit among – a
circle of different faces and different accents. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
And how <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">many </i>times
we had sat in a circle together - not just for the special, grand occasions,
but for the simple, sweet occasions of just doing life together.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>For the occasion of an impromptu play-date at
the park with our toddlers running between our legs.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>For the occasion of our thoughtful husbands
putting the kids to bed so we could go eat late-night dessert at our favorite
restaurant.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>For the occasion of meeting in each others
homes to pray together, to share funny stories about life, to carry a burden
too big for just one.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I let myself feel the
ache of missing. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And knowing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I know we can never really re-create that
community we shared when our babies were actually babies.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We’re too scattered now – to the West Coast,
to Norway, to Saipan, to Uganda.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicazmPrHy0YgvxuMb_vIgrW21vOC_c2V39_8OLviMTBHGVO1ztTTg6ZVgoJzn4gUNEQhSqBOgEIFYER4F5lA9CzhELOyREy_JzmVG5n8uSnfmINBaU0oEvZE9URsFZaeyTZH4cRMr5t5w/s1600/25555_1379419637807_5442420_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicazmPrHy0YgvxuMb_vIgrW21vOC_c2V39_8OLviMTBHGVO1ztTTg6ZVgoJzn4gUNEQhSqBOgEIFYER4F5lA9CzhELOyREy_JzmVG5n8uSnfmINBaU0oEvZE9URsFZaeyTZH4cRMr5t5w/s1600/25555_1379419637807_5442420_n.jpg" height="424" width="640" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
My community has changed a lot.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was hard at first to get used to my new Ugandan
community.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They would often laugh about
things that I didn't find funny.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They always seemed to come by my house
unannounced while I was still in my pajamas and our dirty dishes were scattered
everywhere.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>How embarrassing!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They asked to borrow our stuff, and always
expected us to give them rides in our vehicle.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>They kept giving my kids “sweets” to eat without asking me, and took it
upon themselves to make sure my kids were playing properly.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And they were just <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">always </i>around!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The American
in me has had a hard time giving up her “personal space” – such a completely non-existent
concept in an African community.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
But my new community has grown on me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><br />
<br />
<b>Or, rather, I have grown into my
community.</b><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><br />
<br />
My fragile, exposed roots
finally began to seek a new home.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
became attached.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I became convinced that
my family would not just survive but that we would thrive here.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have learned to appreciate this community
and the beauty of what it offers.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
For example, how life here spills out of the home and into
the open-air sunshine.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Ugandans come out
their front door to wash and dry laundry, make tea over their charcoal stove, peel
potatoes, bath their babies, wait for a friend to pass by and chat.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They have taught me that the deepest form of
hospitality isn’t about presenting a clean home and a perfectly prepared meal right
on time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>True hospitality is inviting
someone into the mess, into the undone.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I’ve learned that the most considerate neighbor is the one who comes by uninvited
(because they’ve heard I’ve been sick), so they can make me some fresh juice
and mop my floor.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have been challenged
to rethink my system of entitlement – that he with the greatest need feels
entitled, not he with the most possessions.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>"If you want to travel fast, travel alone. If you want to travel far, travel together." ~ an African proverb</i></td></tr>
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I don’t know when, but I know that someday I will transplant
my roots yet again.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And I know that in
time I will sit among a circle and unexpectedly experience longing - for this
place and these beautiful faces.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m
sure someday I would gladly trade a privacy fence to again have my
well-trafficked veranda with its million-dollar view.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I would give up dryer sheets to have
sun-dried laundry that perpetually smells like brush fire.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I would probably give up anything to stand in
a circle with my Ugandan family and worship acapella once more. </div>
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Whenever that someday comes, I hope I have no regrets of
wishing that I had lived deeper here.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Living
in the present is admittedly not one of my strengths.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m much better at being nostalgic about
yesterday while daydreaming about tomorrow.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>But I’ve felt challenged lately to fully embrace what is around me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As long as
this red soil is under my feet I want to take in all that it has to offer me. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I pray to not become indifferent to the
privilege we have of calling this place home.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span><br />
<br />
<b>I want to grow where I am planted <span style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">now.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></i></span>Not
where I was or where I will be.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></b></div>
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<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">I can't entirely say why I've been carrying this theme with me so much lately... BUT -I'm sure some of it has to do with the fact that we were recently able to buy tickets to come home for a visit! We've started the countdown. We land in the US on Sept. 5 and will spend 3 whole months home this time!! Can you tell I'm excited? It will be two years at that point since we've been home, so we are all definitely ready for a visit. Thoughts of all the friends and family that we will soon re-connect with are never far from my mind. (As well as thoughts all the yummy food we will soon over-indulge on!) So, perhaps I'm just encouraging myself to stay focused. And, if I may encourage you along with me - to be content. In whatever space or season you are finding yourself today, may we truly <i>live</i> where God has placed us.</span></div>
the Simpson familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17823181439550603017noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8805159655432295921.post-49218764058477856382014-05-24T15:06:00.001-05:002014-07-20T05:28:23.109-05:00how we roll... (road trip in Uganda)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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We just returned from a road trip to Gulu in northern Uganda, where we enjoyed spending a few days at Watoto's <i>Laminadera</i> Village. The kids and I stayed a few days, and Thomas stayed behind for two extra weeks. Gulu was actually the destination of our very 1st Uganda road trip 3 yrs. ago. Remembering that, I couldn't help feeling some amount of satisfaction while I was packing. Several thousand kilometers past that first trip, I can decidedly say I've become much more adept at hauling three kids over Ugandan roads for hours at a time. My own childhood was one, big road trip, so traveling is second nature to me, however, traveling in Uganda is basically NOTHING like traveling in the U.S. It feels more like an endurance test than anything I would call "second nature." <br />
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I thought I'd share a few pics and insights... just in case you are daydreaming about taking a Ugandan road trip... or just in case you're curious... or just in case I have nothing else interesting to blog about in the next few wks., I should take advantage of this opportunity now.<br />
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First, in regards to packing - toilet paper, phenergan, and anti-nausea syrup - those are the essential travel companions. I think I would even take them over my toothbrush. There is a 100% chance that there will no t.p. available at the one potty break pit-stop on our 6 hr. journey. I'd say there is a 75% chance that someone in the vehicle will get sick after 40 min. of bumping over the roughest part of the road (which we affectionately call the "craters of the moon"). And, there's a 90% chance that, even if my kids aren't upchucking out the van window, I will still opt to give them the syrup in hopes it will knock them out for at least a couple of hours. <br />
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Of course, bottled water is another packing essential, because you never know when you'll break down or be stuck in a jam and need it. But the trick is to not actually <i>drink </i>the water if at all possible - remember I mentioned the <b><i>one</i></b> potty break? Right.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNIqAmczmCqf13QsWHwSvaLx8Gg8gYhX1wLMEXNpPlj8diwgD3CbFELUgnFQ3a643nuvbqO16AWdXDVXh5SEO8JMfTrb5e5domV4D_oezoNBpk9xE9ntH5mZNTHBSv4b0EHRtqJAjQ7tk/s1600/P5045945+%2528600x800%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNIqAmczmCqf13QsWHwSvaLx8Gg8gYhX1wLMEXNpPlj8diwgD3CbFELUgnFQ3a643nuvbqO16AWdXDVXh5SEO8JMfTrb5e5domV4D_oezoNBpk9xE9ntH5mZNTHBSv4b0EHRtqJAjQ7tk/s1600/P5045945+%2528600x800%2529.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></a></div>
It is a squatty-potty, btw. But this is a rather nice squatty-potty with tile and linoleum, <i>and</i> there is<i> </i>a sink outside with running water! You're welcome. I knew you'd love to see that. <br />
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And food must also be packed. There are no bright, green exit signs along the way displaying the plethora of fast food options you may choose from. There <i>are</i> plenty of fruit stands along the way where you can pull over and buy mangoes or even thick, fried, flat bread called chapati. But, according to my family, this falls into the "snack" category and not a "meal." I have learned this lesson well. So well, in fact, that I was too embarrassed to photo document the picnic basket that I over-stuffed with banana bread, boiled eggs, yogurt, pineapple, peanut butter, apples, and ... you get the point.<br />
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If you can get over the absence of proper toilets and restaurants and get used to the never-ending potholes, then the scenery outside your window makes a Ugandan road-trip very enjoyable. The scenery in the city is not exactly what I would call picturesque - but it is very entertaining. The pulse of life is found right beside the road in Africa. There are always people haggling, chasing, waiting, selling, and accomplishing <i>amazing</i> feats of transporting goods (on their heads, on a bike...).<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>pineapple, anyone??</i></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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Outside the city, the scenery is indeed lovely. The further I go from Kampala, the air is easier to breathe, the villages are small, and the more I feel that I am in "real Africa." <br />
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When traveling to Gulu, we have to drive over the Nile River. This is interesting because of the cheeky baboons who always loiter around the bridge. It seems that they have a toll booth operation going on - they demand that you throw them a few scraps of whatever is edible in your vehicle as you pass by. </div>
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Here now, we have finally arrived. We got settled in the guesthouse just in time to take in the sunset.<br />
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It is a long, grueling drive, but totally worth it. To spend time with our Acholi friends is always refreshing and inspiring. Just a few years ago, Gulu was a very dysfunctional town caught in the crossfires of Joseph Kony's rebel army, the LRA. Abductions, rape, and murder were rampant while devastation and fear were tangible. But, today, you would hardly know of that past if you didn't inquire. There are still scars for sure - both visible and invisible - but the atmosphere is now one of peace and HOPE, as people are resiliently moving forward.<br />
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That atmosphere is especially thick at Watoto's <i>Laminadera</i> Village. The location of the village was actually once one of the strongholds of the LRA. This land is now saturated with healing and life. It is beautiful to see God's hand at work there - children and teenagers who are truly thriving and know they are loved. Stories are being re-written. A bright future has been restored. They say, of course, that it is about the journey and not the destination. But, still, a sweet destination is a very good place to be. the Simpson familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17823181439550603017noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8805159655432295921.post-3174121532429704992014-04-05T11:54:00.000-05:002014-07-20T05:27:52.445-05:00the thrills, chills, and defining moments of 2014... so farThat title is a bit dramatic, I know. Yeah, ok ... it's a lot dramatic. Truth is, I had a really hard time thinking of how to caption this post. A more appropriate title would be - "<i>Remember back in 2013 and I told you that we were going to South Africa and that my family was coming to visit and I promised an update and now it is 2014 and all I've delivered is some musing about parenting in Africa</i>..." Of course, I don't flatter myself to think that any of you are actually waiting in breathless anticipation for such an report. But, sometimes, for my own sake, I have to write a random, shot-gun post that carries absolutely no emotional, intellectual, or spiritual weight. This is that post today. So, here we go - <br />
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<b>South Africa</b>... !! How do I love you? Let me count the ways... <br />
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1. I love you because you have a stunner of a city called Cape Town, where we can play at the beach, climb a mountain, and visit a toy store all in the same day.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">on top of Table Mt.</td></tr>
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2. I love you because you have Haagen-Dazs ice cream, gas stations with RESTAURANTS in them, and KFCs where we can eat chicken cheaper than even in the U.S.<br />
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3. I love you because you have reminded me that driving can, in actuality, be a very pleasant experience. (I mean, seriously - look at this road! - well-marked lines, no potholes, boda bodas, or over-sized trucks coming toward us in our lane!)<br />
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4. I love you because your beaches get cool points <i>off the chart</i> for having whale skulls and tidal pools and just, overall, the best backdrop I can imagine.<br />
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5. I love you because you have this amazing place called Cango Wildlife Ranch where we can make friends with cute animals.<br />
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There are a dozen more pictures and reasons to share, but I will refrain and stop there. I should also refrain from saying yet <i>again</i> that we got free tickets to visit South Africa with our air miles. I should, but I can't. I feel annoyed at myself that I have this compulsion to explain/ defend the fact that we took a vacation and thoroughly enjoyed a first-world country for 2 wks. I suppose other missionary friends might understand this as well. The fact is, we are in Uganda 100% because people support us to be here. AND the fact is, we wouldn't be able to stay here long-term if we didn't allow for breaks and intentional family time.<br />
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We truly felt like God gave us this time, and He blessed it. Before we left, my realist husband kept saying, "This will be our vacation of a life-time." And his idealist wife kept saying, "Don't say that! I'm sure we will have other amazing vacations too." Well, the journey's ended, the story's been told ... and I have to say that it will indeed be hard to ever beat this one.<br />
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Now, on to -<br />
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<b>My Family Came to Visit!!!!!</b><br />
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<b> </b> <br />
In the three years that we've lived here, I can't tell you how many times I have daydreamed about having family here beside me. Like when I'm maneuvering my van through a CRAZY round-a-bout in Kampala traffic. Like when I'm walking the cow path into the community and down to the roadside to by some vegetables, ducking under people's wet laundry hanging on the line, stepping over ravines of rubbish (and heaven knows what other filth), being followed by a parade of children chanting, "mzungu." There are aspects of living in Uganda that I can never fully convey through words and pictures over the internet.<br />
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It is so significant to me that they know our world now, and have seen, touched, smelled the soil where we've planted our hearts. Then, also, there's the fact that they hadn't seen their grandchildren in 15 months, so we had a lot of memory-making to catch up on! </div>
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I'm blithely giving you all the sweet stuff of the last 3 months. Lest you assume we live a charmed life, let me interject that there have been some very difficult and disappointing weeks mixed in there as well. In fact, 2014 seemed to shoot out 0 to 60mph like a roller coaster, and proceeded to drop me a couple of times quite unexpectedly. I think I have just recently caught my breath. I really don't want to make this a heavy post though, so I won't revisit the plunges right now. I will just testify that God is faithful - always, always - and His timing is perfect.<br />
<br />
As for the <b>"Chills"</b> I mentioned -<br />
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This photo was taken right behind our flat in February. One Sunday afternoon, some Watoto boys came upon a puff adder (the most deadly poisonous snake in East Africa). They bashed it's head and had fun showing off their "prize." If you notice, the end of it is quite enlarged. We assumed that it had just enjoyed a nice meal, but when they cut it open, as boyish curiosity demanded they do, there were about 100 babies inside!! Yes, I looked it up, and puff adders do give birth to live young. This mama was apparently in labor, which is how they were able to kill her so easily. She and the babies were buried in a VERY deep pit, and we all slept better that night knowing there were 101 fewer puff adders on Suubi Village.<br />
<br />
In other news, Thomas traveled to Gulu and was very pleased to get to eat <i>anyeri </i>or cane rat. I know - some of you are about to abandon visiting my blog altogether, because I can't stop talking about all the weird things we eat. I promise I will try to give it a break after this post! Thomas has been eager to taste one of these cane rats ever since we first visited northern Uganda and saw the guys spear-hunting them in a field.<br />
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And he was so very considerate to bring some of the cooked meat home in a container to share with the rest of the family - what a thoughtful guy I have! Some husbands bring home flowers, but my man brings home rat! <br />
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Lastly, a <b>Weather Report</b> -<br />
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The rainy season has arrived here, bringing some much needed relief and water. I do love the rainy season, because it is so drastic. It rarely rains all day long - actually, it <i>never</i> rains all day long. Rather, it blows in suddenly, and the sky empties in great, huge, incessant drops. The African rain does <i>not</i> drizzle. The wind is fierce, and for an hour or so, the world stops. The rain can delay anything from starting. And even if you are in the middle of a meeting or a church service, it isn't uncommon to have to just simply pause and wait out the rain. Most buildings here have tin roofs, so the noise is deafening. But it's a good kind of deafening - the kind of deafening that makes you feel small and alive and grateful for simple things.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">watching the rain roll in from our veranda</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">and when it arrives... also taken from our veranda</td></tr>
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Well, my shot gun is finally out of ammunition now, and the kids are begging for supper. Hope your day is lovely, and I hope my night brings more rain. Sleeping under a tin roof when it rains is <i>the best</i>! the Simpson familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17823181439550603017noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8805159655432295921.post-59654516734011987922014-03-22T03:28:00.002-05:002014-07-20T05:27:12.397-05:00not my childhood (thougths on raising TCKs in Africa)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Hello, out there! It's been quiet here for awhile, I know. We are all still alive and well, in case you're wondering. We did get to spend two fabulous, refreshing weeks in South Africa in January. And we did get to spend two very memorable weeks with my mom and dad in February. (STILL plan to share pics on a later post!) To be sure, there have been some lows amidst these highs, but I don't feel really motivated right now to recount all the ups and downs of 2014 so far.<br />
<br />
Actually, what has <i>finally</i> inspired me to break the blog-world silence is a post I made on Facebook a few nights ago. If we aren't Fb friends or you didn't see it, it went like this...<br />
<br />
<i><span class="userContent" data-ft="{"tn":"K"}">it is
"white ant season" here right now. this means there are these
especially large ants with white wings flying around and everybody likes
to eat them. yes, i do mean everybody - the hawks, the monkeys, our
Ugandan neighbors, AND my children. yesterday, a neighbor gave the boys
a bowl of them. they ate 3/4 of them and put the rest in the fridge.
(i was not aware of this!) so, Reynah and i j<span class="text_exposed_show">ust had this conversation as i was pulling leftovers out of the fridge, trying to find her a something to eat.<br /> Me: here's some potatoes. do you want potatoes like we ate yesterday?<br /> Rey: no, i don't like potatoes.<br /> Me: here's some chili. want chili?<br /> Rey: no, i don't like chili.<br /> Me: what is this?? ANTS!?<br /> Rey: oh, yeah, yeah! i LOVE ants!!!!!! i want ants!</span></span></i><br />
<br />
<span class="userContent" data-ft="{"tn":"K"}"><span class="text_exposed_show">OK, if you read my last blog post about the <a href="http://thomasandmika.blogspot.com/2013/12/walk-with-me.html" target="_blank">fried grasshoppers</a>, then you may </span></span><span class="userContent" data-ft="{"tn":"K"}"><span class="text_exposed_show">be thinking that we live off of eating insects - not so, I promise! The grasshoppers and ants are a seasonal delicacy that the Ugandans enjoy every few months. It just happens that my children are very embracing of the culture and cuisine. I am so glad they are, but it has just given me thought about how their definition of "normal" is very different than my own. </span></span><br />
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<span class="userContent" data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" style="font-size: small;"><span class="text_exposed_show"><b>It does <i>not</i> feel normal to me to pull a bowl of ants out of the fridge </b></span></span><br />
<span class="userContent" data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" style="font-size: small;"><span class="text_exposed_show"><b>and have my 4-yr old beg me for them.</b></span></span></div>
<br />
<span class="userContent" data-ft="{"tn":"K"}"><span class="text_exposed_show">So, I've been pondering some of the other abnormal things my kids don't think twice about - </span></span><br />
<ul>
<li><span class="userContent" data-ft="{"tn":"K"}"><span class="text_exposed_show"><b><i> </i></b></span></span><span class="userContent" data-ft="{"tn":"K"}"><span class="text_exposed_show">like when our history lesson on the veranda gets interrupted (repeatedly) by the monkeys invading our neighbors garden, and the boys HAVE to run and get their sling shots and tear down the steps screaming like banshees. (It is their self-proclaimed duty to do so.)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIigMolQkWmRmeKNko30mW2iepV7l3H50nSHs58ArKBkH7bjwOyyLRhuV7DElEWdwDGYn0LRlzQTgHjJNt0YqO8MBpP6SqKMfUqYg3QsuX8eBlgpjRl4Z0Ttqwy1CNOsQ_3Ep0AtgMXac/s1600/189657_1908786642297_1784136_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIigMolQkWmRmeKNko30mW2iepV7l3H50nSHs58ArKBkH7bjwOyyLRhuV7DElEWdwDGYn0LRlzQTgHjJNt0YqO8MBpP6SqKMfUqYg3QsuX8eBlgpjRl4Z0Ttqwy1CNOsQ_3Ep0AtgMXac/s1600/189657_1908786642297_1784136_n.jpg" height="245" width="320" /></a></div>
</span></span></li>
<li><span class="userContent" data-ft="{"tn":"K"}"><span class="text_exposed_show">when they get excited to see me open a bag of dried beans in the evenings in order to sort them, because they think it's so much fun to have a contest and see who can pick out the most weevil bugs. </span></span></li>
<li><span class="userContent" data-ft="{"tn":"K"}"><span class="text_exposed_show">when there is no water and they compliantly follow the routine of pouring water out of the jerry-can and taking a cold bowl bath. </span></span></li>
<li><span class="userContent" data-ft="{"tn":"K"}"><span class="text_exposed_show">when their dad assists their bathing with a scouring pad (not lying!) and proceeds to scrub at their ankles and knees, while muttering something like, "I <i>know</i> there is white skin under here somewhere."</span></span></li>
<li><span class="userContent" data-ft="{"tn":"K"}"><span class="text_exposed_show">when there is no power, so we do entertaining things like play hide-and-go-see in the dark, or read Narnia by candlelight, or break out the glow bracelets that were sent in a care package. <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8hib-IepqhG6V-OwK33SYksItFbIi333U76Essg0GLnZBnlozha0NMx8xLxsIvSXBKZeH_W1oeC-JeyDJRUUGDty0lomypi6hUPc14wSnd5SFlqabUv1lT166BxkgBzkW9cwZsjt7W3s/s1600/398840_3987994701199_699952082_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8hib-IepqhG6V-OwK33SYksItFbIi333U76Essg0GLnZBnlozha0NMx8xLxsIvSXBKZeH_W1oeC-JeyDJRUUGDty0lomypi6hUPc14wSnd5SFlqabUv1lT166BxkgBzkW9cwZsjt7W3s/s1600/398840_3987994701199_699952082_n.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
</span></span></li>
<li><span class="userContent" data-ft="{"tn":"K"}"><span class="text_exposed_show">how they know the drill, and at the 1st sign of fever we hike out down to the clinic for a blood test so we can make sure it's not malaria </span></span></li>
<li><span class="userContent" data-ft="{"tn":"K"}"><span class="text_exposed_show">like the day I realized that they could sing the Ugandan national anthem but not even the 1st line of the American anthem. (I have since rectified this.) </span></span></li>
<li><span class="userContent" data-ft="{"tn":"K"}"><span class="text_exposed_show">like the day we were throwing sticks at the bull-frogs in the reeds of the Nile River, only to suddenly realize those "croaks" were actually coming from hippos! </span></span></li>
<li><span class="userContent" data-ft="{"tn":"K"}"><span class="text_exposed_show">that my kids can speak English, broken English, and English with a very convincing Ugandan accent</span></span></li>
<li><span class="userContent" data-ft="{"tn":"K"}"><span class="text_exposed_show">that they can differentiate the nuances between American, British, and Australian English</span></span></li>
<li><span class="userContent" data-ft="{"tn":"K"}"><span class="text_exposed_show">the fact that Reynah has absolutely no concept what most appliances are (ie. clothes dryer, dish washer, vacuum cleaner, remote control... oh, wait... that's not an appliance)</span></span></li>
<li><span class="userContent" data-ft="{"tn":"K"}"><span class="text_exposed_show">the fact that there is a mild obsession over her blond hair, and that countless, random strangers have her pic in their mobile phone. </span></span></li>
<li><span class="userContent" data-ft="{"tn":"K"}"><span class="text_exposed_show">the fact that another trans-Atlantic flight is no big deal, but the sight of a trampoline, a water slide, or a playground WITH SWINGS THAT WORK - oh, the unspeakable joy! </span></span></li>
</ul>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgitbJ_8Qfb7nTDVMbAI-qRn8W3PyYe2G2_InQw4lL4gMEIzsSOsNM_W5xfF1w8tiRsDAt4eTyzqHvGfwvEAIINtFAH0mn3dftusqNsgcCSLQvU3w6qbG_rKk8c2DsKGBvjfKIQKYkflPo/s1600/189455_1896593417474_3433561_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgitbJ_8Qfb7nTDVMbAI-qRn8W3PyYe2G2_InQw4lL4gMEIzsSOsNM_W5xfF1w8tiRsDAt4eTyzqHvGfwvEAIINtFAH0mn3dftusqNsgcCSLQvU3w6qbG_rKk8c2DsKGBvjfKIQKYkflPo/s1600/189455_1896593417474_3433561_n.jpg" height="480" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This was taken at a community school shortly after we moved here. She learned to accept all the attention rather well.</td></tr>
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<ul>
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<span class="userContent" data-ft="{"tn":"K"}"><span class="text_exposed_show">Sometimes (many times) I stop and look them going about their little, happy lives, and I think - </span></span><br />
<span class="userContent" data-ft="{"tn":"K"}"><span class="text_exposed_show"><i><b>This is not my childhood. </b></i>Not that I ever expected my kids to live my own childhood exactly. My childhood was quite unique anyway. But it <i>was</i> a wonderful childhood, and I feel a responsibility at times to "miss" stuff on their behalf (since they don't really know how to miss those wonderful things themselves). Things like...</span></span><br />
<ul>
<li><span class="userContent" data-ft="{"tn":"K"}"><span class="text_exposed_show">a back yard, inflatable pool</span></span></li>
<li><span class="userContent" data-ft="{"tn":"K"}"><span class="text_exposed_show">their own bicycles to ride</span></span></li>
<li><span class="userContent" data-ft="{"tn":"K"}"><span class="text_exposed_show">birthday parties with grandparents and cousins (and a <i>thousand</i> other things with grandparents and cousins)</span></span></li>
<li><span class="userContent" data-ft="{"tn":"K"}"><span class="text_exposed_show">jumping in leaves in the fall and snowmen and hot cocoa in the winter</span></span></li>
<li><span class="userContent" data-ft="{"tn":"K"}"><span class="text_exposed_show">being in a church Christmas program (or doing <i>anything</i> Christmas related when it's not 80 degrees outside)</span></span></li>
<li>Saturday morning cartoons</li>
<li>sleep overs with friends</li>
</ul>
I feel a bit intimidated sometimes when I think that they have become third-culture kids. (TCK is an official term for kids who live between two cultures but don't fully belong to either one of them.) It's intimidating because I know I won't relate exactly to the new, unique culture they will create and identify with. I feel nervous sometimes when I think about the future for them, and wonder what it will be like when they do have to transition, when they become aware of the things that they are so happily oblivious to right now. Will they be resentful when it gets hard?<br />
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<b><i>Sometimes</i> I feel these things.</b><br />
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But, to be honest, most of the time, I feel like they are some of the luckiest kids on the planet. <br />
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Living in Africa has given them some gifts that Thomas and I could never buy them at Toys R Us.<br />
<ul>
<li>the graceful adaptability of being a minority</li>
<li>an in-your-face understanding that AIDS, poverty, injustice are the effects of sin</li>
<li>the realization that boredom isn't so bad really, and under-stimulation can be rather refreshing<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<li>a wide-open perspective of the world </li>
<li>a sense of adventure... and a sense of humor </li>
<li>an appreciation for good books, close friends, and the great outdoors</li>
<li>the ability to pee anywhere, anyhow - on a squatty potty or "in the bush."</li>
<li>friends all over the world. friends that are poorer than them. </li>
<li>an awareness that not all governments are created equal</li>
<li>the opportunity to trust God, to know that He and He alone sustains our family </li>
</ul>
They aren't normal kids, but I hope that they can be proud of that someday. Because I am beyond proud of them - and deeply grateful to God for this unique childhood He is allowing them to live. <br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>One of these kids is not like the others...</i></td></tr>
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the Simpson familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17823181439550603017noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8805159655432295921.post-20148370864198310842013-12-03T15:34:00.001-06:002014-07-20T05:25:52.059-05:00walk with meA long time ago, after we first moved here, I wrote a <a href="http://thomasandmika.blogspot.com/2011/10/come-in-and-visit-awhile.html" target="_blank">picture blog</a> where I imagined that you had come over to visit us in our little flat. It was very fun and therapeutic for me, since I was REALLY wishing for some friends and family to come over. I am again in the mood to pretend. But this time, we should go for a walk together... because it has been a perfect Suubi evening. I may chatter too much for too long, and I may stop to take too many pictures. But, hopefully you won't mind indulging me. It is holiday time, and I need to feel like we're "caught up." At least... as much as possible across an ocean.<br />
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I first must comment on the weather, and how, even though this is our 3rd Christmas in Uganda, I still can't get used to putting up a Christmas tree when it is 80 degrees outside. However, on an evening like this, when it is a divine 70 and there is a fresh breeze - I can't bring myself to complain or wish for a "wintry mix" forecast. <br />
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It is just us and Reynah going on this stroll. She is packing her tinkerbell purse with the very necessary items - rocks, lip gloss, and a toy car. She asks me for some money as well, but I say no. T is at the basketball court and the boys are heaven knows where, doing boy-stuff with their friends. They always come home filthy at dusk when they are ready to eat. So, this means our walk is dictated by Reynah's whimsy. The first thing she wants to do today is pick flowers. <br />
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Meanwhile, I will gush to you about how much I enjoyed getting to talk with about 30 teenage girls today - about sex, boys, body image, and purity. I always feel incredibly honored to lead discussions on these so-important topics. <br />
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Then, I will start to fill you in on some on of the "happenings" of our little home. Two weeks ago, we had a baby monkey delivered to our doorstep. He had been caught by some of the Watoto boys. His leg was injured, and I wasn't too happy with how they were treating him, so we decided to keep him for a few days. I must say - ever since we moved to Suubi - I've wished to "babysit" a baby monkey, just for a little while. He stayed on our veranda for a bit over a week and was SO entertaining! We called him Timo. He would fall asleep if we started "grooming" him, would squeal and basically pitch a fit if he saw us eating any kind of fruit, would make the cutest chattering noises when he was happy, and would use our head and shoulders as a launching pad to get to whatever higher destination he wanted to reach. I did get tired of cleaning his poop off our veranda though, and we let him go rejoin his monkey friends one day when the troop of them came around our flat.<br />
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Now, we've reached to top of the hill, the highest point of Suubi's 200 acres. Reynah loves the little "fish pond" here, and, as you can see, it is a favorite hang-out place for many.<br />
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I now get to hold her flowers as she picks grass to "feed the fishies." </div>
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The view is spectacular from here, and this is where our new worship building is almost complete. It is set to open in Jan. of next year. So far, our Sunday services have always been held in a school hall that can only comfortably seat 300. Suubi is a village of about 1,500 residents now, so you can see why this new worship center is needed.<br />
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Not to mention... have you noticed the glass walls? I do question the practicality of glass walls, but, my goodness! What a stirring place to meet and pray and sing - a glass sanctuary on the side of a mountain! In fact, if I weren't already married, I think I would start planning my wedding to be here.<br />
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Here now, I catch a glimpse of one of my boys as he zooms past. Josiah is having a blast!<br />
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There are very few bikes on this village; my kids don't own a bike. Josiah tells me that this one belongs to one of his friends who got it because he was the "best boy" on his Watoto Choir tour. If you are one of the privileged children who get a bike, you are expected to share it with everyone else. And I do mean EVERYONE ELSE. I will never cease to be amazed at how much better Ugandans are at sharing than we Westerners are.<br />
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Other news that you may find interesting (or repulsive) is that November is grasshopper season here. While we get excited about roasted turkey back home, Ugandans get excited about eating fried grasshoppers. I have read accounts by other North Americans that suggest Ugandans are so poor they resort to eating these insects because there is simply nothing else to eat. That's really not true. They eat them because they genuinely like them, and these grasshoppers are considered quite the seasonal delicacy. This past Saturday, Josiah, Judah, and their buddies literally spent all morning in the grass field collecting the critters. Our friend, Mama Andrew, came over to cook them for the boys.<span id="goog_1787113908"></span><span id="goog_1787113909"></span><br />
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I just found it so humorous to see my pot of veggie soup and her skillet of bugs side by side.<br />
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<span id="goog_1787113910"></span><span id="goog_1787113911"></span>(Btw, that is <i>lemon grass</i> in my pot... not worms! -in case your imagination is getting the best of you at this point.) I do wish I had a pic of the boys eating their treat, but the power went out as we sat down. So, it was fried grasshoppers and carrot-ginger soup by candlelight. Ha!<br />
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We've now reached the soccer field where preparation is fully underway for graduation ceremonies tomorrow. The school year is different here, so December marks the end of an academic year, graduations, and the beginning of the longest school holiday. Here are Maurice and Carlos setting up the climbing rope exhibition for tomorrow.<br />
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Maurice and his wife, Jean, are teachers here at Suubi. They are from the UK and are the only other long-term volunteers with Watoto at this point. Carlos is a short-term volunteer from Brazil. We do enjoy making friends with the many international volunteers that come through. <br />
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And here are some of my teachers friends who are also helping to set up ... as they are "setting their hair" to look their best tomorrow.<br />
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I hope you're not too tired yet. We really only have one more stop to see T and the guys at the b-ball court. <br />
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As we walk there, I have to make sure I get in the most excited bit of news that we are looking forward to. On Jan.2, we leave to go spend 2 weeks in South Africa! Just our family. Just for fun! God blessed us so much - we were able to get all our tickets for free with our airline miles! Being able to plan this trip has been SUCH an encouragement at times, especially since we knew we weren't going to be able to make a visit home this year. We will get some refreshing family time away on some pretty beaches. I'm sure I will post more pictures on here than you would ever care to see.<br />
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THEN, a couple of weeks after we return, my mom and dad and baby sister are coming to visit!!! I am just giddy over all this. We've had some very dear friends come visit but this will be first time to have family. I won't have to pretend or use pictures, but will have my family right beside me, smelling the same air, feeling the equator sunshine, and meeting our African home. I've spent so much time daydreaming about this. <br />
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Of course, we have lots of plans to relish the Christmas season... but, really... January can't come fast enough!<br />
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So, here is our final destination. The basketball court is the best place to be at sunset. It is a ritual every time we come that T has to "fly" Reynah around.<br />
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I've enjoyed your "company" so much tonight. I only wish it wasn't such a one-sided conversation. If you take a notion to, please dialogue back and send me an update on you and your family. I would really love that! <br />
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<br />the Simpson familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17823181439550603017noreply@blogger.com17tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8805159655432295921.post-24583455379299370652013-11-03T09:40:00.000-06:002013-11-03T12:24:51.163-06:00have you seen the "sicklips?!"I was enjoying a restful Sunday afternoon reading in bed. I had noticed that the words on the page were getting harder and harder to see, and I thought, "Good grief - how is it already evening?" (Here on the equator, the sun <i>always </i>sets right around 7pm.) But when I glanced at my watch, it was only 5:20. At that moment, Reynah ran into the room, her eyes huge and bright.<br />
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Reynah: "MAMA, have you seen the sicklips?! Come see the sicklips!<br />
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Me: What in the world are you talking about?<br />
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Reynah: THE SICKLIPS! (exasperated sigh) It's on Joshua's veranda. The sun and the moon are fighting and the sun is eating the moon. Come SEEEeee! (pulling my arm)<br />
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Sure enough, there was the "sicklips" - at least, that's what it sounded like our Ugandan neighbors were calling it as they gave an exciting narrative of the sun and moon "duking it out." They were very cleverly looking at it through their X-ray prints. Apparently, here in Uganda, you get to take your X-rays home with you and make a collection. And, apparently, one of the best viewing spots in the world to see a total eclipse today is in northern Uganda. I just read that online. Thomas is just now coming home from northern Uganda, so he was in the lucky spot... but not so lucky to have a X-ray handy to view it through... or a play-by-play commentary. :)<br />
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So, did you get to see the sicklips in your corner of the world today?the Simpson familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17823181439550603017noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8805159655432295921.post-73414220867822292522013-10-08T16:00:00.000-05:002014-07-20T05:18:28.501-05:00when I know He knows<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">I wrote this one week
ago while flying home from my grandma’s funeral.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I feel like there is so much I should share –
the Dorrell family (our friends from the U.S.) did an incredible job of
ministering to each Watoto village while I was away.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I flew back to Uganda with Pastor Carter and
Nancee, and we just spent a wonderful week enjoying their company.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Each of these events deserves its own blog
post, but I will begin here and hopefully catch up later.</i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I’m about 30,000 ft. over the Sahara Desert right now- <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>5,000 miles from one home and still 2,000
miles from my other home.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m
contemplating, as I often do, what that means – for my heart to live in two
places.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And I’m trying to process this
very demanding, difficult, yet wonderful week that I just had.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I start by remembering the week of July 4<sup>th</sup>, 2010.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Thomas was at the Pine Ridge Indian
Reservation in South Dakota on a mission trip with our teens, so the kids and I
had gone to spend a few days with my Mimi and Pappy in Loretto, TN.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was a great week.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We shucked (and ate) lots of corn from Mimi’s
garden, played board games, had a cookout at my uncle’s house.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Reynah was only 4 mo. old, so Mimi loved
cuddling her and singing to her every chance she got!</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdk3hVog_YC3eu1M7Mr_x0EFyo_fNgts_nZ5qxKP4dX9DH3rFM2Y5gn2-sYCFEDMRfce8ikoQ5siI7QyiKwkHMzRfXf7u-xkyQD_kUje6BIYDxsn3fJlQ8HMQ-nEV4xFNUzkcWOJ7wsMI/s1600/534996_10201784432595451_1547948054_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdk3hVog_YC3eu1M7Mr_x0EFyo_fNgts_nZ5qxKP4dX9DH3rFM2Y5gn2-sYCFEDMRfce8ikoQ5siI7QyiKwkHMzRfXf7u-xkyQD_kUje6BIYDxsn3fJlQ8HMQ-nEV4xFNUzkcWOJ7wsMI/s400/534996_10201784432595451_1547948054_n.jpg" height="225" width="400" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwiOgsICJOIlJzoP7z6Yciii_OEYDxc4o4tKTOqSTUJMClDW4QJhtu5aMesSV8fEyDUSVMkN_4wlWXal3vHqD_2JDXa06QG_fo0aHRIH5-aHxDEkfujNn_S8HTxfY3QnnfCPnEtCIpols/s1600/1235943_10201784480196641_546244421_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwiOgsICJOIlJzoP7z6Yciii_OEYDxc4o4tKTOqSTUJMClDW4QJhtu5aMesSV8fEyDUSVMkN_4wlWXal3vHqD_2JDXa06QG_fo0aHRIH5-aHxDEkfujNn_S8HTxfY3QnnfCPnEtCIpols/s400/1235943_10201784480196641_546244421_n.jpg" height="300" width="400" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
One night that week I stayed up late after everyone had gone
to bed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I sat at my grandparents’
kitchen table and wrote my second post of this blog <a href="http://thomasandmika.blogspot.com/2010_07_01_archive.html" target="_blank">(this one)</a> where I “announced” we were
moving to Uganda.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That blog remained
unpublished for 4 more months though, because I couldn’t really announce it
yet.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So, that week with Mimi and Pappy was
great but also hard.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They didn’t know
it, but I understood very well the significance of that time with them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was soaking up every precious moment, and already
grieving at the same time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was
grieving that I wouldn’t be able to share my children with them and they
couldn’t share with me this last season of their lives.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was “counting the cost” of moving to
another continent - and this specific cost was tallying up to be one of the
greatest.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Of course, I’ve been able to
see them since then, but the visits have been few and brief.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And every time I’ve hugged them goodbye, my
stomach has knotted in fear that it would be my last time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Eleven days ago my fear was confirmed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We had all just recently found out that Mimi
had cancer.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Before anyone could expect
it, she was in ICU with only quantifiable hours left to live.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She passed into eternity last Sunday.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That weekend before she died, I was more torn
than I’ve ever been since moving to Uganda, trying to decide/justify whether or
not I should go home.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I won’t explain
all the reasons of how and why I decided to come home.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And, as much as I’d like to, I’m not going to
make this post a tribute to Mimi and what she means to me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I can’t unpack all that from my heart in such
a public place.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That would just be a
mess.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
But I do want to share some beautiful moments that God has
handed to me -like gifts- in the last few days.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>The first one has a bit of background information to it, so stick with
me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It is very cool.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Back in March of this year, Watoto Choir #59
visited my parents’ church.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My mom had
told me that she gave one of the Uncles (a leader of the choir) something small
to take back to Uganda to give to me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I never
knew what it was, and I didn’t really have much confidence I would ever see
it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The choir returned in July, but I
had not seen this uncle yet.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>On Friday a
week ago (2 days before Mimi died and the day after I found out that she was
going to), <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was in Kampala about to
teach my English class for Living Hope.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I was trying to stay focused on my responsibilities…but a dam of tears
seemed ready to burst at any moment.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My
constant thought was – <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">I wish I could
just hug my family.</i><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Uncle” Michael
walked into the room as class was beginning.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>He called me over and said, “I’ve been meaning to give you this.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He handed me a small ziplock bag with a white
handkerchief inside.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I could smell my
Daddy’s cologne before I even opened the bag.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>It was just the handkerchief (with cologne) and a tiny note from mom
that read, “I thought this might be the next best thing to getting a hug from
your Daddy.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I felt so overwhelmed with affection
from my family.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But, mostly, in that
moment, I felt overwhelming affection from God.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I knew that HE knew 7 months ago that
I would need to know He was near me on this particular September day.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
My other moment came two days later when I was sitting in
the Brussels airport waiting for my flight to Newark.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I had thought I would enjoy traveling solo
without the kids to look after.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But in
that cold, lonely airport, I decided that chasing after them would have been a
welcome distraction.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It is a weird
feeling of suspension to suddenly be in a different time zone and space with no
one to talk to.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I didn’t even know if
Mimi was still alive or not.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So in that
moment, I began thinking about my dear friend Beth, who does missions work with
her family on the island of Saipan in Asia Pacific.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was empathizing with how very painful it
was for her to travel home alone to the US last year - and how she was sitting
all by herself in an airport in Hawaii when she found out her mother had passed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I decided I wanted to pay the money to
connect to the internet just so I could send her a msg and tell her that I now understood
a bit better.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Before I could even begin
to write a single line, a message from her popped up - <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">“are u there??”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></i>How amazing
is God that He reconciled the time between Europe and Asia so that we could
chat for just 10 min!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I knew that He
knew I needed a friend right then.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
There were so many other beautiful moments in the following
week that comforted me in ways I wouldn’t have expected – picking some of the
remaining vegetables in Mimi’s garden and making a bouquet of her last flowers;
reading her Bible; drinking coffee with Daddy and Pappy before sunrise; walking
late at night with my sister and cousin and reminiscing in the dark.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHJoEVDSiOOwK3-5WHlkJ_Dd6K7APyRYVphDizxfHCTI415FFc7cgPKl8QoNdillh5wHtbSQUlg20D4y_lOpGWBAYVDK4RLzPhx9PdKLuvWm7qiQ8AM8rbHIbrNWgPhBkSkS-9RoR7dj4/s1600/1383067_10202062550548226_1264778795_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHJoEVDSiOOwK3-5WHlkJ_Dd6K7APyRYVphDizxfHCTI415FFc7cgPKl8QoNdillh5wHtbSQUlg20D4y_lOpGWBAYVDK4RLzPhx9PdKLuvWm7qiQ8AM8rbHIbrNWgPhBkSkS-9RoR7dj4/s400/1383067_10202062550548226_1264778795_n.jpg" height="400" width="300" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxA1AK0NfIArNy5PVpLSFJ1wptsGNZDl9a0gG1ATLNrj-VlEHs94p99yQH1brSUQ0y-_WzIKteoS9tdSTcVlWBNGE9HAy8kbxhCMtFPS-AP7CdsVT1soG4zorjJkaBPicZAyQAOCJJPyw/s1600/1379627_10202062552308270_1195751922_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxA1AK0NfIArNy5PVpLSFJ1wptsGNZDl9a0gG1ATLNrj-VlEHs94p99yQH1brSUQ0y-_WzIKteoS9tdSTcVlWBNGE9HAy8kbxhCMtFPS-AP7CdsVT1soG4zorjJkaBPicZAyQAOCJJPyw/s400/1379627_10202062552308270_1195751922_n.jpg" height="300" width="400" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I was able to spend a day and a half in Jackson, TN and
attend Missions Sunday service at my home church.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This was <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">always</i>
my favorite Sunday on the church calendar.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I knew it was pure, undeniable Providence that I could be there on that
day.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Then, the most unexpected blessing
of all came through the different individuals who placed money in my hand at
different times… enough money to cover ALL my expenses of a last min. plane
ticket!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I am still just overwhelmed by this.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I don’t deserve such favor and extravagant
generosity. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
So, I am quite a package of emotions.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In fact, the old guy across from me looks
slightly disturbed that I keep wiping my eyes and sniffling.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have a heart that is grieving … but that is
also very full.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>God has been reminding
me <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">in some very tangible</i> <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">ways</i> that He loves me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He knows how to give peace when I face things
I fear.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But I think the most comforting
thought of all is this…</div>
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<br /></div>
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I now know that He <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">knew</i>. </div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
When I was “counting the cost” three summers ago, He was
counting too.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There is always a price to
obedience.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sometimes I act like God is
ignorant or indifferent to that, but He isn’t.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>He knows. He sees. When I compare my “price” to the price others pay, it seems so
inconsequential.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Why should God notice
or be impressed?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But it’s not about comparing
or impressing, is it?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We are each on a
uniquely personal journey, learning to let God be our only reward.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And right now, I am so glad to know that He
is taking every step of this journey with me. And that He's writing in every thoughtful detail of our story. </div>
the Simpson familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17823181439550603017noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8805159655432295921.post-88952350964454895422013-08-14T15:54:00.000-05:002014-07-20T05:24:09.603-05:00For all the Princessesi have too many stories to write ... about new kids on the village, and new friends in the community, and Living Hope ladies, and Kids' Church ... but today i will just stick to this one, lovely story.<br />
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<br />
Once upon at time, 313 little girls were very much in need of a new life. all 313 of their stories followed a different script and, yet, had the same tragic themes throughout. when they should have been tucked into warm beds with full bellies, they went to sleep hungry and alone. when they should have had pretty dresses to twirl in, they only had discarded rags that didn't fit properly. maybe the most tragic element of their stories is that actually each little girl was a princess, but she didn't even know it! no one had ever told her so. <br />
<br />
but, one day, their new life providentially came. their stories took a amazing turn, as they were moved into a new home. with a new family. on a beautiful Watoto village. some little girls went to live on a majestic mountain-top village, a village infused with as much hope as it's translated name suggests ~<i> Suubi </i>(hope). others, went to live in a cozy, wooded village where they were surrounded by a eucalyptus grove and more peace than they had ever before known ~<i>Bbira</i>. they finally had the things every little girls should have - a bed to call their own, new clothes, a school to attend, a church community to introduce them to Jesus. their world began to feel secure and promising.<br />
<br />
these little girls grew into beautiful young ladies. and now, on the cusp of adulthood, it was time. time for them to see the big picture, and understand the intricate threads connecting chapter 1 and chapter 2 of their life story. so, a whole weekend was dedicated for this unveiling. invitations were given out, dresses borrowed, decorations hand-made, many prayers were prayed. great care was put into making each girl feel special and beautiful - from personalized place cards to "spa sessions."<br />
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but all the preparations and pampering paled in significance to what God had already planned out for her heart. my pictures and words cannot truly relate what a joy it was to witness HIM change perceptions. honestly. it was the most beautiful thing i've seen in a long time.<br />
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<br />
<br />
it was more than making a girl feeling good about herself for a few hours. it was about a Heavenly Father reaching deep into her soul and giving her a new understanding -<br />
<br />
<b><i>that He was there</i></b><br />
<br />
even though no one remembers the exact date she entered the world, He had planned her birthday and all her following days from the beginning of time. even though no pictures document those first years of her life, He was there, delighting in her when her tiny, baby legs began to walk. when no one was noticing her dance and twirl, lost in her little girl daydreams, He was a captive audience. when there was no one to claim her as their own, He beamed, "she is <i>mine</i>!" that light of understanding that she has always been His... always a princess. and, even now, being a princess has nothing to do with the dress she puts on or the place she calls home. <br />
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yes, some girls "got it." and, for some, the understanding will come in layers, like a slow sunrise. but, i believe every princess' heart was pursued that weekend. they were romanced by their Maker. <br />
<br />
and, for me... well, every girl needs to be reminded she is a princess sometimes, right? many times while celebrating with these Ugandan princesses, i couldn't help but think of a favorite quote from one of my favorite childhood movies (that Thomas classifies, along with <i>Anne of Green Gables</i>, as pure "sappyness" and pigs will fly before he ever watches it with me... but it's ok.<i>..</i>he's a<i> boy</i>.)<br />
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<i><span class="quote">I am a princess. All girls are. </span></i></div>
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<i><span class="quote">Even if they live in tiny old attics. </span></i></div>
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<i><span class="quote">Even if they dress in rags, </span></i></div>
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<i><span class="quote">even if they aren’t pretty, or smart, or young. </span></i></div>
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<i><span class="quote">They’re still princesses. All of us. </span></i></div>
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<i><span class="quote"> Didn’t your father ever tell you that?</span></i></div>
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<span class="quote"> - <u>Little Princess</u></span></div>
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<span class="quote"> </span><i><span class="quote"> </span></i></div>
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<span class="quote">This princess turns 32 next week. i'm not sure exactly what chapter i am in right now, but i know that when my story comes to those last few pages - even if my hair is white, even if my cheek is wrinkled, and my legs are too feeble to twirl - i will still be His princess. what a remarkable thought.</span></div>
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<span class="quote">so, to all my princess friends ~ old and young, near and far ~ be His today. </span></div>
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the Simpson familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17823181439550603017noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8805159655432295921.post-61474664053350283122013-06-29T14:03:00.000-05:002013-06-29T15:09:02.694-05:00family pics (and Reynah's fractured sermon)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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This month, we had the blessing of having a friend from back home visit for a
couple of weeks. Meg Rushing was a joy to us in <i>many</i> ways (not the
least of which was that she brought a whole suitcase full of goodies
from sweet friends in TN. Christmas in June - for real!!) She also is
an excellent photographer, and she captured some priceless family
moments for us.</div>
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So, of course, I have to share them with you! </div>
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I may have gone overboard there. That's a lot of pictures.<br />
But I still can't resist adding a few out-takes. If you know my Judah, you will really appreciate these. This silly kid never fails to make me laugh! <br />
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<br />
And, if that failed to add humor to your day, I have one more thing that will surely do the trick...<br />
<br />
I've been helping to teach Reynah's Sunday School class lately. They love it when I bring in the old Betty Lukins flannel graphs. (yes, these kids have not been desensitized by DVDs, so flannel graphs are quite state-of-the-art!) So, a couple of Sundays ago, I came home from church and began putting the felt pieces away. Reynah thought she should help, but quickly became fascinated by all the colorful pieces she saw in the box. She pulled a few out and began telling me her own "Bible story." I happened to have a pen and scrap paper right beside me, so this is her story verbatim.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>Jesus had to die on the cross, because the angel told Jesus that he was going to have a baby. </i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>And, you see, he had a boo boo on his legs and on his arms. And the soldiers had a sword and they killed Jesus and they put him on the cross. And then, the whale it came, and he ate Jesus. </i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>And, Noah said, "EEEW - it stinks in here!" And it was green, stinky water... </i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>and after Jesus rose from the dead, then the soldiers made him die on the cross. </i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
~THE END~</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Oh, and here's Meg and Judah "racing" Josiah and me back to Suubi. </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
I can't remember who won, but I am sure the boy's could tell you. </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Thank you, Meg, for loving Uganda and doing life with us for a couple of weeks!</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
(and for the very awesome pics :))</div>
the Simpson familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17823181439550603017noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8805159655432295921.post-9037423793116526412013-06-14T15:29:00.001-05:002014-05-07T13:14:08.549-05:00wrestling gray <!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;">Thurs. June 6<sup>th</sup></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;">Mulago Hospital, Kampala</span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;">6:15 am</span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;">The sun was still trying to find its way to the horizon, so
everything in the ER entrance was dull, gray shadows mixed with patches of weak,
florescent light. Mercy leaned heavy on
my arm as we shuffled together up to the desk.
For a full two minutes the three men behind the desk completely ignored
us, engrossed as they were in their own conversation. Or maybe, I thought, they were hoping we
would just give up and walk away. Finally,
one of them impatiently addressed Mercy, and began asking her question after
question in Luganda. I could only guess
what all he was asking, but his demeanor made me feel like he was interrogating
her. She was literally about to collapse, gasping
in desperate breathes just to speak, and trying not to cry. The big jerk!
I then had an understanding of why there was a grid of metal bars caging
him in behind his huge desk – so no one could reach over the counter and smack
him! </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;">I heard a woman crying and looked over my shoulder to see a
man half-carrying/half- dragging her through the entrance. She was covered in mud and had a bloody sheet
draped over the left side of her body. The
“desk-man” then finally took a small square of scrap paper and began writing
Mercy’s name on it. Well, to be precise,
he was writing something that looked like N-A-R-C-Y… </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;">“Her name is Mercy.” I corrected.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;">He looked utterly bored with me, but pursed his lips and
wrote what I dictated. “M-E-R-C-Y”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;">He added her age and scratched out some ailments – “fever, diarrhea,
vomiting, loss of appetite” </span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;">It looked so insignificant on paper, but I knew. I hooked my arm under her and we began
shuffling again toward the ward he directed us to. She was dying. Her body was failing, and the AIDS was
winning. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;">We entered the ward where at least 50 other people were
already waiting. Since the two wooden
benches were full, Mercy slumped down in a corner and I followed suit. It was at this point that I took in my surroundings
and began trying to convince myself that I was on a movie set. There was a woman thrashing about on a cot,
screaming and delirious with fever. Open,
festering wounds were all around me, head bandages, blank stares, the
nauseating smell of vomit and urine, a tired ceiling fan doing a very ineffective
job, and a wall clock frozen at 4:35 - it all felt too surreal, and a movie set
was a lot easier to deal with in my mind than the aftermath of a battlefield. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;">But after 4 hours of sitting on the cold, unforgiving
concrete, I had given up on my little game.
No one was going to jump into the center of the room with a movie
clapper and yell, “CUT!” More patients
had filed in, and we were yet to see a doctor walk through the double doors of
the casualty ward. In the meantime,
while I had gone off to try and find a toilet (or squatty potty) which were all
locked up, a little boy had died sitting in his wheelchair adjacent from
Mercy. No doctor had tended to him. It was beyond ridiculous! Mercy remained curled up in her same corner,
and I felt utterly helpless. What
happened to that idealistic 15 yr. old girl that thought she could be the next
Mother Teresa? I clearly wasn’t cut out
for this. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;">I walked to a window to stretch my body and take in some
fresh air. I remember staring at the
broken glass, the peeling paint, and absently watching a roach scurry back and
forth on the window sill. I distinctly remember
thinking- <i>This is like a bad dream. A really bad dream… but I could wake up from
it if I wanted to. </i>It would be easy
really. My van was parked just down
three flights of stairs; I could drive a few kilometers down the road to the
Oasis. What a perfect name…<i> Oasis.
</i>It’s one of the few places in the city that doesn’t feel so foreign
to me – a space where I don’t stick out so much like the minority that I am,
because all the other white people like to hang out there too. There’s a real grocery store there with
frozen meat, a book store, restaurants, a movie cinema. And, oh, I really wanted to go there in that
moment! But, of course, I couldn’t. I walked back to Mercy and sat down. She didn’t need conversation; she was too
weak to talk. She just needed me beside
her, so she wouldn’t be alone in this horrible place. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;">More hours passed. We
were sent to a different ward where there were even more people waiting… waiting,
waiting. Another piece of paper with her
name scribbled on it. At least they had
spelled “Mercy” correct; it was her surname that was wrong this time. I was too discouraged to say anything. More hours of sitting on concrete, then we
were sent back to the original ward where we had started our day. I tried to speak for Mercy, to explain to the
nurse in the starch white dress how long we had waited and how necessary it was
that Mercy be admitted <i>NOW. </i>It didn’t matter - all that the nurse
could see was the number on Mercy’s paper.
By 3 pm, I had reached my limit. I
needed food… I needed a bathroom! There was
a dead man lying fully clothed on a stretcher in front of me, and no one was
noticing him, much less mourning for him. My head was throbbing and my heart was
beginning to feel numb. I decided that I was
of no use to Mercy in such a condition - so I left. I gave her some coins to call me if she
needed, promised to be back within an hour, and I went away to my Oasis. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;">I promptly found a bathroom, scrubbed my hands, washed my
face, and then ordered myself a pizza and a coke. This was comfort food, and my aim was to feel
as comfortable as possible. It worked
for a while – the comforting myself part- until that irritating sweep of guilt
came and the pizza stuck in my throat.
So, as I sat at my sun-drenched table, the familiar wrestling match
ensued. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;"> How could I breeze in
and out of such harsh reality? There was
no escape for Mercy, no fairness to be found.
How could I entertain myself by flipping through my South Africa travel
guide and making weekend plans while Mercy had waited 10 hours and was just
still a misspelt name on a slip of paper?
Then the deeper questions surfaced… the ones that I’ve often wrestled
late at night when I wanted to be sleeping.
The ones that have kept me from blogging anymore about Mercy all these
months, because I don’t have answers to them.
Have we done exactly what we didn’t
want to do? Have we made Mercy too
dependent on us by helping her too much?
And what, I ask God to tell me, is the alternative… because it is the
money in our wallet that has bought the medicine to keep her children alive…
again and again. How do I deal with the
disappointing fact that the pretty, little bow I tied around Mercy in my last
blog about her has since come unraveled?
Hasn’t she done what I feared she would do – lie and take advantage of
our friendship? But how can I judge her –
might I not do the same thing if I were in her place, trying to survive in the
face of injustice? And now, what to do
with this tension between frustration and guilt? …frustrated because we can never say “no” – guilt
that I even feel frustrated in the first place! </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;">So, here is where I wrestle.
Where the answers hide and everything is gray. I used to see more in black and white, before
I moved here to this brilliant land of open sky, verdant green, and red
dirt. Now, I can’t compartmentalize
anymore. Opening my heart to Africa is
like trying to take a sip from a fire hydrant.
Oh, I have gotten a lot more than I bargained for! But as T often reminds me, isn’t that why we
came? If we aren’t wrestling or feeling the
tension, then why are we even here? I
feel tempted to open my heart in measured amounts, but God certainly doesn’t
administer His grace like that. So, we
keep wrestling and asking questions. I keep
striving to LIVE here and not just be a warm body. I keep loving Mercy, even if I don’t do it
well, because she deserves to be loved. I
keep teetering, trying to find my balance between identifying with Uganda and
keeping my own sanity. Mostly, I keep
Jesus in the center and trust that He is strong enough to handle the
flood. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;">Mercy was FINALLY admitted that day, given some injections,
drips, some new medicine, and sent home way too soon a couple of days
later. She is now regaining strength. I try not to think too much about the future,
or hold any resentment of the past.
Tonight, she is home with her children, and they are all well - and that
really is enough to praise God for.</span></div>
the Simpson familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17823181439550603017noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8805159655432295921.post-35850824596840908902013-05-22T14:44:00.000-05:002013-05-25T07:27:56.070-05:00on dancing, plucking chickens, and other things Ugandans do better than me... i've been giving this some thought recently. despite a myriad of cultural differences that i sometimes find confusing/ exasperating, there are many qualities about Ugandans that i admire and wish that i possessed. T and i came up with this list yesterday as we bumped over the pot holes on the swamp road to Bbira -<br />
<br />
<ul>
<li>dancing! this is a no-brainer, of course. but even if they don't have the best rhythm or coordination (which is rarely the case), they are still great dancers, because they are completely uninhibited and free. no matter how shy or how small, they are willing to put aside self-consciousness and jump into the middle of the circle. </li>
<li>along those same lines, they are better at laughing at themselves and finding humor in a rotten situation.</li>
<li>waiting. Ugandans are SO much better at waiting than us Westerners. waiting in a traffic jam, waiting for food, waiting for the taxi van, waiting - forever waiting! - for an event to start. and, in this waiting, they have the capacity to just <i>be</i> and not feel the need to be <i>doing </i>anything. </li>
<li>carrying things on their heads - an AMAZING talent! i've seen so many things balanced on the head... from a loaf of bread (just bc they can) to a 20lb. bundle of firewood (WITH a baby tied to the back!)</li>
<li>visiting neighbors. for no important reason. </li>
<li>sharing. food, money, time, kids - whatever. (ok, the attribute of sharing your kids, i can't say i admire. still trying to figure out my take on that one.)</li>
<li>making a little water go a very long way. it truly seems like an art form to me, how many dishes and clothes can be washed with one jerry can of water. (a jerry can is like a big, plastic jug that we would store gasoline in back home.)</li>
<li>another talent is their ability to consume a massive plate of food when given the chance, and then seemingly function physically at a normal level until given another chance to eat. most Ugandans eat only one high-carb meal a day. they MIGHT get a bowl of porridge in the morning and a cup of tea at night. as a hypoglycemic American that can't go three hours without snacking, this seems unfathomable to me. </li>
<li>praying with focus. i'm not saying their prayers are better than mine. but their prayers are more focused. they seem to come out from deep within, as if all that matters in the world is that God is listening to them. </li>
<li>learning multiple languages. my Ugandan friend may not have completed her high school education, but she can speak English, Luganda, Swahili, and a good bit of Luo (a tribal language from the north). </li>
<li>being photogenic. my goodness! - they are all breathtakingly photogenic.</li>
<li>singing acapella. in a small circle. in the dark. to just be there and listen is a soul-stirring privilege. </li>
</ul>
now, if you are thinking this list is inspired as result of me trying to make up for letting off some steam in my last post... well, then you are partly correct. but it mostly is inspired by some Scripture i have been meditating on the past few days. these are verses that the 31 yr. old me has a much harder time living out than the 11 yr. old me did. and as i walk down Nakirebe hill into the community around Suubi, i chew on these verses, asking God to make them real in my life. i think the characteristic of Ugandans that i am <i>most </i>envious of right now is that i see them ingest these words of Jesus much easier than i do.<br />
<b><br /></b>
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<b><i>Don't store up treasures here on earth, where moths eat them and rust destroys them </i></b></div>
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<b><i>and where thieves break in and steal. </i></b></div>
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<b><i>Store up your treasures in Heaven, where moth and rust can not destroy </i></b></div>
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<b><i>and where thieves do not break in and steal. </i></b></div>
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<b><i>Wherever your treasure is, there the desires of your heart will also be.</i></b></div>
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<b><i>This is why I tell you, don't worry about everyday life -</i></b></div>
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<b><i>whether you have enough food and drink, or enough clothes to wear.</i></b></div>
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<b><i> </i><i>Isn't life more than food, and your body more than clothing?</i></b></div>
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<b><i>Look at the birds of the air - they don't plant or harvest or store away in barns, </i></b></div>
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<b><i>because your heavenly Father feeds them. </i></b></div>
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<b><i>Aren't you more valuable to Him than they are? </i></b></div>
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<b><i>Can all your worries add a single moment to your life?</i></b></div>
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<b><i>And why do you worry about clothes? </i></b><br />
<b><i> Look at the lilies of the field and how they grow. </i></b></div>
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<b><i>They don't work or make their clothing. </i></b></div>
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<b><i>Yet, not even Solomon in all his splendor was dressed as beautiful as they are. </i></b></div>
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<b><i>If God cares so wonderfully for wildflowers that are here today and thrown into the fire tomorrow, He will certainly care for you. </i></b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><i> Why do you have so little faith?</i></b></div>
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<b><i>So don't worry about these things, saying,</i></b></div>
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<b><i> "What will we eat? What will we drink? What will we wear?" </i></b></div>
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<b><i>These things dominate the thoughts of unbelievers, </i></b></div>
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<b><i>but your heavenly Father already knows all your needs. </i></b></div>
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<b><i>Seek the Kingdom of God above all else, and live righteously, </i></b></div>
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<b><i>and He will give you everything you need. </i></b></div>
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<b><i>(Matthew 6: 19 - 21, 25 - 33) </i></b></div>
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i can clearly see that my African friends accept this mandate better than me, but i am wondering why... perhaps we (in the West) feel too entitled to the "food, drink, and clothes" bit. maybe when you have so few treasures on earth, you feel more delight in the idea of storing all your treasures in Heaven. what do you think? </div>
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the Simpson familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17823181439550603017noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8805159655432295921.post-3390986787679818042013-05-16T13:17:00.001-05:002013-06-04T14:21:20.131-05:00on being stoned to death with popcorn (and other things i don't like)When we first came to Uganda in Feb. 2011, a friend of ours, who was a very seasoned expat after living here almost 7 yrs, told us something we have never forgot -<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><b><br /></b></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><b><i>"Living in Africa is sometimes like being stoned to death with popcorn." </i></b></span><br />
<br />
We thought it was funny and clever then. Now, we know it is profound and very true. <br />
<br />
It isn't a matter of life and death emergencies that make us want to evacuate. It is a thousand little inconveniences, misunderstandings, delays that come from living in a third-world country. That never. seem. to. stop. Day after Day. Then, suddenly, I think I am going to snap if one more petty thing annoys me! <br />
<br />
It was a comforting thought our first year here. T and I would look at each other, sigh deeply, and say, "It's just a popcorn day." And we knew (or hoped!) that tomorrow would be better. I believed that after our one-year mark here, the popcorn would eventually seem inconsequential - maybe even humorous. <br />
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Well, we are well past that mark now, and, while we have definitely "chilled out" in many ways, there are still days that I vacillate between wanting to sit down amid the piles of popcorn and have a pity party or else stomp in the mess and throw a <i>bona fide</i> tantrum. <br />
<br />
There's been a lot of pummeling popcorn lately, and I've been keeping a pretty good mental record of it all:<br />
- no hot water in our shower head for 3 wks now. not that it was ever really "hot" to begin with, but still...<br />
- T's backpack stolen in town last wk. fortunately, he didn't have his laptop or passport in it, but still...<br />
- not being able to walk off the village into the community without being followed by children begging for "sweets"<br />
- not being able to sit in peace and quiet in my own home bc of children loitering in my doorway and screaming outside my windows<br />
- neighbors who borrow things and don't return them<br />
- friends who are constantly asking for money<br />
- a stomach bug that lingered longer than I would have liked<br />
- T graciously allowing a young man (who needs driving experience) to drive our van in town and (of course) he rear-ends a taxi van and we have to foot the bill<br />
- feeling every single one of the 8,000 miles between me and my family multiplied in my heart... as well as the six attempts it took to finally make a decent phone connection with my mom!<br />
<br />
I know I sound very much like Oscar the Grouch right now.<br />
<br />
Really, what is more exasperating than the popcorn <i>without </i>is the popcorn <b><i>within</i>.</b> <br />
<br />
I feel the heat and the pressure, and, without warning, something pops up inside of me. Something very ugly. Something I had no idea was there. Or at least, I could pretend it wasn't there. But, then, my selfishness and immaturity is on full display and I can't ignore it anymore. I thought a lot better about myself before we moved to Africa, and that's the truth. I find that it is much easier for me to worry than trust, to be indulgent than disciplined, to retreat behind a wall of excuses than keep my heart soft and vulnerable. Some days, I don't really like myself... and I esp. don't want to contemplate what my sweet husband must think about me at that moment!<br />
<br />
Early this week, I got a msg on fb from my Mimi. (yes, both of my grandmas are on facebook - they are so cool! :)) It was short, thanking me for a Mother's Day package and telling me that she is praying for me everyday. Lots of people tell me that they pray for us, and I am always grateful, but, you know, when your grandma tells you she is praying... well, it means something on a whole other level. She specifically said she was praying that I would "be able to sit in Heavenly places." My was heart immediately gripped with longing. <i>YES, oh, yes, please! to sit in a Heavenly place ... how long since I have done that? </i>I knew that is what I needed. I knew that I had been trying to equate what I wanted with what I needed.<br />
<br />
I WANT a long, hot shower - preferably with no gecko poo in sight.<br />
I WANT a long, uninterrupted conversation with my family - preferable face to face!<br />
I WANT a get-away to a pretty, exotic place - not a day away to stinky, crowded Kampala.<br />
I WANT an extra stash of $, so that we can be generous with those who need it... but not so generous that it actually hurts our bank account, of course.<br />
<br />
But these things I want are not going to lead me to a Heavenly place.<br />
<br />
I NEED to stop counting the kernels at my feet and shift my focus upward.<br />
I NEED His Word to be my life and my treasure.<br />
I NEED to notice the beauty in the ordinary and the blessings I take for granted.<br />
I NEED the sting, the pressure, the refining fire. I need the dross to rise and the whole ugly, humbling process of it.<br />
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I need to come to the end of myself and remember what I need is <b><i>Jesus</i></b>. All I need is Jesus. <br />
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><i>You have made known to me the path of life. </i></b><br />
<b><i>You will fill me with joy in Your presence. Ps. 16:11</i></b></div>
the Simpson familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17823181439550603017noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8805159655432295921.post-22271841037464850162013-05-05T16:50:00.000-05:002013-05-25T07:38:56.092-05:00coming cleani know. i was doing pretty good, and now it's been almost 2 months of silence. i've actually been trying to write a blog in my head for a couple of weeks now...<br />
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i thought about doing something lyrical about the African rain and posting some cool pics to go with it. but i'm no Ann Voskamp, and my lyrical attempts at writing are just funny. lyrical is not suppose to be funny.<br />
<br />
i thought about doing something informative about Ugandan culture - like how we shop for food beside the road or documenting how the Ugandans roast and eat the white ants that are crawling around everywhere right now.<br />
<br />
but, really, i've been waiting on something spectacular to happen - some inspiring ministry story or a dramatic challenge that we've recently faced. something that you would find worth your time to read, and, perhaps (here's the real truth...) be impressed by.<br />
<br />
well, life has been quite normal lately, and i have this need tonight to "un-impress" you. so, i should tell you that i had a little moment today. (and it really was little - nothing HUGE) i've had a few waves of homesickness lately; then the big wave came today. it isn't that i am homesick for a <i>place</i> but, rather, for <i>people. </i>i miss my family. i miss my church family. i miss not being the minority. (i could go on, but i won't) so, i gave the T the privilege of wearing a few of my tears on his sleeve, and i felt a bit better. then, i gave God the privilege of hearing my heart, and i felt a lot better. then, i cooked french toast for supper after which we watched a downloaded episode of Duck Dynasty, and i do think i'm going to be alright. :)<br />
<br />
i wish you could just come spend a week in my home and see for yourself that the highs and lows/ ebbs and flows are just like they've always been. i wish i would stop putting this pressure on myself to make you think anything different - that our life is more rich, exciting, _____ (fill in the blank) than it used to be. i do remember, when we first moved here, saying something like this: "it's is the most challenging thing we've ever done, but it is also the most fulfilling." well, half of that was a lie. challenging, oh my goodness - yes! but, MOST fulfilling - no. our 10 yrs of ministry in Jackson, TN were incredibly fulfilling... and still fulfilling to us. this is fulfilling to us as well, but in a very different way. but, then, i don't think we are suppose to rate and compare the different seasons of our life. it's not as if we are sitting at a banquet table being served a four-course meal, where one course is simply a prelude to something bigger, better. as long as we are living in obedience to God, then whatever is before us should be fully consumed and enjoyed. there's no need to save our appetite for what is coming next. (i'm giving myself a pep talk right now, if you can't tell!)<br />
<br />
but the main purpose of this post is for me <br />
to remove the filter of only sharing when i think i have something profound or uplifting to say. <br />
to stop waiting for the riveting days while ignoring the struggling days.<br />
<br />
and maybe i will post about the African rain soon. i'll just stick to the pics, bc i do have some rather cool ones. <br />
<br />
<br />the Simpson familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17823181439550603017noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8805159655432295921.post-4602342653006294002013-03-14T13:53:00.002-05:002014-03-17T08:46:08.951-05:00the brave ones<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>The time came when the risk it took to remain tight in a bud </i></div>
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<i>was more painful </i></div>
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<i>than the risk it took to blossom</i>. </div>
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~ Anais Nin</div>
<br />
I sat across the table from her and wondered what she thought about me. With my most encouraging and sincere smile, I asked the same question again, "Can you tell me something about your family?" She tucked in her chin. I could see little pieces of grass in her braids on top of her head. Her baby boy who was nursing at her breast pulled back and looked at me curiously. I thought he looked just like his mama. "<i>Tema, tema</i>..." ("try, try") the Ugandan teacher sitting next to me gently prodded her. The mama finally lifted her head and gave a shy smile. She said something soft in Acholi, and my friend translated, "She said she doesn't understand any English." <br />
"It's ok," I said. "Let's try a picture." I showed her a picture of a Ugandan family in front of a sugar cane field. "Can you tell me what you see?"<br />
She looked at the picture. The baby's chubby fingers reached out and grabbed it off the table. She scolded him in Acholi and put it back, glancing up at me with an apologetic smile.<br />
I wondered again what she thought about me. Me, a well-dressed white woman with my blue lap top, cell phone, and a stack of test papers between us. But there was more between us. <i>Does she know that I've never worked all day just so I could buy some food to eat that night? Does she know I've never prayed to God that my child wouldn't die or taken medicine to keep my terminal illness at bay?</i> I studied her and guessed we must be about the same age. But it is hard to tell... her dark eyes are deep and wise with the lifetimes they have seen. It seemed I had waited too long for a response - her hand reached up to cover her eyes, and I could see that it was trembling. <br />
"It's ok. It's ok!" I said. She was nervous and embarrassed, and I thought maybe she was about to cry. Then I felt a sting at the back of my own eyes, because I hated to be the one to make her feel so vulnerable. I blinked quick and told myself I was just feeling emotional from getting up before 5am to make the 6 hr. trip up to Gulu. The afternoon heat and the continual English assessments were having their toll on me as well. <br />
Suddenly, she put down her hand, and her eyes were clear. She gave me that lovely smile again, pointed to the mama in the picture with a baby on her hip, and in English she said, "mother."<br />
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"Yes! Yes - well done!" I reached out to touch her arm. Her whole face lit up with her accomplishment. I felt a surge of energy, not because I finally got an English word out of her, but because, for a moment, there wasn't so much between us after all. Me and her and the mama in the sugar cane field... we are more alike than different. She was still smiling when she walked back to the classroom, and I was still sitting in profound admiration of what courage she possessed when the next lady came and sat down across from me. <br />
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All afternoon I assessed them. Some of them were old women with teeth missing and a scarf around their head. Some had their babies tied to their backs. A few seemed so thin and frail, and I knew that HIV had been harsh to their bodies. Only two of them could I really have an easy conversation with in English. Many of them had never been to school a day in their life - or else they had only gone to school 2 or 3 yrs. Either their parents had had no money to pay school fees (if they did have parents growing up), or had given preference to the boys in the family to go school. Then, many of them had been abducted into Joseph Kony's LRA army.<br />
But now Watoto's Living Hope is giving them a new chance to start over. It is an amazing outreach ministry to women who are either HIV positive or have been abducted by the LRA. For one year, they will come to the Living Hope Center either in Gulu or in Kampala, and they will learn a marketable skill with their hands, receive counseling, learn some English, and, mostly, importantly, learn how much Jesus loves them. <br />
I was asked just a few weeks ago to help out with the literacy aspect of Living Hope by writing assessments, curriculum, and teaching classes at the Kampala center. My degree is ESL, so, of course, I am thrilled to use it with this special ministry. But, I've also been ... oh, what's the word??... doubtful, overwhelmed, nervous... there are about 500 women in the program now, and I've only a few weeks to get all the curriculum written, and all my ESL books/ lesson plans are in a box somewhere in storage in the US. And I do love teaching, but what do I really know about writing a year's worth of curriculum and tests for three different learning levels?<br />
On Monday this week, I walked into the LH center in Gulu with a little knot in my stomach while giving myself something of a pep-talk. Monday was the ladies' first day of classes, so I bet they had little knots in their stomachs as well. At the end of the day, we asked the women what they had learned that day. One stood up and said she learned to write an "E." The room erupted in claps and <i>kalulu</i> (a shrill, rolling shout of jubilation). Another stood up and said she could now count to 5 in English -same excited response from everyone. On and on, then finally a pretty, young girl in the back of the room spontaneously started singing in Acholi, while everyone else repeated what she sang. What an amazing, powerful voice she had! My Ugandan friend translated some of the song for me, then she nodded toward the pretty girl and said, "That one was abducted to be a child-wife for a solider." Some of the women were crying; all had their hands raised. They were giving God deep gratitude for a new beginning, a second chance. I thought about how brave they are. Such beautiful, brave women- to have never been treated with dignity, yet still have the boldness to believe that they deserve it; to think that they can have more value in their communities than digging, fetching water, and nursing their babies; to be 60 and willing to learn again, to make her last years her best years. So brave to "<i>tema, tema</i>." Try, try. How silly I've been to focus on my own insecurity! If these ladies are willing to come with trembling hands and brave hearts to learn, then I can stretch myself and give them my best. <br />
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by the way, here's a brief video about Living Hope, if you want to watch it. </div>
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<br />the Simpson familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17823181439550603017noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8805159655432295921.post-13557840747955537372013-03-04T13:14:00.001-06:002013-05-26T00:10:44.318-05:00this beautiful mess<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;">You know, some days it’s either laugh or cry… and some days, neither seems appropriate. Today
is one of those. I spent my Sunday
morning helping out with the 2 and 3 yr. old kid’s church class. (I don’t think I will elaborate.) I then came home to start lunch. We have no water today. This is a rather frequent occurrence. So, I scratched my previously planned menu (bc
peeling dirty potatoes and trimming raw chicken is even less appealing without
running water) and went with pasta and beans.
While I was cooking, amidst dirty dishes and leftover cornflakes from
breakfast, my Ugandan friend came by with her sick little girl. I could smell the vomit as soon as
she walked in the door. She told me that
her daughter has vomited non-stop for the last 48 hrs, and it was obvious to me
the girl was quite dehydrated. I got her
some water to drink, but two minutes later, it was back up all over my
sofa. Before I could clean that up, she
had thrown up again, and, at this point, I am going to get her some transport
money so she can get to the hospital.
BUT, it is Sunday, the mom explains, so the doctors will not treat the
patients today. (I make a note to never
complain about the emergency room in the US again!) So, as the little girl vomits again a THIRD
time, I am wondering what in the world she is hoping I will do for her –
besides pray and clean up the messes? I
have NO medical expertise. And did I
mention that we have no running water??
My dear T came in then and helped to make some phones calls and found
out a private hospital that should see her – if she flashes some $ at the right
ppl. So, he is off in the van with her
(after the girl vomited even a 4<sup>th</sup> time). I scrubbed my hands, finished lunch, scrubbed
everyone’s hands some more, fed the kids, and then bleached down my living room
as well as possible. There is still no
water, and my kitchen is still full of dirty dishes. And I’m not sure why I am retelling all this,
except to make a point to you and to me …</span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;">Some days, life is beautiful. </span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;">Most days, life is a mess. </span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;">On a rare day, I will have the wisdom to reconcile the
two. </span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;">I love the famous quote by Jim Elliot – <i>Wherever you are, be all there</i>.
I love it, but I usually fail at it.
Used to, I could think of nothing more grand and exciting than to live
in a foreign country – a warm, lush country full of beautiful people and exotic
animals and enigmatic culture. In God’s
providential plan, He saw fit to give me my wish, for a season at least. Now, it has been two yrs since we first came
to this lush land (can you believe it?!).
The people are still beautiful, but, otherwise, life is normal. Yes, having no water and having my floor peed
and puked on is rather normal. The
little vervet monkeys that scamper across the road while I jog are not so
exotic anymore. The white, frothy
mosquito net draped over my bed is really not romantic… no more so than the
pale gecko that drinks out of my toilet bowl every night. Life in Uganda is usually messy – not just in
literal ways. Our role here is still
very undefined and ever-changing. Things
take so much longer to accomplish, as Africans are on much friendlier terms
with time than we Americans are. People
we’ve invested in have disappointed us, and some relationships feel like they
are two steps forward and one step back.
(ok, some even feel like 2-forward/ 2-back, and I’m not sure if we’re
going anywhere!) </span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;"> I admit - I’ve been
tempted by such frivolous thoughts as, “It’s too hard. It would be so much easier if we were back in
the US again. We could have a real home
and some privacy and a legitimate title/position and secure salary. .. T could
have an office to work in, and people would understand us better…” But this is immature thinking. I know.
Life is messy EVERYWHERE, ministry even more so. I will always be misunderstood and taken
advantage of – wasn’t Jesus? I will
always have to overcome the boredom of the familiar, the tediousness of the mundane. I will always have dried cornflakes to scrape
off my cereal bowls.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;">So, I know that at
the end of the day, a title doesn’t matter.
What I accomplished that day doesn’t matter. Being recognized doesn’t matter. All that matters is that I am HIS – and that,
in being HIS, I am completely content. Moving
to Africa 2 yrs. ago confronted me with my sin of discontentment with what I
HAVE or don’t have. Now, I am being
confronted with my sin of discontentment with what I DO or don’t do. Humbling.
If I can center my world and my will, I can see the beauty in the
mess. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;"> Like the beautiful interruption in
our day when he stops by to just talk – he who was a former child solider, now soaking up his new-found purpose and calling. </span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJ1kBOu03IKsDw9Fhzl42V_oFv6-eykhOP6_ZIZKgXCPwhF8z71p-G9KQVGHJSpfsTgqMiAjHiIdmvHAoSYvgnSMaJ6OZoH0CenceTKvaLX_N4qruLRUlJZFu7rFzoPmUpjRSZSE6PIwc/s1600/11306_10200653879772337_820572539_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="252" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJ1kBOu03IKsDw9Fhzl42V_oFv6-eykhOP6_ZIZKgXCPwhF8z71p-G9KQVGHJSpfsTgqMiAjHiIdmvHAoSYvgnSMaJ6OZoH0CenceTKvaLX_N4qruLRUlJZFu7rFzoPmUpjRSZSE6PIwc/s400/11306_10200653879772337_820572539_n.jpg" width="400" /></a></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;"> The beautiful, giggling mess in my kitchen, making memories that every
little girl should have. </span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8Jf8WLiz5jnnmvpV4T6e6LWsA5wpL4ye1kQ4WU-BfAVaXfAIlwasoRsaNvs5ZRYQG4xv8bWohkPQOBJfcolO_chwBuEiG6U2yfUMP5rQbUM42cH0ZC1VHjh-G5I4NwIaS6mAff9Cc8kE/s1600/549337_10200653878572307_1837247669_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8Jf8WLiz5jnnmvpV4T6e6LWsA5wpL4ye1kQ4WU-BfAVaXfAIlwasoRsaNvs5ZRYQG4xv8bWohkPQOBJfcolO_chwBuEiG6U2yfUMP5rQbUM42cH0ZC1VHjh-G5I4NwIaS6mAff9Cc8kE/s320/549337_10200653878572307_1837247669_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsUSjaoU6Q4LSOWTZ9W6d5Q4TD073X6oBJFe_Iq6q4tdmjwBZc0K2sSacJNwAH9VkJtIs8JB8lWbUWpbpMVSY52-D8pHkHbhX4iZkkV3rD3kYFK75O7n_lcm5JY_vg3S6w4IUrUrDRJPE/s1600/62391_10200653878412303_634774170_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsUSjaoU6Q4LSOWTZ9W6d5Q4TD073X6oBJFe_Iq6q4tdmjwBZc0K2sSacJNwAH9VkJtIs8JB8lWbUWpbpMVSY52-D8pHkHbhX4iZkkV3rD3kYFK75O7n_lcm5JY_vg3S6w4IUrUrDRJPE/s320/62391_10200653878412303_634774170_n.jpg" width="319" /></a></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;"> That beautiful
moment – after he joined me and T and our boys on a jog around the village,
and, reaching the end, T clapped his shoulder and said, “Well done, son.” He ducked his head, but I saw that quiet
smile that went deep – an orphan boy who knows a man is proud of him. </span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;">I really can’t tell you how many times we say it to each
other. It has become a sort of catch
–phrase between me and T since moving here.
We look at each other and say, “It’s such a beautiful mess.” Watoto has custody of over 2,500 orphaned
children now. Feeding, clothing,
educating, counseling, discipling ALL of them… when you see it from the inside,
like we do, it can look like a mess. But
it is such a beautiful, glorious thing that it is even happening! Sure it can be chaotic, but God’s
fingerprints are all over it. </span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvMBY1Jd5mLM3d8gZ0oS3kYfgsmgm5w_OIwbIHcbbOHuRVlOlFoPaLT3eayT_FD4btdFoJvlrP3jaLt30Cghp9kL8qzbJUbdLAKu4uJ4F4WloyWpQWXpDg51BXF_Vh-qjury_4TTP0iWM/s1600/417620_10200653881212373_306482205_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvMBY1Jd5mLM3d8gZ0oS3kYfgsmgm5w_OIwbIHcbbOHuRVlOlFoPaLT3eayT_FD4btdFoJvlrP3jaLt30Cghp9kL8qzbJUbdLAKu4uJ4F4WloyWpQWXpDg51BXF_Vh-qjury_4TTP0iWM/s640/417620_10200653881212373_306482205_n.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;">I am learning that the packaging doesn’t determine the
potential. I could compare it to
Reynah’s crayons – I don’t know why, but I REALLY love new crayons. Using a new crayon is like being the first to
dip a knife into a new tub of butter. (ok, well,
for me, both bring great pleasure!) But
Reynah has no affection for new crayons.
She, in fact, likes to break them in two, and she especially loves
stripping them of their paper coating.
What a mess! And I want so bad to
just throw the whole bunch away – but new crayons aren’t so easy to come by
here. So, I look at these old crayons
and think, “What does it matter?” Can’t
these dreadful-looking things draw just as lovely of a picture? Of course, they can. The essence of color is there just the same. And I look at beautiful Africa surrounding me
– broken and stripped of dignity – yet still vivid, full of life, blessed with
potential. </span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;">I know your mess looks different than mine. Maybe yours is dirty diapers and sippy cups. Maybe it is sleep deprivation and assignments past due, or a lonely heart and estranged family. Anyway, we all have a mess somehow, whether visible or not. I ask you to join me...</span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;">Let's find the beauty. See
the potential. And be content in
Him. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;">P.S. I wrote this blog yesterday, but didn't get a chance to post it. So, a quick update... the doctor said the little girl had taken poison (they think probably rat poison). So, it is a very good thing she got to the hospital yesterday! I talked to the mom this evening, and she said she is improving. Also, our water came back on finally this evening (it's Mon. pm), and promptly busted our neighbor's pipe, so that water was gushing out of the bathroom and flooding the whole apartment! After 30 min. of trying to find a solution (and T getting soaked!), one of the neighbors thought to hammer a stick wrapped in plastic into the pipe. It is working for now. We all spent another 30 min. mopping up the floor, and appreciating the fact that there is a mess we can all have a good laugh over. :) </span> </div>
the Simpson familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17823181439550603017noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8805159655432295921.post-10679408042372405382013-02-03T13:38:00.001-06:002013-05-25T07:40:16.872-05:00a week of picsHappy Sunday, everyone!<br />
<br />
as our American friends are getting ready to watch the Superbowl, we are having a quiet evening at home. the boys are watching Narnia - Voyage of the Dawn Treader, and we girls are playing "kitchen" with Rey's new b-day gift of toy food. right now, she is serving me chocolate pie and eggs. <br />
<br />
i'm trying to keep my commitment of blogging more often... this time, i thought i would spare you words and just post some pics from this past week. <br />
<br />
last Saturday, the teens hosted a concert called Oil of Gladness at Watoto Central. we were esp. proud of some of our Suubi kids who danced - they did great! i thought our Jackson friends would appreciate this pic., as they are wearing the Madison High basketball jerseys that were donated last summer by our Jackson FCA team. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEib_AEsA9HRV3MOS-3IvXmH0JugDKcxdWrWP-57CqsgNDIXeuNBH5echxoY7dNIdLzinq_VLTzFLL0MEPZa_ydOkkr2-gCKLPBvpAIOBNTGugNAGp0Y2EjIipilmgQyiMelNGorTD94KAY/s1600/529348_10200443120023475_1008025903_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEib_AEsA9HRV3MOS-3IvXmH0JugDKcxdWrWP-57CqsgNDIXeuNBH5echxoY7dNIdLzinq_VLTzFLL0MEPZa_ydOkkr2-gCKLPBvpAIOBNTGugNAGp0Y2EjIipilmgQyiMelNGorTD94KAY/s640/529348_10200443120023475_1008025903_n.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
on Monday, T and i had a date day!!!!!!!! i was very excited about that!!!!!! (can you tell?) we drove 15 min. down the road to Mpanga Forest and tromped, and chased butterflies, and swung on a vine, and had a picnic. it was lovely - for 4 hrs. we didn't see or hear another soul. this is a rare treat, living on a village with 1500 other ppl where personal space is hard to find. </div>
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the only negative thing about the forest (besides the snakes, which we didn't see any of!) is the safari ants. they move in a thick, mad frenzy across the path, crawling over top of each other, while the big ones with pinchers guard the route. you have to step past them quick - it is amazing how fast they latch onto your foot! <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXMDeggDRJWYCr-EC2sWtP4_mJ1gkUUFwAPA4p9xI7XqMxR_VA4Js1bP4VU_W4NZ2sxQewH49ah7Kei_RUWJci5oKbHUXWEo_5L2RKkl7pAygMufcucTIl1_lswYTw5iDrKdwbN_iizis/s1600/734602_10200443111743268_1368288291_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXMDeggDRJWYCr-EC2sWtP4_mJ1gkUUFwAPA4p9xI7XqMxR_VA4Js1bP4VU_W4NZ2sxQewH49ah7Kei_RUWJci5oKbHUXWEo_5L2RKkl7pAygMufcucTIl1_lswYTw5iDrKdwbN_iizis/s640/734602_10200443111743268_1368288291_n.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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ok, i do feel dumb posting a pic of our lunch, but i think it was the best meal i ate all week! my MawMaw sent us canned salmon in the mail, and i had been saving it for a special occasion. so, it was salmon patties and passion fruit/ carrot juice. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxW14px-3aK00yohPdBF7ctH3xrnU-NaaFW0c-3gOc2joRxllPX__JOYkpH-bnEF7lbeLxRB2oDk8Gh9f6FpgCKAYvRqflXDLQSN0yhochgSByXAO1LeyPjJ3AW5QRRHgECvujSzQT8tU/s1600/544498_10200443118183429_958436998_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxW14px-3aK00yohPdBF7ctH3xrnU-NaaFW0c-3gOc2joRxllPX__JOYkpH-bnEF7lbeLxRB2oDk8Gh9f6FpgCKAYvRqflXDLQSN0yhochgSByXAO1LeyPjJ3AW5QRRHgECvujSzQT8tU/s640/544498_10200443118183429_958436998_n.jpg" width="499" /> </a></div>
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and this is who visited us while we stopped to eat</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkjstTc24AJlXmr8WqpmEPP9YjPuNTQdscjU74ES2UExTteTPjWJPQniba_K2HuvAJ5zJek0CWKChJGxnMMnnocesMDSJHSPcZvnKginL7lALWSrKIOeEqDEvuBXNbmmZKjKC6WEFae1U/s1600/217557_10200443101823020_1945434864_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkjstTc24AJlXmr8WqpmEPP9YjPuNTQdscjU74ES2UExTteTPjWJPQniba_K2HuvAJ5zJek0CWKChJGxnMMnnocesMDSJHSPcZvnKginL7lALWSrKIOeEqDEvuBXNbmmZKjKC6WEFae1U/s640/217557_10200443101823020_1945434864_n.jpg" width="478" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh036hP-iJd6R4Yt6BDQHzAexlLz5CCgW7hCAiWpT_u3sdCAy_H1IK2wGeTVRRz45RQgjn0fIqY5pHYbakdJc-BDXkYTQHGrpUCKuqX-eMTxaeAN5C_7oBGtNDL5bq6MCk9PDc3XBmi55I/s1600/524762_10200443107543163_860475524_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh036hP-iJd6R4Yt6BDQHzAexlLz5CCgW7hCAiWpT_u3sdCAy_H1IK2wGeTVRRz45RQgjn0fIqY5pHYbakdJc-BDXkYTQHGrpUCKuqX-eMTxaeAN5C_7oBGtNDL5bq6MCk9PDc3XBmi55I/s400/524762_10200443107543163_860475524_n.jpg" width="311" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQYvAfJCoBkxoDnmVJ9eYd3pN6rhI-OdCPKsBvMxODKib_wVr81sxofELnS8Sb6RIpuEvdJCbzSjTjR_tThbRZGpukBa7RtEcjDU57ghEvNGgKUluyGr9ueSAmnKbqWMYahCAM6VSOoYE/s1600/601019_10200443144064076_2034058981_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="298" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQYvAfJCoBkxoDnmVJ9eYd3pN6rhI-OdCPKsBvMxODKib_wVr81sxofELnS8Sb6RIpuEvdJCbzSjTjR_tThbRZGpukBa7RtEcjDU57ghEvNGgKUluyGr9ueSAmnKbqWMYahCAM6VSOoYE/s400/601019_10200443144064076_2034058981_n.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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our other highlight of the week was Reynah's 3rd birthday! </div>
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it was a
sweet and girlie as could be... and her brothers tolerated it well.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOAGXO5xOeD_yFgDsyHviq3VJNQGrqD7VLsD09qNHPtOe1UfVtCZZDZVQHIwt-pfOa-aglzZ54RLpkmwbqlR0JaTIexy9KvXcXhYRr660hBDqq_70s5NM2-e4T2kHA2PphbJoAvYv2MFw/s1600/18512_10200430703553071_350117989_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOAGXO5xOeD_yFgDsyHviq3VJNQGrqD7VLsD09qNHPtOe1UfVtCZZDZVQHIwt-pfOa-aglzZ54RLpkmwbqlR0JaTIexy9KvXcXhYRr660hBDqq_70s5NM2-e4T2kHA2PphbJoAvYv2MFw/s640/18512_10200430703553071_350117989_n.jpg" width="480" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhO4Y9_qw9Hxv_DaEdT9BbqCcpJKoVgVUQjaeD5EpGybnmuf1EwMaIHWyUrU_vBDoa0CNwFlQB5QMS4A0JhL48DQpIIqvrvQpwf_4LtSVhkRff8yxchdJWdGEWynfozI2YzQueiQVZ-3-A/s1600/480006_10200430703953081_1259898295_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="520" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhO4Y9_qw9Hxv_DaEdT9BbqCcpJKoVgVUQjaeD5EpGybnmuf1EwMaIHWyUrU_vBDoa0CNwFlQB5QMS4A0JhL48DQpIIqvrvQpwf_4LtSVhkRff8yxchdJWdGEWynfozI2YzQueiQVZ-3-A/s640/480006_10200430703953081_1259898295_n.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUY8foE9CsxK7Sec6cogOfMpEsgjUV_k5vVIVTrURVMQ6R9550cNQcsHmUBxuHhZyDvicur1sCkFs18bcIXveOZMdqixxbdoNWmQ7-1egXM-2gtX3seMK4NJ0y8yE9JqWdpXw5tEwdEV8/s1600/539987_10200430710273239_1421179219_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUY8foE9CsxK7Sec6cogOfMpEsgjUV_k5vVIVTrURVMQ6R9550cNQcsHmUBxuHhZyDvicur1sCkFs18bcIXveOZMdqixxbdoNWmQ7-1egXM-2gtX3seMK4NJ0y8yE9JqWdpXw5tEwdEV8/s640/539987_10200430710273239_1421179219_n.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtUVpmDCxkefideNHVnnkOAIUYAugYWVBhlMO1jYvNntg4-7izwdiu46nk5m2wGdsvwaK55mTZuHBoCANunQidny1cJzIB2Bz3ycJmD7tZY5FCCjq6u9xhbl6gcgxGSuwetYtkYhvPoVE/s1600/556430_10200430715953381_1389326515_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtUVpmDCxkefideNHVnnkOAIUYAugYWVBhlMO1jYvNntg4-7izwdiu46nk5m2wGdsvwaK55mTZuHBoCANunQidny1cJzIB2Bz3ycJmD7tZY5FCCjq6u9xhbl6gcgxGSuwetYtkYhvPoVE/s640/556430_10200430715953381_1389326515_n.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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and two more random pics that very well illustrate the gripes and joys of living in Uganda...</div>
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T thought we should end our date day by buying ice cream at the supermarket in town (something we've never done before). can you guess how much this cost?</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWQS9T40pINeDfuyAktDyMhI_r0CAUOvPpiIaM1_r42SWsRxA1MCaq4tfjgq9rCDEL6g8dbmvrqIUpKaVxG-Kg10Gwi4IFtT8N6bKxUuW0sUwZwswcczcQR6Gk_LpYk1DnJxD_czHySQY/s1600/309925_10200443133863821_1756276431_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWQS9T40pINeDfuyAktDyMhI_r0CAUOvPpiIaM1_r42SWsRxA1MCaq4tfjgq9rCDEL6g8dbmvrqIUpKaVxG-Kg10Gwi4IFtT8N6bKxUuW0sUwZwswcczcQR6Gk_LpYk1DnJxD_czHySQY/s640/309925_10200443133863821_1756276431_n.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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$20 for one pint of Snickers ice cream!! </div>
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of course, we didn't buy it. </div>
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we settled for cheap stuff from Nairobi that tasted more like flavored ice and had little to do with "cream."</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiorDxzCyfobJuEAPgCmF8E5SMfrcsaufgK3x0psJ3mR1FiE2BnnrKRO5TTmmHhztcaJ5oH2FehNyBCbL_f7LKYg8nNXCG0h6BQnhDa1SM8t70WE6MTFIhBlMQXHMdGQQ-eba-0mGxquRU/s1600/66106_10200443137823920_1294445200_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiorDxzCyfobJuEAPgCmF8E5SMfrcsaufgK3x0psJ3mR1FiE2BnnrKRO5TTmmHhztcaJ5oH2FehNyBCbL_f7LKYg8nNXCG0h6BQnhDa1SM8t70WE6MTFIhBlMQXHMdGQQ-eba-0mGxquRU/s640/66106_10200443137823920_1294445200_n.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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BUT, later this week, we did have to appreciate the fact that we could buy 2lb. of ripe garden tomatoes beside the road for $1. and we couldn't help but feel sorry for the shoppers at Kroger right now, buying their over-priced, unripe Feb. stock. </div>
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so, we thank God for the simple joys... </div>
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and try to find contentment at least popping the lid and sniffing the Snickers. :)</div>
the Simpson familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17823181439550603017noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8805159655432295921.post-13113196096841774232013-01-10T12:59:00.002-06:002013-05-25T07:39:54.173-05:00<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">I know I will feel so much better after
I write this and post it.</span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Lately, I’ve been avoiding my blog like
the plague, it’s true. And it’s time that I stop.</span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"> Forgive
me… I know that’s not a warm or cordial way to greet you in the
New Year. I don’t mean that I’ve been avoiding YOU, dear
friends, it’s just my blog, see. It’s been giving me that same
emotion I feel when I contemplate going for a run - when I haven’t
been running in weeks. Or when I think about calling up a friend that
I should have already been in touch with. Blogging isn’t so fun
for me when I’ve missed communicating on a TON of stuff … yet, at
the moment, I can think of nothing particularly profound, clever,
funny, or insightful to say. </span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">So, let’s just acknowledge that the
last 6 months have been completely uninformative. And let
me just assume that you really don’t want to hear a recount of all
of my opinions, feelings, and experiences from the aforementioned
period. And let’s be optimistic that after I write this post, I
will feel much more motivated to keep it up in 2013. (note: this is
NOT a New Year’s resolution. I’m not that serious.) ok, I'm feeling better already.</span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Well, I won’t bore you with a
recount of everything, but I really should somehow pick up where my
last blog left off. I’ll just give a few quick highlights…</span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Our time in the U.S. was not nearly as
distressing as I had feared it would be. Yes, it was stressful, and
busy, and hectic – but it was also fun, and refreshing, and, well…
just blessed. We felt so blessed the whole time we were there. God
blessed our time with family and friends; we were able to truly savor
and enjoy it. God blessed us financially, so we were able to raise
the support we needed in that amount of time. God blessed our travels
– 9 states and countless miles. God was just so good to us. </span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"> I did have some times where I
vacillated between feeling so incredibly proud to be American! –
and then feeling so repulsed by our shallow culture of convenience
and materialism. Well, really, I guess I felt more frustration at
myself. As much as I didn’t want to, I DID like the convenience
and the stuff. I loved walking around Target and daydreaming about
having a house again someday. I indulged in every yummy thing I
wanted to eat (and gained 6lbs in the process!). I stayed in the hot
shower every day until I was a soggy, pink prune. I took full
advantage of having unlimited Wi-Fi and stayed up too late too many
nights watching stupid You Tube videos. And I kept thinking the
whole time – <i>it’s a good thing I am here for only 2 months. </i>I
never wished I could stay. I thanked God many times that we were
coming back to Africa. My heart ached enough to burst over leaving
our family again, but I didn’t shed a tear over leaving America.
Not that I don’t want to/plan to live in the U.S. again someday.
But that time isn’t now. It was an inexpressibly good feeling to
come back to Uganda – <i>knowing </i>what we were coming back to –
and still choosing to and wanting to be here. I guess it is a
feeling understood by anyone who has chosen the illogical,
confounding will of God. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">So, we jumped back into Ugandan life.
The first few weeks were busy and full – Watoto Graduation, a camp
for vocational students, Christmas cantatas, and HOSTING. My
goodness did we host! We are among the few on the village that has
a Christmas tree and the money to buy meat and sweets for parties.
So, we shared our tree and meat and spread the Christmas joy. I
counted up exactly 75 people that ate in our home in the month of
December. T and I have become quite a dynamic duo in the kitchen (as long as we stick to a certain menu). </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"> </span><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">We celebrated our own family Christmas
on Christmas Eve, so we could have more guests over on Christmas Day.
It is funny what things are exciting when you live in a third-world
country. We splurged and bought the boys their own variety packs of
Kelloggs cereal from the supermarket near the U.S. embassy. Cocoa
Puffs, Frosted Flakes, Rice Krispies… they were over the moon!
They also got some new boot-legged DVDs of kids movies. That’s the
only way to buy them here, you know. My gift from T was an electric bug
zapper. It looks like a small tennis racquet that charges in the
wall. What a blast! The mosquitoes have been particularly horrendous
this rainy season. I woke up at 3am one night before Christmas to
find 17 IN OUR NET WITH US! (granted, we had forgot to tuck it in that
pm, so it was our own fault) now, every pm, I sleep with my zapper and a flashlight beside
me, so if any annoying buzz comes near my ear, it’s K-O! I've had found that pop/hiss noise to be sweetly vengeful. </span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">The two weeks following Christmas were slow and uneventful. T has been busy studying/writing devotional curriculum. I've been cramming in school with the boys - to make up for the fact they did NO school in the U.S. T taught them both to play chess and convinced them to start running with him. Every day this past week, they have done the 2k lap around the village, and their time improves each day. I know this is immensely fulfilling for T to have them as running partners!</span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"> I attended my first kwangula, which is a traditional Ugandan wedding. It is where the bride and grooms families are officially introduced, and the man presents the agreed upon bridal price (dowry) for the woman. This particular ceremony lasted 8 hrs. (yes, i sat in the same chair for 6 HOURS straight!). The bride wore no less than 4 dazzling dresses. And the presentation of "gifts" for the dowry included a basket of 4 live chickens, 200 kilos of rice, 10 crates of glass bottles filled with soda, a dining room set of furniture, a padded rocking chair, a leg of a cow (freshly chopped off and wrapped up in banana leaves), and too many fruit baskets to count. I think there was also an envelop passed over to the father containing $. I've gone around and around in conversations with my Ugandan friends, trying to understand how bride price is still relevant to this generation of young Ugandans. As a Western woman I find it degrading and offensive that the bride is bought like property. Most of my girlfriends defend it, however, as comforting and flattering that they should be paid so highly for. But that another topic for another post. </span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">I guess the only other excitement was getting my tooth chipped on New Year's Eve. My front tooth! Eating a piece of chocolate cake. But I have to explain... this was the same tooth that T chipped 11 yrs. ago when we were newlyweds. We were having a water fight, like so many giddy newlyweds do... well, but that's another story for another day. Suffice it to say, the cap had served me well all these years, and it seemed that a new tooth for a new year was in order. The office of the Ugandan dentist made me feel like I was in a 1990 time warp, and it took 2 tries to satisfy me. I was mollified at the first tooth he gave me - rectangle and yellowish. My teeth are square. And, while they aren't brilliant white, they certainly aren't yellow. But I didn't cry; I just calmly protested. And he patiently went to work again. I liked my old tooth better, but I can live with this one for now. Uganda does seem to have a way of chipping away at my vanity. Ha! Get it? </span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Anyway, our schedule seems to be back to normal with meetings, teaching sessions, events to help plan. T just commented on how long this blog post must be... which it is! And I think he may be ready to have his turn with the computer. So, although I would love to illustrate this post with lots of pictures, that also will wait for another day. Goodnight! </span></span> </span></span></span></span></span></div>
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the Simpson familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17823181439550603017noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8805159655432295921.post-61760804176272238962012-09-17T23:59:00.000-05:002014-07-20T05:21:13.366-05:00ready to fly<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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I should first apologize for my sporadic and LONG delays in writing...i
guess it seems that my blog is mostly self-serving.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I write when I have something big and
exciting I want everyone to hear about.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Or (usually) I am compelled to write when I am trying to understand my
own feelings and opinions about something.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I am not so disciplined with simply updating about “life” for the sake
of those of you who love us back home.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
need to do better at that.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
So, here is a big news bulletin – Me and the kids are flying
out tonight and are coming home for a visit!!!!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>We land in NC Wed. pm to spend a few days with T’s family, then head to
PA to see my sister and her husband, then down to TN to be with my littlest
sis, parents, and grandparents.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>T will
join us Oct. 10, and we will start ambitiously burning up the road for the next
6 wks. in order to connect with all the individuals and churches that sponsor
us – starting off with our home church, Northside Assembly, on Oct. 14!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>How’s that for information overload?? </div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
And now the part where I sort out myself - <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s 6am here, cool and still very dark.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I had no intention of being up this early,
but it is my only chance to have solitude… for quite a while!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Suitcases are scattered everywhere, and my
stomach is gnawing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s gnawing because
I’m awake earlier than usual, because I am giddy with excitement, and because of
the little, stubborn knot of anxiety stuck in my gut.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It reminds me of that morning over a year ago
when we were ready to leave Jackson, TN and board a plane in Nashville.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It felt like we were stepping into the
unknown with a million questions unanswered.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Amazingly, in a year’s time, it seems those questions have mostly been answered!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We have made a little home in this apartment,
found a community here at Suubi, and settled into fulfilling roles of ministry.
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Uganda is comfortable to us now.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
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Now, I’m going home- beyond ready to see our families and
church family! – yet, again, I feel like I’m stepping into something
unknown.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Not as dramatically as
before!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Not like stepping off a cliff or
anything.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s just a little jump,
really, but I’m still not sure how it will feel to land.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>All these swirling thoughts and questions…</div>
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<br /></div>
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<i>-What about when someone wants to have a conversation with me
about the presidential elections and American politics? – I am so out-of-touch!</i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>-How will it feel to go to Wal-Mart again? <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I already feel a headache coming on.</i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>-I think I will avoid the pet section of any store.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I can’t look at how much Americans spend on
their pets, while always, in my mind, I am wondering if Mercy and her kids had
enough food that day.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>-How am I going to balance this “itineration” schedule with
spending time with the people I most love?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>And how can I possibly see ALL the people I love??<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I know someone will be offended and
left-out.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>(yes, this is me being a
girl.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I don’t think T is losing any
sleep over this one.)</i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>- I am going to home without any keys – no house key, no car
key.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I know people who love us will take
VERY good care of us.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Still feels weird
to not have keys.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>-I am praying for a long Indian Summer in the South this
year, since all I have packed is summer clothes and sandals.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Again, I know people will loan us
things.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Still feels weird to go home with
so little.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></i></div>
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<i>-It took us months last year to “detox” ourselves from our
culture of convenience and entertainment.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Not counting the people I miss, my list has now shortened of the THINGS I
miss.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So, what will it be like to indulge
ourselves again for two months?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What will
it be like in Nov. when we come back to Uganda?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>(cause you better believe I am going to indulge in some long, hot
showers!)</i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
As always, I worry that my honesty will be mistaken as
complaining.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I am not COMPLAINING about
going home.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I am thrilled to go
home!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I can’t wait to see the U.S. flag
in Newark and walk through the customs line. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I can’t wait to hug my grandparents’ necks and
meet my new, little niece. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I feel so
blessed that we are going home sooner than we expected!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>(Of course, T has made sure I understand that
our bank account can’t afford for this to be an annual event!)<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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It’s not that I enjoy finding the negative aspect to
everything.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I just think it is wise to
be realistic and prepare myself that not everything familiar will be
comfortable anymore.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I will find “home”
changed in ways I didn’t expect and myself changed in ways I didn’t
realize.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have to remind myself that none
of this is bad, though.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It is God’s way
of reminding me again that I can boast in nothing but Jesus.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I can cling to nothing but Jesus.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Just when I begin feeling safe and
comfortable in myself again, He begins moving my “props” and disturbing my
nest.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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So, here we are ready to fly again!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>(pun intended!)<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>and my little brood of “chicks” are starting
to stir, so I think my solitude is over.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>See you soon!!!!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
the Simpson familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17823181439550603017noreply@blogger.com3