on 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 -

"Living in Africa is sometimes like being stoned to death with popcorn." 

We thought it was funny and clever then.  Now, we know it is profound and very true. 

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!

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.  

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 bona fide tantrum.

There's been a lot of pummeling popcorn lately, and I've been keeping a pretty good mental record of it all:
- no hot water in our shower head for 3 wks now.  not that it was ever really "hot" to begin with, but still...
- T's backpack stolen in town last wk.  fortunately, he didn't have his laptop or passport in it, but still...
- not being able to walk off the village into the community without being followed by children begging for "sweets"
- 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
- neighbors who borrow things and don't return them
- friends who are constantly asking for money
- a stomach bug that lingered longer than I would have liked
- 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
- 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!

I know I sound very much like Oscar the Grouch right now.

Really, what is more exasperating than the popcorn without is the popcorn within.

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!

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.  YES, oh, yes, please!  to sit in a Heavenly place ... how long since I have done that?  I knew that is what I needed.  I knew that I had been trying to equate what I wanted with what I needed.

I WANT a long, hot shower - preferably with no gecko poo in sight.
I WANT a long, uninterrupted conversation with my family - preferable face to face!
I WANT a get-away to a pretty, exotic place - not a day away to stinky, crowded Kampala.
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.

But these things I want are not going to lead me to a Heavenly place.

I NEED to stop counting the kernels at my feet and shift my focus upward.
I NEED His Word to be my life and my treasure.
I NEED to notice the beauty in the ordinary and the blessings I take for granted.
I NEED the sting, the pressure, the refining fire.  I need the dross to rise and the whole ugly, humbling process of it.

I need to come to the end of myself and remember what I need is Jesus.  All I need is Jesus. 

You have made known to me the path of life.  
You will fill me with joy in Your presence.  Ps. 16:11

coming clean

i 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...

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.

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.

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.

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 place but, rather, for people.  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. :)

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!)

but the main purpose of this post is for me 
to remove the filter of only sharing when i think i have something profound or uplifting to say. 
to stop waiting for the riveting days while ignoring the struggling days.

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. 

the brave ones

The time came when the risk it took to remain tight in a bud 

was more painful 

than the risk it took to blossom. 

 ~ Anais Nin

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.  "Tema, tema..."  ("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." 
"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?"
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.
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.  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 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. 
"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.  
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."

"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. 

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.
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. 
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?
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 kalulu (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 "tema, tema."  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.

by the way, here's a brief video about Living Hope, if you want to watch it. 

this beautiful mess

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^th 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 …

Some days, life is beautiful.

Most days, life is a mess.

On a rare day, I will have the wisdom to reconcile the two. 

I love the famous quote by Jim Elliot – Wherever you are, be all there.  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!)

 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.

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. 

 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.  

  The beautiful, giggling mess in my kitchen, making memories that every little girl should have. 

 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. 

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. 

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. 

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...

Let's find the beauty.  See the potential.   And be content in Him.  

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.  :)  

a week of pics

Happy Sunday, everyone!

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.

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.  

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. 

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. 

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!  

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.  

 

and this is who visited us while we stopped to eat

 our other highlight of the week was Reynah's 3rd birthday!  

it was a sweet and girlie as could be... and her brothers tolerated it well.

  and two more random pics that very well illustrate the gripes and joys of living in Uganda...

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?

$20 for one pint of Snickers ice cream!!  

of course, we didn't buy it. 

 we settled for cheap stuff from Nairobi that tasted more like flavored ice and had little to do with "cream."

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.  

so, we thank God for the simple joys... 

and try to find contentment at least popping the lid and sniffing the Snickers.  :)

I know I will feel so much better after I write this and post it.

Lately, I’ve been avoiding my blog like the plague, it’s true. And it’s time that I stop.

 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. 

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.

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…

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. 

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 – it’s a good thing I am here for only 2 months. 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 – knowing 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. 

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). 

 

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.  

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!

  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.  

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?  

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!  

ready to fly

I should first apologize for my sporadic and LONG delays in writing...i guess it seems that my blog is mostly self-serving.  I write when I have something big and exciting I want everyone to hear about.  Or (usually) I am compelled to write when I am trying to understand my own feelings and opinions about something.  I am not so disciplined with simply updating about “life” for the sake of those of you who love us back home.  I need to do better at that.

So, here is a big news bulletin – Me and the kids are flying out tonight and are coming home for a visit!!!!  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.  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!   How’s that for information overload?? 

And now the part where I sort out myself -  It’s 6am here, cool and still very dark.  I had no intention of being up this early, but it is my only chance to have solitude… for quite a while!  Suitcases are scattered everywhere, and my stomach is gnawing.  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.  It reminds me of that morning over a year ago when we were ready to leave Jackson, TN and board a plane in Nashville.  It felt like we were stepping into the unknown with a million questions unanswered.  Amazingly, in a year’s time, it seems those questions have mostly been answered!  We have made a little home in this apartment, found a community here at Suubi, and settled into fulfilling roles of ministry.  Uganda is comfortable to us now.

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.  Not as dramatically as before!  Not like stepping off a cliff or anything.  It’s just a little jump, really, but I’m still not sure how it will feel to land.  All these swirling thoughts and questions…

-What about when someone wants to have a conversation with me about the presidential elections and American politics? – I am so out-of-touch!

-How will it feel to go to Wal-Mart again?  I already feel a headache coming on.

-I think I will avoid the pet section of any store.  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. 

-How am I going to balance this “itineration” schedule with spending time with the people I most love?  And how can I possibly see ALL the people I love??  I know someone will be offended and left-out.  (yes, this is me being a girl.  I don’t think T is losing any sleep over this one.)

- I am going to home without any keys – no house key, no car key.  I know people who love us will take VERY good care of us.  Still feels weird to not have keys. 

-I am praying for a long Indian Summer in the South this year, since all I have packed is summer clothes and sandals.  Again, I know people will loan us things.  Still feels weird to go home with so little. 

-It took us months last year to “detox” ourselves from our culture of convenience and entertainment.  Not counting the people I miss, my list has now shortened of the THINGS I miss.  So, what will it be like to indulge ourselves again for two months?  What will it be like in Nov. when we come back to Uganda?  (cause you better believe I am going to indulge in some long, hot showers!)

As always, I worry that my honesty will be mistaken as complaining.  I am not COMPLAINING about going home.  I am thrilled to go home!  I can’t wait to see the U.S. flag in Newark and walk through the customs line.  I can’t wait to hug my grandparents’ necks and meet my new, little niece.  I feel so blessed that we are going home sooner than we expected!  (Of course, T has made sure I understand that our bank account can’t afford for this to be an annual event!)  

It’s not that I enjoy finding the negative aspect to everything.  I just think it is wise to be realistic and prepare myself that not everything familiar will be comfortable anymore.  I will find “home” changed in ways I didn’t expect and myself changed in ways I didn’t realize.  I have to remind myself that none of this is bad, though.  It is God’s way of reminding me again that I can boast in nothing but Jesus.  I can cling to nothing but Jesus.  Just when I begin feeling safe and comfortable in myself again, He begins moving my “props” and disturbing my nest.  

So, here we are ready to fly again!  (pun intended!)  and my little brood of “chicks” are starting to stir, so I think my solitude is over.  See you soon!!!!