Market Day!

Charlottesville

My first day in Uganda was Market Day (Saturday), and while we only got to breeze through the 20,000 people who flock to Nyahuka to trade and sell their matoake (above, right), meat, beads, cloth... it was full of life, color, and community.

I woke up yesterday morning in my bed in Charlottesville and grinned... Market Day! I love the city market, which just started its season last week. As I gather my market bags and put on my walking shoes, it is really fun to be reminded that my friends in Uganda did the same thing 8 hours before me! I'm pretty sure I have an easier time getting what I need though.

Yesterday was such a day of participating in Charlottesville, I just had to write about it. I got up and enjoyed the usual (and mandatory) cup of coffee, lounging on the couches with Lauren as we read our books. Then my sweet friend Maggie and I went for a great run along the Rivanna trail. From my house you can walk 5 minutes to be on a bike path by the river and not even know you're in the city. Walk 5 minutes the other direction and you'll be in the center of downtown-- and the market! It's fabulous. So post-run I jumped in my little convertible, top down, and made my way for a quick trip to the market. Now, if i was being "true green Charlottesville" I would've walked... but I was pressed for time and on a hunt for veggies.

The market is full of my favorite venders... like the guy on the left. He sells goat cheese, which apparently the government has now regulated so he can't sell it... so he gives it away! People give donations to help support, but its free! There are always a multitude of flowers and fruit... usually I just walk up with a few dollars, enough to get a freshly made bagel, coffee, or lime iced tea from my favorite stalls. It's still early in the season for all of these fun things, so yesterday I got fresh salad greens for our dinner.

After the market I headed to Bread Works, a local bakery, to find some treats for dessert and breakfast. A few weeks ago I played Bingo at Johnson Elementary as part of their fundraiser (they raised over $2000!! someone else try this!) and had great prizes. I won 3 or 4 times, and I'm still living off those gift certificats to subway, salad creations, and Bread Works.

I spent the rest of the afternoon cleaning our house and making homemade veggie lasagna with homemade breadsticks-- my first attempt at both! I even tried to mow the lawn (my roommates know this is my least favorite task) but my attempts were thwarted when I couldn't start the lawn mower. Yes, there was gas in it. I wasn't that sad.

All of these preparations were in anticipation of my sweet friend Emily Weaver coming to visit! Emily has been in Botswana, Africa for the past 2 years working with Journeymen, a Baptist Mission, doing abstinence and HIV/AIDS education, and recently returned in November. We lived together/next door 3 of 4 years in college, and hadn't seen each other since graduation.

The day ended with us talking of Africa and what she misses most... we talked about how you linger over things like meals there because they take so long to prepare... and we ended our night lingering over that delicious lasagna and market salad, just catching up. A great C'ville day with flashes of Africa.

Christmas Goats

Right around Christmas, I was reading the Myhre's blog (http://www.paradoxuganda.blogspot.com/) and noticed that Jennifer had offered a non-traditional Christmas gift idea that would benefit World Harvest Mission.

A goat.

As WHM strives to live out their call to spreading the Gospel as well as making "life to the full" possible, they are thinking forward for the district of Bundibugyo. The Matiti goat project is taking mid-grade dairy goats (87%) and breeding them with the local (and useless) goats of Bundibugyo. The idea is that in a decade or so there will be a sustainable and extremely useful resource for the district. The goats that have been donated are being given to HIV positive mothers who wean their children from breastfeeding after 6 months to prevent the risk of HIV transmission. They are also being bred by the townspeople! We visited several villages where goats are being kept and saw how proud the Ugandans are to be entrusted with such a task!

Both of these are "goat owners." The man is holding a record of all the times his goat has been "serviced" by female goats! The woman on the right was so proud to show us her two female goats that she is entrusted with.

After a full day, I was really tired and not terribly excited about seeing one more goat (my true American self coming out in full force at this point in the trip)... but the last village we tromped through turned out to be such a blessing to me. We joked that there was an 18:1 ratio of children to adults in this village, and the children flocked around me, probably because I was their height!! While the others attended to the goats (again Wade's hand made its way into their mouths) and listened to the presentation, I was busy distracting the children and occasionally causing problems! They were afraid of my lily-white skin, and when I would reach out my hand to them they ran back a few feet squeeling!! Finally, one brave boy pushed his way through the inner ring of children and walked up to grasp my hand. Apparently that was all they needed to be encouraged to get close... for the rest of the visit they were like a small, moving skirt around me and Lisa! And their presence, laughter, and curiosity was so uplifting...

The Christmas goat donations were amazing generous, and just the other day at 3am about 50 goats were delivered to the Masso's door! They are being distrubuted to new homes across the disctrict (a big job!) and with eat goat comes hope for milk and food, determination for change, and a restoration of community pride. The project is ongoing, and you can learn more here: http://www.whm.org/project?ID=12371 as well as on the Bundinutrition blog: http://bundinutrition.blogspot.com/.

Christ School

This is an aerial view of Christ School in Nyahuka, taken as we flew into Bundibugyo on our first day. The blue roofs mark the school's buildings-- which include a cafeteria of sorts, boys and girls dorms, Rwenzori Mission School (where the younger missionary kids study with Ashley and Sarah as teachers), and many classrooms.

Christ School was founded in 1999 by World Harvest Mission as a secondary school in the Ugandan school system. On the morning of our tour David and Annelise Pierce, the current headmaster of CSB and his wife, gave us a crash course in Ugandan education. Children enter pre-schools and primary schools, which are largely subsidized by the government now. However, for a child to attend they must wear a uniform, shoes, and have a shaved head (which is why we Americans have a hard time telling the boys from the girls sometimes!). Although the fees for attending school are taken care of for the most part, the additional fees for uniforms, notebooks, and hygeine are often too burdensome for families. As a result, a child may be run off the school property for having hair that's grown out and it will take him 2 weeks to earn the money to get a hair cut and thus return to school. As you can see, attendance is a challenge.

On top of that, the children aren't the only ones missing from the classrooms. Teachers are payed government salaries, and there is not much supervision over the system. Often teachers just don't show up for class.

Children attend Primary school P1-P7, somewhat like our 1st through 7th grades, although because of the delays caused by attendance and unclear age regulations a child in P7 may be significantly older than one of our 7th graders. At the end of Primary school there is a really tough exam called the PLE-- Primary Leaving Exam. This tests all the years of primary school knowledge and is the student's ticket either into secondary school or immediately into the work force. As Annelise described to us, in Uganda knowledge is power. The teacher holds the power and if you are lucky enough, you will be able to glean some of that power from them. It is not always the teacher's priority for their students to succeed. If a student passes the PLE with a high enough score, they can apply to various Secondary Schools. Unlike primaries, secondary schools are not funded by the government, and fees are steep by Ugandan standards. There are four levels of secondary school (again roughly equivalent to our high school). At the end of the four years, a student sits for the intense O-level examinations. If they pass O-levels, they can leave Secondary school and go into the work force, or continue on for two years of Advanced or A-level schooling (also taught at CSB). A student in A-levels chooses a concentration, math and physics for example, and spends a great deal of time focusing on these studies. Some A-levels then advance to the Universities. Others then join their peers in the work force.

I have to admit, once I heard the schedule that the CSB students adhere to, I was even more impressed with the dedication of the students and staff. Classes start around 7:45am and run until 4 in the afternoon. From 4-6pm there are clubs and sports (football being far and away the favorite of the Ugandans). Then dinner (cooked by a phenomenal and resourceful staff of 8!!) in the cafeteria, and 7pm-10pm mandatory study hours. Bed... repeat. The 340 students of CSB live on campus, as do the staff members. Below is a class and a girls' dorm (about 24 girls in this one room... simple bunks with a very few personal belongings).

Right now the staff of CSB is trying to increase the school's agriculural production to help feed the students and staff. A few years ago the students were given a choice between beef and rice/beans and they chose rice & beans. So their diet consists of three meals a day-- porridge for breakfast, rice and beans for lunch and dinner. They never get meat or fresh fruits and vegetables. The staff gets meat once/week, usually rabbit. The school is participating in World Harvest's attempt to breed the local goats with mid-grade dairy goats to eventually produce a sustainable source of milk and meat for the students... so we spent some time with the goats (Wade, being a large animal vet made sure they were all healthy by promptly sticking his hands in their mouths... yuck).

Our visit at CSB was wonderful... obviously my heart is for education and the work that they are doing is truly going to impact the future of the entire country! Part of me longed to return one day and teach the Ugandan kids, like my fellow Tribe member Scott Ickus did for a year. Keep tabs on David and Annelise here: http://www.christschoolbundibugyo.org/CSB%20home.html and please pray for their ministry! There's a link from this blog that tells how you can help with prayer and financial contributions... a worthy cause.

Here's Ashley in her sweet little classroom. She's done an amazing job with very little making it a wonderful place for her two Kindergarteners and

two third graders to come and learn every day!

Below is a picture of the batteries for the whole school in their chargers. The entire school (and all of the electricity in the district) is run on solar power!!

As with all of Uganda... Christ school was full of beauty.

sorry for the break

Sorry for the break in posts lately... it's been a busy April, and we're only 10 days in.

The big news is that I got into the University of Virginia for graduate school! In the fall I will start a two year program working towards a Masters in Teaching in Early Childhood and Developmental Risk Education. It's the only program of its kind in the country and exactly what I hope to do with the rest of my working life, so needless to say after months of anticipation I was pretty pumped to recieve a letter from UVA! Lauren was with me and we woke up all our neighbors with our screams I think! :)

Appropriately, where I left off in the story of my trip to Uganda was the day where we toured Christ School...

Monday :: Kwejuna Project

Monday, February 25, 2008

Monday morning Pat, Heidi, and I sat around Pat's kitchen table eating breakfast and preparing for the day ahead. Monday was the long-awaited Kwejuna Project, in which both Pat and Heidi are heavily involved. Pat helps to translate as the women's paperwork is processed and the team collects more information on where they live, how many children they have, whether their families have been tested for HIV, etc. I had already seen Heidi at work on the medical paperwork for the women for the past two days; she would be giving shots as well as weighing babies and doing check-ups. As we ate, Pat told us how that morning God had given her a "word to throw" as they say in Uganda to the women at Kwejuna. That word was Isaiah 54:4-14, where God speaks to Israel as to an estranged wife. I had yet to personally experience the depth of suffering of Kwejuna, but Pat's words were preparing my heart and already reminding me that God is the one and only Redeemer...

The day before Heidi and I had been talking about a few of the many differences she has observed in her transition from an American children's hospital to Nyahuka Health Center in Uganda. One change that she was actually enjoying was hearing, "Thank you," everyday as she enters the health center or works with nutrition patients in the village. The Lubwisi word for thank you is Webale (pronounced way-bah-lay). Because many of the schools and health centers are goverment operated, there is not a lot of accountability for the government employees, allowing them to slack off or even not show up for work at all some days! Schools and hospitals go without so many vital employees because of this corruption. So when someone like Heidi shows up faithfully everyday, Webale is what she hears because the people truly are thankful.

Heidi also told me how when a baby is born, instead of telling the mother, "Congratulations," as we do here... they say, "Webale kwejuna" which means, "Thank you for surviving."

It is from this expression that World Harvest has taken the name for its HIV/AIDS project: Kwejuna. Survival.

Every 2-3 months, women from all over the Bundibugyo region come to Bundimulinga, the Community Center on the mission, to recieve treatment, get check-ups for their children, and to get food. World Harvest passes out a huge amount of beans, rice, and flour to these women to supplement their diets and hopefully sustain their lives. The women also recieve a shot of Depovera, which is a three month birth control, to hopefully prevent the transmission of HIV to more children.

As we walked up to the community center, we could hear the hundreds of women and children talking and gathering. World Harvest staff was already hard at work by the time we arrived-- Pat was calling woman after woman to ask them questions. Heidi was already elbow deep in giving Depo shots. Children were everywhere about the concrete floor, and mothers were waiting.

I admit, I felt like I was stepping into the work of the mission, and I longed to be able to help in a practical roll-up-my-sleeves kind of way. But I am not a doctor, nurse, translator, nutritionist... and I really struggled to put away my practical side as we were lead into a side room away from the fray and given our work: prayer.

After the women had receieved all of the Kwejuna benefits, they were to come to us in groups of 3-4 to be prayed over. Our missions team split into two groups, with Lisa and I in separate groups so each group had a woman representative, which turned out to be greatly helpful. Several men who lead the church were our translators, and we took our places on the benches to wait. After a few minutes, Matt stood up and read to us from the scriptures, and with tears pouring down his cheeks exhorted us to pray with the expectation that THIS would be a day and place where God would show up. To pray with expectation. My brow furrowed... this was going to be long, hard work. Suddenly I realized this WAS the work for us. And as Matt continued to read from the Word, my head shot up and I heard him echo Pat's words this morning-- Isaiah's words from over 2000 years ago:

Fear not, for you will not be ashamed; be not confounded, for you will not be disgraced; for you will forget the shame of your youth, and the reproach of your widowhood you will remember no more. For your Maker is your husband, the Lord of hosts is his name; and the Holy One of Israel is your Redeemer, the God of the whole earth he is called. For the Lord has called you like a wife deserted and grived in spirit, like a wife of youth when she is cast off, says your God....I have sworn that I will not be angry with you, and will not rebuke you. For the mountains may depart and the hills be removed, but my steadfast love shall not depart from you, and my covenant of peace shall not be removed," says the Lord, who has compassion on you.

O afflicted one, storm-tossed and not comforted, behold, I will set your stones in antimony, and lay your foundations with sapphires. I will make your pinnacles of agate, your gates of carbuncles, and all your wall of precious stones. All your children shall be taught by the Lord, and great shall be the peace of your children. In righteousness you shall be established; you shall be far from oppression, for you shall not fear; and from terror, for it shall not come near you. (Isaiah 54:4-14)

Our prayers were to echo His word, to tell these women they were not forgotten by their Maker their Husband, and to remind them that His will would be done.

For about three hours we sat and heard stories of women who had been beaten for coming to Kwejuna because it meant acknowledging infection with HIV/AIDS... but they came. One woman had been kicked out of her husbands house by his family for being HIV+, and her prayer was of longing to see her husband and to be reunited because she loved him. She was probably no more than 16. They were all individuals but their stories were frighteningly similar-- of being the first wife cast off, of finding out they were HIV+ and being disgraced and ashamed, of dying mothers' fears for their children. We knelt at their feet and wept for pain that they bear, praying with expectation that the God of the Universe knows their names, stories, language, hearts, hopes and staggering fears. We held their sweet babies in our laps, their strong hands in ours, and told them how beautiful they are. That the God of the Universe is their Redeemer and their hope.

After the last woman had been loved and prayed for, I left heavy-hearted at the magnitude of suffering I had just seen. I left amazed at the words penned thousands of years ago that literally spoke directly to these women! I left confident that God knew each and every one of them. I left a little more broken and a great deal more in love with my Savior.

Drums::The Call to Worship

Our first morning waking up in Africa happened to be a Sunday morning.

On a normal Sunday morning in Charlottesville I would wake up to my alarm clock, the sound of one roommate getting in the shower, and the other shuffling to the kitchen to make our coffee. Otherwise, its relatively quiet in our little house.

Sunday morning in Bundibugyo (or any morning for that matter) was anything but quiet! That's one of the things I noticed immediately in BGO... as soon as there is light, there is noise. Birds get cranked up along with "bodabodas" (little motorcyles), morning greetings, the sound of foot traffic to and from Nyahuka, primary school children singing their way to school. On Sunday I heard the drums from the nearby church begin to pound out the call to worship.

After blueberry pancakes with the "household" we were joined by Kim and Lydia, two sweet orphans who Pat has taken under her wing. She was very close with their mother who passed away recently, and Kim (7) and Lydia's (5) chatter and sing-song "HEIDIHEIDIHEIDI" was a welcome part of our morning noise. Our team was divided among three churches this Sunday, with three of the men as guest preachers! We picked up Wade, our particular guest preacher, and literally turned right onto a road I never would have known existed. We had about a 45 minute ride through cocoa plants, coffee trees, vanilla vines (obviously I was among my favorite things), and huge matoake trees. We got a little confused at one point and had to stop and ask a nice man riding his bicycle with half a cow strapped to the back which way to go. Apparently we had just missed the mango tree that marked our left turn... of course.

When we arrived at the church-- no problems with parking here... we were the only car-- it was about 11am and surprisingly quiet! Pat explained that normally they have been singing for an hour by the time she arrives, but this particular community had celebrated a wedding in the church the day before (a big deal!!) and they were probably worn out. In Bundibugyo, the churches are trying to promote God's view of a monogomous marriage and it is a really significant step when a couple is "ringed" in a church ceremony, signaling their intention to be faithful to one partner the rest of their lives. Elders and pastors of the churches there must be ringed in order to be ordained. Many hold out hopes of being that one partner for life, and they expressed their approval of marriage everytime Craig and Lisa Wood were introduced as ringed husband and wife! It was so sweet to see the promotion of marriage and to be clapped for!

At our church we were seated in the only available chairs at the front of the congregation as special guests. The building was small, but breezy. As a church leader and his son began to pound on the drums outside, the village began to respond to the Call, trickling in and joining in the worship. Pat graciously handed us songbooks that are both in Lubwisi, the local language, and English. Lubwisi is fairly phonetic, so it was pretty easy to sing in their native language. How sweet to sing words like "He has made me glad... He is my Savior" in a language I didn't even know existed the day before!!

The words of Revelation 7:9-10 echoed in my heart, "After this I looked, and behold, a great multitude that no one could number, from every nation, from all tribes and people and languages, standing before the throne and before the Lame, clothes in white robes, with palm branches in their hands, and crying out with a loud voice, 'Salvation belongs to our God who sits on the throne, and unto the Lamb.'"

One day... it will be.

Obviously without my Order of Worship at Trinity, I was a little clueless as to the progression of the church service. We experienced more singing in Lubwisi, a woman's choir, a choir of children with beautiful clear voices, and quite a bit of dancing together! Wade preached on John 1 and the beauty of Christ who both tells the truth about our lives and our sin, and gives us unlimited grace.

After church we had the privilege of being hosted by the church leaders for lunch. Enjoying a warm Pepsi, we also got our first taste of Ugandan food. We were treated to sticky rice, sambe (like salty spinach), matoake, beans and sweet potatoes, and... they even killed a chicken for us!

Returning home around 4:30pm, we cleaned up and headed to the Myhre's house for the team's monthly Communion service. A beautiful, candelit time of fellowship and singing (in English this time) to end a day of worship.

arrivals & new beginnings

February 23, 2008... we arrived at the airport in Entebbe, Uganda on time and WITH ALL OUR LUGGAGE. That was a HUGE answer to prayer as you can see from the picture above, we had a lot of it. Each of us brought at least one suitcase plus the big footlockers full of supplies for the missionaries-- everything from peanut M&Ms to solar panels!

Growing up my dad had always talked about his time in Africa and how he wished he could show me more than just pictures. He often spoke of a distinctly African smell... as I stepped off a plane for the second time in my life on Ugandan soil (or tarmac), I laughed as the man next to me said, "Smell's like burning. Welcome to Africa." It is true that there is always this unidentifiable burning smell in the air, but whatever the smell we were thankful that the first leg of our journey was complete.

After retrieving all of our luggage, we made it through customs with a wave from a woman who said, "Thank you for helping our country, because of people like you I have clean water. God Bless." Welcome to Africa.

We met Scott Will and Michael Masso, who had graciously driven 8 hours to meet us, at the airport gate. Because we were taking a tiny MAF plane to Bundibugyo, we needed to unload most of our cargo into Michael's truck before we boarded the plane.

We were taking about an hour flight all the way across Uganda to the western boarder with Congo, where Bundibugyo lies tucked against the Rwenzori mountains. Our pilot was excellent and decided to take us almost 17,000 feet in the air, flying us right over the top of Mt. Margurita and into the Congo! The view was breathtaking... as you can see.

The Rwenzori Mountains

We flew over Bundibugyo, and thanks to Paul Leary's narration, I was able to capture images of the town Nyahuka, where World Harvest Mission is located, as well as Christ School and the Health Center without really knowing what I was capturing!

To the left is the campus of Christ School-- you can see the track that my fellows Tribesman Scott Ickus built during his year in Bundibugyo, as well as the blue-roofed buildings of the school

Below is the Nyahuka Market. We flew in on a Saturday, which is market day, and about 15,000 people had descended on this tiny place for shopping-- gathering all things from clothing to beads, to meat, dried fish, matoake....

After many hugs and introductions at the landing strip, we were welcomed into our respective homes. Our team of 7 was split up for the week among the mission houses, and our hosts were so gracious to us! I had the privilege of being a part of the "Duplex household" of Heidi and Pat. Heidi is a nurse who had just arrived in Bundibugyo three weeks before. She is going to be doing work at the clinic with Jennifer as well as taking over a lot of the nutrition programs that Pamela and Stephanie have operated in the past few years. Pat Abbott has been in Bundibugyo as long as the Myhres-- almost 15 years! When I asked Pat what her role was, it was hard for her to define it in job description terms... but I was to see over the next week that her role was to know, love, and disciple the people around her, whether those people are visiting Americans, newly arrived missionaries, or Babwisi orphans. She is truly living out Jesus' call in Matthew 28 to Go and make disciples of all nations.

Our first team activity was to go and see Melen, the widow of Dr. Jonah Kule. Jonah gave his life to the treatment of the people of Bundibugyo during the Ebole epidemic this winter, leaving behind his wife and 5 daughters-- and just recently Melen gave birth to a sweet baby boy! We came to sit with her and to give her a framed edition of Harvester dedicated to Jonah's life. And this is where our team's tears began to flow...

Even now as I sit on my porch in Virginia writing this, I have Bebo Norman's The Hammer Holds playing in the background and it makes me think of what it mean to just sit and grieve with Melen...

A shapeless piece of steel, that's all I claim to be.

This hammer pounds to give me form, this flame, it melts my dreams.

I glow with fire and fury, as I'm twisted like a vine.

My final shape, my final form I'm sure I'm bound to find...
So dream a little, dream for me in hopes that I'll remain.

And cry a little, cry for me so I can bear the flames.

And hurt a little, hurt for me my future is untold.

But my dreams are not the issue here, for they, the hammer holds.

We finished that first day by making homemade pizzas in the Myhre's famous brick oven! Every Thursday the team gathers to scoop out the dough, top off the pizzas, and enjoy time together. It was a great first step into their lives... and a very full first day.

calling revisited

Yesterday I was asked the question, "Are you more dependant on Christ this year than you were last year?"

My brain must still be on Africa-time because I couldn't even wrap my mind around what I was doing or thinking this time last year. One of the many benefits of journaling I have found is the ability of really revisiting where I was, what I was thinking and experiencing a year ago.

So this morning, in an attempt to think about that question, I pulled last spring's journal off of the bookshelf. Among many things, I found this poem I had written one Friday afternoon at work at Trinity. At this point I was six months into my job here, and it had obviously been a tough afternoon. But rereading the pages this morning reminded me again of my call to be here now, and how sweet it has been the past year. So a break from the Africa narrative to share these thoughts...

a very busy friday, even more than most
a phone call and messages when i leave my post
my feet pound out my to-do list
that rambles through my head
what to do first, and next, now vs. then
frustrated, and now tired, my arms they carry on
my heart wishes for a helper
or just to hear, "well done."
around the sanctuary, office, down the hall
check in, move on, what's that? who called?
and now my heart is restless,
"they're asking way too much!
i simply cannot do it... i've had about enough."
then calling from the middle,
the central room to all
is a voice i seem to recognize--
calling, soft and small.
someone's playing musc, alone
but full of hope;
the rythm draws me closer
can't help but take a look.
empty room of worship, filled
with one guitar's sound,
here my heart can rest, here my purpose found.
i walk softly toward the back,
to get a bigger view;
a cross stands tall and mighty
somewhat lonely, too.
i remember why i'm here now,
and why i care so much,
because You had a purpose
with your unique touch.
i stand in awe of beauty, love and grace
and let your voice remind me...
"I called you to this place."

The background story: God's goodness

On a Friday afternoon almost a month ago I got the surprise and gift of a life time.

I was sitting on the living room floor of Doug & Sarah Granger's house, playing with their three oldest children-- Abe, Annabel, and Oak-- while Doug and Sarah were at the hospital in labor (or so we thought) with Granger #4.

Ellen, my roommate, kept texting me and asking me when I was going to be home because we needed to talk. Being the one who panics about conflict, I immediately called her and asked her if she was mad at me! She assured me everything was fine, and it could wait until I was done babysitting.

Apparently it couldn't because an hour later in walked Ellen, Clark, and Katie Pennock-- my great friend and the Assistant to Missions at Trinity (www.trinitycville.org). I thought something must be terribly wrong for all three of them to come over. Ellen, again, quickly assured me everything was ok, in fact everything was great.... "Your friends want to send you to Africa," she said.

I stopped.

Heart, breathing, thinking, motor control, the ability to communicate-- it all stopped.

"WHAT!??" I squeeked out.

Then the story unfolded... how there was a spot on a team going to visit the World Harvest Mission (www.whm.org) team in Bundibugyo, Uganda... how these three saw fit for me to be the one to fill that spot... how the church gave me the time off from work... how I miraculously had NO plans for the 9 days the trip was planned.

I know Psalm 37:4, Delight yourself in the Lord, and He will give you the desires of your heart.

But to experience the Lord fulfilling in me a desire I did not even know I had! I can't explain the shock::joy::tears::gratitude that overflowed.

In that moment so much was fulfilled, and yet only begun. In the next 24 hours all of my support for the trip was raised by the generous and wonderful family and friends surrounding me, confirming this was indeed God's plan for my February. Plane tickets, luggage, and long skirts followed suit (in Uganda women wear skirts below the knee almost everywhere).

The beginning of the story... much like the beginning of THE story, begins with God's goodness.

The resurrection of the blog...

Well it's been months since I've posted on this blog... I've often found myself thinking about it but lacking the purpose behind posting beyond just talking about my life. But with my recent trip to Uganda, I've found that purpose as we promised to tell the stories of the lives we encountered there.

I've found it hard to answer the question, "How was your trip?" in a soundbyte. I knew this would be so, having experienced returning from a short term mission before, but its even more profoundly difficult this time around. So I think posting about the trip on this blog will be the most coherent way to tell the story of Bundibugyo, Uganda. So supporters, friends, family... get ready!

Befriending a Bosnian...

For those of you who don't know, I am taking a Spanish class on Tuesday nights. Tomo una clase de espanol los martes :) See? It's working! The class is through UVA's continuing ed program, and its not for credit so it attracts a great range of people with many reasons for taking the class. One is taking it to help her son through high school Spanish; another woman promised herself that when she finished her phd she would do two things: learn to play the violen and learn to speak Spanish.

My favorite reason so far, however, is that of Azur. Azur is a middle-aged Bosnian man who is taking the class with his girlfriend, Kate, so they can have a common language! He is learning English alongside Spanish by taking this class, and he and Kate have quickly become my favorite people to talk to admist our confusion.

Tonight I got time to talk to Azur during our break and after class. He left Bosnia in 1996, after being a soldier in the Bosnian war for two years. Time out: Azur is over six feet tall, with greying hair down to his waist, bright eyes, a slight build, and missing a few teeth. When he said he was a soldier I involuntarily laughed. "I know, I don't look like a soldier do I?" Azur said in response. He then went on to explain that in his country, when the war with Serbia and Croatia began there was no way to escape.

Bosnians were landlocked between their two enemies, and as Azur put it "You had to stay becuase you couldn't get out. And you had to fight because you had to live." He doesn't strike me as the type who would sign up for military service, and he confirmed that as he spoke of the need to protect the women and children behind him.

I had mentioned that I knew Charlottesville was a national refugee center because our church has tried to reach out to refugees in the city. Azur was surprised to learn that I went to church... when I invited him to come visit Trinity he said "I do not go to church. Where I come from people get made fun of for going to a church or a mosque." When I assured him that he could come without being mocked, he replied "I grew up as a Communist." We continued our conversation about church after class, about the tension between "religion" and "just God"... between guilt and grace. I am looking forward to future conversations!

How often on a Tuesday evening do you get to talk to a refugee from Bosnia who has killed people simply to stay alive and who now plays chess to make money?

Welcome, friends, to Charlottesville.

** for more information on Charlottesville's refugee program check out this article:

http://usinfo.state.gov/xarchives/display.html?p=washfile-english&y=2006&m=November&x=20061124151822lajesrom0.7794611

Apple Harvest Festival Fun

So it's been months since I last posted. Although many ideas cross my mind, I never seem to actually sit down and update what's been going on in my life or share some thoughts. I will try to be better on behalf of my sweet friends overseas who love to catch up!

Even though it's 90 degrees today in Charlottesville, the fall festivities around town have begun! This morning Clark and I met up with Stephen and Kathryn Trivette and their little girl, Savannah, to go to Carter Mountain Orchard. This weekend is the orchard's Apple Harvest Festival, complete with giant pumpkins, local vendors, live music and of course their famous apple cider donuts.

I had never been to the orchard before and I was literally jumping around like a 5 year old when we arrived! We listened to a bluegrass/gospel band for awhile and then took off into the orchard with Savannah atop Stephen's shoulders to pick apples! In his pursuit of the perfect apple, Clark climbed several trees, knocking down about a dozen apples for every one he actually picked.

In the past two years, I've grown to LOVE living in Charlottesville and the combination of a small town and urban life. Today's adventure to the orchard was a sweet return to country roots, though! Speaking of sweet... all those apples went into this pie!

my very first apple pie... completely from scratch!

dang gina its good.

Paradox...

I just finished reading the blog of some Trinity sponsored missionaries in Uganda (http://paradoxuganda.blogspot.com/) and am still overwhelmed by the testimony of God’s provision for their medical mission there. Government and NGO funding ran out for one of their nutritional programs, and through word of mouth (and blog) individuals have stepped in to give money towards covering the cost of maintaining this program for an entire year! The monthly budget is $1600, which covers food and supplies for about 50 children at $1 per child per day.

Obviously this is an incredible blessing to the Myhre family and to the children they serve, but it is also such a huge reminder of how God provides through his people. Every time I read this blog my heart hurts to see the physical pain these people live in, but I also rejoice knowing God is caring for them through these organizations and through the daily labor and prayers of His people in Uganda. I admit, I am jealous to see God work like this in my own small-town American life. To have needs so BIG that only God could provide…. And to give Him praise for His provision.

The thing is, although our meals are all but a guarantee here and we have access to education and health care… we are not without need. I myself have believed the lie that we are capable. A problem? We can fix it. Sometimes a crisis hits, and we hit our knees… but most days I can go through my daily routine and even my work in a church and could have never asked the Lord for His help. There is a balance, of course; I am not suggesting that we are devoid of any reasoning, capabilities, or talents and helplessly need a divine babysitter. I am suggesting that if I knew, really knew, God’s power and strength and believed Him for what He has promised I would acknowledge that I want to be a part of what He is doing every day.

Philippians calls us to step out of our anxiety and into prayer, asking God with thanksgiving to give us His peace and meet us in our need. It doesn’t say, Call when you REALLY need me. How many times a day do you get anxious? Stressed? I want to learn to ask Him to meet me in the little things, and to pray that He will show up in a BIG way.

It is tempting to me to go to Africa again—to experience the overwhelming need and rely on Jesus being alive to get us through each day. That would almost be easier than staying here in Charlottesville, pushing aside my “ability” and relying on Jesus. How do you pray Africa-sized prayers in a small town?

yard sales and goodbyes

It's about 8:30 on Saturday morning... Ellen woke me up as she left the house to go running and as my head hit the pillow to go back to sleep I heard the sounds of little girls laughing and saying, "HIII MISS ELLEN!" from across the street.

I smiled, and threw on tennis shoes.

These three girls have been a huge part of our lives for the last nine months. Maria and Psalms (the beautiful 7 year old girl on the left) moved here about a week after we did in August because Maria was completing a nine month graduate program at the JAG school here in Charlottesville.

They were some of the first neighbors we really connected with here, and on the first day we discovered that Maria had to be at class everyday at 8am, but Psalms didn't get on the bus until 8:10 each morning. Thus began months of the doorbell ringing right at 7:45 :) Psalms would hang out with us each morning-- we have played countless games of War, colored many pictures (some of which are hanging in my office), and dropped about 50 ice cubes into steaming mugs of hot chocolate.

Over the year it has been a challenge to watch Psalms in the mornings-- not because of her behavior by any means! She's the most polite child and we are all "Miss" to her! But between the three of us balancing breakfast dates or the need to catch some more sleep, it has really drawn us together to have to figure out who can get up with her each day. At times we have gotten frustrated... and there are other mornings where I lay in bed and hear the doorbell ring and think in my unwilling heart "Nooooooo".... then I hear Ellen's door open and her sleepy voice greet Psalms, "Want to play cards?" If anything, it has made the three of us more of a family... we just borrow other people's children. :)

About a month ago Maria's husband, James, packed up their house in Texas and brought their three year old, Zion, to join the party here on Short 18th. Yes-- Maria and James have been apart the majority of this year! It's always so sweet when a visit is approaching because Maria and Psalms count down to the day. The whole family has been here for about a month as they get ready to leave this place. Maria has been stationed in Germany for the next three years beginning June 1.

So today was another morning of being greeted by the voices of little girls, and sleepily pulling myself together to go spend time with them. Today wasn't a school day... just a special one as I know it's the last Saturday they will be here.

The whole family has been hard at work at their house manning a yard sale... when Maria moved here they bought most of their stuff at Goodwill so that they could just get rid of it at the end of the year. I spent about 20 minutes just hanging out with little Zion this morning while Maria sold off a child's bed, some puzzles, and some of the girls' clothes.

I will miss this family. They are Christians, and it was sweet to share fellowship with them and to pray for them during their time here. Who knows, maybe one day I'll get to visit them in Germany! We are already praying for who will rent their house next... it's a tiny one, but we're hoping for another family whose life we can be a part of.

I love this city, this neighborhood, this street.

article on beauty...

http://www.nicholenordeman.com/article.aspx?id=528407

check it out girls... its really good!

being beautiful...

This is a beautiful article written by Nicole Nordeman about the pressures of being "beautiful" by the world's standards... I breathed a sigh of relief just reading the comments from artists about how they feel the same pressure I feel every single day.

http://www.nicholenordeman.com/article.aspx?id=528407

I am used to this time of year being about gearing up for a summer at camp. Four years of camp life had gotten me used to the no make-up, overall wearing days being standard. But now, living in Charlottesville the city of beautiful people, I have to make an extra effort to avoid getting caught up in the materialism of life and appearances.

My sweet friend, Joy, is on her way to Liberia tomorrow, and she writes about this very thing on her blog just a day before she leaves for the missionary life: http://finding-joy.blogspot.com/

Check it out :)

pondering patience...

As I sat in my car waiting for the light to change and let me out of the Gold’s Gym parking lot, I haphazardly flipped through the radio stations trying to find some song that fit my mood. Settling on a local station, the DJ soon came on, announcing that the singer of the previous song had recently been seen with his “on-again model girlfriend” which was a surprise because it had been rumored he was cheating on her. The DJ declared that this made no sense, because, “If he wasn’t a musician no one would want to go out with him,” she pronounced.

I caught myself glaring at the radio, and thinking of every person listening to considered themselves “not cute” and how they must be feeling about their social status now. Apparently you need to be famous and attractive to get a date. I rolled my eyes at the cultural implications as Bon Jovi’s “I’ll Be There For You” began to play. The light was still red.

“If they make us sit here this long, the light should at least stay green longer,” I thought as I inched forward just in time to see the SUV in front of me slide through the intersection at a pace just slow enough to leave me stranded behind the thick white line.

Eventually, I got my chance to escape the parking lot. Heading down the hill, I was greeted by the glow of red break lights as three lines of cars stood waiting for the next light to grant them passage onto the 250 Bypass—the Road Home. The radio was momentarily eclipsed by the sound of yelling; glancing to my left at the oncoming- but-not-so-much-moving traffic, I saw a man in a green pick-up truck, window rolled down, exercising his freedom of speech. Loudly proclaiming the injustices of traffic, he used several expletives as he rolled forward about a foot. Apparently others agreed with Angry Pickup Man and a few disgruntled honks squeaked out of the cars behind me.

“Goodness. Chill out,” I breathed.

I glanced at Angry Pickup Man now directly to my left, and hypocritically thought, “If he had Jesus he’d be more patient.”

Yes, at the moment I was calming sitting in my car, grooving to a now unknown R&B song, relaxed and far from using horn to express my opinion. Seemingly patient. But I harbor a terrible habit of grinding my teeth, grunting, and yelling “GO SLOWER!” at cars in front of me. I seem to keep my inner traffic gremlin quite tame when I have passengers in the car, but once alone he leaps out and rides shotgun. This is something that surprises me daily, as I find myself exasperated that the people on the main thoroughfare don’t have the courtesy to let me turn left and don’t seem to realize how important I am at that very moment. So do not be fooled my endorphin-induced calm… I am not a patient driver.

But the small encounter with impatience did get me thinking (one of many great distractions you can use to keep the traffic gremlin quiet while sitting in rush hour traffic). Do I really want people to know Christ so that they will be more patient at a stoplight? So that horns will sound less frequently?

“Of course not,” I rebuked my own thoughts. “Being patient is more than just resisting the overwhelming urge to yell and slap the steering wheel in frustration. We wait for a lot more than a green light.”

Or do we?

Sex? Nope… the vast majority of people aren’t waiting to have sex before marriage. What’s the point? As I drove down the highway, I passed a few fast-food restaurants… we don’t wait for meals to be ready—we just grab it on our way. If we want it, we just go get it. I remembered a commercial I had seen at the gym last week for Urge.com, touting the slogan “Obey your urge.” We are a desire driven culture. Is there even a place for patience within it?

“Ok, but I’m saving up for a car right now. I have to be patient because it’s going to take me about two years to have enough money to buy one,” I reasoned with myself.

I turned right onto a side street, bypassing the rows of car dealerships on Pantops Mountain.

“But if you wanted to, you could stop saving and just take out a loan, have the car the same day,” Self countered.

I came to yet another stop light—thankfully the last in my ride home—and paused across from Jak & Jill’s Diner (rumored to be the first fast-food restaurant in Charlottesville actually). “Do we appreciate the time, effort, and skill that goes into a great cuisine? Or would we rather have a hamburger and “world famous” milkshake?” I wondered. Having grown up in a family that appreciates great food, I love to enjoy a meal that’s been carefully prepared. But even today as I ran on the treadmill I was tempted by the efficiency of the Hamburger Helper commercial in front of me. When I am a wife and mother will I take the time to make homemade meals or opt for quicker options?

“Ok what about art,” I asked myself. “We still stand in front of paintings and wonder at the hours it must have taken Van Gogh or Degas to layer the paint, adding detail after detail. Masterpieces take patience.”

“Oh really?” Self cleverly countered. “Are you sure we are not just taught to value that masterpiece because of the price tag? Surely if it costs this much it is worth a lot.”

Self 2. Me 0.

Stumbling upon the realization that we value something, not for the amount of time it took to prepare or create, but simply because the monetary cost dictates its worth to us, saddened me.

Will technology’s value overshadow art in our society, not because it is masterful, but because it is expensive? Thoughts of the blue-glow of computer screens masking the shadowy beauty of Rembrandts many self portraits flooded my head.

“Is there anything for which we are willing to be patient?” I asked.

“Ah… more importantly, can you prove that anything is worth your patience?”

Point, Self.

I made my last left turn, and drove home to microwave my dinner.

Redskins v. Falcons

This weekend the long-awaited Redskins v. Falcons game finally happened! Even though the skins lost (and we got lost about 6 times), it was a fabulous trip... check out some pictures :)

All Saint's Fair

Here are some pictures from our All Saint's Fair at Trinity this weekend!







Mr. Burton and his son Stephen who is in my 2's class. We just found out we are neighbors!




Kaylin and Kendall Verbrugge on the left with little Chloe Doran, Dennis's daughter.

Greg Thompson, our senior pastor, with his youngest daughter Margaret. She was a little overwhelmed by everyone dressed up, but seemed to like getting her nails done.

Sweet little Annabel dressed as Snow White :)

Some little ones trying out the bowling game...

Although tiring, the night was a huge success for the families and for their little ones. I'm learning a lot just by watching the parents around me. I was always amazed at Anna Steltzer's ability to stop everything and listen to two year old Colton stumble through words to tell her a story. I think it can be easy to tune out children as they speak to us because they may not notice as much as an adult might... but on the other hand we have all these teenagers that tell us they dont feel like anyone really listens to them. Maybe it started when they were two and telling a story.

Even this morning as Psalms and I were playing cards on my living room floor before the bus arrived, I was tempted to flip on the Today Show and catch the news while we played. Then I realized that tells her she's just a part of my normal day, that I'm not really being attentive to her. It's a privilege to give her my undivided attention for 20 minutes every morning, even if we only talk about who is winning Crazy 8's.

Children have taught me a lot lately and are redefining how I think about things...

Patience now means watching Psalms try and flip her little stack of playing cards all the right direction and try and hold them in her hands without just straightening the pile for her...

Self control has come in restraining myself from succumbing the the charms of crying 2 year olds and giving them hugs when what they need is to be disciplined...

And Faithfulness has been shaped by the little things in Sunday School preparation like making sure every table has enough crayons... it seems like nothing to me, but to the teachers it is the balance between a smooth-running classroom and a 3 year old meltdown. Making sure there are exactly 8 copies of every activity sheet in the folders seems tedious after counting to 8 about 100 times a day... but to the one child who doesn't get a coloring sheet it makes a big difference.

Who knew you could learn so much from such little people :)

Hmm...

Dad I know you're going to have an opinion about this one :)

"Albert Wolters offers helpful clarification as he differentiates between the 'structure' and 'direction' of culture. Wolters says that 'structure refers to the order of creation, to the constant creational constitution of any thing, what makes it the thing or entity that it is.' The structure of something is positive and good. In its substance, essence and nature it was brought into existence by God at creation and was part of his perfect created order. 'Direction, by contrast, designates the order of sin and redemption, the distortion or perversion of creation through the fall on the one hand and the redemption and restoration of creation in Christ on the other.' In other words, all the ingredients in the cultural soup are either moving in the direction of obedience or disobedience to God's will."
- Walt Mueller Engaging the Soul of Youth Culture

I agree to some extent... but what about things like cocaine? Is that, in its substance, essence, and nature positive and good?

Thoughts...?