My Birthday was Oct. 9th. The Pierce's ( another family on our team) have a son who was turning 7 on Oct. 10th. We decided to go camping for the weekend, invite whoever wanted to come from the team, and have a joint B-day celebration. As it neared the weekend, however, a sudden outbreak of sickness hit the team. 8 of our team members were vomiting and had loose stool from what we determined was salmonella poisoning. Fortunately not only did the birthday boy/girl and families not get sick, but it was also fortunate that, that included all the young children. So our camping group shrunk, and we reluctantly pressed on with our plans. We decided only to go Saturday night after all the sickness, but when we left at lunch time on Saturday, I was beginning to wonder if it was even worth going. I was however getting ready to be amazed... Upon arriving at the camp ground (located in a national park, just 1 hr from where we live), we set up camp, at lunch and apple pie (that John made for me). The kids all played and ran around until dinner. We enjoyed a relaxed day, out in the beautiful Simuliki forest, with no one starring or yelling "majungu"(foreigner). Exotic birds were flying around us and singing. Dinner was fabulous, cake followed, and then off to sleep we went (admittingly not the best sleep I have had). In the morning we took a hike to the natural hot springs. Along the way we spotted monkey's everywhere in the trees above. At one point, baboons were just a few feet from us. They can be aggressive, so we stuck together closely, carried sticks, and admired how amazing it was. We saw lots of calabus monkeys (my favorite), and plants and bugs, that were pretty neat. When we arrived at the hot springs, they were far better than what I was expecting! They bubbled up, and left sulfur deposits in their trails. It was a wonderful birthday! Great to be in nature, with people I love and enjoy, seeing unique things, getting away, and having a bit of QUIET. John and I agree...it was the best time we have had thus far in Uganda.
A couple of nights ago we woke up to the earth shaking. Now it is not so uncommon to feel an earthquake here as we are located along the rift valley. Since we have been here, all of the earthquakes that we feel have been the kind of thing, where you only feel them when you are sitting still. Generally the earth rumbles, and then everyone quickly asks "did you feel that." Anyone sitting still probably did, but anyone walking or moving around would have had it pass right on by. Saturday night, the earthquake wouldn't have passed you by. John and I woke up around 2:30 am (our time) to a serious shaking. The shaking was very audible from everything moving around and lasted for what we think was about 45 sec. Our hearts raced, we ran to the door frames and shortly there after it passed. It was just long enough to get you moving, and remind you that God is powerful. There are no real words to express what it is like. in some ways it is something awesome to experience, and somehow still freightning. When we woke up in the morning John looked it up (he did study geology) and it was a 5 on the richtor scale. That is enough to do some structural damage.
The 3rd procession of the possible Bride...She is one of them...they just have to find her
The last group unveiled. The Bride is the second from the right!
Monday I went to an introduction ceremony. It was totally cool...but bizzare! During this event, the man wishing to marry a woman, must pay the dowry to her family. I was very excited about going, as it isn't every day that you get asked to go. I didn't even know the couple, but Pat, one of my teammates asked if I wanted to join her. We drove our car. I thought I would just be an innocent bystander, but since we had a vehicle, and few others do, we were loaded up with the grooms family, and dowry items (crates of soda and beer, and a few other items- the goats walked). The car was decorated with toilet paper, flowers and balloons. Then the entire car ride the ladies sang songs loundly, clapped their hands and hooted and hollered. This was the best part of the day in my opinion. There is nothing quite like an old woman leading a chorus of songs in Labwisi as all the others join in and keep a beat with clapping. We arrived, but then much to my discomfort, Pat and I were walked in with the wedding party and seated with the family (keep in mind I haven't even met the couple, so to me...although I felt honored, I felt my deluxe treatment was more because of my skin color, which kinda made me feel sick to my stomach). The party had traditional dancers, decorated tarp coverings, and a beautiful cake at the center of the event. The ceremony played out much like a drama. "Why have all these people come," they would say (Pat translated). After discussing it for some time, a spokesman would say, "There is a man wanting to marry a woman." Then the friends of the woman would have to find the man (they already knew who he was of course, and he wasn't hiding, but you have to go along with the drama) Then the women come out in groups and the groom's friends must find the bride amongst those that are presented. 1)The first group presented, is uncovered (unveiled) and obviously not the bride, but there is then a story of how these women have traveled on this journey to come, and now need for their transport to be paid. 2)The next group comes, this time they are covered to thier ankles. The grooms friends immediately know she is not there. Again though, transport (according to the drama) must be paid. (Unfortunately for the groom, the paying of "transport," isn't a drama). 3) The next group comes and and the crowd gets excited as they all try to figure out which one is the bride. This time it is quite difficult, but after pacing and touching the woman to examine size and shoes and feet, the friends successfully reveal the bride. Now I thought the woman, when revealed, would be GLOWING, but according to culture the woman must not smile or look happy, because she is leaving her family. It is definately a good thing to know before the ceremony because is is so bizzare ( and initially disturbing), when you don't know why. Next the dowry is negotiated between the men of both families. Dancing, food and festivities follow. At this point I had to leave as the ceremony was supposed to start at 11, didn't start till 2 and would continue through the night. What a celebration! I was so happy I was able to go! -Loren
An update on the eye---- John continues to experience general blurriness and loss of peripheral vision in his left eye. John also injured his right eye after the first, which healed miraculously and has had no remaining problems. At this point we don't expect any changes to occur without seeing a specialist and will have the eye reexamined next time we are in the United States.
Most of you know that I injured my eye a few weeks ago while working on the mower that we use to cut the grass airstrip here in Bundibugyo (a World Harvest project). A small piece of metal was embedded in my cornea while I was using a metal grinder... without wearing safety glasses.
We ended up using a few days which we had previously set aside for some down-time to make the long trip to Kampala where I was seen and treated by an ophthalmologist. These photos were taken shortly after the piece of metal had been removed. In the top-most image you can see a small brown spot to the right of the pupil, over the iris. That is the rust ring which has remained in my eye.
I'll try to write more about the experience soon. Needless to say, when you have to go clear across the country just to get the speck out of your own eye you start to wonder if someone might be trying to communicate something greater than "wear safety glasses".
All in all, I'm fine... going to have it checked out in the USA next time were there, but it's not keeping me from doing anything in the mean time.
When it rains here, it can be pretty impressive at times. We had an amazing storm a few nights ago.It was the kind of storm where you hear it coming several minutes in advance, as it moves its way along the tin roofing of neighbors houses.Fortunately this gives you a few minutes to prepare, to bring items in from outside, to close shutters (we have screens on the windows but no glass, so door shutters are used when needed).This time all our shutters are closed before the rain begins, but even so, standing in the middle of the room we are still getting rained on.When I say getting rained on, I don’t mean a little mist, but drops of rain from the wind blowing the rain through the air vents above the windows.The air vents are slats of wood angled down towards the ground which allows air to continue flowing and prevent stagnation and mold growth.So we are moving things to the center of the house and meanwhile don’t notice that a plastic container of motor oil had fallen over and spilled on the floor.
In the morning Gladys (who helps at the house) comes and we all try to clean up, and put things back in order.I notice the spilt oil, and clean the bulk of it up with a rag.I then proceed to tell Gladys about the spill, ask her if she can go ahead and wash the rag so that the oil doesn’t stay on it till the next day (when she would do laundry).In my haste…I explained…last night the oil fell over and I wiped it up with this rag (using a hand motion of wiping on the floor) that needs to now be washed.She joyfully took the rag and the bottle of oil as if to inspect it and agreed to get to work (what I thought meant clean it up).I went into the kitchen to work on breakfast and look over only to discover Gladys on her hands and knees rubbing, as if waxing the floor.I walk over to clarify and notice the entire floor now has a nice layer of motor oil and the smell that comes with it.I internally get a good laugh.She felt awful when I further explained and together we cleaned up the mess. Did I say my least favorite thing to clean up is oil or grease? Well at least now we have the cleanest floor you have ever seen, with a nice shinny look to boot.
Much as we were able to communicate with our (then) future teammates before we came to Uganda, we didn’t really know what they or this place would be like when we arrived. We saw photos, spoke over the phone, emailed, talked with past team members, and read blogs… but the sense of this place, the ambiance, the atmosphere, and the energy of it was not conveyed to us. Most of you know this from experience and indeed it is an experience shared by many… ever since man and woman first left their home in the garden and moved out into the unknown world beyond.
We didn’t know what our home would be like. We didn’t know what might live on the distant horizon… mountains, rivers, forests. We didn’t know what our teammates and coworkers would be like. We didn’t know what work we would do. We didn’t know much of anything, though, to be sure, we had plenty of ideas of what might await us.
One thing though, has surprised and blessed us greatly. It has been a source of laughter, encouragement, and joy, of good conversations in the shade of a dark cool mango tree. Our Ugandan coworkers have surprised and wowed us with their competence, their vision, and most of all their compassion and care for our brothers and sisters here. I dared not hope to be able to work with more capable or kind people, but here they are, caring for the sick at the health center, teaching and coaching at the school, training farmers and mothers and fathers in nutrition and gardening and raising goats.
More and more, as we look into the future and wonder if and what the legacy of all of our projects and programs will be, I find great encouragement in these brothers and sisters. They have a vision to see real and durable hope come to the hopeless and food come to the hungry, not from the back of an aid truck, but from their very own gardens. They see how necessary it is for their vision to be passed on, to be owned and tended and refined by others.
Give thanks with me that God has raised and trained and brought faithful brothers and sisters here to this place, some from far and others from very near. Give thanks that He has equipped them so well for the work here, the work of encouraging, teaching, and healing.
If you are a person who prays, give thanks. If you are a person who prays, pray for hope in darkened lonely hearts. If you are a person who prays, pray for vision to grow out of hope and compassion to sprout from well loved souls.
Today is our 3 year anniversary, which completely blows my mind! I have no idea how I can possibly be married that long already. Then I realize...that means John and I have known each other for almost 10 years and dated or married for 9 of those. John and I met when I was 15 and he was 16 and now I am 24 and he just turned 26 last week. That is alot of time, and a huge amount of change and ground we have covered in each others lives. I am a totally different person...or very different at least...from when we first met. Thank goodness for change...much more to come though! Praise the Lord for the ways we have been able to be apart of each others lives through it all. through the really exciting times, and through the hard and not so fun times. We have watched each other grow, challenged each other, and celebrated that God has had His hand in our lives the entire time (even when we each as individuals weren't so sure we wanted Him there). Praise the Lord for His faithfulness, for the ways He sustains us, that He is ever present, that He knows us and wants what is best for us. That He brought us together, because even when it has been tough, both of us know that there is no one we would rather be with, through it all. Thank you Lord!
...hopefully, no more. The snake count is now up to 6. 5 young ones in the house and 1 mama or papa killed just outside out back door, right by our rainwater storage tank. We're hoping that killing one large snake of this type means that we won't continue to find small ones in our house, at least, not forever. Unless of course these snakes can reproduce a-sexually, which I hope would be something of an anomaly.
So, thank you for praying! Please don't stop now! As this place continues to feel more and more like home, we continue to pray for the snakes to move on, for our eyes to be sharp, and for God to protect us from these serpents.
Below I've posted a short clip of the 'big' snake that we killed. We've definitively identified it as a Burrowing Asp. (Just so you know, a full grown one is only about a 60-100 centimeters long.)
Monday was the best day I have had yet at the hospital. I am working in the prenatal clinic, doing first time check ups (though the majority are 25-35 weeks pregnant). Here they are screened for anemia, breech babies, HIV status of mother, given folic acid, and blood pressure and weight are taken. The vast majority of pregnant women here tend to not eat as much as they should, in fear they will have a large baby and die during delivery, so women are underweight and babies are born malnourished. The vast majority of them, are what in America we would term as VERY anemic, but here, only the EXTREME receive blood transfusions just prior to delivery. Currently my goal is to establish a relationship with the nurses and pregnant woman coming to the health centre for the first time, so that there is a level of trust built and a respect for one another. Typically I do a LOT of paperwork as it doesn’t require me to speak the language. I also take blood pressures and weight, but Monday I also got to help with abdominal exams.
It was a fasinating experience for me. Instead of using tape to measure fundal height they just measure by starting at the belly button and measuring in finger widths. So at the belly button you are 20 weeks, each finger width above or below just add or subtract 2 weeks. It seemed pretty simple. You check for pedal pulses, edema, anemia, and position of the head by palpation (touch), and then…listen to baby heart beat. Ok….NOT EASY. In the states we use to little machine called a doplar, which is very easy to use. Here they took a small piece of plastic (which is shaped like a tiny traffic cone) and put their ear to one end, and the other on the belly. The midwife kept saying…”ok listen to this one…its very clear, “ I listen…listen…silence…maybe I heard something?...are you kidding me?!?! THIS WAS A SKILL I DON”T YET HAVE.
It reminded me of a staff education meeting I went to, where they were reviewing signs of a person going into shock. I immediately jump into it, vocalizing the changes in blood pressure and heart rate, to which they respond…well we don’t usually have a blood pressure cuff and we don’t check heart beat because no one has a watch. OK….much to learn. In some ways you might think…how advanced America is…but if our equipment ever fails in the states…we are stuck because we rely upon these tools. They pay attention to perfusion, mental changes…things we are taught and sometimes notice, but rarely rely upon, and many wouldn’t even remember to look for. It is a great learning environment to keep me thinking critically and stretch me, to learn to return (or start) from the basics.
Sunday on our way to church I saw Gladesi. Gladesi helps out in our home several days a week with washing clothes and dishes and so forth. She is a DELIGHT, and I mean there are few people that have the joy that this woman has. She sings almost every moment that she is working and always is smiling and even dancing. She is a HARD WORKER and a dear friend not only to John and I, but even more warming to a mother’s heart…a dear friend to our son Bryan. Gladesi has kids my age, lost her husband to rebel warfare and now lives and takes care of her mother, which as she says “is much like a child now.” For a Babwesi woman, she speaks excellent English, but it is still difficult to carry on a deep conversation. Nevertheless she is my closest Babwesi friend and very dear to my heart.
So…walking to Church I said to John, Gladesi lives somewhere around here, and then notice her sitting outside! “Ahh Gladesi...” and we exchange the usually smiles and greeting. I say “so this is where you live,” and she happily shows me through a metal gate lodged between store fronts. Through the gate is a small dirt courtyard where clothes are hanging to dry and food cooked by neighbors (all related somehow..but not closely). She brings me into her home which is substantially smaller than my college dorm room. Literally there is room for two small cots and a path between them which is just large enough to walk between the beds. Everything that she owns is under those beds. Her mother is there, and we meet for the first time. Her mother is VERY feeble, almost invalid, barely speaks, and has such bad cataracts that it is clearly visible at first glance. Gladesi sleeps in one bed and her mother in the other, each bed strung with mosquito nets. I was humbled. There are different levels of poverty here, and though I have seen this kind of poverty before, it was the first time I have been so close to someone who lives as she does.
Prior to going to her house, I found it shocking when Gladesi would pull moldy (like really moldy) bread out of the wet trash bin and say …”Can I have it,” I respond, “I think it is not good.” To which she responds…”ah ah (meaning no no) it is still good.” Things which I think will really make her sick, I try to throw away and hide before she comes, so she won’t find it.
In this culture you thank people for EVERYTHING… Webale (Thank you) for walking, for cooking, for eating, for carrying, for getting older, for surviving, for thanking me, and trust me the list continues. I realize sometimes it is just cultural and perhaps not always a genuine heartfelt thankyou, but Gladesi is truly a greatful woman. I was again humbled when upon returning from Kampala she thanked me for buying a shiny cooking pot there -“Thankyou for buying,” a comment that made me instantly felt guilty.
So my instinct is to feel guilty. I feel guilty that I have anything at all, guilty that I am not more thankful, guilty that others, especially Gladesi, can see my wealth (which isn’t a great deal, but is in comparison). I feel all this, but then am reminded that God doesn’t want us to sit in guilt. Sometimes He convicts us, but He is no less pleased with me and loves me no less when I have a house, fridge, stove, and more than she will ever have. She and I are in different places. God is teaching her things right where she is, and God is teaching me things right where I am. I don’t know how to process all that I see in a day, and although it is easy to separate myself emotionally from it, I don’t want to separate myself from it. I want to be friends with the Gladesi's of this world. I want to struggle together in our very different ways, to laugh, to work, to live together, and to realize that we both know the same God- the same God who loves us dearly and takes care of us every step of the way.
I find it difficult to share about things that appear shocking to me, because I find that often our mentality as Americans is to separate ourselves from what is different, to view them has not being the same and say “these people have it wrong, or they are so poor and sick, and we will come and help/save them.” I say this as one who constantly is challenged with thinking this myself – a mentality that I have to continually run from. So know when I say things that shock you, or have shocked me, that I don’t mean to say that I am any better, or that America is any better –we are just different, and all cultures/people have faults and beauty. Each must learn from the other and we as Americans must realize that there are things others would be equally shocked about in viewing American culture and lifestyles.
It's starting to seem as if we are a bit under siege here in the house. About an hour ago I killed another viper in the middle of our bedroom doorway. One is surprising. Two is annoying. Three is worrying. A fourth, in four days, would start to be disconcerting, I think. Please pray that we wouldn't find (or not find for that matter) any more snakes in our home.
On a positive note, the agriculture programs at Christ School (the boarding school World Harvest started here about 10 years ago) are starting to be a bit organized again... one step closer to a sustainable future. Pray for Alex, the farm manager, to have wisdom, integrity, and to be encouraged, both as a believer and as a leader. John has been working with him one or two days each week to help give him some support.
(to the tune of The 12 Days of Christmas) Three burrowing vipers (in the house) Two massive spiders And a cobra in the palm tree
Need I say more… Yes this is written in response to John killing yet another snake in the house, after the day before killing another snake and the largest spider I have ever seen outside of a cage. The bugs and rats I can live with, but snakes and spiders… not so much. John sprayed a can of aerosol bug spray (called DOOM) at the spider while holding a match, causing essentially a flame thrower effect and one crispy fried spider. You start to get creative with how to kill these guys when they are not only harmful but FAST.
Yesterday, I sat for half an hour out under our grass thatch kitubbi ("waiting room") while a thunderstorm blew through. It started out with dark clouds off to the north, sliding down the mountains towards us. For twenty minutes, or so, it sounded as if there was a class V whitewater river getting ready to burst through the trees in our front yard, the creshendo reaching my ears just as the first big wet drops of rain landed on my shoulders and hands. I had been planting trees inbetween the house and the (increasingly busy) road. Some months before our arrival a small cadre of chainsaw-toting workers came through the entire district, cutting a swath, through which they are just now beginning to string up power lines ...yes, that's right, power lines. The trees in our yard (about 15 of them or so) met a swift end (you can notice the grotesque stumps in some of our pictures - see the picasa web albums link on the right).
The rain is a blessing. Especially evident here, in a place where nearly everyone makes most of their living swinging a hoe and growing their own food. It has been confusing for many here in Bundibugyo. Climate change does also affect the rainforest (and former rainforest, in our case, here). For the last couple of years the rainy and dry seasons have been unpredictable, failing to stick to their previously arranged schedules. It makes it hard to know when to plant and when to harvest, even when to prepare the soil and weed. All of which only exacerbates and deepens the poverty and insecurity and fear and hopelessness and fatalism which are already well established realities, here.
We've also been planting here, a small garden for hard-to-find vegetables and also to serve in some way as an encouragement and demonstration for our community. Our watermelon patch is just sprouting and for the past three days I have watched the small shoots with great anticipation, imagining when they will give us and our friends their sweet juicy-red fruits. I planted a big patch of them, for two reasons really. The first being that we love watermelon and they are hard to find (totally absent, in fact) locally. The second reason is that food, even growing right outside your door, is an easy target for theives. It is routine for us to find kids stealing food from the gardens right around our house, and the frequency with which one hears of peoples gardends being plundered is alarming. For many, here, stealing food is a way of life.
So back to the power lines. Yes, even here, over the mountains and through the woods they are finally going to have electricity, at least along the main road. But wait, before you begin thinking what a big difference its going to make, remember that there is still not a reliable and efficient way to move people and goods into and out of this place. When you ask a local what they think about electricy, they are ambivalent. "What am I going to do with electricity?" Most people don't have money for appliances or lights anyway. And even if they had lights, what would the have them on when its dark for? Reading a good Lubwisi novel? To be fair, it is true that many will benefit from electricity. They will have lights in the shops and might extend their hours. They will be able to charge cell phones and mill cassava and corn flour without having to crank up a generator. I'm sure it isn't unlike the situation that many Americans experienced when electricity was first brought to their communities (generations ago). The older ones see it as unneccessary and of small consequence, but their children and grandchildren won't know what to do without it. Even us, what would we do without our solar panels and batteries. You certainly would be reading this blog!
We give thanks today for the rains which have wet the soil and hands which have planted the seeds. We give thanks for electricity and what it might mean for some here... a greater ability to provide well for their families. We also lament that theft drives many to the edge and that so many on the edge are driven to steal. We pray for relationships founded on love and truth and we ask for God's mercy on us and on this place.
So I actually wrote the last blog update last sunday (mother's day) and decided to post it on monday night, only to find that John became sick and was in bed for 2-3 days with fever, weakness, and rash (not malaria...no worries) and the extra load meant little time to get on the computer. You may feel this update is perhaps inconsistant with the last, to be posted on the same day. Know that they are written 5 days apart, and as I mentioned..how we are doing depends on the day.
So people have been asking...how are you doing?!?! There have undoubtably been many stresses for us since we have arrived. Some stressors which will pass as we get use to cooking and cleaning, some which will lessen with time, some which I am sure will always be present. We have been sick, bitten by many bugs, robbed, and plagued with requests. So how have we honestly been doing?!?! It depends on the day... Some days we reach a moment of peace in which we are actually depending on the Lord because we know He is bigger than all of our stressors, and that He loves and cares for us. This does not mean that we won't struggle, not by any means...I mean even He did. Most days it feels more like a whirlwind in which we are just surviving Some days we are exhausted questioning why we even came, or should we stay. Yet amongst the many stresses we have felt, it has not been the hardest time we have experienced. God is sustaining us here and somehow we are still certain without a doubt that this is where we are suppose to be. We don't know what God has in mind, but we know this is WHERE we are called. Even today we discovered we were robbed once again as someone broke into our back porch and stole petty things (laundry soap, a brush, a tupperware container), and I cried and John was infuriated as it feels we can take no more. But then we just hug and say to each other, "this is HARD", and some days harder than others, but "we are OK and WE ARE WHERE WE ARE SUPPOSE TO BE."
We went to Kampala last weekend, mainly to pick up items that we needed. We got some meat, doorlocks (since we are missing some of our keys and don’t know who has them), assorted other foods we can’t get locally, tools (we thought there was some left behind by the previous missionaries in our house…but there isn’t a tool in sight), and other things. Aspects of our trip seemed restful as we got away from the many requests of us, didn’t cook or clean dishes, stayed in a guarded guest house that Bryan could run around in with no fear of him wandering somewhere he could get hurt or lost. Other aspects we grew tired of such as John navigating the often unlabled, busy streets, making decisions on what we should purchase or not. Ultimately it was a good break but we were ready to return to home (Bundibugyo, even knowing some of what was ahead). Prior to, or just after returning to Bundibugyo, we found out that one of our teammates house was broken into and $500 was stollen, as we were buying locks in Kampala we were called and told someone broke one of the locks off our door and attempted to get in (but failed), we killed a baby spitting cobra in our yard (which is a blessing that one is dead, but also means mama is around too), Prior to Kampala someone attempted to rob me in the market cutting my bag and the outside of my wallet (again, praise the Lord, that I “got a bad feeling” and moved my wallet before they took it, not realizing someone had already cut it; nothing was stolen). A drunk man laid down in our yard after causing a scene and said (someone translated) “he wasn’t leaving till we gave him money”..but someone who has been coming to ask for money luckily came by and with his help another’s, dragged him off our property. So thinking I was ready for what was ahead, I began to fear and think… I am locking our house down, maybe we should pay a guard, maybe we should secure our house in this way…and every sound of the rats (presumably large rats…since we can hear their footsteps)in the attic had us on edge that we weren’t safe. In my rambling thoughts and frustrations a peace came over me and I thought; the fact is, if someone wants to steal, break into our house or cause us trouble from doing it, they will find a way. We have been living in fear ever since we arrived that we will be manipulated, hurt (emotionally more likely than physically…but even physically), that our possessions and documents will be taken. We have guarded ourselves from more work and from this hurt so much that we have shut down, and been afraid to go out. It has felt like death. We have forgotten that we are Children of GOD, that He loves us, that He has called us to relationship with those around us, and we will get hurt…that is part of relationships, but it doesn’t mean we shouldn’t jump in anyway. It also doesn’t mean we should be careless or unwise, but we cannot live in fear. In this environment you have no choice but to have faith. One begins to realize the power of and the necessity of prayer, not because it is different here than anywhere else, but because you are so out of your comfort zone that you know you won’t survive without it. So as a family we began to take down our guard, and saturday two Ugandan girls asked if they could help John, Bryan and me around market. I was/am sure they would or will try to manipulate me for money in the future (notice my skepticism about everything right now), but I have decided to take down my wall and attempt to trust God. Several kids came and played ball in our front yard, and John joined. We had a 4 Ugandan friends (new friends) over for dinner, and for once since we have been here, the day felt full of life. I am still scarred, and I know I will get hurt, I know I will make the wrong choices, that I will have a poor impact in certain situations, but locking myself up in fear isn’t where life is. I must leap in faith, and trust that God will bring me through it, He will protect us, and if he allows suffering (be it emotional or physical), He can still be glorified, and in relationship we can grow in our knowledge of His love, grace, and hope.
We are getting ready to head off over the mountains for a few days, to Kampala to do some shopping and hopefully rest a bit. Over the past month we have made a list of things which we have "missed"... meaning that we could get here but haven't or didn't. This trip is largely to get some tools, stock up on foods that we can't get locally, and find a bit of quiet. Your prayers for safe travel and for wisdom and discernment are much appreciated. We are making decisions about many things during this short trip over the mountains, decisions which will likely impact our family and the relationships we have here in significant ways. One of the bigger (financial) decisions being whether or not to buy a used vehicle. Up to now we have been walking or catching rides with teammates. We are definitely going to look into getting bicycles, but we are trying to decide if a vehicle is also a wise decision for us. Right now, we have shared access to an older vehicle, but it is coordinated with 4 other busy teammates, and while that works out most of the time, it can make it difficult when wanting/needing to leave Bundibugyo district. We will have internet while in Kampala... we have REALLY enjoyed, appreciated and been encouraged by many of your emails over the past week! Thank you.
Note that we uploaded some new pictures of where we are living to our Picasa web albums. You can click on the slideshow on the right hand side of the blog to view them!
Every decision has consequences. A lesson we told Bryan as he dumped the bottle of baby powder all over the room and was sent to bed early. It seems to be a common phrase lately as Bryan has still been adjusting to all the change around him and trying to maintain some control of his own (usually involving dumping something out). As I said this I thought…how true to all of life, and much of what we are facing here daily.
It has been overwhelming as person after person comes to our door to ask for a pair of shoes, books, pencils, bandaids, loans, school fees, money for a ride or a billion other things. We are not allowed to help anyone for 6 months, so that we can get to know people and the culture, but it is challenging. One man who comes to our door daily said he needed a loan and we could hold his phone as collateral, when we declined him, but agreed to charge his phone he couldn’t figure out how to turn it on, didn’t have a phone charger, and when we showed him how to turn it on, it said someone else’s name. There are so many legitimate needs but there are also many who know we are the new people on the block and would love to have a few free handouts.
A friend who has lived here before said that he once locked himself in a closet and read comic books by flashlight because of all that he was dealing with while living here. I have been quite close to doing the same thing, but I can’t seem to convense Bryan to join me in the closet, and can’t find a closet that is big enough ( I am kidding but have certainly closed my doors and tried to keep quite so people don’t think I am home). I came to find out only yesterday that John, having realized how overwhelmed I have been by the continuing requests, told someone who is working on repairing our “fence”(bushes to create a barrier from the road and random curious onlookers), that he should tell people to go away who are coming to the door in the morning. I can’t tell you how loved I felt, that John suggested it, and that the man was trying to follow through.
For anyone, like myself, who is challenged in saying the word “NO”, come to Bundibugyo for some practice. How do you tell someone who wants to go to school I can’t help you, or someone who’s mother died and needs a ride to see her, “No”. I want so badly to help, to solve all these problems but I also know I cannot pay for everyone to go to school and have a pair of shoes and to travel to see their dying family members. One friend I have made told me she lost 4 siblings to HIV, and three people came to my door this week saying the need money to see a family member who is dying in the neighboring town.
I must realize that if I say yes to one, ten or twenty more will come, and ultimately I can either spend the money to help one or two people, or put it towards nutrition projects and education that can help hundreds. When I hear “I have a problem”, I have to realize that EVERYONE here does, and I would rather teach a man to fish than to give him one fish and leave him to starve after he eats it. We must help in ways that are sustainable.
We stopped along the road to Bundibugyo for what I like to call “drive thru.” Only a slowing of the car and children were running…literally running towards your car with hands full of food and drinks. Hands stuck through all four windows with skewers of chicken literally stretched half way across your car. I have seen similar things oversees, but nothing quite like this. I just laughed hysterically, tried to take pictures, and hold on to anything that might be valuable.
Driving around the capital was an adventure as we drove on dirt roads, often more like four wheeling, passing small dirt homes swept with grass tied together to removed the trash that lined the streets. It was filthy, with an open sewer running along the road. Shops almost the size of lemonade stands were lined with clothes, phone chords, food and anything one might be able to sell. Signs mislabeled like “fresh diary” instead of “fresh dairy” and store fronts named for Americas new president Barack Obama. The main roads of Ugandans were covered with dirt that filled the city. The traffic busy with cars, people walking, and botas, (motorcycles) which sometimes held two or three or even four (if there were children) on it. Women often ride the motorcycles side saddle which is a tremendous feat of balance as traffic intertwines in the typical third world fashion. Heidi (or teammate) drove remarkably through the bumps, hills (Kampala is quite hilly), botas and pedestrians all crowded in so as to not push the other into the sewer ditches on the sides. The traffic doesn’t go even remotely in straight lines, so as to avoid the massive pits in the road. I wept as I looked around and ached for the history of these people, the ways foreigners have ruled and oppressed these people, and then being a foreigner, standing out with my white skin, blonde hair, and called “Muzungu”(white foreigner) by all that pass. Overall I was treated with extra respect as almost the elite, which caused an almost visceral reaction in my body. I wanted to scream. I am no different but I know in many ways I am I am just no better. I wanted to blend in, to be like them, to hurt with them, to understand. In celebration, our team ate at a nice restaurant, much too expensive for the locals to eat in, filled with nicely dressed whites and a few Ugandans who were all sitting again with whites. It was hard to enjoy my meal with the change of what I was experiencing then, to what I had seen all day. The greatest joy though was watching Bryan play in the grass outside the open walled restaurant with two dark skinned children and seeing color not affect their interactions.
A cannon. Propelled at break-neck speed. By thousands of prayers and gifts. Moving, fast. A flash. Brief is our parting. Our travel quick. Arrested by the new and the strange. Fragmenting, exploding. Lodging in the flesh of life. Coming to rest, once again. In relationship.
Before you start thinking that I have joined the circus, let me say that WE'RE GOING TO BUNDIBUGYO! ...AND SOON!
It does feel like we've been shot out of a cannon... the concussion of receiving pledges for all of our outstanding financial support is still ringing. The planning, packing and preparing are full-on, no-holds-barred, 24/7.
On Friday Loren worked her last day at the hospital. On sunday we moved out of our apartment and in with Loren's parents. On Monday we started packing. Yesterday we bought plane tickets. Today I am pausing to think and to let you all know that we are finally, actually, really, and truly moving... in just a little over two weeks.
We'll depart from Greensboro on March 23rd, headed up to the World Harvest office outside of Philadelphia, PA for a last connection with the US based staff before hopping on a plane the night of the 25th for Belgium and then on to Uganda.
We are 'stoked' and overwhelmed. We are joyfilled and nervous. We will miss our families and friends, and we have intense desire and profound hope for new friendship and connection.
Thank you... for your prayers, for your gifts, and for your encouragement up to now. Above all, thank you for your friendship and your faithfulness to our God, our creator and redeemer. Pray for us to be humbled and loved. Pray for us to love and to not be afraid.
We just returned from our training at MTI (Missionary Training International) in Colorado Springs, CO. To summarize our experience seems too difficult, as we learned a great deal about our personalities, conflict styles, how our culture affects us, and difficulties working with a ex-pat team...Overall it was just really enjoyable, stretching, and much needed. This was quite shocking for us as admittedly, we thought going into it that the training would be unnecessary as we have spent a fair amount of time abroad and a great deal of time examining what "mission" is, the beauty and ugliness that come with it.
However, much to our delight, most of the sessions and growth we experienced was not in being handed a 12 step how-to booklet, but rather a challenge to dig deep in our lives, examine our hearts, personality, conflict styles, and see who we are and the biases and perspectives we bring to the table.With both John and I doing this simultaneously there was much wrestling and growth, not only in ourselves as individuals, but also in our marriage.
One area of unexpected growth was my realization that I am utterly insecure as a mother.Starting out as a young mom with an (originally) unwanted pregnancy, I felt I had to grow up so quickly and resented it.The growth during that time was much needed and very beautiful, but I am still growing.I felt I had grown up in the area of being a mom (my acceptance and excitement), but somehow I have continued to view myself as different than all the other moms around me.I have desired to "fit in" or be a part of the "mom crowd", only to internally cast myself out as being different. I was completely unaware that I was doing this, and instead felt others weren't giving me a chance, viewing me as young and immature.
During our time I was blessed by the friendship I developed with a young mother of three who's family will be moving to Central Asia. She simply asked my son and I to come watch a sunset with her and her children. She invited me into her "hotel" room to let the kids play as she listened to my story, and too shared about her life and struggles and anxieties. For the first time during the training, just spending time with her and other mothers, who were also going oversees, struggling with the same things I am, and growing in ways I was, I just felt like I belonged, that I was an equal. It has been my own insecurities that has prevented me from this, but the impact of someone simply taking time to listen and love me, during a time that I was ready to be loved in this way, made a huge impact. I would not have always grown as I did from her gesture, but I can see how God has been preparing me to be ready for this internal change. I sit here now writing this, feeling insecure as I reveal my struggles in this area... wondering if perhaps it will make me look young or immature, desiring to say that I have it all together, but instead admitting that I am still learning who I am, and God is still creating miracles in me. I am certain this will not change, and look forward to the growth that lies in wait for me. So now I know as a MOM that I am normal, unique, but normal.
Top - Pikes Peak view from the hill near MTI (bottom)
We just returned from our missionary training in Colorado. Prior to leaving we knew that we were required to go to the training by our agency World Harvest Mission, but were uncertain how beneficial it would be. Both of us have been oversees and have had our eyes opened to both the joys and challenges of living oversees, with a team, "doing missions," and felt that perhaps the training wasn't even going to be necessary. Little did we know how beneficial it would be.
First of all the benefits of fellowship! Again we were skeptical prior to going, thinking we'll sit in these classes, which will end at 4:00pm giving us time to write more letters, make calls, do the ever present paperwork. Only to discover we were wiped out from the emotions of the day and simply needed to spend time with the 30 or so others who were feeling the same way, struggling with the same questions of safety, raising children, discovery of the goods and bads of our personalities and conflict styles. Laughing endlessly together, and crying soberly. Reaching into the depth of our past struggle, anxieties and fears, and pains and hurts. Having our kids play together, which is so fun as parents of a son who is just starting to learn how fun it is to actually interact with other kids.
Secondly the benefits of introspective questions... confirming in us both, not only are we suppose to go to Bundibugyo, but we are encouraged in our passion to be relational in ministry. YES, to mend a wound, feed one who is hungry, provide education and clean water, BUT, most importantly being a friend, a neighbor, mom and dad. About half of our exercises were done with couples split apart, confirming in each of us our own abilities and passions and revealing our own hurts and fears. Three weeks of this can revolutionize you as a person, and as a family.
What a delight to be able to spend time with family. We were fortunate to be sent to Colorado for our Missionary training because the location was perfect for being able to see my cousins who I only see about once every 5 years and many of whom John had never met.
My cousin Julie has one son, born only two weeks before Bryan, and then a brand new baby girl who was less than a month old. What a delight to meet my cousins' two children for the first time and to watch our two boys play together. It was particularly nice to play in the snow, as there was much to play in (12 inches plus).
We also met another new family member as my cousin Jeff only got married a couple months ago, we met his wife, Shana, for the first time. We thoroughly enjoyed our time with EVERYONE, aunt, cousins, spouses, and cousin's children. We would love to be closer in distance, but I suppose our move to Uganda will separate us even farther. One of the costs that we've been counting a lot, lately.
So, I must admit that I am come only recently into the world of blogging. Loren and I just started this one back in June, and I still have mixed feelings about its usefulness. But, its something we have committed to do, our hope being that more people might be a part of our lives, if even from a distance or in seemingly small ways.
Before we started our blog I RARELY took the time to read blogs of others, but I am finding that its something that I enjoy and want to do, more and more. No doubt, there is a lot of useless and meaningless info out there... but its also a really great way to let others see, just a little, into your life and heart. Especially true, if you can stand to be transparent and vulnerable, even in small measure.
I have a habit of checking the blogs of a few folks, those whom I know and love, those for whom I am excited, even strangers who just seem, well, cool. Using a simple web"site" called Google Reader (www.google.com/reader) I can see which of the blogs I'm interested in have new posts, and access them all from one convenient place.
All of this is just me slowly pulling back the curtain on the blogs of some of our teamates in Bundibugyo... a few of which are listed to the right ---> under "Teamates Blogs"
I find myself leaving their blogs for last as I read through whats on my Google Reader list... hoping to savor the glimpse of their world and heart... leaving it for dessert, to be absorbed like dark chocolate at the end of a long day. And while I'm biased in my opinions, I commend their blogs to you... as places to find encouragement and beauty amidst the brokenness and confusion of life. I hold these up to you as examples of what can be good about blogging.
"So, what exactly will you be doing in Bundibugyo?" - A fine question, and one that we have heard quite a lot. I'm sorry that we haven't blogged more about what we expect to be doing once we are in Uganda... it's time for that to change.
Let me start by saying that both Loren and I plan to work, and we both plan to be part-time "stay-at-home" parents. There will be no daycare for Bryan, and until he begins school we will likely split up the day so that we can share the joys and responsibilities of taking care of him. My hope is that as he gets older he will be able to spend more of the day with me while I'm doing agriculture and nutrition work. I'll likely be spending a lot of time outside and with children and it just seems like a great way for him to learn, socialize and grow. Eventually, Bryan will be able to start school with the World Harvest teachers at the Rwenzori Mission School (for mission kids). He'll be there until he's old enough to start at Christ School - Bundibugyo, the Christian school World Harvest founded about 10 years ago. Remember that all of this is just conjecture... years away, at least... but is how we expectthings to go.
Loren will be working in some capacity as a nurse, likely at Nyahuka Health Center, a medium-size semi-rural hospital which is owned by the Ugandan Ministry of Health, but is operated in partnership with World Harvest Mission (feel free to correct me here, team). There has been some discussion that Loren might spend some of her time working with disabled children, doing occupational and/or physical therapy, and she will almost surely be involved in the many nutritional outreach programs World Harvest has going in the region.
Throughout the district there is an overwhelming abundance of health-care and health education needs that Loren will be able to help fill with her nursing skills and knowledge of health.
I will also be working primarily to improve health, though my focus is likely to be centered squarely on nutrition work. For me, this will involve working with some/all of the "BundiNutrition" projects... "World Harvest Mission's current nutrition programs are focused on malnourished and at-risk children such as those with chronic illness, motherless or whose mothers have HIV. We support surrogate breastfeeding, dairy goat breeding, and the therapeutic feeding of inpatients and outpatients. Locally grown nourishment in the form of eggs, milk and soy/peanut powder is used more and more." (from the bundinutrition.blogspot.com blog)
There is a demonstration farm where "new" agricultural techniques and crops are showcased for the benefit of the local farming community, a goat breeding program to improve milk production of dairy goats in the region, a program to distribute locally made nutritional supplements to moderately malnourished kids and adults suffering from chronic illness, a program to support surrogate breastfeeding mothers (and grandmothers) - providing them with nutritional supplements, a program to reduce risk of mother-to-baby HIV transmission, and inpatient rehabilitation for acutely malnourished kids.
Why all this focus on health, and nutrition specifically??? - The answer is fairly simple, if not immediately obvious... good nutrition leads to good health, strong immune systems, improved ability to learn and work hard, and social development (among other things)... in short, it is a foundational component of life, upon which much of the rest of our lives rests. AND it is relatively easier and less expensive to address than say, chronic acute diseases or instutional corruption. Which is not to say that other, more difficult problems, should not be attacked, only that working to improve nutrition is an important and healthy component of any attempt to improve the lives of our neighbors, especially the poor.
Where is the evangelism, preaching and teaching??? - This may develop for us, but for now we feel distinctly called to help address the health-related needs of people in Bundibugyo. We believe that caring for the sick the hungry and the lonely is how we (specifically) are called to love our neighbors and our God. Working beside people, with them, to care for our families and communities, together, is one way of creating a space where relationships can form... where the Holy Spirit can move and bring glimpses of truth and hope.
We may also be involved in work with farmers growing cash crops (such as coffee and cocoa) to help them improve thier yeilds or their access to markets and fair prices for their produce, or in helping communities to develop sources of clean water, or in teaching about hygiene and disease.
To return to the question at the beginning of this post... we don't know, exactly, what we will be doing in the months and years after we finally make the move to Bundibugyo... but the possibilities are many, and good and we are excited to follow the heart of Jesus and discover what He holds in store for the people of western Uganda.
I spent this past weekend hiking and camping in Linville Gorge with my friend Matt H. and his friend Al. The cold wind on my face and the long fall shadows cutting through the silvery Appalachian forest was sweet balm for my soul. The wispy smoke from the campfire and the whipping and looping flight of hawks riding the wind currents through the gorge reminded me again of the creativity and goodness of our creator. It can be so easy to forget.
While taking a break on Sunday morning, half-way up to the rim above us, we had a brief conversation about beauty. We had broken out above the trees and could see the cliffs and crags some of the Cherokee’s most sacred places, Table Rock, Hawksbill, and Sitting Bear mountains.
It was beautiful. So much so that one of our company suggested that the only thing more beautiful was a beautiful woman (remember we were three men on our third day out in the woods together). The conversation was brief and not much else was said at the time, but over the past few days I have continued to think about beauty. I have wondered what, to me, is most beautiful and awesome and wonderful.
Maybe this reveals the [shallow] depth of my faith and my [small] understanding of the grace and life I have received through Jesus, but what I hold to be most beautiful is… my son, Bryan Nathaniel Clark. Would that I could give him my faith, I would. Would that I could lay all the Appalachians at his feet, to be his playground… I would. I would willingly cut away my arm to protect him, to save him, to be a part of his knowing the living God.
I feel that I should hold Jesus, my Lord, my redeemer and friend in such high esteem… and yet, I know the thin spots in my faith, the places where the poke of a finger or the slightest stretch would cause catastrophic failure.
I find hope in the Scripture, in the Word revealed to us, that WE are God’s children… “Yet to all who received him, to those who believed in his name, he gave the right to become children of God— children born not of natural descent, nor of human decision or a husband's will, but born of God.” (John 1: 10-13) Is the God of all, the creator of every leaf and star and wisp of smoke, my Father!?! Does he think of me as I think of Bryan… so beautiful, so precious that the smallest smile can bring a wash of joyful tears and rush of warmth radiating from the depths of my heart!?!
“Everyone who believes that Jesus is the Christ is born of God, and everyone who loves the father loves his child as well. This is how we know that we love the children of God: by loving God and carrying out his commands. This is love for God: to obey his commands. And his commands are not burdensome, for everyone born of God overcomes the world. This is the victory that has overcome the world, even our faith. Who is it that overcomes the world? Only he who believes that Jesus is the Son of God.” (1 John 5: 1-5)
“How great is the love the Father has lavished on us, that we should be called children of God! And that is what we are! The reason the world does not know us is that it did not know him. Dear friends, now we are children of God, and what we will be has not yet been made known. But we know that when he appears, we shall be like him, for we shall see him as he is. Everyone who has this hope in him purifies himself, just as he is pure.” (1 John 3: 1-3)
“ This is how we know what love is: Jesus Christ laid down his life for us. And we ought to lay down our lives for our brothers. If anyone has material possessions and sees his brother in need but has no pity on him, how can the love of God be in him? Dear children, let us not love with words or tongue but with actions and in truth. This then is how we know that we belong to the truth, and how we set our hearts at rest in his presence whenever our hearts condemn us. For God is greater than our hearts, and he knows everything.
Dear friends, if our hearts do not condemn us, we have confidence before God and receive from him anything we ask, because we obey his commands and do what pleases him. And this is his command: to believe in the name of his Son, Jesus Christ, and to love one another as he commanded us. Those who obey his commands live in him, and he in them. And this is how we know that he lives in us: We know it by the Spirit he gave us.” (1 John 3: 16-24)
My heart does still condemn me. I am yet struggling to cling by faith. I am desperate for it.
I spent three full days out of the past week working to repair our car. It had been laid up, with a broken front-end and runny radiator, since July when Loren had an accident. Thankfully, Loren, Bryan, our friend Anna and the driver of the other car were all OK. (My thanks to the engineers at Volvo who designed such a safe vehicle.) The damage to the car was, however, extensive… those meticulously engineered crumple zones did their job perfectly, protecting the passengers from the abrupt acceleration caused by the impact, and effectively absorbing the energy through the crushing, squishing, and breaking of the engine compartment and components.
Down to our manual transmission, 2.5 seat, Toyota pickup, Loren decided that it was finally time to learn how to drive a stick-shift. So, the day after the accident, me with a migraine and our pantry nearing food shortage crisis levels, Loren headed out for her first trip alone in the truck. Stalling out once while backing out of the parking spot at the apartment and then zooming away into the falling darkness, I heard her yell out “Where are the lights?!?” Yelling after her as she sped away (faster than I think she meant to), I saw the headlights come on as she coasted past the stop at the end of our road.
With Loren now able to drive the truck, and another truck on loan from my parents, we were in no immediate rush to spend the necessary thousands to repair the car. So, we decided that I would undertake the repairs myself, as time and money allowed. Remember here that we are pouring everything into trying to get to Uganda and join the World Harvest team in Bundibugyo. As such, car repair was far from the top of my to-do list. Eventually, my parents needed the truck back and so I ordered the parts it appeared I would need to repair the Volvo. At the same time, Loren’s parents graciously loaned us their extra car, an aging mammoth-size American sedan.
The parts for the Volvo never came, and eventually we learned that the order had never, in fact, been processed. I began looking for other parts sources but had not yet found a reasonable deal when, one evening, I got a call from Loren who had been to visit our friends, the Mohns, about 40 minutes away. The car her parents had loaned us had broken down on the interstate and she was stuck, in the late hours of the day, with Bryan on the side of the busy highway. To be honest, I relish such opportunities when I can come to the rescue (especially of my wife) and this night was no exception. The car had overheated and now, despite the fact that this venerable American made vehicle had run for years with a cracked engine block, I knew this car had run for the last time.
It was now October, the fourth month since the accident which laid up our Volvo, and finally, necessity dictated that I get on with the repair work. With replacement parts in hand, I started work last Tuesday, literally hammering away with torch and tongs for the first whole day just to get the engine compartment back into shape. Wednesday was spent installing engine parts… at which time I discovered that the replacement radiator had been sabotaged. It was cut through with a band-saw, in two separate places. A second replacement radiator arrived on Saturday, and I went back to my work. By Saturday evening the engine was running and only a few major things remained to be fixed. I proudly drove it home… repairs not yet fully complete, but hoping to earn a few brownie points and maybe a back massage.
The next morning I bumped into our neighbor outside in the parking lot. He mentioned that we had the Volvo back and asked about how the repairs had gone. Before I could respond, he said: “Well, it doesn’t look like it was too bad… just a few dents here and there.” Inside, I’m thinking: “Just a few dents here and there! Hmph! I spent more than three whole days making repairs! Not to mention spending thousands of dollars on parts!” I’m not sure what I said to him, but as I stood there looking at the car I tried to see what he saw, not what I knew was behind the dented surface. It struck me how much like the Volvo we are. Our neighbors [usually] only see a few of our dents and scratches and the scars which evidence our healing must look so different from the outside. The depth of our experience and the extent to which we are repaired and remade is not easily visible. How is someone to know that you’re entire ‘front-end’ has been rebuilt, or that your ‘radiator’ has been replaced or that your ‘idler pulley’ needs some grease? The hood must be opened for them to look inside. We must explain and point out what has been repaired and what is still broken, what is old and what is new. And if we desire more, more than fleeting relationships and loose community, we must allow others to reach in, wrenches in hand, to restore our dented and bruised bodies and repair our sources of motive power, our engines, if you will.
Just over two weeks ago we found out that we were pregnant, again! This was unexpected but exciting news as we desire to have more children, knowing the joy Bryan brings to our lives and the joy it will be for Bryan to have a sibling. We were somewhat anxious as family and friends have already expressed their concerns about us taking a young child overseas. We knew that moving while pregnant or having a newborn might lead some to second guess their support. We have been very open about the fact that our plan is to have more children, most likely during our time in Uganda. So, getting pregnant earlier simply meant a slight change in the timing, moving while pregnant as opposed to getting pregnant there.
We decided to wait and share the news with everyone after I went for my first visit with the midwife. Tuesday, of last week, I went for the for the first visit. It was earlier than usual as I was showing signs of potential problems. At my appointment, I was assured that everything was fine and saw the baby in the ultrasound. I was seven weeks along. At that time, we started sharing the news with close family and friends. By Friday, I began to have further signs of complications. I went to see the midwife/OB again and, as before, everything seemed fine. I was able to hear the baby's heart beat for the first time.
Friday night, while at John's best friend's rehearsal dinner, we found out that John's grandma had been admitted to the hospital. The prognosis was not good and it sounded like she might not make it through the night. So, Saturday morning, John went up to visit his Grandma (in Virginia) before the wedding which was scheduled for later that afternoon. I helped our friends prepare for the wedding by lending a hand with the decorating, but around noon started to ache with cramps and knew something wasn't right. I miscarried shortly after John got back from Virginia.
We felt pretty disconnected and a little vacant as only John and I knew the news and we were in the middle of a celebration with dear friends; friends who were seeing us for the first time since hearing of our pregnancy... congratulating us on new baby Clark. We didn't want to share the news and cast a pall over the celebration of our friends weding and we decided to wait to share the news with everyone until I had been back to see the midwife/OB. On Tuesday, we confirmed that we had lost the baby.
We are overwhelmed... with a jumble of thoughts and emotions. John's grandma is still in the hospital, doing a little better, but there remains a great deal of anxiety about what the next few days/weeks will hold. Physically, I have still have some ground to cover before fully recovering from the miscarriage, and emotionally we are temporarily suspended in limbo. Too much going on for us to process... joy and grief all at once.
We are scrapping for faith, to trust that God is working all these things for His glorious ends. It is a battle, mostly within our own hearts and minds, with both the World and our Father weighing in... in different corners. We are second guessing ourselves. Did we over-do it? What could we have done differently? We are so excited for our friends who are now enjoying their honeymoon. We remember Grandma Clark who is ill, but has also had a good and full life, and are grateful that she and Bryan have been able to be together in this world.
Well this morning started out as the typical, pleasant morning. John had made plans to play disc golf (or Frisbee-golf)with a friend of his, and I was going to head to the historic park with Bryan to look at the blacksmith and log cabins etc. So John headed off as planned. I finished getting Bryan and I ready, packed up a snack, called my parents to see if they were busy and wanted to join us for the morning (which of course as grandparents are, they were excited)loaded Bryan and our things in the car, I put the key in the ignition to insert a CD into the player, and shut the door--I WAS LOCKED OUT...AND BRYAN WAS IN THE CAR!
Now luckily I had my cell phone still so I quickly called my parents and stated firmly "I need help... I got locked out of the car and Bryan is in it," told them to bring a coat hanger and supplies while I try to call Johns parents who have a spare key. Since my keys were in the ignition I also was locked out of my house without access to any supplies. I called John's parents but with no success of reaching them. I call John who has broken into the car before to ask him to walk us through it. I have no success of reaching him. I call 3 friends to get the number of the guy John is hanging out with, with no success.
So two new thoughts crossed my mind. Is there a way that I can start working on breaking in as it would take 15 minutes for my parents to drive across town and is there a way that I can keep Bryan cool (fortunately it was a reasonable cool day for August), but locked in a car can still get pretty hot. I couldn't start on the process since I had was locked out the house with no supplies. However, fortunately, my elderly landlord just happened to be driving past and decided to have a friendly conversation,(can we say GOD, I mean it is a saturday...they are never around). I told them what happened and they let me into my apartment.
I grabbed a blanket to throw across the back window where the sun was coming in, grabbed a coat hanger and went to work. I have seen John do this before so I know it is possible, but was having no luck. My parents came but also were having trouble getting in since the car is built differently than the ones my dad is use to. Grandma (my mom) decides to start reading to Bryan as he sits there quietly wondering why we are all standing outside the car. Yes he is perfectly calm, pointing to his chest and belly when grandma asks him where they are. Time is passing...I need to do something in case we can't get in. The closest locksmith isn't open for about 3 hours and are really expensive. So I decide with some hesitation.. I'll just call 911 and see if they do car break ins, to which after explaining my situation, the lady at 911's answering service replies...I have sent out the fire department to help! Oh now this is getting entertaining!!!
Yes now I have 3 neighbors all getting ready to leave their apartments when they see what is going on, we hear the sirens, and the fire truck has come (blocking in the neighbors- all very helpful and understanding). Four firemen come out and say..."we don't do break ins...if the kid is in distress we break glass and get him out." At which time they look in, and discover him smiling and playing with grandma who are seperated by the front windshield. They said they would try to help you by doing the same techniques were were using. I am trying to find another locksmith. Bryan now is starting to cry as 4 firemen surround the car, grandpa right there with them, grandma trying to read to him and mom (me) playing peek-a-boo as he starts to cry to calm him down.
A few minutes later and We finally unlock the door! Yes so Bryan got to see his first fire truck up close and he loved it. Only about 1 minute of crying in a hot car (but not deathly hot) he is now sweaty after being locked in for maybe 30-40 minutes. Entertainment by mom and the grandparents, and a real upclose firetruck with firemen. I mean Bryan seemed to enjoy it more than mom...actually I must admit it was all very entertaining(since Bryan wasn't in distress)! I took pictures!
John calls as he heads home and now has access to his phone. Realizing I called him 6 times, he is panacked racing home, and calls only to laugh with us about the entertaining morning. Everything was fine! Bryan, the grandparents and I headed out to see the trains (model trains and big real ones) at the downtown depot. Go to the park and eat lunch-all to wrap up one unusual morning.
On Thursday we started the long process of saying goodbye. It was then that I left my dear CB650 in the very capable and loving hands of my good friend Jeff M. I loaded her into the back of my truck and dropped her off, not without some sadness, but also with glad anticipation for the next chapter in our story.
I'll spare you the details here, although if you like intense, rich, and powerful stories, you should ask me about it sometime. Suffice to say, my time working with Jean Luc and Jonathan was intense. The experience of living and working in the DRC was intense. Just the shortest and smallest glimpse into the lives of our Congolese brothers and sisters was overwhelming for me. My friendships with Jean Luc and Jonathan thrived, while my frustration and anger with myself, my way of life and my culture waxed in my heart, to the point that I did not want to return the USA when the time came for me to do so.
I remember arriving at the gate for my flight back to Greensboro from JFK airport, 60+ hours after having left Kinshasa. I plunked myself down in one of the leather chairs facing towards the concourse and waited a few moments for my heart and mind to decompress. I had been functioning in travel mode, tunnel-vision in full effect, and it took me several moments to relax enough to begin to "see" my surroundings again. My heart was still deeply bent beneath weight of the suffering, pain and hopelessness of the people I had been with in Congo. My mind still raging with judgment and guilt at the injustice of my place in life relative to my Congolese brothers and sisters. I took several deep breaths and worked hard to force my heart and mind down into my subconscious. Looking up, the first thing I saw was an overweight business traveler, laptop bag hung over the shoulder, ravenously devouring a huge hamburger held in one hand, munching french fries from the carton in the other, and sipping from the straw of a large soda held in the crook of the arm holding the carton of fries. To me... having just days before fed and held little children who were dying of hunger and malnutrition, crying with their parents and families as they lamented their short lives and inability to protect and provide enough... this American business man and his fast food, grease and ketchup running down his chin, was grotesque. I broke down, right there waiting for my flight, weeping into my hands and wanting to curl into the fetal position. I don't know how long the tears flowed down my cheeks, but even when they ceased to come, my heart continued to wrench and twist, knotting itself into a hardened fist within my chest.
I was quiet for a long time after. I returned to North Carolina with a few weeks left before having to return to classes at UNC, and in that intervening period I bought a motorcycle. I was desperately seeking an escape, a way to "check out", mentally, physically and emotionally. On a whim, I dropped some cash into a mans hand and drove away with his motorcycle.
I said goodbye to her on Thursday, fully knowing and anticipating with joy and gladness my return to Sub-Saharan Africa, this time to Uganda, just next door to the DRC.
Since 2004, I have come a long way, and not all of it with the wind in my hair, atop my rumbling grumbling motorcycle. I have been dealt with grace, I have come to know my need and desire for Jesus like never before. I have fallen flat on my face, my self-righteous pride exposed again and again, my heart broken and scattered, then re-formed. I have hoped in so many things... most of all in myself... but have found that the only hope that bears any real weight (that of marriage, of parenting, of malnutrition, of disease, of broken friendships, of suffering and confusion) is hope in Jesus Christ, our God, our Creator, our Redeemer. We inherit right-ness through his power, grace and love... hope and not despair, life and not death, purpose and not meaninglessness, truth and not lies, relationship and not lonely isolation.
So often when I share with others that our family is planning on moving to Uganda the response is..."that is amazing, wow I can't imagine giving up everything like that and just moving to AFRICA (like I am a saint and like Africa is a zoo)." I admit this feeds into the pride which I have battled with my whole life. The pride that I have recently been stripped of but yet still find myself trying to grab hold of. I am not certain it is truly pride, perhaps insecurity that longs for approval, and when I receive approval I cling to it and wear it proudly. I read tonight a beautiful summary of what I often feel: "I recently realized (again) how much value I place on the opinions of other people. I interpret how I am treated as the measurement of my worth, and therefore I live in this constant limbo. I am always looking for special treatment. The impact of this thirst for approval is that I begin to live a life completely opposite of what I want. I want to live authentically , yet I become an imposter. I want to be known, yet I am actually unknown as I try to fulfill the expectations of others. My heart is confined and bound, unable to be open with others because their response is what defines me."-Bethany Ferguson (world harvest missionary) During my struggles in the past two years I became unraveled, open for all to see because I couldn't think to be anything else. I had no energy to put on a show. I was raw. Slowly I see myself wanting to prove myself again, that I am good. I find it hard to explain why going to "Africa" is not a sacrifice, and because I want others to think well of me I just take their compliments and hold to them proudly. It has been so long since I have touched, breathed, lived where God has placed me and created me to be. I often begin to think I am sacrificing till I see a glimpse of where I am called and I am reminded this is where I belong.
The evening of July 2nd, my aunt called from Virginia to say that my uncle had died in an apparent accident. My folks went up that evening to be with my aunt and grandmother, and Loren, Bryan and I drove up the following morning.
It was very much unexpected and the shock of his absence is only slowly registering. Just three years ago, uncle Dave had a massive heart attack and went into kidney failure. He eventually recovered enough kidney and heart function to leave the hospital and had seemed to be making a comeback, gradually regaining some of his strength over the last two years.
Uncle Dave, my fathers next oldest brother, was a quiet man of great resolve and strong conviction. He was a genius mechanic/machinist/engineer and could grow a greener/bigger/tastier plant than anyone else I have ever known.
Three years ago, when Dave was having heart trouble, the many friends whose lives Dave and Gail had meaningfully and deeply touched reached out to them. Their friends rallied around them in prayer and in presence, bringing food and helping out with chores and work around the farm. The love of such friends is a testament to the love that Dave and Gail have shared themselves and their commitment to their faith and to those around them.
We know that even though Dave is no longer present with us, defying corporate engineers who claim some things just can't be done, growing beautiful vegetables, flowers, and trees, and serving the people of his church and community he is now in the presence of the Father. He is now united in a way that we cannot yet comprehend, to the person of Jesus, redeemer and lord.
We pray for that fellowship. We pray for the Spirit of God to grieve his absence with us and to comfort us with truth.
Praise the Lord that I can write and say, not much has been going on here lately. It seems to be an unusual statement over the last couple years as John and I have just been trying to keep our heads above water as we both finished college, started new jobs, dealing with pregnancy and a new baby...now young boy, moving numerous times, and the list goes on.
If it was just dealing with the changes in life we may have done a better job handling it all. Instead, God had a clear purpose, to say I know exactly how to stretch you so that you won't even be able to think you can handle it all, and you will run to me. Loren I will break you of your pride, I will show you your deepest sins and I will call you loved. John I will show you that the one you love here on earth will fail you. Loren only I can show you unconditional love. You are my beloved, you are broken vessels that through Jesus I declare righteous and beautiful. For me now it is remembering that I am loved, and there is nothing that I can do to earn that love from God. That I am beautiful.
We, but I speak in specifics for myself, have never been so laid open, and it is painful, but absolutely beautiful. So beautiful that even John prayed, Lord break us again. Though I must admit I am not sure if I am ready for all that quite yet.
Our God is good! He is the God of yesterday and tomorrow!
So I write to say, not much has been going on here lately. We have some rest, a chance to just soak up our God, to love on those around us when we for so long have only been able to see two inches from our face, in pain. We are Uganda bound, and though support wise it seems like it may take a long time, we know God is in control.
I ask that you pray that our support will come in, that those around us will take our vision for loving the people of Uganda and be ignited. We pray that we will get there this fall as a couple from the team, who John will probably end up filling many of their roles, will be leaving for Sudan. We hope to overlap with them so that we may learn from them, at least for a short time. Please pray with us for this, it will take a miracle, but we have seen God do many things like this before.
The last few days have been great. This past weekend we: went camping with our friends Matt and Whitney and their 15 m/o son Ollie; visited my aunt, uncle and grandmother; mailed out a sheaf of support letters; had a great time sharing about Bundibugyo with a friend's small group; I played a round of disc golf with my dad; and to top it all off, we connected with a handful of new supporters.
A couple of days ago we got an email from the Myhre's with "On the Bundibugyo Road" in the subject line. In it, Jennifer wrote "For all of you the metaphorical Bundibugyo Road may be a bit like the real one: twisty, rutted, bumpy, sometimes nauseating or exhausting, full of delays . . . but with magnificent glimpses of beauty, and with a meaningful destination." She was writing to all of us currently raising support to join the WHM Bundibugyo team.
We have no doubt that we have indeed been on the right road. Plenty of bumps, twists and ruts. Many proverbial rivers crossed. Lots of deflated spirits and empty spiritual tanks. But not without help from friends, family, supporters, the team and WHM sending center staff to push us through the tough spots. And not without seeing that inside this "vehicle" we are being transformed, changed, broken and made new.
There most certainly have been glimpses of beauty along the way. Loren and I have grown together in ways that before we didn't even know were possible. We are seeing God provide for us out of His wisdom and through His Spirit as never before. Our pride has been exposed. We have been humbled. Both wonderful and incredibly painful things.
It is as if we were so many clay pots in the back of a lorry, being hauled to Bundibugyo... always falling and breaking, but with the potter right in the middle of the truckbed, picking up the pieces, soaking them to return us to our malleable state, finally putting us back on his wheel and slowly drawing us back up, perhaps to a height even higher than before.
Today I visited Larry's Beans, a coffee roasting house in Raleigh, NC that imports Fairly Traded and sustainably grown coffee. I went with a friend of mine who is writing his masters thesis on the economics of Fairly Traded cocoa.
Between his interests and my own (in sustainable agriculture and community development) we grilled Larry for nearly two hours on everything from growers cooperatives and soil pH to U.S. agricultural import laws and shipping companies. It was great. I learned a ton about the process of getting produce to market, from just the sort of places that Bundibugyo would fit in with.
Uganda, by the way, is a not insignificant producer of vanilla, cocoa, and coffee... but like farmers nearly everywhere else, Ugandan growers are very poorly compensated for their produce considering the HUGE markup that the roasting/branding companies slap on the end product.
I don't know if promoting sustainable agriculture or fair trade will end up being viable methods of outreach/work for me in Bundi, or not, but it certainly won't hurt to have a better understanding of how many people there make their living.
Thanks to all of you who are supporting us already! We are now at 30% of our monthly goal!
The last few weeks have been quite a roller coaster for us... from difficult conversations with disciplers to wonderfully encouraging responses from the churches and individuals we have been meeting with.
What a gracious God, to bring us through hard times and fill us with joy. Bundibugyo team, watch out, we're on our way... albeit at what seems like an agonizingly slowww pace.
We're new to blogging so please bear with our ignorance! We did add the news feed in the bottom right of the page and you can check out a few of our pictures if you click on the photo slideshow. The World Harvest Mission button will link you to whm.org where you can find out more about our team and work, as well as the mission at large.
Two other blogs you ought to check out are those of our teammates: Scott and Jennifer Myhre and Heidi Lutjens. Scott and Jennifer are the team leaders who have been in Bundibugyo since the early/mid 90's and Heidi is a nurse (like Loren) whom we met when we initially visited World Harvest last year. Both the Myhre's and Heidi have great heart and insight and it shows in their blogs.
For those of you who don't know already, we are hoping to join a community development team in Bundibugyo, Uganda later this year. Our goal is to depart around September and we are currently in the process of raising the financial support that we will need to support our ministry and family.
We've set up this blog to give you a window into our life and to provide you with a way to be in contact with us. Post your comments and email us at will!
If you are interested to know more details about the work we will be doing, how the preparations are coming, or how to support us email us at contact.jdc@gmail.com
We are a nurse and a jack-of-some-trades living in community in rural Uganda, working to promote health and sustainability, and sharing our hope in Jesus.
We are not expert in any field nor do we have vast material wealth to shower down upon the masses, but we do have a vision and desire to be physically and spiritually present in the lives of those around us... living and working side by side, rejoicing and suffering together.
