anashida na wewe

he has a problem with you.

he needs to speak with you.

he needs to ask you for a  favor.

you won’t know what to say.

you won’t know what to do.

you’ll try your best to help with the solution.

this cycle is becoming all too common lately.  there’s a part of me that longs to not hear it.  with the first murmur of anashida na wewe, my heart starts pumping faster and i can hear dixie chicks  singing “ready to run” in my head.  just kidding.  that’s what i do when things get serious, i tell awkward jokes.  oh well.

so yesterday, the cycle beckoned, and i couldn’t avoid.  i stood on the shores of redemption and new life, and listened as the chief talked about fading life.  there was a woman in his village that tried to have an abortion and now she needed to get to a hospital, fast.  there are few, if any, vehicles around, so i was nominated as the ambulance.  we loaded her in as the nurse told me the gory details, and i tried to remain calm.

i drove as the conflict swirled.  i hate murder. i hate abortion. i love life. i love people. so what happens when those two stances collide?  what happens when a woman has an abortion, and now she’s screaming that she’s dying in the back seat of my car?  what happens is that my heart breaks wide open and i cry out to god.

in the middle of the who’s and what’s and why’s and how’s, i felt peace fill the car.  the questions stopped and i became overwhelmingly aware of god’s love for this precious woman.  she opened her eyes as i looked back at her.  a small window of consciousness, so i told her god loves her. i told her god forgives her for everything.  then i told her god loves her, one more time.  she closed her eyes and kept writhing.

we left her at the hospital, with promises of good care and hopeful improvement.  we ate dinner to celebrate the courage house girls’ baptism (that’s where we were when this all began).  eventually i snuggled into my comfortable bed, then awoke to a text that this precious mama didn’t make it.

in this woman’s last hours, she needed love.  in all of our less desperate hours, we need this same love.  the powerful, transforming, life giving love of god. so we are to offer it, without restraint.  we are to invite his kingdom to come to earth and make beautiful things.

god’s will is done, and i still don’t understand.

goodthings

a family in the village just had a new baby.  as i held the sweet little day old ball of precious, her parents asked me to name her.  what an honor! the best thing ever.  right away, i knew her name was grace. now i can’t stop thinking about identity.  how even our words and our actions shape the identity of others.  what am i naming the people around me?

yesterday, i went on a hike in machame (mt. kilimanjaro). it was lovely.   a big slippery, sunshiney, up and down maze.  everytime i go, i wonder why i don’t do it more often.  this is a beautiful life, and i don’t want to miss a thing. (hey aersomith)

i have been around a lot of english people lately.  i’m trying my hardest to integrate lovely and brilliant into my everyday vocabulary.  and crackers.

rafiki is learning to shake hands.  he might just be the smartest puppy on the block.

full moons are interesting and all, but when it finally goes away, and i get a glimpse of all the stars again, it takes my breath away.  stars are one of my most favorite things in the whole wide world.

when the girls at the courage house laugh.  that laugh that comes deep down from your belly.  it’s the biggest win i’ve ever seen.  i can’t get enough.

bon iver. the end.

walking

so i climbed kilimanjaro in june. and i never really shared my reflections from the trip.  though it was incredible, it was quite individually so.  in the process of moving i discovered my journal, and thought it couldn’t hurt to share a bit of my thoughts.

the last day.
headed to town.
you told me to slow down.
take it all in.
sights and sounds.
your beauty all around.

you spoke this into existence.
but you knit me together.
hands, not words.
breathed your life into my lungs,
a whole new verse.

you said embrace beauty.
believe i’m beautiful, because of you.
it struggles to sink in,
but it’s starting to take root.

we talked about the work you did.
i hiked and you refined.
broke my pride.
balanced boasting and loathing.

i am your creation.
your beloved.
humbled by your presence,
then fulfilled in your love.
faithful.

you told me to create.
to release the gifts within.
share your beauty with others.
for you to be glorified in the works of my hands.

you said to trust you.
your promises fulfilled when i’m ready.
don’t take control or force it.
things are always best when i trust in you. and wait.
and so i’ll wait while you prepare me.
i’ll pray that you refine me.
one day there will be fruit.
and maybe patience, too.

miracles

i wrote this post once, but i can’t find where i wrote it, so here goes. again.

it’s 2012! on the first sunday of the year, instead of the usual greeting those around you at church, the pastor suggested we tell those beside us what we’re looking forward to seeing in 2012.  instinctively, i responded that i am looking forward to seeing miracles.  i’m always anxious to see the way god is moving around me.  so, i am going to try to share some of those miraculous happenings on this blog, because, well, it’s always fun to hear good news.  maybe once a month i’ll do a recap.  since january is almost over, i’ll go ahead and share the most obvious miracle i saw this month.

the courage house is about an hour and a half from moshi, on a good day.  someone recently asked me how many times i’ve driven that road, and my brain hurt just trying to calculate.  it’s like asking how many conversations you’ve had with a good friend.  there’s evidence without concrete details.  i know the road as well as i know any friend.  every bump, every gate, every bush with kids seeking refuge from the heat.  i know where the sand is too deep, and which parts are going to be trouble when the rains come.  while most people say it’s like a video game come to life, i find the drive to the courage house has become my best thinking and praying time.  it’s just routine.

until this past week.  i left the courage house early in the morning, with two of the girls in tow.  we were headed to town so they could travel further on to a funeral.  almost immediately upon exiting our village, my brakes went out.  that’s right, i don’t know much about cars,  but i figured that one out pretty quickly.  i asked stella to say a prayer that god would go before us, and we continued on, very slowly. i knew the best places to downshift and which hills would help to slow us down.  the dirt road was no big deal, we just stayed in second gear and coasted through.

until we got to the first gate, panic struck and i silently begged the lord to clear the way.  it was crazy.  i generally stop at each of the five gates, talk to the guards, and they let us through.  nobody is ever in a hurry.  so we get closer to the gate, and i’m freaking out, ready to just bust through the line and pay for damages later.  but no, the guy sees me, and lifts the barrier with a wave and a smile.  god?  how’d you do that so beautifully!  ah, four more gates and same scenario.  gates open with no stop. i couldn’t believe it.

ok. an hour later and we’re through the gates and on the paved road.  the paved road of many speed bumps.  the kind you have to slow down for, even in turbo.  thankfully, me and this old road, we’re friends.  i managed to anticipate each bump and not pop a tire.  if you’re keeping track, we’ve now clocked about an hour and a half of no brakes and lots of prayers.  amazing.

so, we go through the final speed bump and head full speed ahead into town.  crap.  town is a maze of round abouts and public transport and motorcycles and bicycles and wheelbarrows and random goats and small school children.  i barely survive without incident in the best of circumstances, but now we were working with no brakes.  i still can’t quite say how it happened, but i managed to turn across traffic lanes, navigate around all pedestrians and arrive at our destination.  i downshifted and stopped accelerating a good five minutes before, then yanked my emergency brake and crossed my fingers.we were there. but we weren’t inside the lines.  so i tried to put it back in neutral and inch forward.  not a chance. nothing would move.  everything was all locked up.  i had to call the mechanic to come and move the vehicle, because nothing would work.

we got out of the car and headed toward the bus stand for the girls to continue on the journey.  editha grinned at me and said god had carried us to moshi.  the miracle is that we made it.  but the beauty is in editha’s grin.  she’s always believed god existed, but never believed she was good enough for him to love.  after coming to the courage house, she decided to begin a relationship with jesus, and it’s been so fun to watch her faith grow.  she believes that he will do what he says.  he says ask and you shall receive, so she asks.  this past week, she received just what she asked for.  a miracle.

life lately

it’s been a while since i posted pictures. so here you go, all at once, don’t freak out.

one story to tell

dear donald miller, this is why you’re one of my favorites…

“And so my prayer is that your story will have involved some leaving and some coming home, some summer and some winter, some roses blooming out like children in a play. My hope is your story will be about changing, about getting something beautiful born inside of you, about learning to love a woman or a man, about learning to love a child, about moving yourself around water, around mountains, around friends, about learning to love others more than we love ourselves, about learning oneness as a way of understanding God. We get one story, you and I, and one story alone. God has established the elements, the setting and the climax and the resolution. It would be a crime not to venture out, wouldn’t it?”

so i’ve been thinking some thoughts tonight. seven thoughts, to be exact.

• rafiki got fixed.  he came home with a hood, and the tanzanians want to know what that’s all about.  i tried to tell him exactly what type of surgery he had, but  my natural tendency is to use hand motions or point when i don’t have the appropriate swahili vocabulary.  definitely the awkward moment of my day.

• thinking a lot about waiting lately, thanks to the festival of booths thing that the journey did.  how do i look forward to what’s ahead, and still find peace in the fact that god’s cloud is above me in this particular situation and circumstance.  his desire is for me to be here in this place, for this time. not moving until the cloud moves.

• salad is my new old favorite. and also victoria falls.

• sometimes i just use instagram so i can see a picture with the different filters. that’s all.

• after the last post, i started thinking a lot about family.  in america we need to always be in communication with our family in order to be in good standing. forget about missing a holiday.  in many places in the world, who lack the money to travel or technology to CONSTANTLY communicate, a visit every few years somehow becomes sufficient. surprising contrast because third world countries are generally considered more relationally driven cultures.

• nairobi flies, you are not my friends. thanks but no thanks for the present you left on my arm. this war is not over.

• you know those moments when you realize you are learning the same thing you thought you learned last year, and the year before that? i wonder if i’m just somehow learning it more deeply, or is it just like the first time, everytime, just not sinking in enough to change me. ahhhh.  thankful for grace!

 

words

i drove.
i thought and i prayed.
words could come.
oh how i think i need words.

your father is ok now.
you will be ok.
i love you.
i’m sorry.
god.
he’s god.
he loves you.
he sees you.
you are not alone.
you are not alone.
you are not alone.

i walk in and don’t see her. shake hands. scan rooms. wade through the heaviness. his room so empty and lifeless. she tugs on my skirt, sweetly peeking in from the hall. i pat her head and say sorry. then my heart crumbles into a million pieces and i pick her up. we hold on to each other so tight and i can’t say the words planned. nothing exchanged but the tears dripping between us on the floor. a relative kneels in the puddle, and cries out to god. sometimes holy ground isn’t so pretty.

sometimes i think people don’t value life here. desensitized with every memorized statistic. then a broken little orphan girl looks at me with big brown eyes and i see that loss weighs the same. i hold her and pray peace and joy and love and all the things that surpass understanding in moments like these. not much can be understood in moments like these.

we leave for a while. run away to the village. she sleeps in the back seat. bumpy roads can’t keep a heavy heart. we drive and drive until the rain turns to sunshine. her tears dry and somehow we find her smile. resilient spirit full of grace. truest beauty. she laughs and plays and lives in this moment.

we come back to town running on fumes. fingers crossed to make it to the petrol station. as the guy fills my tank i think of how he fills us up when we don’t know how to continue. he fills us. so we continue, with a fresh peace.

to tell him. still at school. wondering why we’ve all come to pick him up. i quietly beg the lord to go before us. to comfort his fragile heart, always suspicious. i remember the words i might share. then he gets in the car and listens as faith explains. he’s already hard as a rock. staring straight ahead, nodding ok. when he changes out of his school uniform, he looks so much older. he’s wading around in that same heaviness i walked through this morning, but he’s not moved. i find him outside, staring again. i half smile but can’t say the words to him either. so i hold on to his hands and look into the hardened heart of a boy who just became a man too young.

a thousand

um. i’ve been doing this thing. writing down a thousand things that i love. i would definitely recommend it. you start expecting to notice wonderful things throughout your day. just thought i’d share the ones from today, since i can’t think of anything else to write.

615.outsmarting the power outages.
616.coffee in the afternoon.
617.teaching rafiki to play fetch.
618.hanging my clothes out to dry. so fresh and so clean, clean.
619.baby turkeys roaming about.
620.when skype calls last longer than expected.
621.resdiscovering that shirt i used to love. comfort wins again.

isaiah

even though isaiah is a hard name to spell, it’s probably one of my favorite books.

“for you shall go out in joy and be led forth in peace;

the mountains and the hills before you shall break forth into singing,

and all the trees of the field shall clap their hands”

…sounds good to me. isaiah 55:12