Sojourns On the Way Home

A Change

2007-06-08T23:50:00.000+03:00

There's been a change in venue, friends. Due to anticipated access problems in Ethiopia, I've republished my blog. I'm still working on it, but I'll be posting HERE from now on. Thanks to the good folks at Wordpress who managed to not confuse me too much in my republishing attempts! I despise change more than most people, I think, and I'm a little sad to leave Blogspot since I've finally figured out how it works! But life always involves twists and turns in the paths we walk on, and this is my small attempt to be flexible in response to the bumps:-)

Sorrow and Sufficiency

2007-05-28T06:12:00.000+03:00

Parting is such sweet sorrow.
--Shakespeare

Is that really true? I'm not Juliet saying goodnight to her Romeo and I'm nothing near a literary expert, but I cannot understand these words. We weren't really meant to part, to separate, to disconnect from our relationships. So the sorrow overwhelms, for the parting is result of brokenness in our world.
These past weeks, I have driven away from people I love, who I will not see again for a long time, if ever. And on Thursday it wasn't my windshield that was wet, but the tears in my eyes that were threatening to obscure my vision. "Is it worth it to come back, just to leave again, to say goodbye again?" I asked myself. The pain is fresh again, the wound of distance is raw. I felt very alone as I sped through the winding Mississippi hills, knowing that there are more goodbyes to come, more sorrow to be felt, more tears to be shed. I know that for many I have the joy of saying, "Till we meet again"--but even in that, there is a goodbye. To life as I know it, for it will keep moving and changing while I am away. To relationships, knowing they too will change and grow distant with the separation of 10000 miles. Sitting in my car, in the middle of nowhere-land, my tears came. I choked back sobs of fear that I would always feel alone, would not be able to bear the sorrow of the partings. As I fought off the grief, I heard the song that had just begun in my CD player.

Father, You're all I need
My soul's sufficiency
My strength when I am weak
The love that carries me

Your arms enfold me, till I am only

A child of God

--Kathryn Scott

That is the truth. Not some platitude trying to make me think this is all ok, this is normal. But the truth that I am weak, I am not enough for myself, that no one and nothing on this earth will ever really satisfy me. I expect more tears, more sorrow, more pain at the breaking of community--both on this side of the ocean and in Ethiopia. Yet through all those crushing moments in time, my soul's Sufficiency will remain.

Well, obviously I wouldn't have won the race

2007-05-26T01:07:00.001+03:00

I'm still laughing about this! I had forgotten all about this sunny day in Ethiopia from a few months back until Daniel emailed this photo to me. I'm afraid I spoiled the pic--it was supposed to look like a race with Derek and Mr. Turtle, but I think I made it look like a somersault contest instead!
This is on the track of one of the international schools in Addis, and we were there to be supportive fans for a soccer game. This turtle, however, had other plans. He made it onto the field twice during the game and had to be manhandled off. One maintenance guy put him on this flat cart thing, only for Mr. Turtle to topple off!

Now I'm tired and I haven't done anything yet!

2007-05-22T06:37:00.000+03:00

Today I've been busy . . . but I'm not sure I've accomplished much! I got back from Texas last night, stayed up waaay too late talking to my little brother, and then headed into Jackson this morning for a lovely breakfast with these three dear friends.
I'm feeling the crunch of this looming GRE . . . I don't think I'd worry about it much if I wasn't a modern-day gypsy living on the road out of suitcases:) Ok, in all honesty I'd probably still worry about it too much. Nonetheless, today I spent what turned out to be a ridiculous number of hours researching grad programs. There were some encouraging finds in there, but I still feel like I haven't done anything yet today!
In my online traveling, I re-read this post on Charity and Justice that really struck me a few days ago when I first read it. Our diluted understanding of charity is about us. Justice does not encourage us to continue along in our unchallenged lives of excess and greed; justice demands we change.
I hope that I have changed. I hope that I am being changed. I hope all of us are changing, growing in our desire and actions to bring justice into this broken world. I don't know how to do it, but I hope we all learn a little bit more every day.

I'm not perfidious, and I try not to be garrulous

2007-05-16T21:04:00.000+03:00

Seeing as how I am not erudite, I do not know how I will be able to emulate my pedantic friends who have scored so well on the GRE. My studying thus far has been inchoate, but I have a plethora of excuses for that. Or, perhaps, I have just prevaricated to myself regarding my ability to study. Every time I sit down, my being is overcome with torpor. This test has become onerous, and it is becoming increasingly difficult to mollify my anxiety. I have thought about malingering, but I fear I will not have that choice. I'm becoming inimical to those around me because all I can think about is how I don't have time to think about the GRE. My mind is diffident--how can I ameliorate my fears?? Chicanery is not going to improve my score, and I can not simply be a dilettante with regard to the task at hand. But the good news is that this is an ephemeral pressure! If I approach it with the proper attitude and understand the exigent nature of the material in front of me, I hope to avoid any opprobrium from those around me. I may not become a paragon on June 19, but I do hope that my current studying will engender a positive result on that fateful morning.

Filled Up to Overflowing

2007-05-08T07:48:00.000+03:00

It's been good to be here. To see family and friends, to eat familiar foods, to easily get to and from places, to be able to buy what you want to, to be refreshed and encouraged. I'm really thankful for all of these things, and I think they strike me so much more profoundly now. Do you know how good sushi really is?

I spent last week traipsing around Texas--it was wonderful to catch up with friends and a few cousins. I was driving from Tyler to Waco one rainy morning, and after awhile in a car you can go slightly crazy . . . so I started talking to myself. And then I started exclaiming excitedly things like, "HEB!!! Yes!! I love HEB!!" (It's just a grocery store for you non-HEBers!) and "Braum's! Mmmm, I can just taste the cappuccino chunky chocolate frozen yogurt!" (and I did, just a few days later. It didn't disappoint.) and finally, the best of all was, "Bluebonnets!! There are still bluebonnets!! And I got to SEE them!!" Needless to say, I enjoyed my wanderings. The sweetest part of all, though, was good hugs and talks with old friends.
I confess that I have never understood what it meant to truly EAT of the Bread of Life. It's not because I didn't know I needed it--I did, but too often it was in a very philosophical way. But over the past year, I have been drained and emptied, and I have been hungry for that which cannot ever come from me. Thus, the best part of being back in the US has been worshiping with Redeemer, my home church. To be challenged, encouraged, and fed . . . yes, I am filled up to overflowing. I am rich.

But for all the joys, being here means I am not there. I am not in my other home of Ethiopia, I am not around my co-workers, the beneficiaries, injera bih wut, music, hugs and kisses in greeting . . . I miss all of that deeply. It's a part of me, a part of my heart and mind and soul. There is no one here to say "Endemanesh?" to in the mornings . . . or if I do people think I am crazy after all.
Since I have been in the US, two of our precious beneficiaries have died. I cry for them here, but I feel alone in my sorrow. Not because the people around me here don't want to care--I know they do. But they did not know Henok and Abrehat, and they will not know what it means to go back to my other world and those two not be there. My deepest privilege of the past year has been to know people--their faces, names, stories, and lives. But it leads to a deep pain at the loss of those same people. I want to do more, so much more. And here in this world I feel like I can do so very little. I pray. I cry. I try to tell their stories. But really I just wish their stories would have had a very different ending. I wish that Henok had lived to see 2 years . . . that he would have lived and laughed and kicked a soccer ball around. I wish that Abrehat hadn't been so beaten by life, that she had seen her children live and not die, that now she would be sharing the joy of the grandkids she never had. To keep pleading and fighting for different endings to these stories--that's the task before me, before all of us. If He will not give up until justice is established, we must follow in the fight.
May we be strong for the battle.

To The Other Side

2007-04-25T19:20:00.000+03:00

I'm here, I'm really here. Sitting in my bed in Mississippi, still in my PJs at 11:30 am, wondering how I can still be so very tired.
The last few days in Ethiopia were full and good and hard. Saying goodbye, packing up my house and suitcases, running errands, hugging friends.

With Andy and Bev Warren at their house a few minutes before we left for the airport

Some of my friends in Addis right before I left

I arrived in Jackson Monday night, in time to pull off the birthday surprise for my Dad (and Mom). It wouldn't have happened without my brothers and Robin and Jeremy--they made it work:) My flights were of course long and slightly miserable, but really pretty smooth. I sat in the "adopted Ethiopian babies" section of the airplane for the 14 hour flight from Addis to DC--that was fun but not at all conducive so sleep, which I don't do in an airplane very well anyway. I spent a rather frantic hour in DC at the Delta counter, trying not to freak out that my tickets were showing up in the system as expired. I could just see the whole birthday-with-a-surprise crumbling before me:) But it all worked out, and when I arrived breathless at the gate, I realized the flight had been delayed. A very kind lady I had met in the Addis airport watched my stuff while I traipsed through the airport in search of the perfect Diet Coke. It was sooooo good. Icy cold, burning sweetness.
I was glad when I made it to America. For all her faults, America is a blessed place. I breathed this sigh of relief when I entered immigration in DC under a big sign proclaiming, "Welcome to the USA." I felt welcomed indeed and was astounded by the kindness of American people. We are often perceived as loud and rude, but I was overcome by the friendliness of the diverse faces staring back at me. From the security man who heard one of those adopted kids wailing way back in the line and let that family go to the front, to the baggage guy who stopped my strained luggage-cart-pushing and offered to recheck my bags from there all the way to Jackson, to the two guys who assured me they would figure out my "expired" ticket and get me on the flight, which they did, to the realization that I was truly in the US headed to the deep South when the flight attendant drawled out, "Thank you, baby"!!
I was met in the airport by a random unexpected act of Providence by my good friends Nathan and Becky and their little baby Owen--they were there to pick up Nathan's mom, who was also flying in from Africa. The odds of us both flying in at the same time are astoundingly small, but it was a sweet reunion. But the best part was seeing the darting, squealing form of my dear, dear friend Robin!! What a great hug that was! Her husband Jeremy picked us up in the parking lot, I picked up the diet Coke waiting on the floorboard for me, and we headed straight to Marble Slab, where I had possibly the best ice cream of my life! We got to hang out for awhile before going to my brother's place where I showered in attempt to look like I was in the land of the living. From there the plan was set into motion . . . my brothers had arranged to take my parent's out to dinner for my dad's birthday. Jeremy entered a few minutes later and made my whole family feel extraordinarily awkward by hurriedly asking them if they would mind taking in some stranger for dinner who he thought really needed to be ministered to, but he and Robin just didn't have time. Seconds later, Robin and I entered. My mom saw me first and just stared, jaw dropped. My dad hadn't noticed us yet and mom kept jabbing his elbow, "Steve! Stephen!!" It was a wonderful reunion indeed!
So now I am trying to recover from jet lag and plan out the craziness of the next couple of months!! Thanks for all your prayers for me, even though most of you didn't know what you were praying for!

From This Side of the Ocean . . .

2007-04-21T23:50:00.000+03:00

Days of transition . . . full of joy and sorrow, excitement and fear, laughter and tears, confidence and nervousness, hope and despair . . . .
I've spent this week trying to wrap up my work with the project and prepare for my time in the States. It's not an easy thing to tie up one life--even for a couple of months--and think about living another one. I, for one, don't deal with change all that well, and this is major change. So each day it's a battle to remember that indeed my life is in HIS hands--and thus I need not fear, worry, or fret (I do all three very well:-).
All week the women in the project have astounded me. They have nothing--really, truly, nothing--and yet they give so generously from their nothingness. I've received gifts, hugs, tears, smiles . . . love so abundant and undeserved. They bless me. They are so precious to me. I'm shamed by my tight fists . . . I think I'm generous, but it's only because after I give something away, I know I'm going to have something left. Letay brought me a basket . . . brightly woven, a little worn. She cried as she handed the gift over. She said she didn't have any money to buy me something, but she wanted to give me a gift. So she gave me the one thing she had . . . a little basket she's always kept her jewelry in.
Yesterday I went to visit a couple of beneficiaries who I fear will not be alive when I return. I find it so hard to trust Father . . . that He will work, and we must be faithful to scatter the seed. "Sara, why are you leaving us? Why? Jennifer (a previous staff member) came, and she was our friend, and she left. Then you came, and you were our best friend, and you are leaving. Why?" Geta said, as tears dripped down her face. I weep. Why? Why? Why have they been abandoned over and over and over throughout their lives? Am I adding to the burden? "But Geta, Jesus is here. All of the time. I love you, I will pray for you. I will not forget you." May my words not be empty, but may truth ring through them.
The next few days will be busy with all the transitions, so this is my last post from this side of the ocean! I will soon be in the land of all things modern, my family and friends, and, of course, diet coke. Just so everyone knows my priorities!! :-)
You've blessed me, supported me, sustained me, and encouraged me this past year. I am grateful for you. May our Father guide and keep all of us until the day we get to stand together in a world without sorrow, pain, weeping, and death.

Moving Stories

2007-04-11T10:23:00.000+03:00

In February, a couple of guys came along with a medical team to spend 2 weeks filming and photographing the project here with the hope of sharing with the wider world what God is doing. They are still working on compiling this work, and at the same time processing the people and scenes they experienced through the lens. But they've just posted some of the preliminary pieces, and I wanted to share them with you.

This is a video generally of their team's first week here in Addis. I think I already wrote about this, but the night I watched it while the team was still here, I wept. It was joy and pain all mixed up, and it profoundly impacted my thoughts about returning here. So here it is for you to share our joy through!
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ey1KNQdewaE

And this is Danute's story. She's one of the first beneficiaries of the project, and she is a beautiful testimony to God's power and grace. She came to the office a few minutes ago, and I got to watch this video with her. She cried and laughed, and I told her that because of her story, many people would be praising God. She said, "Thank you. I am praising God too."
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=a5_0jh1lM7k

Beautiful Life

2007-04-10T17:48:00.000+03:00

How many times have I walked the Addis streets to Elsa’s home, only to be greeted by her father’s sad, tired face and a little heap of body curled under the blankets on the mattress on the floor? How many times have we gone through her medicine, hoping for wisdom to know what else to give her? How many times have we tried to improve her appetite and diet with milk, eggs, oatmeal, Campbells instant noodle soup? How many times have we sent her by taxi back to the hospital, paying for a doctor and medicine but never for improvement? How many times have we knelt beside her on the cold concrete floor and prayed for her? How many times have we said, “There is hope”? How many times have you prayed for her? How many times have I prayed for her? How many times have we as a staff prayed for her?

It’s all countless, but yet never enough. She’s always sick, always weary, always hopeless, always wanting only to stay in her curled heap and not face a harsh world. She hasn’t been to our office in months because she is always at her house in her bed. I admit that I, too, had come so close to giving up on her as well. As one we couldn’t help, one who wouldn’t get better, one we would lose sooner rather than later.

Because Elsa has been so sick for so long, she hasn’t really been a part of a support group, which is the functional unit through which much of our project’s work is accomplished. She’s a member of the newest women’s support group, but has never been well enough to come to their meetings or be connected to the other women. Several weeks ago, her support group talked to Betty, the staff member who coordinates and directs the support groups. They said they wanted to take some of the responsibility of caring for Elsa, even though she hadn’t really been a real part of their group. So they went to her house, they bathed her and cleaned her house and fed her. In essence, they loved her—though she had done nothing to deserve their care and concern.

Today I was preparing to teach in the women’s support groups. I was upstairs at the project office, gathering my wooden toothbrush sticks and supplies to teach on hygiene. One of the support group women came and got me and kept saying I had to come downstairs. I kept saying, “I’m coming, I’m coming!” But she insisted that I had to come now. So she pulled me downstairs and into our group meeting room, where I saw a few other women waiting for support group to start. She kept tugging, and as I rounded the corner, I saw her.

Elsa. Smiling. Sitting up. Alive.

My heart swelled as I exclaimed in Amharic “God be praised!”

I ran upstairs to get Betty, and told her there was a surprise for her down where the women were. She skeptically entered the room, only to repeat my reaction of amazement and joy and praise. She ran back upstairs to get Alemu, another staff member, to send him down as well. We rejoiced together, with Elsa and her father and her support group. A small victory, yes, but an incredible one nonetheless!

I changed my mind about devotions in the next 5 minutes before support group started. We read instead Psalm 118, and all the while I kept glancing up to see Elsa’s beautiful, beaming face. Indeed, our God is good.

Oh give thanks to the Lord, for He is good!

For His mercy endures forever.

I shall not die, but live,

And declare the works of the Lord.

Psalm 118:1, 17

Bursting Forth in Glorious Day

2007-04-08T23:32:00.000+03:00

There in the ground His body lay,

Light of the world by darkness slain;
Then bursting forth in glorious day,
Up from the grave He rose again!
And as He stands in victory,
Sin's curse has lost its grip on me;
For I am His and He is mine—
Bought with the precious blood of Christ.

--Stuart Townend

This Easter means more to me than perhaps any before. It's always been a good day--Easter makes me think of being in Paris (TX, I'm not that cool!) and eating with my extended family and fighting for sofa space to read the comics. But this time, Easter astounds me. This year has been one of being surrounded and overwhelmed by the powers of darkness and death. To be able to celebrate such a glorious reality--that indeed, Christ HAS conquered death--is incredible and joyous. I want hearts to be captured by this amazing Love that defeats all other powers. I want my heart to be captured again and again by this Light and Life.

The drippy view from my porch this afternoon

I hope you are celebrating this day wherever you are--whether it's with your family or far from them, in your home country or another. I can't speak much Amharic, but I just keep saying in my kindergarten version, "It's a very good holiday! Jesus died! Jesus rose! So it's a great day!" I hope that today is indeed for you a glorious day.
I celebrated Easter this afternoon with some dear people—my small group from last year. We had a feast and great fellowshipJ

My little friends Kate and Erin

Loading up on a feast of good things--we had ham and chicken and mashed potatoes and gravy and salad and rolls and cake . . . there was nothing to complain about today!!

And all the adults waving to those in the group who couldn't be with us!!

Happy Easter!!

A Smattering

2007-04-04T18:21:00.000+03:00

So I've been thinking . . . .
See, you can watch me as I'm thinking . . .
My arm is so short that my self-portraits are a little frightening!!
Thinking about life in general, how incredibly blessed I am, what great friends and community I've been given, the wonderful work I've had the privilege of participating in, the joy and the pain of the journey we are all on, the glorious beginning we hope in for the end . . .
I'm beginning to feel the stress of what the next few weeks of life hold. I don't want that stress and wish it would go far, far away, but knowing myself it's going to be much more complicated than that. So instead it's a battle every day to give those fears and uncertainties and worries and anxieties to the One who is much more capable to deal with them.
At work I'm trying to wrap up what feels like a million little projects that need to get finished before I leave. I find it less than motivating to format patient referral forms, but yet I've got to get it done.
At my house I'm staring at all my stuff thinking about how I need to at least think about sorting and packing and storing. Yes, storing.
Because I have my answer about the next step in life! I'll be here for the next stretch, and I'm really glad I've been given this opportunity by the "Giver of all good gifts". This one is indeed a sweet and joy-filled gift. It does not come without pain and heartache, though, because in many ways it means giving up again all that I hold dear in my life back "there". But I'm content even in that sorrow, for it means I do not yet have to say goodbye to this place and people who have become a part of my heart. Someday I will, and that will be a hard day, but for now I am glad that there is a place and work for me here.
I'm headed "home" at the end of April, and I'll be in the States for a couple of months. This week I've started to get more and more excited about that and seeing all of you! Of course the abundance of things like diet coke and hot water and high speed internet and Mexican food make me inordinately happy when I think about them, but really the joy is in getting to see you, hug you, cry with you, laugh with you, and again share life for a bit with you.
At the same time, "home" is an overwhelming thought. For one thing, it is no longer home in the way I always saw it. This year has stretched "home" for me so much that I can begin to understand why we've been given these restless hearts here . . . for here is not our home. Nonetheless, being there means being inundated with all things Western and American and material, and I'm not sure how I'm going to adjust. Will everyone I meet think I've become some crazy weird single female missionary??!! It also means about a million trips crammed into those 2 months--all fun, but hectic at the same time. A lot of people, a lot places, a lot of things to do . . . and am I just going to be running around with that deer-in-the-headlights expression as I try to take it all in? I want to savor it, to worship at my church and not think about how few days I get to do that, to watch movies and not think about "wasting" time, to rest and not worry about that to-do list, to be diligent and productive and yet laid back. Yep, pretty much I want to achieve perfection! Ha. Well, it's good to know from this end that that is not going to happen! Those of you who have done this before--this major, weird, horrible, wonderful cross-cultural transition--if you've got advice for me, bring it on!
These are a random collection of photos from the past few weeks.

This first couple is from a rather interesting ride into work a couple of weeks ago. The short rainy season has come, and with it mud and water in all the places you don't want it! On this day, there were about a 100 people waiting for taxis and with 2 other friends I ended up taking a contract taxi. Unfortunately, there was no flotation device on this car . . . and we ended up thoroughly STUCK in what looked like a lake out the windows! I still don't know how the taxi driver did it, but somehow he "rocked" the car forward (like the back and forth motion while sitting in his seat) and eventually we inched out way out of the muddy pool. I think it took about an hour and a half to make it to the office that day, so by the time I got there I was ready to go back home:-)

2 weeks ago I went to a women's retreat with a bunch of other mission women. It was a refreshing quiet weekend with some good friends and too much good food:-) It was at the retreat center at the volcano lake I've posted photos from before--it just always amazes me how beautiful and calm it is after the dirt and chaos of Addis. I needed that time to renew before these last crazy weeks here, I think. And yet again He provided. Always and again.

This is my friend Mindy. We were in a small group together last year, which was by far one of the sweetest times of community I've had here over the past 12 months.

And this is with my friend Dorinda, who's taught me many great Australian things, including words such as "lou" for the bathroom!! She's living far, far away in the SW part of the country now where they communicate with the rest of the world mainly by radio, but at least she's still in the same country as me!!

Here I'm with my friend Laurie, who's living in the same place as Dorinda. We didnt' tip over. It's a good thing I don't row like I walk!

One night a bunch of us piled into Dorinda's big land cruiser and went hyena hunting. We spotted a lot--at least 15! We weren't in it for the meat--it's just spotlight hunting. Hyenas live up to their name--they are possibly the ugliest creatures I've ever seen next to opossums.
Jackie decided the best viewing spot was on the top of the vehicle . . . we were pretty nice to her and didn't go flying over too many bumps!

On the drive back to Addis after the retreat . . . D looking cool in her shades (and hanging onto for dear life??).

It was market day in Debra Zeit, the town nearest the lake. I was working on my tourist appearance that I normally try to downplay:-)

Just the view out my window . . . .

Back in Addis, life has been back to normal. Two of my fellow staff had birthdays recently, so last week we celebrated with a joint b-day party. Both thought the party was for the other one, so that worked out pretty well:-)

With Teddy, the project manager--my boss and dear friend.

And this is Alemu and Jim. Alemu is generally my cohort in crime--he's a nurse as well and is the one I work with mostly in caring for our beneficiaries. Jim's here for a year or two, and he's working a lot with the men's support groups and boy's program.

We celebrated a friend's b-day at a great "Irish" restaurant several weeks ago. Here I'm with my friend Kristen who happens to be sitting in my living room right now.

And that's my life over the past few weeks!
This weekend is Easter (the Ethiopian and Western calendar match up this year!), and it's a huge celebration here. The past couple of days I've been thinking about how it should be the biggest party of the year. Today in one of the women's support groups I got to share the glorious story of Easter--the prophesy, the coming, the death, the resurrection, the promise of Jesus. I don't think about that nearly enough, but what greater hope to have in this broken and messed up world we live in than the knowledge that DEATH has been conquered?!

That's all from this side of the world. I pray this weekend is a sweet one for you as well as you reflect and pray and worship and eat and spend time with your families.
See you soon, dear ones . . . .

The Day Roza Wept

2007-03-28T16:32:00.000+03:00

It was a cloudy, rainy day with a cool breeze. Nothing set the afternoon apart from any other; patients and work projects kept the day busy. Late in the afternoon I was sitting at my desk, intently focusing on whatever task stared back at me from the computer screen. I heard little feet on the stairs, and turned to see Ruth’s smiling nine-year-old face as she handed me an envelope from the laboratory. It was securely sealed, marked with multiple purple and red “CONFIDENTIAL” stamps. I had already forgotten the significance of the contents of the envelope, and in my carelessness I spent another 10 minutes finishing the computer job before I copied the papers inside the envelope and walked downstairs. Sitting on the edge of the flowerbeds, Ruth’s mother and another patient were waiting for me. I didn’t stop to notice the apprehensive glance Ruth’s mother Roza cast my way. I called the other lady in and reviewed the lab work she handed me as I wondered how I could quickly treat these patients and lock up for the day.
As I glanced down at Ruth’s results that I had tossed onto the desk, I remembered why the results were significant. On one line at the top of the results there was a simple letter that would dictate the rest of Ruth’s life. N or P? Negative or Positive? Was the demon disease of HIV already coursing through her veins? The day before, her mother had brought her in to see me and my fellow staff nurse. She’d been concerned that Ruth could have HIV, especially since she had been getting sick frequently in the past months. She’d even tried to have Ruth tested at a couple of places, but each time she was told the machines weren’t working and she would have to return another time. The fearful question had been building—what if Ruth did have HIV? Could Roza ever live with the knowledge that it was through her—her mistakes, her desperation, her offense—that Ruth would be infected with the disease? How could she watch her daughter die, knowing that ultimately she had caused her death? How would she deal with telling her daughter, her family, such awful news? The dread would be choking now—she needed to know the truth to the question she never wanted to have to ask.
Suddenly I realized that Roza was waiting on me to tell her what the answer was. I’ve had to tell parents before that their children are HIV positive, and it has to be one of the worst things I’ve ever done in my life. It’s as though you are the instrument, the jury foreman, handing out a death sentence—or at the very least life in prison. All this spun through my head, even as I became conscious that I needed to tell Roza the result. I turned to go to her and saw she was already at the door, not wanting to be impatient, but yet so desperately needing to know. Our eyes met—her’s strong, battle-worn, determined, fearful—and she said, through a strangled voice, “Saryay (my Sara), the result—what is it?”
The words rushed out of my mouth as I moved towards her, “It’s good. It’s very good!” It was N, not P, that stared back at me in bold black type on the lab result paper. Roza’s face crumpled as the reality took hold of her mind—Ruth was negative! The disease was not in her! She was free! She could live! As I reached Roza, she dropped to her knees on the cold concrete floor of my pharmacy room and lifted her hands high into the air. Her face stretched upwards as the weeping sobs took hold of her. Egziaber Yeemesgun, Egziaber Yeemesgun! she cried. Yes, yes, my friend, my sister! my soul replied. I held her arm, grasped her shoulders, and with tears in my eyes lifted my voice with hers to say Egziaber Yeemesgun. God be praised, God be praised!

Faces

2007-03-20T16:21:00.000+03:00

Some photos from the past few days at the project . . .

This little girl is SO shy and afraid of us "foreigners"! She always hides behind her mom's skirt and starts crying if we come close. Her mom's been living a rough life; one day I was walking to the project office on the weekend. The women here who clean the streets are so ashamed of their occupation that they cover their faces with scarves so you can't see who they are. I was walking along at my normal brisk pace, enjoying the sunny day and the rush of the city. Suddenly one of the street cleaners stepped up to me and said, "Sara". I turned and realized it was Haymanot, this little girl's mom. I hope we get the opportunity to really reach out to them.

This is Mesfin--I love this photo because it shows how much he's improved in the past months. He and his mom and little brother joined the project in November. His whole face was covered with an infectious skin disorder that frequently affects those with HIV. We started feeding the family and providing meds and vitamins, and he's like a whole new child! He's in school now, and is very bright.

And this is Abeba and her little girl Sara. Abeba's precious to me--some days I just wish so badly I could do more for her. She's struggling to raise her two girls alone--but she's making it. Sara is precious and gentle and full of hugs and kisses. This day I got jolly rancher-goo in my kiss:) I loved the stickiness, though:)

I want it, I need it?

2007-03-19T13:47:00.000+03:00

I love Addis. No electricity, no phone line, no water. Argh.
That was my immediate reaction just now when the lamp in my room and the soft whirr of the fan abruptly switched off.
I really do love Addis, and I’ve (albeit grudgingly at times) learned to live without the phone line and internet at my house for the past few weeks. The water’s been unreliable lately, and I can take a darn good bucket bath now. The electricity is my finicky relationship around here—it’s on again, off again, but mostly on so I’m ok with it. But when they all three go and I’m praying the gas in my stove will hold out, I can get cranky. It’s not because I can’t adapt, because I can and I’ve had to. I didn’t go on all those camping trips as a kid for nothing, I guess:-)
But I get out of sorts because I don’t want to live without those things. I’m used to them and frankly I like having them around. But I don’t get to choose whether they’re on or off, and that irritates me. I’d be better suited to this if I could say, “Ok, I’ll deal with no water. But only from midnight to 6am, ok?!”
When I view my reaction like that, it’s a little on the ugly side. Who am I to now expect these good things as a requirement for my survival? I’m self-centered, and I live in a place where this should get stripped out of me. But it’s not . . . yet. I am human, and I try to forget how very human I am sometimes. I live in a world where water is precious and not so easy to come by, where electricity is a luxury and one naked bulb in a house is plenty, where a phone is something that defines the haves and the have-nots. Who do I think I am to get angry over losing something that so many never have??
I’m all right, after all. I can open my window and let in some sunlight, I can carry water to my house, I have a cell phone and there’s internet at the office. I have so much, even without these things I tell myself are necessities. God said He would provide for me, and He has never failed me yet. Oh, how small my faith, my daily belief in the truth of that promise!
I should be glad, after, all that I get a chance to realize how little I need and how much I’ve been given.
The fan blade is beginning to turn and the lights are flickering. Life is, indeed, rich.

They Make Me Smile

2007-03-07T10:52:00.000+03:00

The project office has been pretty quiet this morning, and I've been catching up with emails and reading research articles and looking at my lists of things to do. Just now Selamawit came upstairs to see me. She's 6 and has a new hair-do today--her short curls are pulled up in tiny ponytails all over her head. She came to tell me that her mom was downstairs and needed to give me Selamawit's HIV medication to store. I followed Selamawit downstairs, slowing down as she carefully climbed down each step. We organized her medication and as I lowered the candy box for her, she gave me her best twinkly-eyed shy smile. If you click on that link to the right to "Matthew's Africa Thoughts" I think you can find a video of Selamawit from April, 06. If I were mildly technically literate, I'm sure I could put a link right here in the text for you, but I'm not--so sorry!
Yesterday Deborah had a cough so her mom brought her up to see us. She sat in my lap and we played for a bit--these photos were taken then. Deborah knows she's a favorite amongst the staff--she's like the project baby, and everyone laughs and smiles when she comes. We've seen first baby steps and heard squeals of anger and delight as she discovers the world around her. I wish that Deborah had a daddy and a much more stable life, but I'm glad we've been given the privilege of watching her grow up.
That's my world today.

Well . . . .

2007-03-05T16:44:00.000+03:00

Sorry, folks. My phone line is dead, and thus I don't have much internet access. So I'm still here, plugging away--I'm just not able to tell you about it! But I have water, so I'm not really complaining (yet)! In a place like this, your priorities shift just a little. Have YOU ever thought of which utility you'd rather have if you had to choose?? I do that all the time, but unfortunately in the end no one lets me choose:)
Life is good, busy, hard . . . . as usual! Today I got up before 6 (yes, Sara P CAN do that . . . she just doesn't LIKE to!), went running, and headed to the office about 7:30. Had a staff meeting this morning, worked on collecting some medical data for various reports and proposals, attempted to balance financial records for medical expenses for beneficiaries, and then I ate some lunch with the staff. This afternoon I've worked on the data review and collection and treated or referred multiple patients and written notes in beneficiary charts. In between I've given out candy, greeted about 35 people with handshakes and kisses, and I've tickled and kissed "my" baby in the project. That's my day thus far--hope that wasn't too boring of a report!
Hopefully that dead phone line will be resurrected soon and I can keep up a bit better. Keep sending those emails--I read them even if I don't reply back:)
The end. Happy March.

Christmas Can Be Anytime

2007-02-21T21:29:00.000+03:00

I'm pretty ridiculously happy right now. Today I received not one, but TWO packages from the US of A. One survived an extended stay at the E. post office, during which time the mission mail person debated with officials over how much money they were really going to charge me to get said package released from captivity. This morning I trekked to the PO, got multiple pieces of paper signed and stamped, walked down the road to the bank for more signing and stamping, then went back to the PO to visit a few more booths before I FINALLY got to see the long-awaited package. It was worth the wait, Leah:) The other package rather innocently stated that it contained "socks". Right. I'm glad it didn't, Gracie:) The other two items evoked squeals from me!!
So yeah. I couldn't ask for much more than this. I get to read a great new book, watch Gilmore Girls, savor girl scout thin mints (and try to make them last more than one sitting!), and all the while BREATHE! Thanks, you lovely people!

Breathe

2007-02-16T23:25:00.000+03:00

In and out. I'm still alive, for all those who thought perhaps this time around I really wasn't going to respond to your emails:) It's been a crazy month--a team here for close to 2 weeks, 3 days off, then another team for 2 weeks. They just flew out tonight, and I am anticipating the sheer wonderfulness of sleeping in tomorrow!! The past couple of weeks I've been pretty consumed with project work related activities--planning and clinics and meds and lab orders and dinners and people. But that's the most beautiful thing--it IS about people; about people who come to help carry our burden here in this work, about people here we get to work alongside, about people we get to serve and care for.
So, all you beautiful people, have a great day. I'm going to go to sleep:)

Thoughts About Life

2007-02-10T15:53:00.000+03:00

poverty is so hard to see
when it’s only on your tv and twenty miles across town where we’re all living so good
that we moved out of Jesus’ neighborhood
where he’s hungry and not feeling so good
from going through our trash
he says, more than just your cash and coin
i want your time, i want your voice
i want the things you just can’t give me

so what must we do
here in the west we want to follow you
we speak the language and we keep all the rules
even a few we made up

come on and follow me
but sell your house, sell your suv
sell your stocks, sell your security
and give it to the poor
what is this, hey what’s the deal
i don’t sleep around and i don’t steal
i want the things you just can’t give me

because what you do to the least of these
my brother’s, you have done it to me
because i want the things you just can’t give me
--derek webb, rich young ruler

I was thinking through my pen this morning, cowering from the realities of truth and life and yet desperately wanting to grasp it all . . .
“My body is weary. My soul is bruised. Some days I feel 90 years old.
But there is a someday when none of that will matter. So to pick up, to press on, to live joyfully, freely—being filled up with love and pouring it out. To yearn for, plead for, fight for justice. To care.
Not because I’m better person. Not because I "should".
But because I can and I want to because—Amazing! I’ve been loved like that, I’ve been fought for, I’ve been bought by blood, by a poured-out life, justice and mercy have been purchased and given for me. Not because it had to be. Not because of proving something. But because He wanted to. Incomprehensible.”

This thought of what to do next in my life has been pretty all-consuming. Not just because I don’t like making decisions but because I recognize that either choice I am facing will be painful. In my frail humanity I long for the easy way out. But here, there is none. To stay here means to give up so much there that I always thought I wanted out of this life. To leave means to break my heart for the ones here. I know these choices aren’t necessarily exclusive of aspects of the other. But in a sense, I guess I realize that I need to make this decision on the “either/or” side of life, because otherwise it’s too muddy for me to see. And all of you who have ever listened to me talk and cry for endless hours when facing other decisions will probably just groan and be glad you aren’t around for this one:) But the dichotomy I feel like I am facing is huge. And I want both. And neither is inherently “wrong” (bye bye fence and freedom, I already got that figured out here and it’s NOT helping!!).

Today mostly I am glad that life’s not about me. It doesn’t revolve around me, it doesn’t rely on me. I’m not that important in the scheme of millenniums. Because I’m not in charge. And that, that is a wonderful thing.

So I don’t know about tomorrow. But today’s work is clear. And right now, that’s enough.

Even So

2007-02-02T22:47:00.000+03:00

Whatever my lot, Thou has taught me to say,

It is well, it is well, with my soul.

Though Satan should buffet, though trials should come,

Let this blest assurance control,

That Christ has regarded my helpless estate,

And hath shed His own blood for my soul.

And Lord, haste the day when my faith shall be sight,

The clouds be rolled back as a scroll;

The trump shall resound, and the Lord shall descend,

Even so, it is well with my soul.

--Horatio Spafford

I think this is one of the precious and painful lessons the Lord has burned into me over the past nine months. That truly, whatever life brings and wherever I am--it IS well because HE has made it so. What incredible, incomprehensible grace. As I've realized this truth more and more, I've learned what it means to truly plead that the day would come quickly when HE will return and reign. There will be justice then, and we will see mercy poured out. I want that day to come soon. For me, and for the oppressed and broken and beaten ones in this world.

Life's not all ok, but right now I am peaceful. I'm listening to one of the most beautiful gifts I have ever received--an audio recording of all of my extended family during Christmas. I get to hear the family jokes (Bugle Boy?), the laughter and teasing, the stories dredged up from the past. I got to hear my uncle play the piano and his deep voice rolled over my soul. The tears came, but they were joy tears that I got to be a part of my family still. I heard my grandmother begin to cry as she read a note from me, and I heard her say, "I love you, Sara". I don't deserve this family--yet I've been given them! The incredible grace continues to overwhelm me.

Life will always be painful, and will rarely give me all I want from it. But that's ok, isn't it? Because that grace will always be there, and there will be moments of intense joy amidst the pain. Like right now, listening to my cousin's baby boy laugh and cry. I'm laughing and crying with him.

The Why

2007-01-22T21:41:00.000+03:00

God uses people. God uses people to perform His work. He does not send angels. Angels weep over it, but God does not use angels to accomplish His purposes. He uses burdened broken-hearted weeping men and women.
–David Wilkerson

Some wish to live within the sound of a chapel bell; I wish to run a rescue mission within a yard of hell.
— C.T. Studd

I have but one candle of life to burn, and I would rather burn it out in a land filled with darkness than in a land flooded with light.
– John Keith Falconer

Someone asked Will the heathen who have never heard the Gospel be saved? It is more a question with me whether we — who have the Gospel and fail to give it to those who have not — can be saved.
— Charles Spurgeon

‘Not called!’ did you say? ‘Not heard the call,’ I think you should say. Put your ear down to the Bible, and hear Him bid you go and pull sinners out of the fire of sin. Put your ear down to the burdened, agonized heart of humanity, and listen to its pitiful wail for help. Go stand by the gates of hell, and hear the damned entreat you to go to their father’s house and bid their brothers and sisters and servants and masters not to come there. Then look Christ in the face — whose mercy you have professed to obey — and tell Him whether you will join heart and soul and body and circumstances in the march to publish His mercy to the world.
– William Booth

"He is no fool who gives up what he cannot keep to gain that which he cannot lose."
-- Jim Elliot

"God is pursuing with omnipotent passion a worldwide purpose of gathering joyful worshippers for Himself from every tribe and tongue and people and nation. He has an inexhaustible enthusiasm for the supremacy of His name among the nations. Therefore, let us bring our affections into line with His, and, for the sake of His name, let us renounce the quest for worldly comforts and join His global purpose."
-- John Piper

Every day, every hour, may I learn to love justice, to show mercy, and to walk humbly with my God. These men got it, they understood what it meant to live a poured-out life. It's not about going to the most remote place you can find on a map--that I think I have learned--but it's about joyfully pouring our hearts and lives out because He did it first.

Painful Questions

2007-01-16T20:45:00.000+03:00

I don't know how to say this,

I don't know how to stand,

I don't know where toput my feet,

or where to put my hands.

I've got them in my pockets,

my fingers are freezing cold . . . .

I think we've figured out this world is bigger than you and I.

We've exhausted our wealth of knowledge and have no more answers for mankind

We've had every conversation in the world

about what is right and what has all gone bad,

but have I mentioned to you that this is all I am,

this is all that I have.

--Sara Groves, "Conversations"

To wonder what mercy means, when it will appear and sweep through this broken world in a way I can see--these are questions I struggle with. I want to see it now, I beg for mercy for these shattered lives, for the little ones left behind, for us who cry with and for them but cannot bear their burdens.

Wishing?

2007-01-13T12:19:00.000+03:00

I wish the semblance of organization in my mind would manifest itself in my everyday life. I want to be like those people in Southern Living with perfectly beautiful, always neat homes that seem to say “Come in!” (they also say “Don’t touch!” but that’s for later!). I wish my expenses were all carefully organized in an Excel document and that I balanced my checkbook on occasion. I wish all my clothes were neatly hung up in my closet, and that my dresser wasn’t cluttered with an assortment of hairpins, slips of paper with seemingly important information scrawled on them, and various tubes and bottles. I wish my kitchen cabinets were worthy of Martha Stewart stopping by to inspect them. I wish the project work I have to get done this weekend wasn’t spread out in 2 notebooks, 3 sheets of paper, and two Word documents. I wish all the recipes I want to make before I die were all laminated and organized in a 3 ring binder, instead of being written on miscellaneous index cards and envelope flaps. I wish my purse contained only the essentials —keys, phone, Kleenex, mace J instead of the “what if I need it?” items that are crammed in there (someone might stop breathing around me and that CPR mask would sure come in handy!). I wish my schedule was consistent and that I really went running every Monday/Wednesday/Friday/Saturday. I wish the thousands of photos on my computer were efficiently arranged into correctly named folders, all stored under “My Pictures”. I wish that I could promptly reply to all the letters and emails waiting on me. I wish that when I made banana bread half the flour didn’t end up sprinkled over the floor and dusting my shirt. I wish that when I walked I could always keep walking, but instead I make contact with gravel, rocks, doors, and people that you’re really not supposed to. I wish I would remember to water my plants, instead of letting them die slow, withered deaths.
I could go on, but you probably get the point . . . .
I know some of these things I can change, and I should, and I do try (sometimes). But then I think, “Whoa! I’m in my mid-20s; I’m set in my ways--I’m going to be like this when I am 80!!” And I panic for a moment and think maybe I should be a little more neurotic about all these things.
Yet, yet . . . . do these things really matter? The world around me would have me believe that they do, indeed, matter greatly. How many self-help books can I find to help me be a better, more organized, more prepared, more perfect person? Insomuch as these things truly do reflect my heart and mind, then yes, those things certainly need to be worked on and changed so that even in the small things I might “work as unto the Lord”.
But in all truth, I’d rather spend less time, energy, and stress on dusting the corners and more on always having a cup of coffee ready for someone who needs a friend. I’d rather have a clean toilet than a designer home. I’d rather serve Mexican chicken soup that simmered all day than “fried papaya strips with mango salsa” that I spent all day on and no one wants to eat. I’d rather be a messy cook than a take-out queen. I’d rather have an allowance and let someone else keep my accounts straight (hey, I can wish!!).
I realize these things aren’t all mutually exclusive. And maybe someday I’ll get it all together, I’ll be able to have that perfectly neat home and always be able to find my last bank statement. But more than that, I hope that when I am 80 I can look back and not regret how I spent my time and energy.
So come on over. The coffee’s ready and the no-bake cookies are on their way. Just push over that stack of clothes on the sofa and have a seat!

Not Boring

2007-01-12T22:42:00.000+03:00

Life, that is. I'm sorry I haven't been posting lately to tell you that, but here's a little taste for you to see why life could never, ever be boring in a place like this!!

It's Christmas Eve

2006-12-24T00:06:00.000+03:00

It's 12:08am on this side of the world, and that means Christmas Eve has arrived. I'm not sure yet how that happened:)
Christmas is going to be very different this year . . . Thanksgiving was a hard day in many ways, yet sweet in others. I expect Christmas to be the same. I am learning that for the things we give up, we lay down, we let go of--there is yet more joy found in the brokeness we are left with.
Sure, I'd like to be in the car with my family headed to Texas right now. Dixie, my dog, will be frantically panting and steaming up the van windows. My brothers will be leaning against the windows, asleep in that awkward wadded-up-jacket-for-a-pillow position. My mom will be "resting her eyes", leaning against the yellow bone pillow I think my grandmother made. And Dad will be driving, squinting a little against the sun. And yes, I'd love to be with all of my extended family . . . for spice tea and cousins and catching up . . . for bodies crammed onto the open floor to sleep . . . for late nights of laughter and the real popcorn ball making event . . . for the richness of love and togetherness that I am blessed with in my family.
And yet, with all that I could be doing right now, I am here. And I am exactly where I am supposed to be. I am incredibly thankful for the privilege of being here, for the sufficient grace that's been poured upon me, for the sweet gifts I have been given in this place. I would love to have both worlds in my grasp right now, but even in my wishing, I know that I have the most precious Treasure of all. I have a King who became a Man so that I might live and never die. What greater gift could I desire?
Have a Merry Christmas, friends! May you remember that the best gift is not the silver one under the tree, or the family around you, or the security of your world . . . . but the truth that Jesus was born for you .

A Sweet, Sticky Taste of Home!

2006-12-21T21:54:00.000+03:00

Mmmmm. So Bev, the team "mom" apparently emailed my mom to find out what some Christmas traditions of my family's were. Mom sent her the recipe for popcorn balls, which is an annual Flanagan/Denton/Hisey/Pshigoda/Phillips and others treat! Of course half the fun is in the making--the gobs of sticky goo all over the place, the hands diving in for a taste, the voices and laughter and warmth that make home and family what they are. Tonight we made green popcorn balls, and I thought I'd share the fun with you!

It's the simple things in life, really:) It's going to be fun to share these with my E. coworkers tomorrow!

Thanks, Mom!

The End (of this, anyway!)

2006-12-16T17:28:00.000+03:00

Ok, folks. I am ending my collection of photos from Kenya and Aaron's trip! I've got other stuff that's happened since then, and since I am a little on the OCD side of life I couldn't say anything because then it would be out of chronological order, wouldn't it?!
Today is a beautiful day--it's warm and sunny. Can Christmas really be only 8 days away? We've got a baby Christmas tree and a nativity (thanks, Mom!), and today we added a wreath to the door. We listen to Chrismas music and hum carols through the day, and I think I am going to put some chocolate in my stocking--but is this all really "Christmas"?? It's not, but it's easier to see that from here than there, I think. Sure, I want the Christmas sweets and parties and frost and people--but even that wouldn't satisfy. We have a Treasure far more grand than any of these things, and that is worth celebrating!

But on to Kenya . . . .

The "tent" we stayed in at the safari camp--let's just say that's the nicest tent I'll ever sleep in! It made for a pleasant stay:)

My view of Aaron for a good portion of the trip:)

With my elephant friends

Wildebeests roaming the Masai Mara--there were hundreds of thousands. We missed the annual wildebeest migration, but it was still pretty incredible.

Giraffes are incredible creatures--they cope with awkwardness gracefully. I wish I could do that! Seriously, they made the whole safari worth it!

The Masai Mara

The Other Half (Almost)

2006-12-13T20:45:00.000+03:00

I just realized I have fleas crawling on me, so I'm going to make the word part of this brief! I need a monkey friend right about now:) So here's some more pics from Aaron's trip--it's not all but it's close!! These are all from Kenya.

We spent a couple days on a safari on the Masai Mara:

Aaron is standing with Tanzania stretching out behind him

In Nairobi we went to an elephant orphange, where Aaron took this pretty charming photo:

Then we went to a giraffe center, where Aaron again took this cool shot:

Mmm, yummy!

Now you see it, and . . . .

Now you don't!

Half of the Long Expected Post

2006-11-29T20:46:00.000+03:00

Time keeps on ticking by—I can’t believe that Aaron came and went, we flew to Kenya and northern E and back, I got kissed by a giraffe, I stepped back into the busyness at the project, I celebrated Thanksgiving here and survived the Great E Run!!
This could get really long, but instead of being wordy I’m going to attempt to let the photos share my stories:) BUT, this server has been blocked AGAIN and I can’t load any more photos now.
It was really great to have Aaron here—I’ve probably said this on here before, but one of the greatest struggles of being in a place like this is the feeling that everyone in my “other life” (you, probably!) can’t comprehend my life here. Thus, it’s difficult to share what life is truly like here and the burdens in it. For this reason, I am glad that now I have another bridge between my worlds, that now Aaron knows some of the faces of these dear ones I work with and cry over.
It was also pretty great to have a break:) I definitely needed some time away and some space to process life and to think about this great big looming “what’s next?” question I’m facing. I didn’t come up with any answers and feel like I am a long way from them, but I was reminded that it’s not my life and it’s not about ME. So hopefully these photos will give you a glimpse into our journeys! If this allows me to post more later, I will post all the ones I intended to. I would like to clarify that Aaron’s photos are exponentially better than mine, and really I should just wait for him to finish putting them online and send you there. But until then, enjoy these!
*I was uploading pics backward so they'd be in chronological order (I am slightly OCD, I think). But alas! that means the safari pics didn't get loaded before my technical troubles started in earnest. So sorry, hopefully they will come later!

After being in Nairobi, I felt like I had been to the West and back! Here I am pretty excited that we got to order pizza and have it delivered. Wonders never cease:)

Headed to the aiport in Nairobi

___________________________________________________________

We flew up to Northern E to the town of Lalibela for a day. It is home to these incredible ancient rock-hewn churches. They are all carved below ground level, so you can't see them when you are just standing in the town.

St. George Church, probably the most famous one there.

A and I with St. George Church in the background.

These are called "tukels" and they are the traditional E. style of building. They start with a stick frame, then plaster in the walls with a grass and mud mixture that is actually harder than cement. The roof is regrassed every few years. The 2 story tukels were used to house animals in the bottom and people in the top.

Dusk view from our window--the town was peaceful. Life continues much as it has for centuries there--the placid evening was interrupted only by the lowing cows, bleating sheep, and the high pitched shout of children playing soccer in the streets.

_______________________________________________________

*Due to the E gov. heightened security right now, PLEASE use discretion in any comments you may leave! Not that my readers usually post politically sensitive comments, but just be aware! Please don't mention the country, the government, or the political situation. Thanks.

I'm really . . . .

2006-11-27T22:25:00.000+03:00

going to post!!!
But this server has been blocked again, so it makes everything more complicated!
I'm still alive and breathing--and I got turkey, mashed pototaoes, cranberry sauce, and pumpkin pie for Thanksgiving, so that made me pretty happy.
I hope you are all well and had the chance to sit and wonder about the blessings in your lives this last week!

The Struggle

2006-11-21T21:57:00.000+03:00

This world has nothing for me and

This world has everything

All that I could want and

Nothing that I need

--Aaron Tate

Just Thinking

2006-11-18T11:35:00.000+03:00

I'm really alive! We didn't get eaten by lions or trampled by wildebeests or drowned by hippos! I promise a real update soon, maybe even with pictures:) Oooh, betcha can't wait!? Haha, really I will post soon, but until then wanted to share something someone else said that I've been thinking about.

Can we give up all for the love of God? When the surrender of ourselves seems too much to ask, it is first of all because our thoughts about God Himself are paltry. We have not really seen Him, we have hardly tested Him at all and learned how good He is. In our blindness we approach Him with suspicious reserve. We ask how much of our fun He intends to spoil, how much He will demand from us, how high is the price we must pay before He is placated. If we had the least notion of His lovingkindness and tender mercy, His fatherly care for His poor children, His generosity, His beautiful plans for us; if we knew how patiently He waits for our turning to Him, how gently He means to lead us to green pastures and still waters, how carefully He is preparing a place for us, how ceaselessly He is ordering and ordaining and engineering His Master Plan for our good—if we had any inkling of all this, could we be reluctant to let go of our smashed dandelions or whatever we clutch so fiercely in our sweaty little hands?
“We have not loved Thee with our whole heart; we have not loved our neighbors as ourselves.”
If with courage and joy we pour ourselves out for Him and for others for His sake, it is not possible to lose, in any final sense, anything worth keeping. We will lose ourselves and our selfishness.

We will gain everything worth having.

Elisabeth Elliot, The Path of Loneliness

Off

2006-11-04T23:20:00.000+03:00

to the wilds of Africa! Haha:) Aaron and I are leaving tomorrow for Kenya, and I am supposed to be packing right now. But packing requires decisions and as we all know that is one of my least favorite activities in life!!
Have a great week, all!

The Burger Queen Experience

2006-11-03T23:34:00.000+03:00

The other night most of the staff went out to "Burger Queen" after work. It was pretty impressive--country music from the satellite radio in the background, real burgers and french fries and ketch-up. Mostly, though, it was just a great time of laughing with this group of people who have become some of my dearest friends!

It's still a little wierd to look up and realize my brother is here, in my Ethiopian life. I'm happy he is:)

Danny, me, and Aaron, in case you didn't figure that out!! :)

My half eaten basket (yes, a real basket to add to the experience!) of food:)

Mmmm, good. It's really just one of Danny's favorite places to eat in Addis; that's why we went!

*For all of you observant people out there who already commented or were about to--no, I still don't like kettle korn or burgers. But they don't kill me and I can still talk about them:)

The Original Kettle Korn

2006-10-28T18:54:00.000+03:00

Today three other "feringe" women and myself ate at an Ethiopian friend's home. She always amazes me by her hospitality and generosity out of the very, very little that she has. We said "baka" (enough) over and over but she kept giving us more food!! After the meal, there was a coffee ceremony, which is a integral part of culture here. They roast coffee beans over an open flame, grind them up, and brew dark espresso-like coffee. Then they dump in spoonful after spoonful of sugar into the little teacups, and give you cup after cup of it! It is around the coffee ceremony that community is often nutured, that business deals are made, that stories and secrets and just lives are shared. Generally alongside the coffee they serve kolo (roasted barley) or popcorn. Today it was popcorn, bought by the handful because that was all the money she had to spend on it. It was properly popped in a little kettle over the flame, poured onto a platter, and generously sprinkled with precious sugar!! Hence, my title--maybe this is where it all started! We laughed over our bad Amharic blunders, talked about why feringe women don't put butter in their hair, ate too much, got caffeine jitters from drinking the darkest coffee you've ever seen, and most of all had the joy of getting to share a few hours with several women whose lives we can never comprehend.
On another note, I am HAPPY!! My big brother is coming to see me in 23 hours (hopefully!)!! I am so excited to get to share this life with someone from my "other" life, to in some way attempt to bridge the gap between my two worlds. And . . . I am glad that a break is coming soon! We are going to play complete tourists and go to Kenya and on a safari and buy lots of African souvenirs:) I'll share stories and pics later!

Mystery

2006-10-11T22:19:00.000+03:00

“There cannot be two different faiths—one for you and one for the poor. The question on which the whole social problem really pivots is whether you recognize in the less fortunate, even in the poorest, not merely a creature, a person in wretched circumstances, but one of your own flesh and blood: for the sake of Christ, your brother . . .

There is suffering round about you, and those who suffer are your brothers, sharers of your nature, your own flesh and blood. You might have been in their place and they in your more pleasant position. The Gospel speaks to you of a Redeemer who, although he was rich, became poor for your sake so he might make you rich . . .

Just as the rich and poor sit down with each other at the communion table, so also you feel for the poor man as for a member of the body, which is all that you are as well . . .

Divine compassion, sympathy, a suffering with us and for us—that was the mystery of Golgotha.

You, too, must suffer with your suffering brothers.”

--Abraham Kuyper in The Problem of Poverty

My black scarf is on my desk at the office again, waiting for the trek to more lyksos (wakes). I cry for Habtamwa, for my friend who two months ago was laughing and joking about my bad Amharic. I cry because I didn’t get to hold her hand, to tell her I cared, to say again, one last time, that there is hope. I cry because there are more Habtamwas. I cry because I know how little I see myself as the poor, the broken, the blackest of sheep so desperately needing a rescuer. Because I fail to and refuse to acknowledge that truth in its entirety, I cannot suffer with and for the Habtamwas of this world as I am called to.
The mystery is inexplicable. Riches for me? From Him?

Slippery Grip

2006-10-06T22:29:00.000+03:00

"I felt my edges start to slip . . ."
"It's just a fear, unnamed
We shouldn't have to do this to ourselves
We shouldn't have to do it this way . . ."

--Ellery

Today I am tired, a little unsure about life in general, joyful yet pained in my soul. My head is swirling, and I sometimes just don't know how to process it all. What to do, how to react, to one of my women who is dying, but doesn't want me to come see her bacause I am a foreigner and she is still so afraid of the stigma from the community. She's dying, and I know that and I ache to hold her hand, to tell her again of the only Hope there is. I want her to know that so desperately, to not spend these last days, weeks, eternity itself in fear. And thinking about the great big huge gaping "What's next?" question. Wondering how I can ever reconcile my two worlds, how I can bear to not be a part of either of them. Yet not for a moment wanting to not have had the chance to love and be loved, to share in the great joy of walking through life alongside others in these places. There's a lot more, but that's my bit of honesty for the day. I'm not honest enough--with myself, with my Father, with the people in my life. Is that driven by fear? Yes, probably. I'm so glad that His perfect love can drive out ALL fear--of death, of uncertainty, of loneliness, of heartache, of doubt. I am glad that one day I will understand that in a way I don't now.
On a much lighter note, today I had a chest x-ray (I am fine to all of you who are freaking out right now!!) and it cost me less than $10 US. What??!! That's crazy. When I had that dumb foot surgery a while back my total bill was like $4000 dollars, and I think a couple hundred of that was the 3 xrays I had on the offending appendage. The healthcare system is, well, not really a system at all here. It's a constant struggle to work with, to wish there was more. But today it was nice to only pay 10 bucks for 2 x-rays!

Of Rats and Women

2006-09-29T23:34:00.000+03:00

It's lateish on this Friday night, and I should be thinking of finding my sleeping spot. But I am dreading the moment right before I drift into neverland and the stampede of elephants overhead begins! Yes, folks, I have rats in my walls and ceiling. I don't know if it's true or not, but my furry little enemies seem to be of the nocturnal tendency. Right before I slip into blissful oblivion, they start crawling, scampering, and scratching their way through the wall RIGHT BESIDE my head. UGH!
But, never fear. I've never been particularly scared of bugs and small furry creatures. I killed Mr. Mouse, right? (See prior posts if you don't believe me. Were I cool and talented and not tired right now, I might even add a link right here). I could, however, use some suggestions here. Do I use the sticky stuff, then deal with live squirmy ROUS-sized creatures? Or find some coumadin and let them die scattered in heaps around the attic? Or borrow the neighbor's cat and put him up there for a couple of days? The first problem is, of course, the fact that there is no way that short me can even get INTO the 1 foot hole leading into the attic! Chairs, cabinets, the stove--it's just not sufficient!
Maybe the fleas in the bed are raining down from the rats in the attic . . .

Snapshots

2006-09-26T23:47:00.000+03:00

This is a random collection of photos taken over the past several months. At the moment, I can't even get the rest of them to upload, so I am not sure if this is ever going to make it into an actual post! There's not a theme or particular reason for most of these, but perhaps they will give you another glimpse into "my world" here!

View from a big hill overlooking one of the many volcano lakes in the country

In the country about an hour outside of Addis

I thought this was SO cool. Separating the chaff from the grain. Every time I look at this photo, I think again of the One we serve and the work He is about.

Taken at a June medical clinic--from left: Eyob, Tim, and Danny

2006-09-23T23:09:00.000+03:00

With my dear friend Laura at one of the June medical clinics

A candid photo of Heilemy at one of the June medical clinics; she's in some other pics as well

Robs, I need you to come empty this!! I think I reached the limit of how much you can ACTUALLY put in the dishdrainer!!

One Sunday awhile back I went with a friend to visit her family in a town about an hour from Addis. We went the last little stretch by this mode of transport (it's a smaller town and they use horses instead of taxis for "public transport")

Took this out the window on the bus ride back to Addis that same day. So amazingly green!

This is one of the oldest support groups in the project--they are a wonderful group! Anyway, on this day they were taking advantage of the sunshine and decided to meet outside.

Deborah! My sweet baby:) Her mom's got her arm, but she was spending time in the office showing us her little steps and giving out slobbery kisses!

Betty (a fellow staff member) and Deborah

I stood on tiptoes on my porch to try to capture the sunset!

Verdict?

2006-09-22T22:55:00.000+03:00

Well, the jury hasn't been unanimous in the great ugly blog debate! My friend AnnaLauren just revamped her blog, but I'm afraid if I did that, I would totally mess everything up and would never, ever find the lost remnants in cyberspace. I'm not exactly computer savvy--if it weren't for another friend, Caroline, I would never have had a clue how to even change colors on here. HTML?? What's that?! And how come they think people like me can figure it out on our own? Who are they anyway?
Thanks for the input, readers, and if you have more to share, feel free. For now I'll keep the questionable colors and one day perhaps I will wake up and be bold and daring and say, "Today is the day I will change the blog!"

Rain on the Brain

2006-09-16T21:56:00.000+03:00

I don't like Saturdays here very much. Particularly the grey, rainy ones. They always tend to yield these pockets of time that quickly spiral from contemplation to introspection to loneliness to self-pity, which is an asinine position from which to view myself, especially living in a place like this! Oh, how ugly it can be to really see oneself! Today I wanted the comfort of warmth, home friends, my car, a phone with quick (and cheap!) access to a welcome voice on the other end, diet coke . . . it's always something:) And in my more level headed moments, I see all of this for what it is: sweet blessings given for seasons by a Father who cares more about my soul than how warm my toes are, but yet is caring enough to usually allow the toes to be warm. I really, really hate cold toes.
But, happy thought! I just made some oatmeal-raisen cookies. Now if I just had a glass of ice-cold skim milk . . .

Opinions Needed

2006-09-12T21:14:00.000+03:00

I have to ask. Is my blog ugly?
On my computer screen, it shows up as this dusky green and a mellow brown, and I like the combination. But the other day I was using another computer, and it came up as this ghastly combination that looked like a 70's era bathroom gone bad! So it's time to make your opinion known--if you've been thinking for months, "Does Sara actually like this??!!" then now is the time to tell.
And perhaps I'll snag some of you who read this and never make your presence known. I know you are out there!! :)

Happy New Year's!

2006-09-11T09:33:00.000+03:00

It's 1999!! Yea!
So today is New Year's Day here, and it really is 1999 as of 6:00. Well, that would be midnight our time. And today is the first day of the month, not the 11th. Would you like to be more confused?
It's the biggest holiday of the year, and the past few days there's been an air of excitement much like the pre-Christmas spirit we have. Minus all the commercialism and malls and fake Santas standing around.
But you know? Some things don't change no matter what culture you are in. They will celebrate today with family, yes, but mostly by . . . eating! There will be "doro wat" (chicken "stew"), bueg wat (sheep), and of course all the normal wats, like lentils, chickpeas, cabbage, beef, potatoes, and spinach. MMMM. Last night I went out back to my landlord's for a few minutes to join the New Year's Eve celebration of burning special wood and shooting up a few fireworks. In the corner of their little yard adjoining mine sat their sheep, peaceful and content, little knowing . . . . well, I won't go there!! In another part of the city, the Sheraton put on this enourmous fireworks display at midnight. I, however, was gloriously asleep at that point! I did think back to all the times we've kept the neighbors up on New Year's Eve and July 4 by our fireworks and sparkler bombs. Ok, that wasn't me making the bombs. You know who you are:) There was much shouting, singing, chanting, and generally excited noise through the night--until the monster rain came, at least.
It is a odd to see the celebration here, yet know that it is such a somber day in America and so many other places. My worlds are split right now--but I hope to find the balance between sharing in the joy here today and remembering the sorrow there.
May your day be peaceful.

Izote

2006-09-07T23:22:00.000+03:00

This afternoon another staff member and I set out to visit a new beneficiary whom we had heard was sick and had sent some medicine to yesterday afternoon. We anticipated a short check-up visit, maybe a chance to encourage her a bit. When we stepped down into the painted mud-walled home we immediately realized the situation was much worse than we thought. She was curled in her bed, moaning and furtively glancing helplessly around. When we tried to ask her some questions, she couldn’t even focus but instead seemed to be staring far beyond us. She was acutely dehydrated, and had no family or friends to care for her. Apparently she’d been in bed for about 5 days and hadn’t had any food or much water. I held her hand, checked her pulse, counted her breaths—all the while holding mine as I prayed that we would be able to do more for this precious one than just hold her hand. She kept moaning, alternately grabbing us and pushing us away. We knew she needed to go to the hospital, but you can’t take someone without having family or someone to stay with them. So we called all the neighbor women in. Within a few minutes, the little one-room house was filled with old women whose lives are filled with their own struggles. After much discussion, one sturdy woman said she could come to the hospital at 7 tonight. So we sent someone out to get a taxi to come as close as possible. Then we awkwardly pulled her out of bed, tugged her wet dress down to cover her legs, and slowly lurched out the door, along the rock-imbedded path, down an alley to the waiting taxi. Three of us squeezed into the car with her and headed to the main government hospital. As we sped along, I was facing the back window, helping to support her body with mine—all the while thinking, “This is the craziest ‘ambulance’ ride I’ll probably ever have”. When we arrived at the emergency department, we got a stretcher and again clumsily shifted her onto it. As we rolled into the dimly lit hospital entryway, we sighed in relief to see a nursing friend of ours standing there. Had it not been for her, we wouldn’t have made it past that entryway regardless of how sick our patient was. Eventually we were allowed a spot along the hallway wall, so we wheeled her in between people, stretchers, patients, IV bags, infusing blood, and medical staff. I stood there with my hand supporting her head on the pillow-less stretcher, wanting to give her the help she needed yet feeling as though my hands were tied by so many things. All the while, she continued to moan and look up with unfocused eyes, clutching me at times and breathing rapidly. Ever so slightly she turned her head into my gloved hand and it seemed as though she gave me the slightest kiss. My heart heaved.
All I could do, all I could say even as I prayed this whole time was “Izote, Izote”.
Be strong, be courageous, press on.

In the Dark

2006-08-26T22:23:00.000+03:00

I find it an odd trait of human nature (mine, at least!) how disturbing darkness can be to us. This evening I was in my little house doing some Saturday night clean-up when the electricity cut off Counting Crows’ “Hanginaround” in mid-sentence. Suddenly, a place that had seemed comfortable and safe seemed foreign and slightly unnerving. Why is that? I mean, I knew where the flashlight was and had my matches and candles easily accessible, as this is a frequent happening. Then, and this is just odd and amusing to me, when the electricity whirred back on it only came back at about 100v. Everything here is 220v, so the lights were on but in a dim, eerie way. Now it’s gone off again, so I am typing by the candlelight dancing on the walls. Talk about eerie!!
I haven’t been the best of post-ers lately (what is the correct way to phrase this?). I’ve said before but will say again, that it is difficulty to say what truly needs to be said. This place, these people cry out for a voice, and maybe more for an audience who will listen and respond. But I struggle to know how to form their cry into appropriate words, and how to string the words along into sentences that truly communicate reality.
It’s been a rough week in the project—facing death is hard and confusing and heartbreaking. But that is a relentless reality here. It’s impossible to cover in platitudes the harsh truth that a seven year old little girl is now an orphan. Her mom had a name and a face; yet, for most—even for me, so often—she will only be remembered because she added to some statistic of “the rising death toll due to HIV/AIDS in sub-Saharan Africa”.
Her name was Gannet. And her face was tired, simple, and lovely.

It's Always Interesting

2006-08-19T23:36:00.000+03:00

I can pretty much guarantee that going to a restaurant to meet some people for dinner rarely causes this much thought process to occur; then again, it's not nearly so amusing anywhere else either!
So this evening I was walking to the intersection where I could get a taxi, and thinking to myself how at the same time people around you can feel reasurring and threatening. I got to a spot where several taxi drivers were waiting, told one where I was headed (to which his "I know where that is" was slightly dubious), and asked for the price. His was ridiculous, and when I won the price war a minute later by telling him in no uncertain Amharic that that was my final price, the other drivers laughed and called me "Gobez" (smart). I chuckled about that for awhile. About 2/3 way through our bumpy trip, the taxi driver turned on the headlights (yes, it was dark the whole time). Hmm, those could be useful, I guess! We got to the general vicinity of where we were going and ended up turning around; then my taxi driver stopped the car in the road and left to go ask another taxi driver if he knew where the restaurant was (this happens frequently). When he got back in the car, of course it wouldn't start! So my ever so gobez taxi driver proceeded to attempt to push and drive the car at the same time--onto a busy road with oncoming traffic!! After some guys hanging out on the roadside gave us a little push (and we almost ran into some federal police), we were up and running; obviously, I made it there and back alive:)
I'm still smiling. Life is never dull!

Just Another Walk?

2006-08-13T21:21:00.000+03:00

One dreary, spitting, muddy morning this week I was headed into the project office via public transportation (which makes it sound so orderly and neat and efficient!). Between minibus stops, I was moving with the jostling crowd, picking my way over mud holes, all the while keeping my hand securely on my bag. I realized how draining this trek was, how assaulting all the reminders of where I was. Noise, constant noise: people, honking, the shrill cry of vendors, diesel engines, the plaintive call of beggars. And there were smells, overpowering smells: the black smoke that fills the sky and lungs, dirtiness, food, sheep, dogs, donkeys. But mostly I was overwhelmed by the sights, the images that are beyond disturbing. Women, children, men in too little tattered, dirty clothing; men and women without arms or legs or both scooting through the chaotic streets on strips of tires; nursing mothers huddled under scraps of plastic, holding out their deformed hands for change. It brought again all the questions: “How do I react? What do I do? Why is it this way? Why them and not me?”
This morning I was confronted with a new thought—what do they, these people on the streets, the crowds I push through, the children who grab my hand—what do they think of me? Of us, the ones who so obviously don’t “fit”? Do they think we are proud, selfish, stingy? Do they look in disgust at us, who think we have all the right answers? Or do they understand the turmoil that their very presence brings?

It Was . . .

2006-08-06T19:58:00.000+03:00

a happy birthday. Thanks for all the cards and emails and happy thoughts. Just to prove it, I took a pic of myself being happy with some of my cards. See?

On the Journey

2006-08-04T23:42:00.000+03:00

The settled happiness and security which we all desire, God withholds from us by the very nature of the world: but joy, pleasure, and merriment He has scattered broadcast. We are never safe, but we have plenty of fun, and some ecstasy. It is not hard to see why. The security we crave would teach us to rest our hearts in this world and oppose an obstacle to our return to God: a few moments of happy love, a landscape, a symphony, a merry meeting with our friends, a bathe, or a football match, have no such tendency. Our Father refreshes us on the journey with some pleasant inns, but will not encourage us to mistake them for home.
–C.S. Lewis in The Problem of Pain

Sunrise in Arba Minch, Southern Ethiopia

For in this we groan, earnestly desiring . . . that mortality may be swallowed up by life.
–II Corinthians 5

The past months have lent both time and experiences to deepen this understanding that the soul restlessness we have will not soon fade. I am thankful for joys along the way; today it is for friends and family and emails, cards, and prayers. It is for work and tasks that allow me to see a glimpse of the big picture of life, for women and children and faces of both sorrow and hope. It is for simple and petty things: chocolate, music, sunny days, hugs, jokes, potato soup. It is for the people I work with, and the people whose work allows me to be here.

The ghosts of our glories are grey bearded guides
The sound of our sorrows has stirred us inside
But I think maybe I’ve never felt more alive
I think maybe I’ve never felt more alive
I asked you just once if you thought we could be found
You never did tell me; but I think I know now . . .
--Ellery, album Lying Awake

2006-07-27T21:37:00.000+03:00

Some of our boys playing outside of the community building we use (I was trying to babysit . . . and I don't really speak the language . . . it was funny . . . "Wait!", "Stop!", "Come here!")

Showing off his personality in my sunglasses!

Sorting meds in our office building . . . with some helpers:)

The rainy view from my desk this afternoon

Kerempt (Rainy Season)

Sick Day

2006-07-23T10:26:00.000+03:00

My former roommate (and current friend, of course), who taught me many useful things, has this great saying to describe how you really feel when you feel really crummy. I won’t mention it here, but will leave it to your imaginations to come up with something truly descriptive. That is how I feel right now! It’s Sunday morning, and I am sitting in my comfy fleece wear (looking positively scary) on my not-so-comfy sofa. Being sick is always unpleasant, and perhaps more so when the idealistic image of “home” and homemade chicken noodle soup and warmth and quilts and cool hands on hot foreheads seems so far away. I always hate missing church, and feel as though my week begins awry when I do. But I didn’t have what it took to get there today, and didn’t figure anyone would want to sit near my hacking self. So hear I sit, trying to patiently wait for this sermon to download so I can finally finish Pastor Mike’s Acts series. In the meantime, I am maintaining a constant infusion of hot drinks in what is turning out to be a vain attempt to keep breathing. If I decide to eat later, I have a pot of that aforementioned chicken noodle soup waiting in the fridge. When I felt much this same way on Friday, I decided to do something about it so boiled a chicken and the whole nine yards (minus the homemade noodles my grandmother’s would have had!). Campbell’s isn’t exactly an option here:) But I found some saltine wannabes a while ago, so I am happy. Simple joys:) Enjoy yours today

Hmm . . .

2006-07-16T22:34:00.000+03:00

So I just checked the weatherunderground page to see what the temperature was here in Addis. I know, that's weird; I do live here. But no one ever knows or cares what the temperature is, and I was curious. Thus my investigation on the website. Well, on their fancy little 7 day forecast, for the next 3 days they predict a 20% chance of rain. What?! I don't know where the forecasters are from, but it is obviously NOT here. It is RAINY season, which means it rains EVERY day! Anyway.
Today I had the privilege of spending the afternoon in an Ethiopian girl's home. She fed three of us out of the very little she had. Oh, was I confronted with what "hospitality" really means! Then tonight I was listening to a Tim Keller tape, about my favorite passage in Isaiah 58. He was talking about true justice, about loving the poor NOT out of guilt but truly loving as we have been loved. More thinking to do . . .

Heavy

2006-07-12T21:56:00.000+03:00

Tonight I am weary. The past few days in the project have left me reeling a bit, finding yet again I don’t have all it takes to do this on my own. It seems as though every day there has been something that just drains and overwhelms me and leaves me grasping for reasons and answers. Monday it was a tiny, sick little boy for whom another staff member and I went to the government hospital to talk to the docs to try to get the boy’s antiretroviral (ARV) doses corrected. Yesterday it was one of our beneficiaries burdened under the weight and shame of spiritual oppression. Today it was another beneficiary who was denied her ARV medication because of arrogant and ignorant officials—thus now the chances of us being able to effectively treat her with the available resources are slim. There are always good stories in there too, and I am thankful for them. But they seem far outweighed by ones like these—harsh realities that affect real people. On top of these things, kerempt (rainy season) is here in full force and I think I am going to develop SAD!!
So I tell myself the call is to press on, to persevere, to see hope and seize it and share it. But “my spirit is overwhelmed within me” and my eyes are dim.

A Few Clinic Pics

2006-07-06T20:56:00.000+03:00

Waiting to be seen

My favorite moment in all our clinic days! This little boy had been incorrectly diagnosed with polio. We had some PTs on the team, and they were able to work with him for awhile. Here he is with his mom getting to walk with a walker! Oh, there were many tears shed:)

A precious little girl named Heilemy

Giving IV fluids to a really sick little boy. He came back the next day

and was bright-eyed and doing much better!

Photo Courtesy of Love Photography:)

Thanks for all your thoughts, prayers, emails, and calls over the past few weeks. June was a crazy month with these 2 medical teams here, but they were great ones too. In the last 2 weeks we did clinics, we saw 913 patients. Whew! I find myself looking back on those clinics with two reactions; one is overwhelming sadness out how little we could do for so many of the patients we saw. Their lives are just so hard. The other, though, is great joy that we were given the privilege to reach into lives so often forgotten; as we touched people who are "untouchable" and gave medicine to those who can't afford any and most of all shared Hope with those who have so little--oh, I am blessed to get to be a part of this.

From Sea to Shining Sea . . . and Beyond

2006-07-04T21:05:00.000+03:00

Last night my moping attitude was continuing as I started to think about July 4th, and the family, friends, cookouts, fireworks and just togetherness I was going to miss. I had no plans, and had decided I just needed to ignore the day and act like it wasn't happening. But things changed when late last night I got invited to an Independence Day cookout. It was a joy to celebrate even from afar. The hosts managed to have more American decor than I have ever owned, and everyone contrived to pull together a pretty all-American meal complete with hamburgers, hotdogs, mac & cheese, fake pringles and lots of other good stuff. We were even joined by some Brits for our meal:) The crowning part of the evening was the country music playing in the background! It felt like I could have been in anyone's backyard in the states as I listened to "Where I Come From" coming from the speakers!! The best part, though, was being kindly reminded that I am not alone and wherever I get planted there will be times of fellowship and community.
So to all of you who haven't yet celebrated, Happy 4th. And corny song that it is, I do pray that "God bless the U.S.A"!!

Rain Everywhere

2006-07-01T22:26:00.000+03:00

It's raining in Baltimore . . .

Where you should be, no one's around

I need a phone call

I need a raincoat

I need a big love

I need a phone call

--Counting Crows

Yeah.

Today it rained harder than I think I have ever seen rain. And I have seen some rain--I've been in TX thunderstorms, was out in the parking lot moving my car right before Katrina hit, and was on the MS coast when Rita came through. The rain this afternoon poured as though all the heavens had decided to dump on my little house; then the hail came and the pelting and pouring matched the way I was feeling.

It's a melancholy day, to put it mildly. I have now listened to Counting Crows 4 times and am starting on my 3rd round with Keane. We complement each other nicely right now.
I'm glad there will be sun tomorrow, that joy comes with the morning. Some morning.

Until the day dawns and the morning star rises in your hearts

--Peter

Through the Lens

2006-06-23T05:49:00.000+03:00

One of our beneficiary's homes; with her little girl and newborn boy. I was visiting their home to check out the tiny new little one.
With Tesfaye; his name means "my hope".
With Asnakech, one of the beneficiaries who is dearest to my heart. She was teaching me to spin cotton! I'm not very good at it:)
A family on the rainy streets of Addis
Isn't she beautiful? We were captivated by her smile, her laugh, and her dancing; she was captivated by our cameras:) Our taxi had run out of gas on the street, so we got to spend a little bit of time talking to the two kids.
Eating Ethiopian--injera (the pancake-looking bread) with different kinds of wats (stews, in a way), cheese, and vegetables. Right hand eating only!
Driving downcountry a few weeks ago.

No Title This Time

2006-06-17T22:20:00.000+03:00

“There is within the human heart a tough, fibrous root of fallen life whose nature is to possess, always to possess. It covets things with a deep and fierce passion. The pronouns my and mine look innocent enough in print, but their constant and universal use is significant. They express the real nature of the old Adamic man better than a thousand volumes of theology could do. They are verbal symptoms of our deep disease. The roots of our hearts have grown down into things, and we dare not pull up one rootlet lest we die. Things have become necessary to us, a development never originally intended. God’s gifts now take the place of God, and the whole course of nature is upset by the monstrous substitution.” --A.W. Tozer
Over the past two weeks I have been mulling more over the things I wrote about in my prior post. I still don't have the answers, but I am confident that I serve One who does. Yet again I have had access difficulties, so I apologize for the infrequent posts! These next 2 weeks we have a sixty (yes, 6-0) person medical team here; we anticipate seeing about 850 patients during these clinics, so pray for our work to be profitable for bodies and hearts.

Photo: A couple of our beneficiaries and their kids outside of one of the community building where we work a lot

The Answers Aren't About Being Easy

2006-06-04T19:22:00.000+03:00

As a brief update to my prior post, the access problem has been figured out and a possibly temporary solution has been set up. Thank you to Nathan and Cal! So for the time being I will still be able to post and keep you updated on life in Ethiopia.
I know many of my posts have dealt largely with trivial things; fleas, mice, and goats are a part of life here, but certainly don’t consume it. I find it hard to think through many of the issues I am dealing with, let alone type them into coherent sentences that even need to be said. I’ll start with a few thoughts here but need to stop when this gets ridiculously long!
Were I to stay right where I am right now—sitting on my bamboo sofa in the dimming light, looking out through the open door to the brilliant flowers in my yard, the cloud-filled blue sky, and the mountains in the distance—I could so easily not think about these things. But beyond my gate there is a hurting, broken, dirty, and forgotten world. I struggle even with the existence of that gate; I understand its necessity, but feel that it perpetuates the idea that I can categorize people and worlds and never allow them to collide.
I want to be honest, but at the same time do not want to communicate a one-sided, emotional view of life here. But I am one person, and am also emotional, so please grant grace in your reading!
There are things I love about being here; I love that on Friday I got to hold a precious, cooing, brown-eyed 8 month old girl named Deborah. I was totally overwhelmed that I was the person her mother was relying on to diagnose and treat her child; I knew how unprepared I was for the task, yet knew I had to give it everything I had. I love greeting older women, and the traditional face-touching 3 times to say hello, 4 if I know you, and 5 if I really, really care about you. I love the birds, the flowers, the families, and the animals that make this place unique, yet so African. I love the expat community and the diversity and passion for service I get to see in them. I have many moments when I smile to myself as I realize I live in Africa, and I mull over the journey the Lord brought me on to bring me here.
But at the same time there are things I don’t like about being here. I don’t like that I am a feringe girl who gets hassled constantly, or that nothing is easy and transportation takes forever; however petty it is I miss Walmart and the ease of getting the daily things of life. I don’t like it that the electricity went out 3 times this week and that I am alone in a strange place. I have moments, when I sit in sudden and complete darkness and say, “I live in Africa!” and it’s not such a nice thought.
And then there are things I struggle with, things that pierce me and I want answers to and solutions that I can implement; there are things that cry out for attention and thought and struggle. Yesterday I was walking in the Piazza, one of the “shopping” districts of the city. A middle aged man in ragged, dirty clothes and a drooping cloth hat stretched out his hand to me as I passed and said, “Sister, sister”. He didn’t know how right he was for here I am a “sister” (nurse).
Beggars are everywhere here—whether you are walking, driving, riding. “Money, money”, “You, you”, “Hungry, hungry”. I hear the plaintive words over and over and they come from different mouths. Some tiny barefoot children, many worn mothers with babies strapped with cloth to their backs, maimed men and women who have lost part or all of arms or legs and pull themselves along close to the ground between moving vehicles, searching for a few santims (cents). I get frustrated by the constant hassling by beggars, then get frustrated that it frustrates me! I understand the idea of begging is perpetuated by the culture; if you must be good to get to heaven, you must give, and so you must have people to give to. So nothing is done to address the real issues, and no one expects anything to change. I understand many expat’s refusal to give, or only giving to certain people, as a stand against begging that is tolerated as an acceptable profession.
But as much as I get all that, I cannot turn my mind away from words that reverberate: “Extend your soul to the hungry, and satisfy the afflicted soul” . . . “Give to him who asks you” . . . “Give to the poor” . . . I don’t know how this works out in practice, and that is what I struggle with. But I am learning that there is no easy, sterile, clean answer; I never want to get to a place where I give a few santims just to satisfy my conscience. Mercy is about hands and dirt and grime, about totality and submission and humility. That is what we who are His have received, and He has called us to no less.

My Long Update

2006-05-28T20:35:00.000+03:00

Due to frustratingly unknown reasons, I have not been able to access my blog or any blogspot site for the past 10 days. So, I am sorry for the delay in updates and I am not sure what will happen from here. Some of the best computer experts available are working to figure out the problem, and have graciously set up for me to post this through remote access. If I have to quit using this site for access reasons, I will let you know!
The past two weeks have been full ones and left me with much to think on. I joined a 9th grade school trip to southern Ethiopia as the "trip nurse"-really, it was just a great opportunity to see some of the incredible Ethiopian scenery:) I know everyone will gasp as they realize that I, Sara, spent nearly a week with 15 year olds camping! Yep, that's me! I thoroughly enjoyed the trip and was reminded of the joy given us when we give up even little things that we want and cling to. We logged 35 hours in a bus, and got to see absolutely amazing things-huge ocean-like lakes surrounded by mountains and old volcanoes, vivid green landscapes, fences made of cacti, baboons, crocs, hippos, camels, magnificent trees and amazing views! We rode horses up this mountain and camped at about 10,000 feet-I felt as though I was cantering through Lord of the Rings; I thought surely the massive, twisting, gnarly trees would boom out talking to me:) The students did Sunday School at one down country mission site-for nearly 600 African kids. That was an experience! I don't know that I would recommend trying to get that many kids in one room to do Father Abraham again!!!
When we got back from Addis we were greeted by hard news-one of the SIM missionaries here had been killed in a freak construction accident. It has obviously shaken the mission community here. On Thursday there was a service; it was a time of grief mixed with joy to be able to sing "When we've been there ten thousand years, we've no less days to sing His praise".
I've been wrestling with ideas of home and security, and this incident reminded me anew that they are thoughts that demand attention. As I sit in my too-quiet house on rainy, dreary evenings, I long for something more. But even in my longing, I must acknowledge that "more" will never satisfy. May we all learn that He is our sole sufficiency.

Good Night, Sleep Tight . . .

2006-05-16T21:49:00.000+03:00

Oops, the bed bugs are biting!
On Sunday morning I woke up with the sinking realization that someone would pay me to be on Star Trek, not because of my acting skills but because they wouldn’t have to put time or money into makeup:) One eye was swollen and I had numerous little red itchy bites. Disgusting as it may be, I think the culprit is fleas:( Oh well, more things I get to laugh about, deal with, and move on! I am going to give my mattress a dousing of flea spray and sunshine and I’ll let you know if I have more opportunities to star as a half human/half alien sometime!
Thanks for the emails/thoughts/prayers this weekend! The past 4 days have been quiet ones, even with the anniversary of the elections yesterday. No one has come forward stating they did the bombing, so of course speculation is rampant. But life is back to normal for the moment, so we are thankful.

A City in Need of Peace

2006-05-12T21:27:00.000+03:00

This post is really just to let you all know that I am ok. It's been a rocky day in Addis, and it shakes your sense of security to hear and feel a bomb go off and then see the smoke rising from it. But I am reminded that our God is our only true security.
Tonight things seemed to have calmed down a lot, and people are moving about the city as though nothing happened. It is a reassuring sign that people are not holed up in their homes as has happened with some of the violence in the past here.
Please do pray for the people of Addis; I am especially concerned for the single mothers and children in our project who live in some of the areas that seem to have been targeted today. This city needs Light and Peace.

Random Observations

2006-05-10T21:37:00.000+03:00

Here's a difference (one of many!) between Africa and the West. You are driving down the road. There is traffic. A lot of it. There are pedestrians. A lot of them. You are of the Western mindset, so you see said road that has no lane stripes, you imagine that they are there, and you drive accordingly. Alternatively, you are of the African mindset, driving down said road that does have lane stripes; you imagine that they are not there and drive accordingly. There, that's observation #1 for you!
I realized today that no one walks fast. Gives totally new meaning to that line in the hymn that says "not a blast of hurry"--although I am quite sure that's not what it was referring to! I am probably going to be an even weirder feringe with my power-walking esque way of transporting myself:)
No new mice in my home, but now we have some new furry dwellers here! Caterpillars seem to have adopted the living room. Now, that is a task my flip flop can handle:) Maybe it has something to do with why the lizards also like the living room. Hmm . . .

MI:3, Addis Version

2006-05-07T21:25:00.000+03:00

Our not-so friendly little beast is gone now. Yea! I bought two kinds of mouse traps yesterday, and my housemate strategically set them up. We were out for the evening, and when we returned I tiptoed into the kitchen. Sure enough, he was there . . . squirming . . . and squealing!! Ugh. We used out guard to our full advantage and let him finish the dirty deed:) For one split second of the pitiful squeaks I thought about Jerry Seinfield saying 'you know, for just a second you feel bad for the poor spider. Then you flush.'
So now we have a bleached kitchen and are much relieved!

The Mouse Must Die

2006-05-06T00:05:00.000+03:00

Yesterday morning my temporary housemate and I discovered that we had a furry friend in the kitchen. He had unsuccessfully chewed into the lid on a plastic container. We were both annoyed, and contemplated what we would do about it. As there's a good inch between the tin back door and the ground, there's no telling where this guy is coming from. Fast forward to late last night, when I am sitting at the computer waiting an hour for those photos to upload to this site. Out of the corner of my eye, I see movement . . . and with a sinking gut I see HIM. Yep, the little beast was in my living room next to my jug of clean drinking water--but he quickly retreated to the kitchen. So I march my barefoot self into the kitchen wielding my flip flop, thinking, "Ok, so even if I found him what would I do about it?" For the next hour I heard him in there--he even got in the dishdrainer, knocked over stuff, crawled over our utensils, and left his friendly signature on the counter. Ugh. So tonight my housemate and I wait for a lull in the rain and walk down to the little corner shop. Now, my Amharic is up to a few greetings and basic things like "thank you" and "I'm full". She's been here for a couple of years, however, and can hold her own in basic conversational Amharic. Obviously, though, "mouse" had never entered either of our vocabularies. There we are, two dripping feringes crowded into the tiny shop along with the corn, wheat, lentils, etc in their big burlap sacks . . . trying to explain that we need a mouse trap. My cohort gave a valiant effort, complete with hand motions and sound effects to try to mimick our little beast. We got plenty of blank stares and laughter with minimal comprehension. Finally, comprehension broke through and we got a response of "Ishy, Ishy" (I understand)! Sadly, though, they had no mouse traps. So we slogged back home through the now pouring rain. And here I am. Listening for the little beast. He must go down. Tomorrow is another day. OH, OH I just heard him!! He knocked something over!!! Off to get my flip flop . . .

Finally! Photos!

2006-05-04T21:52:00.000+03:00

To the great consternation of everyone here, it is still raining in Addis—the short rainy season should be over by now, and the long one shouldn’t start until June. At dinner last night I got to hear horrid rainy season stories—hail, raining for days without stopping, going mad. I said, “You didn’t tell me that!” to which I got the reply, “No one would come if we told them the whole truth!!” So here I am, ready to be nice and wet. I am thinking of perpetually cold toes, but at the same time think how blessed I am to have hot water and blankets to warm those toes up. I am sure when the time comes I’ll report all about my wet soggy self and my wetter soggier clothes that won’t dry! I am posting a few photos—I actually haven’t taken many more than this, as I wanted to refrain from getting reprimanded and/or arrested during my first few days here. I'll hopefully take more soon to share Addis life with you!

Here's the photo captions, as I can't figure out a way to actually format them--
1. Blurry view of hairy friends on my road—my house/compound is at the end on the right (you can’t really tell but just so you know!)
2. Sign close to the women's hospital I went to. R, remember??
3. View from the 2nd floor of the MTW/SIM project office, where I will spend most of my time
4. My gate! It's blurry, but in the distance there's an Orthodox church and the mountains

Full Circle in One Week

2006-05-01T19:12:00.000+03:00

In the past 6 days, I have seen spectrum ends--from a funeral wake I attended last week to a wedding today, from home visits to see the some AIDS beneficiaries to walking through the Sheraton (the most lavish hotel I have ever seen)! It's enough to leave my head spinning, which it still is and probably will for quite some time. Today at the wedding I understood very little of the hour and a half long ceremony (apparently it was short) but everyone should be impressed that I managed to clap in rhythm for much of the lively service:)
My language "mastery" thus far consists only of greetings, goodbyes, and a very few other useful words. In a language where "Hello" to a female is different from that of a male, I'm daunted. But I will keep at it and probably mess up a lot, but if it means I get to communicate just a little better with a little toddler, a mother with her baby strapped on her back, or the pastor preaching unfamiliar words--it will be worth it.

First Thoughts From Addis

2006-04-28T21:29:00.000+03:00

I have now spent 3 full days in Addis, and am learning how little I really know and understand about people, life, and God! I've laughed a lot--donkeys and goats in the road next to skyscrapers, business signs ("Mariot", "McBurger"--golden arches and everything!), drivers contantly honking at each other ("get out of my way!", "excuse me!", "sorry!"), a beneficiary saying to another staff member about me "why doesn't she speak Amharic??". Yet I have nearly cried so many times--at an AIDS orphanage where there are 400 kids and so little staff, where babies need to be held and loved; at the thought of being far from home yet at the same time knowing that I can't and shouldn't claim anywhere on this earth as home; at deep spiritual forces that hold people in bondage and compound physical, mental, emotional, and relational issues. Behind the sleep deprivation (I've had time to sleep, just haven't done it well amidst the jetlag, dogs barking, neighbors scrubbing clothes, and early morning calls to prayers), my mind is spinning a bit!
During the past 3 days, I have gotten to do and see a lot. I spent a lot of time at the MTW/SIM HIV/AIDS (want some more letters in there?) project office, where I will be working out of for the next year. The staff there is amazing--both international and indigenous--and is committed to the work at hand. I attended on home visits and sat in on support groups there. I got to visit an AIDS orphanage, which was heartbreaking--you walk in a door and 200+ toddler hands try to grab yours, to get a hug, to just touch you. Today I visited a women's fistula hospital, which was incredible--there is great work being done and lives are being changed--but there is so much left.
And always will be, which leaves me with where I am now! I am here in Addis for the year to hopefully lend my hands to those of a Body reaching out--but know I will learn so much more about love and compassion and giving when you have nothing then I even know.
God has been really gracious to ease this transition thus far--tonight I went to an expat SIM small group, and someone had made Texas Sheet Cake--yes, one of my favorite desserts . . . in Addis. Ok, so it doesn't take much to make me happy. Chocolate goes a long way!!
Thanks for reading this rather long post! I am so grateful for all of you!

From the Other Side of the World

2006-04-25T22:01:00.000+03:00

I am really in Addis now! All the flights were fine, except for the whole waving at Rome thing. That would have been an ideal time for a layover:) I had a great dinner with the missionaries here, and am unpacking my "life" right now.
First impressions: green mountains, people everywhere, lots of little ones, no personal space issues, big brown eyes, dirt roads, traffic rules--NOT!, darkness . . . .
I am pretty wiped so am going to go brush my teeth with filtered water and hit the sack . . . my new 4" mattress.
It is so good to finally be here. Thanks for the prayers that God used to get me safely here!

People Watching Should Be A Sport

2006-04-25T00:58:00.000+03:00

Hello all! I am in the Washington DC airport and am quickly realizing how much I appreciate cell phones (now that I don't have one:). For an excellent international experience, you should try out this airport. Hmm, maybe they sent me here in route on purpose to start getting me used to customs, clothing, and language far different from mine! The travel thus far has been uneventful, aside from the fact that when I got to DC NO ONE knew where the Ethiopian airlines flew out of. I asked 4 airport employees, and they all said "I don't know". Two were helpful enough to mention that they had seen the Ethiopian Air plane but didn't have a clue where it was:) Oh well, I got my exercise in! I am boarding in about 30 minutes, and should be in Addis around 6pm Tuesday night (9 hours ahead of CST). Then I fully plan to CRASH. Haha. Sleep, not the plane. I will update next from Addis and let you know all about it!
Many, many thanks for all the prayers, hugs, emails, and calls! You are a blessing to me!

Friends & Chocolate

2006-04-22T19:35:00.000+03:00

Last night was a sweet reminder of how very blessed I am--thanks to all of you who came to say "till we meet again". I realized about halfway through the evening that ALL of the desserts had some chocolate component. You know me well!! :) I am trying to eat as much chocolate as I can these days . . . my precious bag of Dove dark chocolate "promises" (read "really wierd comments on the inside wrapper") will last 40 days. If I just eat one a day. Which may not happen:)

Not Goodbye

2006-04-21T17:36:00.000+03:00

From earth's wide bounds, from ocean's farthest coast,
Through gates of pearl stream in the countless host,
Singing to Father, Son, and Holy Ghost.
Hallelujah!
--William How

5 Days . . .

2006-04-19T08:00:00.000+03:00

Wow. 5 days. I don't really know how to process all of this--how do you tie up one life, cram it into two suitcases (2!) and prepare for another life you really don't know much about? I'm not sure yet, but will let you know if I figure it out!! I am leaving Monday morning, and will probably have said enough goodbyes by then to last me awhile:( Hmm, in a way life is often about saying goodbye--funny how we try to hold tight to things or people or places that are only given to us for a season.

Mulling over Piper

2006-03-30T18:38:00.000+03:00

"Missions is not the ultimate goal of the church. Worship is. Missions exists because worship doesn't. Worship is ultimate, not missions, because God is ultimate, not man. When this age is over, and the countless millions of the redeemed fall on their faces before the throne of God, missions will be no more. It is a temporary neccessity. But worship abides forever."
John Piper in Let the Nations Be Glad

Thoughts on Joining the Blogging Community

2006-03-25T09:27:00.000+03:00

I remember making the know-it-all statement at 12 that I "wasn't going to do the email thing"--that's funny now, especially since I can easily send/receive 25 emails a day! Lest I make the same assumption about blogs, here I am!
As I prepare to leave the country, I realize that my ability to communicate will be seriously limited for the next year. In an effort to keep up with all of my fellow strangers, this blog is being created! I won't make any promises about how often I will post on here, but of course I will always welcome your input into my life:)