flamingos on a friday - click on the pic!

10 months

Alot can happen in 10 months. I've had the opportunity to have a little extra time on my hands this week and have been catching up with my email and friends. So much has happened this past year at home, I feel as if not much has happened here. I'm sure I'm wrong, but in general this line of work takes a lot of patience and when you do mostly work, that makes for a slow year. But in the outside world, four engagements have occurred, my nephew is turning FIVE, babies have been born, babies have been lost, jobs have been obtained and left already. Life just keeps moving on.

I can't help but feel a bit left out at times. Of course, I don't want the heartache, only the joyous moments. As I cleaned out my personal emails, I found ones from last year, when I was living in the states. I had a good job, loved that my family was near, living in my favorite part of town. Life was good. But there was an ache inside that gnawed at me every day. I haven't had that ache in 10 months. I love my job here, it's fulfilling, it's challenging, it's what I'm trained to do. It's what I want to be doing. But instead of an ache, there's now a longing in its place to be near my family and my friends. To not be missing out on all the things that have happened in the last 10 months. To wonder what would be happening with me if I was not here. To want to be near my friends as they experience heartache and joy.

But there's never a guarantee. I'm sure you've all heard the saying, if you want to make God laugh, make a plan! I hate making plans. I enjoy having things to look forward to, but in general plans bring disappointment because they never quite happen as you hope. I'd rather be surprised and take what comes.

10 months. It's really a short amount of time.

Jeremiah 29:11-14a: "For I know the plans I have for you," declares the Lord, "plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future. Then you will call upon me and come and pray to me, and I will listen to you. You will seek me and find me when you seek me with all your heart. I will be found by you."

This verse promises if we seek, we will find. If we ask, he will listen. It doesn't say we find the plan, but that we find our Lord. When I am up against a decision to be made, I often read this verse over and over in frustration waiting to hear His plan for my life, which way to go, what to choose. But I've been missing the point. Yes, it would be easier if he gave us the plan, but would we need him as much? Would we continue to call upon him? I think the point is Him wanting a relationship with us, individually, consistently, and that's what is important.  I hate missing out on the joys and pains of my friends. I'm guessing God hates it even more when we don't ask him to be here for ours.

coming alive

I at times struggle with anxiety (but who doesn't?). And in this profession, I believe a little anxiety is healthy. Perhaps as you sleep deep in the jungles of Congo with rebel forces watching you from the forest. Or when you're about to get into an old Russian dinosaur of a helicopter and your friendly pilot tells you not to worry, southern Sudan is relatively flat and if you go down, your chances are better than most of surviving. (ok, that hasn't happened yet, but it may next week!) Or maybe when you drive miles through the hot dry bush to stumble across a village where every child has an extended belly and a sunken face because they really are starving to death. Or a hospital with cots full of cholera patients and no water. A little anxiety is good. It kick starts the adrenaline to do what needs to be done. 

The danger in living with this type of anxiety on a regular basis, I've discovered, is depletion. And it can sometimes form itself into what people call culture shock. We learn of it in school, we are warned about it at orientation, joke about it with our friends, but the reality is we all go through it. Whether it's the first time in a foreign land or 10 years into it. A few weeks back at our ministry retreat there were a handful of us going through this "culture shock" at the same time. It's difficult. And you feel really stupid. Many different theories exist as to why it happens and when to predict it may come. Everyone wants to be prepared. In the recent case of my friends and I, the actual causes were different as we are all living in different countries, but many of our symptoms were the same. And for those not going through it, they needed a little extra patience and love with us. Our filters were not on full force and little things that normally would not make us blink were turning on the water works. It's really fun...hear the sarcasm, please. 

One of my proven anti-anxiety treatments is my ipod. Music can speak to the soul and it is delicious. I heart Bebo Norman. His lyrics hit me differently each time I listen. Tonight I was encouraged by his song titled: we fall apart.  

"Today is not a good day 
Stranded in the heartache 
Watching all the world race 
and pass me by"

exactly.  

"Like a wave on the ocean 
Comes a flood of emotion 
And it cant go unspoken 
No it cant go unspoken one more time"

sorry, boys. deal with the tears.  

"We fall apart just to come alive 
A broken heart can shatter all the lies"

maybe the anxiety is there to hit us when the unreal of it all causes everything to go numb. one of my greatest fears doing this work is losing my empathy for those who are suffering. or taking on too much, breaking myself too often. maybe we need to fall apart to see the lies. to see the life.  

"Yeah but this is still a good life 
Standing in the sunlight 
Scattering a long line 
Of fear and shame"

sunshine has amazing healing.  

"Cause underneath the surface there's a heart and a purpose 
And I swear that its worth it 
It's not in vain"

this is my prayer. that it's not in vain. anxiety often rises for me when I am face to face with an incredible need that is too much for me to understand. when the suffering is too blunt - and it often comes no other way. when the workload feels too heavy and the outcomes too few.  

"You save me You save me 
I'm alive I'm alive 
Cause you save me"

The Bible tells us God's healing is as GREAT as his strength. I'm alive because He saves me. Present tense. 

missing you

This morning I was missing my sister Carrie. Earlier this week it was the Culp boys. Sunday it was little Miss Ada Joy. I used to believe if I was missing people I was not living in the present. I was not content. Of course, it oddly only applied to when I lived overseas. And it always came with a heavy load of guilt. But I don’t really see it that way anymore. I’m living life here – even if I am thousands of miles away. I’m seeing and experiencing all that is around me. I’m in the present. But I still miss my friends. My family. They’re in my present too – just not in the same way as if I was at home. Sometimes they are in a broken connection on my computer screen. :-) It is difficult. This morning I was walking to work carrying my tall Starbucks coffee mug and was reminded of when my sister would come over on the weekends and we’d walk the Grand Avenue and Highland Park neighborhoods of St. Paul – with our Starbucks coffee mugs filled with warm sugary brew checking out cute houses and being at awe of what season was changing. My coffee mug was empty this morning – I was still searching for my hot brew. But the weather was nice. It was sunny, breezy, the birds were singing. And I am in Africa! So I cannot be sad. But I do hope that every once in a while my family misses me too. :-)

how deep is his love

The woman who lives in this house lost her husband and two small children in a fire during the election riots in Nairobi a few years back. She herself is severely deformed from the horrific happenings of that day. Her story is too graphic to share, as I can’t seem to get it out of my head and I don’t want to burden others who may also be visual thinkers. However, I do want to share that these horrific stories often, in my experience, come with the same message. She is a blessing in her neighborhood. A blessing to those she works with. A blessing to visitors and strangers whom she meets. A testimony to how deep and great God’s love for us really is. She experienced a living hell and is still living; she praises our God and asks for his blessing on others. The community refers to her as a woman of joy. I am face to face with these stories in real life and I still forget on a daily basis how deep and encompassing God’s love for us is.

garden in a sack

retreat

A couple weeks back our organization had its annual regional ministry retreat for Africa. It was held at a beach side resort in Malindi, Kenya. Absolutely beautiful. The time was given for staff to rest and restore - emotionally, physically, and spiritually.

I slept a minimum of 10 hours each night until the last night (I awoke at 4am and decided it was time to get back to work!)

To be honest, anxiety swam around the retreat as many of our leadership from headquarters were in attendance and that thus far does not mean rest. It wasn't so bad. Even encouraging at times. And humorous to see very serious men who are forced to wear ties in the office come to meetings and meals in swim trunks and mismatched button down shirts. :-)

The 7 days were spent with friends whom I haven't seen in months, lots of girl time, and a few stolen moments by the seaside. Sunday was the most relaxing day I may have had all year - I slept in until 11a, enjoyed coffee on a beautiful garden view balcony with one of my favorite gals, brunched by the poolside with colleagues who had just returned from snorkeling in turquoise waters, lounged by the beach sipping pineapple drinks with more super fabulous girls (I work with all men - girl time is a huge luxury!), and was encouraged by a humbling testimony of a good friend and a time of worship starting the retreat. Dinner and coffee and traditional music followed to close out the day. Super relaxing.

The retreat was full with words of rest and encouragement, morning and night, and workshops on living this expat life in the context of our organization's mission and our personal Christian faith. The most important take away from the retreat came from a question asked "how is your relationship with God?" I was not asked how I was doing personally, or in my work, how many people's lives I was saving through different projects, how much money I have brought in - the normal things of importance you would hear when meeting up with colleagues and the big bosses. The most important question asked all week was how my relationship with God is. If it is good, strength and rest and perseverance and everything else will follow. That simple truth, the gentle reminder that the greatest importance and responsibility of our life here on earth is not to save the sick and the poor and the hungry. It is not to play god and pour out all our energy at the feet of those he places before us. It is to be in relationship with him. To love him. To allow him to love us. These words were so powerful to me. Many of us in this line of work, and especially in this organization, are driven to work hard and long to bring relief and to provide for those in need. The responsibility and weight of that is tremendously and completely unrealistic. But as I've said many times before, it's nearly impossible not to carry that burden when face to face with the need and the people. Heart-breaking. Gut-wrenching. Many of my colleagues are working because they feel a "calling", an appointment from God that this is where he wants them and to serve our brothers and sisters in the most extreme and vulnerable crevices of this world. To hear that the most important thing is our relationship with God, rather than what we are contributing to saving the world, is the greatest gift we could have received.

The theme of the retreat was "elevate":

“For he will hide me in his shelter in the day of trouble; he will conceal me under the cover of his tent; he will lift me high upon a rock. And now my head shall be lifted up above my enemies all around me, and I will offer in his tent sacrifices with shouts of joy; I will sing and make melody to the LORD. Hear, O LORD, when I cry aloud; be gracious to me and answer me!" Ps. 27:5-7

oh! one more thing

I had a professional boxer as my bodyguard today. As well as a tall Swede and a pretty hard core Oregonian. I'm pretty sure our amazing tour guide and project coordinator, a short beautiful Kenyan woman, was our best defense though! She was awesome. And we made it through safely.

more on kibera...

Snapshots of this morning still swimming in my head:

*Imagine a 4 foot high, mile long heap of smoldering garbage. Now insert a man sprawled out on his back, his hat tipped hanging off his head, an empty bottle of gin in his hand. At first sight we found this slightly amusing as he was clearly drunk and passed out in a pile of garbage. But the reality of it was too sad. And very humbling.

**On top of a hill sat a school. The walls were painted white and blue. The school children were practicing their traditional dances out on the lawn in blue and white school uniforms to the beat of some awesome drumming. We drove around to the back and down the hillside was a huge and gorgeous garden. With many sack plants, raised beds and a greenhouse. This site is for the school children. Again, those most vulnerable are identified by the teachers and given the opportunity to (voluntarily) learn how to grow their own vegetables. Each participating student is given a sack, dirt and seeds and are trained in growing and keeping the plants alive! The students are able to take home the first harvest to their families for consumption and the harvests following are sold back to the school cafeteria and the money is used directly to pay for their school fees; guaranteeing the child is not kicked out of school due to an inability to pay. The plants are their security. The school knows they will continue to grow as the project is closely monitored by educated facilitators. It's a pretty neat deal.

There are so many elements to this urban farming project that are sustainable. One of them is that money is never exchanged. Any kind of profit or exchange is given through materials. Pesticides are grown organically - by crushing up chilies and garlic (and maybe another herb or locally grown veg) and mixing with water to spray on the plants, distracting bugs but enabling the farmer to harvest and sell the next day without fear of consuming harmful chemicals. The plants grown are locally consumed and most importantly providing immediate food security for households. The element of community is strengthened through mobilizers, leaders and association groups working together on the community garden plots and training neighbors to start their own sack gardens. Natural fertilizer is created through composts. The benefits are numerous. And the impact is successfully proven to be significant. I like this project. We are hoping to replicate it in Maputo, Mozambique. Another urban community in desperate need of food security in a low cost, sustainable, easy to manage way.

***And a little bonus to our morning - my Mozambique colleagues and I had the opportunity to eat a traditional Kenyan meal today. In the fanciest restaurant in all of Kibera. It was a hand eaten meal. Complete with delicious hot chapatis! We are all a bit anxious to find out if the toilet will be our friend tonight, as we did not see clean water all morning. However, lunch was delicious!

kibera

Today I walked through villages in Kibera Slums. The urban poor of Nairobi. We were visiting an urban farming project - very innovating and inspiring!

This walk is requiring some processing. I'm not convinced my writing can paint a picture for you, however the picture of the slums which I saw was not allowed to be captured with a camera. I will try.

Garbage lining the streets. Piles of it. Mounds. A smell so strong you could see and taste it.
Open sewage and waste FLOWING between the homes.
Houses made of RUSTY sharp and JAGGED tin. Some made of mud and garbage bags.
Children running barefoot.
Residents upset there were four mazungos walking through their neighborhood - shouting for us to get out of their way.
PUNGENT suffocating smells of feces and burning garbage saturated in the midday heat.

But amidst this disgusting and most humbling picture, there is LIFE growing. New life. Hope. Change. We were gently reminded today that development is a slow process. We must be very patient when working with people and that community exists even in the most inhumane conditions.

The organization we visited is finishing up a two year urban agricultural project that has been very successful. Urban Farming at it's best! They build capacity and train up households to not only provide food for their families, but also extra income, a livelihood, and community support.

Security. In the ngo world when we say "food security" we are referring to securing a food source for people. Simple. But the impact is often greater. It is creating security for households in the source of their food AND in the state of mind that they will not go hungry. That they will be able to eat and to provide produce to sell giving extra money for bread and milk, etc. It's knowing where that next grocery bill is being paid from. It's providing for their family. Example: a mother of five who is participating in the project has been able to cut her food bill in half by growing her own vegetables. A 50% cut in cost is significant. She also receives a small income (approx $5) each month to buy food items and pay school fees for her children. This is a simple project, but the significance of it lies in the space and sanitation of these communities. The space between houses is sometimes less than two feet wide. There is no sewage or waste removal or water system in Kibera - therefore the sewage and waste runs between the houses. It's a sanitation nightmare to say the least. The tin roofs so closely together provide little outlet for sunlight. The success of this project, agriculture in a such small and confined area, is making a significant impact in the lives of the participants, their families, and their neighbors who they are also teaching. It's also pretty darn impressive! All that is needed is a feed sack, soil, a little fertilizer and seeds. Kale is the most prevalent grown, as it is the "appropriate vegetable", the staple food of sukuma wiki and high in vitamins. It grows tall and in between the small spaces. It is amazing where life can grow. Lush and green. What life signifies. Hope. Security. Community.

Photos of the impressive urban farming to come...

Bethany's birthday cookies

Yum!

this is how God works:

After posting my last entry, I turn to my reading for today. It happens to be Matthew 18:1-5.

At that time the disciples came to Jesus. They asked him, 'Who is the most important person in the kingdom of heaven?'

Jesus called a little child over to him. He had the child stand among them. Jesus said, 'What I'm about to tell you is true. You need to change and become like little children. If you don't, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven. Anyone who becomes as free of pride as this child is the most important in the kingdom of heaven.

'Anyone who welcomes a little child like this in my name welcomes me.'

I sometimes ask too many questions. Next time I will give my diet coke. There is a huge plus side to living life in difficult parts of the world as a Christian. I see Jesus every day. Sometimes I have to ask, but there is always a moment, a sighting, a feeling of comfort or peace knowing He is here. It's just not always in an obvious way to my western formed mind. He is here and he is teaching.

losing perspective

What makes a child stick both arms into a car window on the street and grab aimlessly for what's inside? Is it desperation? A learned behavior? An abuse?

Today I was in the front of a taxi, sitting in stalled traffic, and my face was grabbed. Two dirty desperate little hands reached through the slightly opened window and grabbed me. I was holding a bottle of diet coke. Did he want that? He asked for food. There was no food on my face.

The taxi driver frantically tried to roll up the window before more harm was done and in the process pinched this young boys fingers. The taxi man then laughed and said that is what he deserved. Pinched fingers. As in "no, no, don't touch the white lady". I must say this has not happened to me before. Homeless and begging children fill the streets in parts of Nairobi and approach you for food or money or anything to take. Blind mothers holding crying babies with open hands. Homeless men with no legs. It's a common scene here. However, I have not been grabbed by actual fingers for quite some time. And never on my face. I have a scratch mark down one cheek. It's small and will probably be gone tomorrow. But I felt it. With my back seat full of fresh produce and groceries. My handbag full of snacks. My diet coke half drank sitting on my lap. I felt his fingers. Did he just want food?

After the window was rolled up, the small boy began beating on it with closed fists. The traffic was stalled for miles so we were not going anywhere. And he was not giving up. I look over and into his eyes. I couldn't read them. I felt shamed. Did he? I wanted to help. But why didn't I? He came at me, he physically came at me. That's why I didn't. But do I blame him? He was just a boy. Maybe he really is hungry. Maybe he has seen more heartache than love in his life. Maybe he's never been cared for. Or maybe he's been taught to target and steal. I will never know. But tonight I feel the scratch on my cheek and wish I had done something different. Maybe the proposals and projects we're working on will make up for this one boys hungry belly and angry take on the world. A lost perspective. Or maybe he has it right. Maybe we all need to grab out towards something or someone who we know can help us when we have a need. I often feel like that at times, crying out asking God to show me, taking what I want and believe should be mine without asking for it politely or waiting patiently. Is it our human nature? Or is it a learned behavior? What would happen if I stuck out my arms and grab aimlessly? Would anyone reach for me? Yes, they would. So why wouldn't I reach for this boy who obviously needed something.

Aid workers don't want to get a complex of saving the world and the guilt that comes with realizing that's impossible. I have to tell you, it's extremely difficult at times to not when you are searching for understanding to little things like today's taxi ride. A lost perspective can go both ways.

home again.

My favorite part of coming home from a trip is cleaning out the refrigerator. Strange, but I get this wonderful satisfaction by throwing away anything moldy or juicy or wilted or anything that is just not mine. With my travels to our country offices being so frequent, my housemates take good care of the apartment, but each trip I find the refrigerator in need of a good cleaning! I also enjoy dumping the contents of my suitcase into the washer and soaking in a nice hot bath myself. Clean off all that good red African dirt.

Last night as I arrived home from Maputo I was greeted with full blossoms of new color throughout the city! The tree in my front yard has turned purple, the tree in my back yard has turned bright orange. Beautiful! If my legs were not up resting from yet another plane ride, I'd take a walk and see what other colors I could find. Maybe tomorrow. :-)

picture perfect postcards

Pemba Islands, Mozambique

airplanes

With the chance of sounding like a spoiled brat...

I very much dislike airplanes. But hear me out, each time I get on one means another goodbye. :(

The excitement of a flying adventure with each take-off has been lost.

I used to be able to close my eyes upon buckling the seat belt and awake after landing - sleeping the entire flight. Now I watch as we gain speed and soar into the clouds...leaving behind my friends and family. This life is getting lonely.

Next week I will embark on yet another airplane. This one will take me to the beach and a week with colleagues from around Africa and international headquarters. I have mixed feelings about this - feels a bit blackmail-ish to hold work meetings and trainings on the beach. However, there is one grand upside to getting in yet another airplane...my friends will also be embarking and this time coming to Kenya! Fabulous. I'm looking forward to lots of stolen girl time and some sweet communion. Hello, Malindi!

thirst (mocuba, moz)

i see...

a child's shirt hanging in the window

a pair of sandals in the yard

a new home for an orphaned child!

mumford & sons: the cave

lyrics:
It's empty in the valley of your heart
The sun, it rises slowly as you walk
Away from the fears
And all the faults you've left behind

The harvest left no food for you to eat
You cannibal, you meat-eater, you see
But I have seen the same
I know the shame in your defeat

But I will hold on hope
And I won't let you choke
On the noose around your neck

And I'll find strength in pain
And I will change my ways
I'll know my name as it's called again

Cause I have other things to fill my time
You take what is yours and I'll take mine
Now let me at the truth
Which will refresh my broken mind

So tie me to a post and block my ears
I can see widows and orphans through my tears
I know my call despite my faults
And despite my growing fears

But I will hold on hope
And I won't let you choke
On the noose around your neck

And I'll find strength in pain
And I will change my ways
I'll know my name as it's called again

So come out of your cave walking on your hands
And see the world hanging upside down
You can understand dependence
When you know the maker's hand

So make your siren's call
And sing all you want
I will not hear what you have to say

Cause I need freedom now
And I need to know how
To live my life as it's meant to be

And I will hold on hope
And I won't let you choke
On the noose around your neck

And I'll find strength in pain
And I will change my ways
I'll know my name as it's called again

dinner with a friend

Tonight we went out for Thai food – yum! The best part was having dinner with a friend and the conversation that took place. “I bet you will be with SP for many years to come…or maybe not” is how it began. What sets our organization apart from the many other international relief and development organizations out here doing exactly the same projects? I rattle off the automatic response, well rehearsed from countless introductions. Hmm. We talk of purpose. Money. A healthy life. Why are we here? Is what we do making any kind of difference? What kind of difference do we want to make? How does this line of work shape who we are and who we become? The questions seem endless and full of deep thought when going beyond the rehearsed responses. Of course these questions I wrestle with often, but to be honest, this position has been more peaceful in my heart. Not in my mind. I struggle with many things to get through some days. But I wonder what counts more: a peace in our hearts or a peace of mind? God gave us a mind to think and use and he gives us discernment, we wrestle at times and make decisions. But my heart is calm. That has to count for something too.

I don’t know what the future holds or how long I will be here. I do know that right now, I have peace in my heart. As we conversed over spicy shrimp and coconut chicken, battling the questions that often awake us in the middle of the night or become a hot topic of conversation with friends, I kept going back to knowing that peace is not mine. It is given and I will hold on until it is taken. Some days, tightly. :)

There’s a song I can’t get out of my head. Let me share with you…

homeless youth

This morning I visited one of our local ministry partners here in Maputo, Mozambique. It’s a drop in center for street children. A place they can come for meals, safety, small-business training and assistance reintegrating with their families and communities. The center is open only during business hours; it’s not an overnight shelter. There are literacy and mathematics classes during the day, along with staff that hang out and befriend the children, providing guidance and advice upon need. Hygiene kits are provided, donated clothing, assistance finding shelter for the night. The center began through a local church congregation ministry and has turned into a self-sustaining non-profit organization. The vision of those who began the center is alive and ministering years later in their home city. Our organization partners with the center in providing financial and project support. We met this morning to discuss starting a chicken-rearing project and possibly a pilot site for a new urban farming project.

As I toured the center, met some of the kids and spoke with the staff, I was reminded of our homeless youth programs at home. They are set up in the very same way. What struck me is the needs of these “street kids” are the same as the needs of our “homeless youth” in the states. Names change to account for being politically correct, but the needs are the same. Children run from broken homes, get into trouble with drugs or the wrong group of friends, and end finding themselves struggling to survive on their own long before they should have to. Sometimes the broken homes can be mended, sometimes the best option is to pull out and start over. If the later happens, these children need skills to survive and a support system to call home. Centers such as this one exist for that purpose. As they do in Minneapolis, Brainerd and Duluth.

I am thousands of miles from my home today; and yet I feel as if I am back in the office at LSS hearing of immediate needs and thinking of ways to best address them with very little resources. Whether we refer to them as street kids in Africa or homeless youth in our urban cities in the US, their needs are the same. We all need a place to call home.

drilling for water

She dreamed of a washing machine.

The drilling rig arrived just as the sun began to heat up the dry Mocuba sand. Twelve extensions of 6 meters each and one very large drill bit began to slowly dig into the earth. Just seven meters down it hit granite. Continuing to spiral through, fervent prayers went up. 72 meters the drill went down. It was dry. No water was to be found.

We are visiting a preschool / medical clinic / sewing project / center in Mocuba that ministers to vulnerable mothers and children in the area. Many who are orphans or have lost parents from HIV. The center is run by a passionate missionary woman who has dedicated the past 17 years of her life in this little town, in this community for service. An amazing act of faith! And a great encouragement.

She currently has one 7 meter hand dug well and two large cisterns which store captured rain water. Three months out of the year there is no water to be found; it must be trucked in from town. Sometimes there is no water in town. The drilling today is one of excitement and anticipation.

The disappointment was palpable.

the spanish mortician

I am sitting in the Maputo airport, the dingy domestic waiting area, before our flight up to Quelimane and eventually on to Mocuba. I will be spending the week speaking with communities and assessing a couple different districts on their water and sanitation needs for an upcoming project we are proposing for funding. There is a short, bald, bushy eyebrow man sitting across the room that looks all too familiar to me. I ask my colleagues where I know him from; assuming he was introduced to me through one of our business relationships. Nope, neither of the guys has seen him before.

Our wait lasted a couple hours; half of them in a black out. By the way, how do airplanes fly when there is no electricity in the control towers?? Not important, evidently. So the familiarity of this man sitting across the room finally hits me!! I smell formaldehyde. It is the Spanish mortician from Quelimane that diagnosed my last case of malaria and sent me home to the states.

This will be my first trip back to Quelimane since I left in 2009; feverish and with zilch patience left for all things Mozambique. It is unfortunate, the way I left. I am grateful to go back. A little excited to see the area and what has or has not changed. Sad to have missed my friends by a month; I could use Brian’s agricultural expertise on this trip. Mozambique has taken on a new charm this year than I remember from my time living here. Each field trip we’ve taken has shed a refreshing and new sight for Mozambique and its communities. It’s a beautiful country. I’m excited for this coming week; though I am told Mocuba is an extension of the armpit of the country. We shall see. My challenge will be to find its beauty! And to stay as far away from the mortician as I possibly can!! Wish me luck.

Psalms 57

"Show me your favor, God. Show me your favor.
I go to you for safety.
I will find safety in the shadow of your wings.
There I will stay until the danger is gone.

I cry out to God Most High.
I cry out to God, and he carries out his plan for me.
He answers from heaven and saves me.
He puts to shame those who chase me.
He shows me his love and his truth.

Men who are like lions are all around me.
I am lying down among hungry animals.
Their teeth are like spears and arrows.
Their tongues are like sharp swords.

God, may you be honored above the heavens.
Let your glory be over the whole earth.

My enemies spread a net to catch me by the feet.
I felt helpless.
They dug a pit in my path.
But they fell into it themselves.

God, my heart feels secure.
My heart feels secure.
I will sing and make music to you.
My spirit, wake up!
I want to sing and make music before the sun rises.

Lord, I will praise you among the nations.
I will sing about you among the people of the earth.
Great is your love. It reaches the heavens.
Your truth reaches to the skies.

God, may you be honored above the heavens.
Let you glory be over the whole earth."

The morning sun has not yet risen here in Nairobi. My jetleg awoke me long before the birds did. My email is flooded with reports of war and famine - literally. My dreams held the same last night. At home my family is in the midst of deep prayer for a loved one who is to undergo surgery in 12 hours. I find comfort in this Psalm. To hear God's promise of securing our hearts, securing our safety in the middle of turmoil and war. He is our safety. Over all the earth His glory will shine. His promise will remain true. That includes an ICU hospital room in WI, a mothers arms holding her starving child in Kenya, and a displaced village under attack in the Nuba Mountains.

God, may you be honored above the heavens. Let your glory be over the whole earth.

home, sweet home.

I am so happy to have had a couple weeks at home with my family. It was a surprise and very quick visit - I'm still missing all my friends stateside! But oh so wonderful to spend some sweet family time in the summertime. Here are a few highlights:

Teaching Ada Joy to walk!

Fresh veggies (check out that garden!)

Hi Fives!

Morning walks around Lake Nokomis

Papa with his 10 foot corn!

A night out with my sisters :-)

Little sweat monster (who steals popsicles & starbucks drinks!)

Giggles & kisses (repeat)

Story time (in the wee hours before Auntie Kristi is awake!)

and staying cool.

Thank you for the wonderful visit! (And no, I do not love Africa more!)
Missing you already...

All my love,
Auntie Kristi