Time

I’ve found that there are two incredibly important facts that I’ve never really been able to grasp. The first is how powerful God really is. 

The second is how valuable I actually am.

The other day as I puttered through my morning routine, I fleetingly wished that I had more time to sit and visit with my Abba. Life was moving too fast – especially right now, at a teacher’s busiest time of the year. There just wasn’t enough time to get it all done.

But that thought was quickly followed up with the gentle reminder that God created time – and as with everything else, He made the exact amount that He knew I’d need.  Not too much. And not too little.

Which brings me to that first fact.

If I truly believe that God is all-powerful, I wouldn’t be clinging to each second in desperate fear that there won’t be enough.

If I truly believe that God is all-powerful, I could collapse on my knees and give Him all the time He craves – and somehow the bills would still get paid. Or not.

Maybe the bills wouldn’t get paid and I’d lose my house and someone else would buy it and use it in amazing ways that would advance the kingdom of God. Or not.

Maybe no one would buy it and it would sit derelict and the weeds would overgrow the yard and a homeless family would squat there, living off the wild grapes and the apples…

If I truly believe God is all-powerful, I’d let Him take control. 

But letting go of control is often a terrifying thought.

Which brings me to the second fact.

I am very valuable.

I was not created for the here and now. This living in a white house, getting ready for a new school year, this is just where He’s placed me. This is just a bubble of time that He created and placed me in to give me a chance to taste and explore life. This is where I am to serve. This is where I am to take time to sit with Him. This is where I am to fall in love with Him and discover how much He loves me. This is where I am to share Him with others, and show them what He’s done for me and for them.

But this is not what I was created for. 

I am so much more valuable than that.

I was created for eternity.

This is my chance to choose my place in eternity.

And I choose to spend it with Him.

So if I believe that I am valuable, I can trust that His plan for me is good. 

And if I believe that He is all-powerful, I can trust that He can follow through on that plan.

Which means I can stop puttering though my morning routine, clinging to each second and worrying that I'll run out. Because in His wisdom, power, and love, He’s given me exactly what I need.

Time.

Thoughts while jogging on a trampoline

The timer is set. I'll jog until the devotional finishes. Pace doesn't matter. I can jog fast and hard or slow and leisurely, but I'll still finish at the same time. 

Kind of like our Christian walk - we'll get there at the same time whether we work hard for the kingdom or not.

But, when the timer beeps, that rewards are different. If I run hard and push myself, I have more steps logged on my Fitbit and I've burned more calories. If I jog easy, I still finish at the same time, but I don't get my steps in and I can't eat the same treats after.

All Believers will get to Heaven through God's grace and Christ's shed blood. But the rewards we receive and the crowns He gives us will depend on how hard and how well we worked during the time allotted.

Maybe it's time I picked up the pace.

How about you?

Should Have Known Better

Dear Adult Who Should Have Known Better, 

I am healthy. I am happy. My students tell me I’m beautiful at least once a week. 
I’ve learned to laugh out loud, to smile, to spin and dance when my heart overflows. I take exotic vacations and amazing staycations; get lost in books and in God’s creation. I am content. 
My life is Good. 

Despite you. 

All these years later, after all the ups and downs between us, I still become scared, lost, and lonely when I think of you. I’ve given that buried knot of pain to God so many times. He’s chiseled at it, numbed it, wrapped it so fully in his love that at times it disappears. 

But it always comes back any time a thought wanders in your direction. 
I haven’t thought of you in years… 

But today you’re on my mind. You’re on my heart. And it hurts. 

You should have known better. 

It makes me think. 
As an adult, a leader, a teacher myself. Do I know better? 
I try so hard to weigh each action and sift each thought, but sometimes one slips out that I wish I hadn’t said. 

Do you ever wish you could undo those days? Because you can’t. 
Days can’t be undone. 
Actions can’t be undone. 
Words can’t be unsaid. 
The past can’t be changed. 

But the future can. In the future, please know better. 
Think first. Pray for patience. Read your Bible. Take a child development class. Listen to what you mother always said. Hear your heart. Set your stubborn pride aside and Know Better. 

We can’t change the past. 
But God can change the consequences. 

Because you were a poor leader, I’ve become a good one. 
Because you taught with pain, I teach with empathy. 
Because you used shame, I use respect. 
Because you didn’t, I know better. 

So, thank you. 
No – not thank you for not knowing better; though I’m learning to forgive you for that because you didn’t know any better. 

But thank you for fading out of my life. 
For not breaking me. For reminding me to be more aware of the little ones around me, and of the impact of my words and deeds. 

And I’m praying. 
I’m praying that you know better today. 
I’m praying that your positive influence on those around you now will last oh-so-much longer than your negative influences in the past. I’m praying that you’ve learned to love your life as much as I do. That you laugh out loud – in joy. That you smile and dance when your heart overflows. That your life is good. That the pain in your own heart, brutally placed there by someone else who should have known better, has faded... 

Like mine seems to have. 

Sincerely, 
A Healed and Hopeful Adult

Those Moments

Thank You, Abba, for those moments when I get it. Those moments when both the aches and the joys of life fall away and I’m left in Your arms tasting just the tiniest taste of Heaven of Reality of Life. Thank You, Abba, for those moments when I remember why I was created why I was gifted why I was prepared and equipped and enabled to walk in this weary world. Thank You, Abba, for those moments when I dance in my mind, in my heart, in my body. When the responsibilities are lifted, when the worries are banished, the wants fade away and You are more real than I have ever been. You are Good. You are Glorious. You are God. And the moment fades… And I remember that I am me. Stuck in the ruts of my little life trudging forward one step at a time. But I remember where I’m going now and there’s a Joy in the journey.

Answering a Pledgedrive

I was driving in to work yesterday, with my local Christian radio station playing. About five minutes from work, it began to get staticky, like it always does. I pressed the button for my second choice and K-LOVE came on. They're in the middle of their fall pledge drive. As the dj's began asking everyone to pray about giving and listen quietly, I sent up my not-very-heart-felt prayer for clarification. I had to sort out the feelings - was I feeling guilted by a skillful dj or convicted by the Holy Spirit. I need a clear sign to part with my money. Then a brief testimony was shared over the airwaves. A woman who was not a Christian, but who is seriously contemplating the idea after listening to this station. "That testimony was from Monica," the dj called out. "Are there any other Monica's out there who are able to give?" Yes. That was sufficiently clear. But I didn't know the number. So the dj's began chanting the number together. Unfortunately, I was still driving, and my phone was in the bottom of my bag in the back of my car. I promised that if I still remembered the number when I got to work, I'd call in. A song came on as I pulled into the parking lot. I fetched out my phone and looked at it, knowing I'd never remember the number. A couple of digits flashed through my head and I typed in the numbers, guessing at a couple. I crossed my fingers as the phone began to ring (I won't tell you which side I was rooting for). "K-LOVE radio" said the voice on the other side. So I offered my pledge. "What's your name?" "Monica" I had to go into work after that, so I never did find out how many Monica's pledged that day. But here's the real point of the story. He's taking my information, I'm tapping my fingers on the steering wheel and watching the clock so I'm not late, and the whole process is taking forever. Then he suddenly asked, "Is there anything we can pray about for you?" I wasn't expecting that. But I needed that. And the words came bubbling out. 'I'm an eight year breast cancer survivor, and at the end of the month I'm having a Basel cel carcinoma removed... This time it's on my face which is what's really freaking me out...' We chatted a while. He has a friend who had breast cancer which came back as skin cancer in the same place. He said that our God is the great healer. I agreed. And I said that even when He doesn't heal, it's all part of a great plan. He agreed. We talked about the good He gives us through the bad. I talked about my book. He wrote the name down and said he was going to pick up a copy. Then it was time to hang up and go to work. 'God bless,' he said. He already has. Over abundantly. Incredibly. In the most beautifully unexpected ways. I'm certainly not saying that you have to go out and find a pledge drive to give to. Just listen. And if He clearly says to do something, do it. Then tell me your story of amazement. God bless!

Second Punch on My Cancer Card

In May of 2014, I went in for my annual skin check. My doctor once told me that I have precancerous skin (doesn't everybody???). He took a couple of pictures and drew a couple of diagrams, them sent me on my way for another year. Shortly after that, a new mole popped up. As I had my next skin check scheduled, I ignored it.

This past May, I got a phone call that my dermatologist had left the practice and I needed to schedule a new appointment. Surprisingly, this took me a while to do. I finally made it in for this year's skin check a couple of weeks ago. We were both grateful that my previous doctor had taken such good notes and pictures so that the new one could determine if there were any changes. Apparently the areas of skin that have been radiated are extra prone to skin cancer.

Then I showed her my new mole and we decided to shave it off. Normally she would have just stuck a tiny circle bandaid on it after, but as I've had reactions to adhesives, I left her office with bandage taped to the side of my face. You know me - anything for attention.
She told me she'd call in seven days with the results.

In nine days, I got a phone call to call their office. That was a Friday. I calmly waited (aka stressed out and worried) until Monday and called them back. That began three days of phone tag. On the fourth message I left, I told them that as a cancer survivor, this was driving me nuts. "Either leave a message on my phone if I don't answer, or answer yours. Either one would be very helpful."

On Wednesday, we finally connected. Basal cell carcinoma. Won't spread to the bones. MOHS surgery. Doctor who specializes with cancers of the face.
It was that last piece that got to me. Cancers of the face. That just sounds terrifying.

So, we're scheduling surgery to get the rest of the silly thing out. And I'm looking closer at all of the other moles wondering what type of cells they're made up of...

But really, the basal cell carcinoma doesn't scare me too badly. It's little. It's not likely to spread. It's easily removed.
What's bothering me more is that this is my second diagnosis. I've already done the whole cancer thing. I did my time - read the book. I already got my cancer card. Did I really need another punch on it? Then the thought sneaks in: two cancer diagnoses by age 41. Grammy was a three time survivor, but she hadn't even had her first by 41...
This is why I'm a word person. Numbers can be terrifying.

But then, I look around at the beautiful place God prepared for me. My picture windows, library, wild grapes, and lily pond. And this is just a shadow of the Place He's preparing for me. I just need to keep trusting.
He's got this, too.

Life is good. Heaven is better. And God is in complete control.

Out of the Darkness

I wear a bracelet that says "out of the darkness."

It's a reminder.
A reminder of a pain I hope I never have to bear.
A friend of mine lost her middle son to suicide.
He was lost in a darkness he thought he couldn't bear.

And as I pondered this pain of losing a cherished son
And fought with God over my own
I finally came to the place where I let go.

Abba - Your will be done.
Whatever may come.
Would I take that pain so my dear friend didn't have to?
Father, Your will be done.
Whatever may come.

Then came that oh-so-obvious realization.
My Abba felt that pain.
My Abba lost His cherished only son to the darkness.
But only for a moment,
A horrible three day long moment.
Then He rose from the dead
To lead us all
Out of the darkness.

I'm doing very well...

It’s been a while since I’ve last written. Not because I haven’t had anything to say, but merely because I haven’t had the time to sit down and say it.  Taking three classes, working full time, and buying a house can apparently take up a lot of your time.

But today I took a moment to slow down. To ponder. And to share.

The day started off with a beautiful text from a friend:

            I’m going to name today “glad you’re my friend day”

 I can think of no better way to start off my 8^th ‘Diagnosis Day’… and I can think of no better way to spend it then the way I did. First, I swung out to the Cancer Care Center for a chit-chat with my radiation oncologist. We chatted about road trips, living in Charlton, buying houses, and visiting with my primary care a tad bit more often than I currently do. We also talked about improvements in technology, and he wrote a prescription for a new glove and sleeve with a serpentine healing band of copper. He told me that he enjoyed reading my book and kept it on his desk. Then he approved my next tattoo with the order to call him if I have any complications, told me I was doing very well, and sent me on my way.

And I drove away from the Cancer Care center…

… and to the house that will soon be mine.

Dad and I started painting it today.

I scrubbed down some of the dirtier walls, did some brush painting around the windows and baseboards and up the corners, and used the roller on two of the living room walls. There was music blaring from downstairs where they were working, but I could also hear the birds in the wetlands nearby. At one point, when I took a break from painting, I looked out the kitchen door and saw a redwing blackbird taking a break in the trees.

Before she went Home, Grammy gave me a wall hanging she had made. It says, “The kiss of the sun for pardon, The Song of the birds for mirth, One is nearer God’s heart in a garden, Than anywhere else on earth.” I am going to love sitting on my patio listening to those birds.

It’s going to be a beautiful house.

Unfortunately, unless I pay it off early, I’ll be paying for it until 2045. But you know, that really doesn’t scare me anymore. Because, as my oncologist said, I’m doing very well. Very well, indeed.

Friday Night

I went to the Relay for Life in Auburn, MA last night.
It was a Friday night after our second week back in school. Usually that's a curl-up-on-the-couch-and-fall-asleep-on-a-good-book kind of evening. But my mom, dad, and I hopped in my best friend's car and headed out to the track.
We got there just at six and my dad and I headed over to the survivors' tent to register as the ceremony started on stage. We were given purple shirts and paddles - mine bore a large 7. Seven years since diagnosis. My dad's said 13.
Then the speaker called for us to line up. Survivors just diagnosed were asked to stand in the front row. Then those in the two to five year bracket. Then the six to ten years. Then eleven to twenty, and so on.
Five rows of purple shirted strangers stood shoulder to shoulder facing the speaker on the stage.
Then she asked the first row to turn around and look at the survivors behind them. "They are your hope," she told them. Then the second row turned. "They are your hope." Then the third. When the last row turned, there were no survivors to look at. My quick-yet-cynical wit whispered, 'They have no hope.' But the speaker on stage was struggling not to cry as she said, "We - all of us who are here today - we are your hope."

Then we survivors walked over to the track and walked the first lap together.
I have mixed feelings about this survivors' lap. It feels a bit awkward to be a center of attention. But the applause is encouraging and inspiring. It feels safe to be surrounded by strangers wearing the same purple shirt - I'm not really alone. And I liked walking beside my dad this year.

After the survivor lap, we went over to the big tent and ate a delicious dinner -
my Mom and friend joined us. Then we strolled around the track, looking at the booths and picking up a few goodies.
After a mile, my aching feet reminded me that it was the end of a long work week. So my dad and I found a bench to sit and wait while my mom and friend walked a few more laps to hit their step goals for the day.
As we sat there in the dark, with the loud music playing and bright lights and colorful glow sticks flashing all around, I began looking at the people walking by. A tall man walked slowly by, with twin boys toddling around his feet. A group of teenage girls in red shorts, giggled and squealed as they jogged past. An old lady pushing another old lady in a wheel chair, a lady in a motorized wheel chair, a ponytailed man with a little girl holding each hand...
There was no pattern. No visible common thread.
Just a whole bunch of people who'd been touched by cancer and had decided to do something about it. A slew of strangers working - walking - together.
As we headed home, I basked in the peace of that thought. No matter how far out from my diagnosis day I get, no matter what happens tomorrow, I am not alone.

The Right Place

It's been a great road trip - but I'm slowing down. Today I'll spend some time by the pool, and do a load of laundry. Have a late lunch at Denny's, then head toward Houston. Tomorrow I'll reconnect with a dear friend and spend a couple of days laughing and eating chocolate. Then Ry will point himself toward home and chug his fastest, dodging grasshoppers and raindrops all the way.

Did you know that it's only 25 and a half hours from Houston to Charlton? Add in a few naps, bathroom breaks, and gas fill ups and I should be home by Thursday.

I've tremendously enjoyed this trip.
I've tremendously enjoyed this summer - a month ago I was riding a mototaxi in Korogo, Cote D'Ivoire! Not quite as comfy as my RAV, but many less grasshoppers.

A month from now I'll be back in my classroom with my new crew of little ones to love and guide. Last year was a very difficult year - the kind of year that leaves you reconsidering your goals in life. This summer has been a chance to do that. A chance to realize and reaffirm that, yes, I am in the right place. At least for right now. And that's all we really need to know, right? That we're in the right place right now.

Enjoy your today!

Day Seven

Due to technical difficulties, this morning's post is going up now. I did end up riding my bike at Arches. :-)

I love sitting on a KOA porch swing. I'm here, slowly swinging, before most of the campers have woken up. There are a couple of bleary eyed people meandering to the bathroom, but everything else has the feeling of a ghost town.

Today is day seven. But it's not a day of rest. Today I'll be riding my bicycle through Arches National Park.

Day five was spent meandering my way to Boulder where I reconnected with my cousin and his wife. The morning of day six was spent hiking on a mountain, and then curling up in a comfy chair and working on my book. Then we went out to eat, and they sent me off with a cooler full of fried chicken and potato salad.

From there I drove through the Rockies. In a thunderstorm. With a minimum speed limit of 55.
 Ok, ok, no one was actually driving that fast in the storm and I never actually heard any thunder - just lots of heavy rain and lightning. The tunnels under the mountains made for some peaceful driving. It was a bit of white knuckle driving -- but when you come through the storm you're left with the feeling 'if I can do that, I can do anything.'

I got to my KOA just before eight. Enjoyed some fried chicken, did a little writing, then went to bed. I'm getting very close to halfway through my road trip budget. Time to start planning the trip home. Through Houston.

After I ride my bike in Arches.

Good morning from, hold on, I'm in... Oh yeah, Nebraska

Day four
Am I really already on day five???

Day three was a long day of driving. I woke up in Pennsylvania, then I spread out my blanket in the sun and had a picnic lunch somewhere in Ohio. At a mid afternoon bathroom break I picked up a Starbuck's refresher. I've never tried an energy drink, and I don't drink coffee, so I was left refreshed enough to drive right through Indiana and into Illinois. I also slipped into another time zone and gained an hour of driving time. 682 miles. Not my longest, but a good day.

Day four was more relaxed. I got an earlier start and squeezed in more sightseeing. Only about 530 miles that day. I saw eight windmill turbines being driven down the highway. I popped into "American Picker"'s Antique Archeology. I saw the world's largest truck stop - with 900 trucker spots. I saw an 11 foot Easter Island type Maui head, walked through a garden that trumps Tower Hill, took some pictures of Freedom Rock, and stood underneath a VW bug that had been transformed into a huge spider. Really. I'll show you a picture.

The best part, though, was walking along the longest pedestrian bridge linking two states and taking a picture while standing in both. Not quite Four Corners, but on a bridge, in two states, taking a picture - as the sun was thinking about setting. This is why I road trip.

Well, that, and all of the alone time to chat with Abba. And the friends and family I greet along the way. Today I'm hoping to bump into a cousin in Boulder. Then I'll turn my car in a more southerly direction and head on down to Houston.

Thanks for all the comments on my pics - it kind of feels like you're along for the ride with me. :-)

A Side Story

I ripped the strap on one of the dresses that I brought for my trip. Hopefully I can pick up a cheap sewing kit along the way. I didn't bring one because, well, I don't sew.

Yesterday I explored a bit of Pennsylvania. I even stopped to see a house built in the shape of a shoe -- 'the only one like it in the world'! At four o'clock, I began looking at my aps to find a stopping place for the night. I called three KOAs, all in the right direction and within a three hour drive, but none had available kabins.

I looked at the clock - it was 4:30. 'OK, God. I'm putting this one in your hands. I'd like to eat at five, then we'll figure out lodging.' So I pulled back out onto the highway and headed west.

At about 4:55, I passed a billboard advertising Denny's at a Flying J Truck stop and my heart grinned. That had been my favorite restaurant on my very first solo road trip. I must have eaten there at least four days in a row. I plugged it into my gps and took the next exit. It wasn't right off the highway, so I had a couple of turns to make, and along the way I passed an Econo Lodge. Hmmmm.... Tonight's stopping place?

I ate dinner (bourbon chicken with broccoli and a side of Mac and cheese, I ordered grapefruit juice but she brought me cranberry), then returned to the Econo Lodge.
'How much for a room?'
'Well, we've got a promotion going on...'

For only ten dollars more than my kamping kabin, I got ac, cable, my own bathroom, and a complimentary breakfast. But wait, there's more. The best part was when the manager handed me a complementary sewing kit.

Well played, Abba. I'm glad I'm on Your team.

On the road. Again.

On the road again.
Yes, I had to type that. :-). I'm sitting on the porch swing of kabin 4 at the Unadilla KOA. My sleeping bag is rolled, my car is packed, and I'm ready to take off for day two. As soon as I figure out which direction to turn from the driveway.
Day one is always the simplest - I just get into my car and drive until I can't go any further. I got a late start yesterday so I really didn't make it too far.

But yesterday was still a Big Day.

A friend from the C.S. Lewis society pointed me in the direction of the Booklovers' Gourmet - a beautiful little coffee and book shop in Webster. Mom and I drove out there yesterday and the owner agreed to sell my book on consignment. My little book is now on an actual store bookshelf. Stop by and get a picture of it for me (if you do, post it to In His Hands on Facebook -- hey, while you're at it, post a picture of yourself reading my book, too!).

Save the date -- on Saturday, October 18th I'll be doing a book reading/signing at the Booklovers' Gourmet. Be sure to come. I'm hoping to have my second book (All Is Well: Poems From the Detour) available by then. That's one of my tasks for this road trip - I'm planning to retype and format two poems a night. I did meet quota last night.

So, I'm going to post this, then get on with the journey.
Thanks again for traveling with me.

I'd love to hear from some of you -- what 'detours' has God brought you along lately?

It's Time

It's time.
At breakfast today, my mom asked me what I'd write about the last few days. I told her that I didn't know. I never know what I'm going to say until I actually sit down and start typing.
Well, it's time.
I'm lounging on a red lawn chair, looking through the yellow fence at the noisy waves of the Atlantic ocean. The fence is for my "protection" - it keeps all of the vendors out. If I want to buy anything, I simply have to go over to the pavilion by the pool. It's full of wooden carvings, manned by a man who grew up up north on the Mali boarder. What he doesn't have, he's happy to go find.
But I think I'm done shopping. I can't fit much else in my suitcase. I had to sit on the top to get it zipped this morning, and I've still got to squeeze my bathing suit in.
I've enjoyed these last few days at the beach. Breaking doctor's orders and sitting in direct African sunlight, walking deep into the bowels of the marche to get mom a birthday pedicure (and causing the whole marche to temporarily lose electricity), eating a demi-poulet avec frites for one last time...
But it's time.
It's time to wrap it all up and stick it in a carry-on. It's time to change out of my bathing suit and into my travel clothes. It's time to begin the long journey home, and the difficult transition back into the world that has become my reality.
At least for the time being.
Pray us safely back to the States, please.  It's a tiring trip. And pray for Mom and Dad as they begin the next phase of their ministry - whatever that may turn out to be.
Godspeed!

Village Baptiste

I'm back at ICA, sitting on a screened-in porch of house #7 on the upper campus. It's called Village Baptiste now, and there's a university using many of the buildings. When we passed by this morning, Muslim praying echoed from one of the old elementary classrooms. There's also a poured concrete wall all around the campus.

We left Torogo around six o'clock and drove down to Bouake in the dark. Although it's rather like a video game - dodging lane-width potholes at 110 kilometers an hour - there is much less traffic at night. There were many police checks on the road, but most of the guards were hesitant to leave their warm campfires, so they just opened the barrier and waved us through. We arrived on campus around 9:30, and were welcomed with a delicious meal of rice and peanut sauce. This morning we explored the campus, then walked around the wall, down to the marigot. It's a rest day.

At what felt like the last minute, Mom got all of the PEDEBE books corrected and archived. There are copies in different discs and memory cards which have been strategically distributed so that the books will never have to be retyped again. She also passed out more than 500 copies of the audio bible in several different languages. We gave one to the groundskeeper at ICA today. He's a pastor (most of the pastors here need to take on other jobs), and was very grateful for the sd card with the bible in French and Jula. He said it was a gift from God which would be very helpful.

Many people have asked me if I'll come out to take Mom and Dad's place here. There's certainly going to be a gap left by their absence. This past term was filled with relationships. Everyone at the church calls them Papa and Maman - and I was adopted quickly as a sister. Although ready to go home and be with friends and family in the states, I can tell that Mom and Dad are already plotting out their next journey back to this continent.

It's hard not to. It's hard to think about leaving this country forever. Yes, I will come back - not sure when, but I will come back. :-)

Wapie cangaa

Online Again

Wow! Internet twice in one week. I'm getting spoiled. :-)
Today we're in town running last minute errands and saying good-byes. We'll swing by the tailors, stop off at the bank to get some money, buy some food for our trip down south, and stop off at the Internet cafe to try to book a ride home from the airport on the 12th.
There's still so much to do, but not so much time. I've been cleaning out cabinets. Dad's been rearranging pounds in suitcases, and Mom was up until 12:30 last night printing out book 8. Because of power fluctuations the printer wasn't working very well, but she us making good progress. She's still got a couple of books left to finish.
Today Dad and I took a four mile bicycle ride out through the corn and cotton fields. Now he's getting the bikes ready to deliver to their new owners.
Tomorrow Mom and I are getting our hair braided. Sunday is the good-bye celebration. Our good-bye gift to the church is a meal - $400 worth of rice, sauce, and beef for about 200 people.
Please pray us through the next couple of days - that we can get everything done, while savoring every moment we've got left.

Checking in...

Checking in...
I've been postponing writing this entry for an hour now. Not because I have nothing to say, but because there's so much to say that I know I can never cram it into a handful of paragraphs. Maybe I should write another book...
Here's a synopsis of the past week. I'll fill in the details later.

Friday -- I made some more glow-in-the-dark bracelets, then we all hopped on the bike and drove out to the Bible school where we gave out the Bibles, erasers, pencils, and sharpeners I'd brought out (thank you to those who donated!). I also tied a lot of bracelets onto a lot of little wrists. Then we rode into town for lunch and errands. Back at the house, someone stopped by for a couple more downloaded audio Bibles. Mom has already given out 482 copies! She's just about out of sd cards, and the man who gets them for her is sick with malaria. Please pray, both for his complete healing and that mom can get more memory cards.

Saturday -- Ceremonie de remise de diplomes le 12eme (graduation)
Eleven students became pastors, with their wives seated behind them. There were a lot of speeches and gifts given throughout the ceremony which was followed by a luncheon of rice and sauce. People broke into family groups seated and squatting around huge basins of food. There were also a couple of long tables where the missionaries and some of the other Bible students and leaders sat, served on individual plates. As a fundraiser for the meal, the graduating students pick a cloth from the marche to sell. Usually that first cloth runs out and they have to pick out a second. Almost everyone at the ceremony was dressed in an outfit created from that cloth. Mom wore a shirt and pagne from the first, my outfit was the second cloth. Dad wore a vest made from the first.

Sunday -- We rode the bike in to the Bible school for church today. This time we were stopped at the barrier (police check) where the guard told us not to put three people on the bike anymore. At church, all of the visitors stood up and introduced themselves - Dad introduced me. The message was preached in English by a visiting pastor from Maine, translated into French, and then summarized in Cebaara. After the service, the visitors left the building first and everyone shook our hands as they left, joining the end of the line to shake hands with the others still coming out.

After church, we went in to town to pick up some cloth, then went to a tailor to order a couple of outfits. Then mom and I took a taxi home and dad followed on the bike.
We got back home to find that our toilet had leaked and the whole back of the house was flooded. A suitcase that dad had already started packing was soaked through, so we emptied it and spread everything out to dry. Then Mom and I mopped up the floor with rags and a bucket while Dad worked on the toilet. The only casualty was a favorite old book.

Monday -- I began cleaning out the kitchen cabinets and bookshelves today. The plumbers came by to fix the toilet.

Tuesday -- Leah, the wife of one of the graduates, took Mom and I in to town to find the ingredients for a special sauce. We rode mototaxis (motorcycles with a yellow cloth draped over the gas tank -- it's apparently ok to ride three to a bike if the driver isn't white). This time when we were stopped at the barrier, the guard merely asked us where our helmets were (the Africans don't wear them). We picked out a rooster from a cage at the marche, and for 100cfa (about a quarter) they offered to kill and pluck it for us.
The rest of the morning was spent in a cooking lesson, preparing the meal, which Leah's family joined us to eat. The food was delicious and the conversation interesting with a blend of three languages being used.
Dad was doing laundry when the outside faucet broke, but he was able to McGyverise it with a ten franc coin and a piece of inner tube rubber. I got a few more cabinets cleaned out, and Dad got a suitcase packed before we walked across the compound for a prayer meeting with some of the other missionaries.
Mom has been working almost non-stop on the final edits of the PEDEBE books. Yesterday someone stopped by with the last two. He's been editing the hard copies and she then has to make all of the changes on the computer. The goal is to have all fifteen books finished and printed out before we leave Torogo on Monday. Please pray for her as the time left begins to dwindle.

Wednesday -- Today we've got some errands to run. Hopefully we'll get a chance to stop by the internet cafe where I can upload this note. It's definitely longer than I meant it to be, but so much shorter than it would be if I could sit down beside you and tell you what's going on over here. Thank you for your prayers. Know I'm praying for you as well.

Where in the world am I?

The journey around the world (Charlton to Boston, to Montreal, to Brussels, to Ouagadougou, to Abidjan) was long, but fairly uneventful. I think the most exciting part was the jammed baggage elevator in Montreal...
More than 24 hours after leaving Charlton, I made it to Abidjan with all of my bags and most of my wits. Mom and Dad met me at the airport and we took a taxi to the guest house.
Monday we spent running errands. An old ICA friend had sent me a bundle of basketball shorts to deliver to a pastor in Abidjan who works with youth. He gets them away from the drugs and alcohol on the city streets by getting them onto a soccer team. He invited us into his home and we drank coca cola while looking at pictures of the team. Then he mentioned a need for soccer balls, so we found him a few.
For supper, we walked down to Steers. There had been a lot of flooding recently, so the sidewalks were muddy and littered with refuse, with huge segments simply missing here and there. When we got to the restaurant, we discovered the power was out on the whole block. We pulled out our flashlights and headed into the dark grocery store to buy some veggies, then got a couple of fire roasted chickens from a street vendor on the walk back.
On Tuesday, we took the bus up north to Korhogo. We had to get up and out of the guest house early to be sure to find a taxi to get us to the bus station on time. We had front row seats, and the bus was air conditioned - a pleasant change from the old buses with the windows open and chickens running up and down the aisles.
With three stops for bathroom breaks in the tall grasses by the side of the road, we made it to the Dispensaire Baptiste in about seven hours. Then I unpacked before we went for a walk.
Our dinner time excitement that night was the small bat that flew by Dad's head as we were eating our beans and potatoes. Fortunately, Dad was able to catch it quickly and we sent him right back outside.
Wednesday was a relaxing day. I helped Mom sort through some of her papers, and I began making bracelets out of glow-in-the-dark beads to give to the children at the graduation ceremony on Friday.
In the evening, a Pedebe (Programme d'Enseignument Decentralise des Eglises Baptiste Evangelique) class that meets in a local village held their class in our living room. The 20 of us sat in a circle on couches and borrowed chairs and communicated in at least three different languages. They spoke for a bit, them scattered to take a test, then rejoined the circle to sing for a while, before finally presenting Mom and Dad with a thank you/good-bye gift - a beautiful wall hanging of Cote D'Ivoire. Then we had crackers and cookies while Mom and I worked on downloading audio copies of the bible in various languages for the students to use in their own ministries.
Today, I'm going to make a few more bracelets. Then the three of us will hop on the motorcycle (they've assured me we'll fit just fine) and go out to the Bible school. Later this afternoon, we'll hitch a ride with another missionary to an Internet cafe where I'm hoping to be able to upload this, and maybe post a few pictures.
The country is so different than I remember it, and yet so unchanged. It's good to be back.

Monday Morning Moment

As I cuddled with my cat this morning, she began to purr. In response, my heart began to sing. So my voice joined in. "Thank You, Jesus. Thank You, thank You Jesus."
It was a song I learned at boarding school in West Africa.
As I sang, I remembered -- that song was not written to thank God for cats. He did much greater things than that.
But sometimes I can't wrap my mind around the greatness, so I simply savor the simple.
A quiet, peaceful moment in a busy day. A purring cat. A happy heart.
Thank You, Abba. Thank You so, so much.