Remembering old songs my mom used to sing, from her own childhood and maybe related to WW2 romantic separations, the theme being that the moon shines on us and those we love in distant lands. I think that wistfulness came in war time partly due to lack of information and communication. In the 21rst century many people who travel can stay in touch so easily through email and phone calls . . . But not in Southern Sudan. I have had a couple of very short messages to know the WHM travelers are fine, but nothing like the actual communication I crave. So when I walked outside tonight and saw the hovering brightness of the nearly full moon I thought of Scott also seeing the same moon, then remembered those old songs. A small glimpse of that longing for connection which they express. . .
Today’s encouragement came from the book of Ruth. Eugene Peterson writes in his introduction that after the dramatic hero-filled stories of the first 7 books of the Bible, here is a story of a normal woman, an insignificant person whose faithfulness opens her to be used to bless the nations. The words of Boaz in the second chapter jumped out: “I’ve heard all about you, how you left your father and mother and the land of your birth and have come to live among a bunch of total strangers. GOD reward you for what you’ve done—and with a generous bonus besides from GOD, to whom you’ve come seeking protection under his wings.” [Then a TCK (third-culture-kid) moment—I shared with my kids how meaningful those words are to us and they just looked at me, finally saying in effect that they live right here with their mother and father and the land of their birth and no strangers . . . . ]
Lastly, CSB is now on a three-week break. One of the boys we sponsor came to see me today, serious and nervous. He is a true orphan, his mother died of AIDS long after his father had already passed away. He has been passed around with various relatives, staying with this brother or that sister, blending in respectfully and trying not to cause too much trouble. But the brother he most recently shared a room with took a wife while he was at school this term, which means he’s no longer welcome in that space, so ended up in a noisy and crowded room full of the rest of the family’s small kids, and no bed. His words were: I don’t think I can manage to study in the chaos. So we brainstormed about various relatives and where he might stay, if I provided the mattress. My concern is that he stay connected with some family and that someone care whether he’s home by dark and whether he’s eating. I really like this boy, but I can also see that as my students become more attached to our family and comfortable staying around the school and our home, they have a harder time going back. In some small part that may be a healthy tension of rising expectations; it may also be a true pressure the culture exerts on someone whose expectations are rising, to pull them back down, put them in their place. As teenage boys become the most educated members of the family, those without strong father/uncle/clan elder influences can be at a loss for how they fit in. This culture is all about family and hierarchy and we challenge that with education. Eye opening for me. Of my oldest two students, one has basically stepped into the provider role for his widowed mother, caring for her and his siblings. That is good. The other is much more independent—his widowed mother remarried and his relatives run an alcohol business from their home, also not conducive to health and study, so we rent him a small room adjacent to their compound where he can sleep in peace while still eating with them. The paying of school fees has bound us in complex ways to these boys, and relationship takes no break between terms.
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