A mending life

All fabric frays. Life has a thousand ways to pick loose threads, to stretch and strain and stain and wear down the quilt of our lives. 

once upon a time I made my kids quilts. This one had a subsequent frayed life. . .

and was fixed by Julia but I can't find the pic

Today in Bundibugyo: someone we've known for decades with his x-rays limps in asking for help with his joint pain, young people concerned about their mother's deteriorating health ask for money to send her for treatment, a neighbor brings his pregnant wife saying she's hungry and needs to buy sheets, another friend shares good news of kids' school performance but is deeply concerned for a spiritually and mentally troubled wife, another messages about a decades-long friend diagnosed with cancer, another friend looks morose about a son who was hit by a motorcycle, two young brothers arrive to report their house is leaking from the incessant unseasonable rain. All these are people we know who will struggle to sort out next steps because their finances are very limited and the resources available often cause as much harm as good. Meanwhile we have meetings and write up reports and follow up issues that seem important about our legality in Uganda, about teams in our Area and their own needs. All before heading to an end-of-term CSB staff meeting where we celebrate so much good but also hear about a student who threatened to poison another student who reported his rule-breaking behaviour, other conflicts, chronic lack of text books, difficulty with the changing curriculum, latrines filled with garbage as the influx of plastic and cheap manufactured good races ahead of a village-turning-to-city's capacity to manage waste. The unseasonable incessant rain requires new drainage plans. Later another neighbor with a baking business wants to use an oven just as a couple of families we invited for dinner arrive. Her oven broke, and our water intake valve for the school broke today. At least the power stayed on most of the day.

None of the above constitutes a life-altering traumatic rip that shreds the proverbial fabric beyond repair. 'Tis the season of political speeches in America and one governor recounting a season of sorrows concluded "none of that's remarkable, it's life". Some people have capital-T traumas (and we've had some ourselves) where life and death are on the line and before and after are irrevocably separated. But the normal days that make up normal years are like this one, full of wear and tear. A constant series of not-what-we-hoped for griefs for our own hearts and those we love. Frays and tatters in need of mending.

Mending is a small grace. Stitches that are not particularly strong or perfect or artistically remarkable, but serviceable patching to return to the whole.

That's life. We keep inching towards making earth like heaven. This week the New England Journal of Medicine (the most famous medical journal) published a trial done in Niger (189th out of 193 countries listed by human development index). Giving 1-5 year olds a single dose of a common antibiotic, azithromycin (zithromax) twice a year reduces their risk of dying by 14%. It's not easy to survive this continent, and a 14% boost is not a sure thing but a significant help. Vaccines, nutrition, stronger families, stable security, malaria prevention. . . and a twice yearly spoonful of antibiotic syrup. These are the day-to-day mends that make up life. Not glamorous, but essential.

My two favourite menders fixing a wedding dress this summer, the perfect concluding image of repair and joy

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BONUS photos  . . . 

And some mending is done by listening and visiting. Some by prayer and teaching. Some by cleaning and hammering. Some by patient perseverance. Still praying for progress with our Ugandan paperwork. It's endless.

Ann  with two couples she has blessed, and who bless us all. Team almost gone but thankful for these!

Term 2 ended with no fires or riots or major ripping apart of the school, but lots of frays to analyse and repair

 

One afternoon this week Scott was trying you-tube fixes on broken stuff

And another project, replacing broken wooden doors at school with new metal ones

Still smiling at the end of long days . . . Pat's daughter Lydia in town 

Olympics, heaven, and the paradox of unity and diversity

 The Olympics gave us a taste of "on earth as it is in heaven",  in ways the community of those who have been loved and redeemed by relationship with Jesus should do. This is the point of an excellent book I just finished by Jamaal Williams and Timothy Jones, In Church as it is in Heaven. Their story of a multiethic city church in Kentucky demonstrates that our unity as humans, as believers, is a gift to us that reflects God's uncontainable glory (way bigger than any one culture, language, race) and blesses the world as we employ our unique talents to the world's needs.  As a church we have not always been a picture of heaven, so we can learn from the Olympics.

For those days in Paris, we celebrated the excellence of people of all sizes and gifts and colours, from five continents, 206 countries and the refugee team. We listened to anthems and raised flags and marvelled at the art, costumes, parades, music. We were on the edge of our seats as a runner came from behind to win, or as a gymnast flew through the air in perfect rotations, or as a javelin was thrown an unbelievable distance, or the table tennis serve was too fast to even see, or the climbing walls were ascended with the most fragile holds. We looked up St Lucia on the map, or researched the difference between Korean and Japanese martial arts. Over and over we exclaimed with wonder at the human capacity, body and soul. 

Peruth Chemutai of Uganda with Silver in the 3000m steeplechase. . we also had a men's gold in the 10000m from Cheptegai

Because not all the highlights were the gold medals. Some of my favourite moments were the ways the (mostly) women cheered and encouraged each other, seeing silver medalists genuinely cheer for the gold from another team (Simone and Jordan bowing to the Brazilian). Or also the USA marathon men who were nowhere near the front, staying at the finish line to congratulate everyone who came in after them, or the relay team that did NOT win getting grilled by the press and refusing to blame each other, standing stalwart in "we did our best and this wasn't our day". 

The Olympics highlight diversity by everyone being assigned to one of those 206 countries, but unity by everyone having an even playing field to compete on. Sort of. Many Africans compete off continent, either they or their parents moved to a place like Europe, looking for safety or better facilities or financial support for their family, or maybe they were forced overseas long ago by human trafficking . . . in the women's marathon, 9 of the top 10 finishers were African, but 4 of those 9 ran for off-continent countries. 

 

The Sudanese-Canadian about to pass most of the pack to get silver, behind the Kenyan . . .

The church could learn from the Olympics--how can we hold the paradox of celebrating each person's unique background, genetics, artistry, story, as one sliver of the prism of colour that makes up our God of light? And at the same time find the connection that we need as a community, to work together to make the world liveable for all?  How can we enter new cultures without turning them all into bland amalgamations? We've spent our life trying to honour this little pocket of Uganda's language and culture, music and traditions and food and dress and style, while also equipping our CSB students with the English skills and math/science background to move into the world. Both-And. No easy answers. 

American Pizza night with the CSB Leadership team . . . sharing cultures, learning from each other

About two hours after this photo and yet more prayer, the bank finally unfroze our accounts for a week so we could pay our staff and pay for food for our students . . . Still struggling to fit into the Ugandan ever-evolving administrative complexity, with integrity. A hard road to walk. Pray that we sort out a longer term solution this week.

Why we keep trying: these hundreds could be the next Gold Medalists of compassionate development

The book referenced . . . 

Jails and Jesus: a long story of a crazy couple days

In June, we returned from a trip to a Serge meeting and to support Scott's mom, to find our house had been broken into by someone hack-sawing through barred windows. Being our 4th recent violent incursion, we felt the vulnerability of being a target, and the weary grief of things taken, and the intrusive exposure of finding drawers and shelves rifled through and tossed to the floor . . . but also the sobering reality that theft is part of daily life for the average family in this place, and we have way more margin than most other people to rebound from loss. Plus, we are thankful no one has been home, been hurt, when these things have happened. We keep our money in a safe, we travel with our laptop computers and phones, and the metal doors are double locked with deadbolts so a window thief can only extract through the small hole he cuts, limiting the damage. Nevertheless, amongst a number of smaller personal items taken, this time the most sad loss was Scott's camera.

Scott is an amateur photographer, it's his art and his service to provide really nice photos for our organisation and our family over the years. To limit mold that damages lenses in this jungle, he had NOT put his camera in the small safe, and to be able to have only carry-ons and move easily, we had not brought it with us that time. It was a very, very sad loss.

Weeks went by, he designed reinforcing extra bars to repair the damaged window, added stronger bolts to shutters. He resigned himself to not being able to buy a new camera, since this one was quite expensive. We didn't initially report to the police, because we figured the trail was long gone cold since it happened when we were away. Just chalked it all up to the cost of living. 

Psalms on trucks today, a needed reminder of God's story

Then out of the blue, we got contacted by someone who knows someone who knows us . . . one of those chains that remind you why it's actually good to live in community, to know and be known. People in Nyahuka noticed a young man using a camera that looked expensive, that he was possibly trying to sell. . . and that someone had seen pictures of US on the camera's memory. Scott confirmed that the model and make was the same as his. We got lots of advice, were told we should bring the police to question the young man with the camera (if you want police action in Uganda, you have to provide the transport to enable them to move), so Scott went to the police station to make a report and was assigned two policemen, one with a weapon. Meanwhile the helpful friends in town kept sending messages about where to find the young man with the camera, as Scott and his police escorts wound their way through the crowded town in the truck, and tried to stay out of sight. 

Suddenly the news was that the young man had boarded a boda (motorcycle taxi) and left towards Bundibugyo town! The police told Scott to drive fast! They were told it was a boda that was smoking as it went, so maybe they could catch it. He sped up the road blowing his horn, past the mission, past the next group of homes, church, school, until they saw the smoking motorcyle and pulled dramatically in front to make him stop. The police men jumped out of our truck and grabbed the passenger with his two backpacks. The driver looked bewildered. 

Once the police had the young man in the car, Scott asked "Do you have my camera?" and then he knew. They drove back to the police station and took down the full story. The young man with the camera had bought it from a kid who used to play at our house, grew up with our kids, a kid we know well, one we have helped a hundred times, one whose family we see weekly if not daily, one who worked for us as a yard worker for a while, who used to take care of our dogs. One who has stolen before from others. Sadly, our thief.. . . who must have held the camera for a month or more, then approached this young man who does a YouTube "Nyahuka TV" program, with the story that the camera had been a gift from us that he now wanted to sell.

Doubly sad to be someone we know, but made sense too. He would know what we had, how to find it, how to cut bars without alarming the dog. And the young man arrested bought the camera believing the thief's story that Scott had given it to him. 

Once someone is arrested though, with stolen goods in his hands, the police are not ready to let him walk just because his story makes sense . . they needed the actual thief to be found. So they locked him up in a cell (a wooden shed INSIDE the brick police building) and told his family to find the thief and bring him in to corroborate the story. Which led to an overnight parade of distress as the thief's family and the arrested kid's family tried to find the thief, various people came to our house crying, the thief's family broke into his bedroom when he didn't come home and found various smaller items of ours to return thus confirming the story the arrested kid was telling . . and by midday today we agreed that we had the wrong person in custody, and that the thief was indefinitely AWOL. 

So back to the police station, to pay some fines, to finish our statements, to withdraw charges against the arrested kid, to get him released, to receive our camera back, and to walk away from asking for more. We don't want anyone to risk serious harm over a camera . . we do want some consequences for this repeated thief to change his ways. We actually drove the arrested kid and his brother home, and ended up on friendly terms as we helped him a bit, realising he was deceived as we were.( While we were getting him released, the other woman in the station with a case said that she wanted to thank Dr.  Scott because when her husband died leaving her with three children, we helped her buy tin roofing sheets for her house, nothing we remember but the weaving of community happens over years and comes back unexpectedly to remind us of what it means to share burdens).

    

Those are the two jail cells, no light, no access

Scott dutifully following all the police procedures to get the arrested young man released

We see God's mercy in getting the camera back, and in finding out the truth. We pray God's mercy will extend to the thief actually repenting, and being willing to do some work we design to help his family rather than hurting everyone by his stealing. And to be the second kid that grew up close to us and stole significant amounts from us this year (the other being our former accountant) adds to the heaviness. We believe we are slowly labouring for good to grow. But the harvest is hidden. Is slow. 

We serve a God of mercy and truth. Both. We've chosen to forgive, to not press charges, to not land people in prison, to protect them from the worst . . but we've also tried to call out wrong, to bring it to the light, to set these young people on a path that leads to life. 

Sometimes a weekend involves a high speed chase for stolen goods, multiple visits to a jail, and yet leaving all the endings in the hands of Jesus.