Thanksgiving

The season of Thankfulness is good for the soul.  So I will try to blog thanks this week.  Today I am thankful for my kids.  I’m thankful that Luke, who was once a preterm little baby refusing to eat or sleep . . . Is now nearly six feet tall, able to write long essays in subjects ranging from physics to poetry, and is right now independently flying to meet his grandmother.  I’m thankful for Caleb, who has spent the entire morning in the front room with two class mates, two batteries, scraps of wire, paper clips, and switches, doing experiments and studying for his upcoming end-of-the-year exams; who cheerfully runs four or five miles in second-to-last place as a member of the cross country team; who steps up to the absence of his dad and big brother by organizing his siblings or by sweeping up after dinner.  I’m thankful for Julia who went down to play soccer with the Christ School girls she calls friends yesterday even though the coach was sick, who decided to surprise her brother Caleb by totally organizing his room while he was studying, who wrote her Dad a birthday poem, who delights in partnering with me for the care of the family.  I’m thankful for Jack who wants to be a chef and helped me create a spectacularly successful semi-Italian chicken and pasta dish with fresh basil last night, exclaiming over the flavors and cheerfully picking, washing, stirring, sautéing, then eating with gusto; who reads voraciously; who solves problems speedily; who wants to be and do everything his brothers are.  Children are living testaments to grace, there is no way to deserve loyalty or even the company of the people they are growing to be, but here they are, mine.  

Celebrations

Double Scott Birthday tonight—two prime number birthdays, one in the decade of the 20’s and one in the 40’s, for Scott Will and Scott Myhre, who not only share a name, good looks, medical know-how, adventurous spirits, and godly hearts, but also have Bdays in the same week . . . Superb pizza as usual, homemade ice cream straight from the cow (who was mooing through the fence as we ate, to the delight of the twins), cakes courtesy of team mate Kim, and a fun party game where everyone got a bag of goodies I wrapped up from the Gray’s cupboard clean out (best prize: Trader Joe’s dark chocolate chips!!). Caleb put together an amazing Keynote (Mac version of PowerPoint) presentation to honor his Dad (with help from his siblings, including poetry by Julia). It was a fun family night, one that was needed after a heart-sapping week of goodbyes and troubles.

We also honored Luke who will finish his last of 19 exams tomorrow! Computer Theory. His dream was to relax in a hammock and read Lord of the Rings straight through as soon as exams were over, all three volumes, pausing only for food. . . . So we had bought him a beautiful Ugandan woven hammock as a gift to celebrate this milestone. However instead of lazing in the hammock he’s having his best friends over for dinner and a sleep-over and then they all get up early Friday to drive out. His class mates will stop in Fort Portal while Scott and Scott take Luke on to Entebbe to fly out to America. My baby is going across the ocean alone, to cheer his Grammy and be pampered post-exams.

On Leading, Moses vs. Ezekiel

This week we read from Acts 7 in church, where Stephen recounts the history of Israel.  The portion we read described Moses, and in one of those moments of Holy Spirit presence in church I saw myself so clearly.  Moses was a fixer.  He saw injustice and he jumped in to fix it (v. 23-28).  He was about my age then, and trying to do the right thing.  But his people did not appreciate or accept his interventions!  God had to take him through his own personal wilderness years (40 of them!) before he was ready to really lead, to hear the voice of the Lord and to respond.  Then the one whom the people rejected became the one whom God chose to end the oppression of His people, but in God’s time and God’s way, not Moses’.  I want to be more like the 80 year old Moses than the 40 year old, broken of my assurance that I see the right and willing to lay aside my solutions and wait upon the Lord.  This has been a theme of God’s teaching for me this year. . . .

So I was ready to go into our annual reviews with our team, the time we meet with each person and talk about the blessings and challenges of 2007, goals and dreams fro 2008, very quietly, afraid of pushing my own agenda.  Then this morning I read Ezekiel 33:  the watchman who sees trouble ahead but remains silent is guilty.  

It was good to find these two Scriptures in two consecutive days.  I want to wait upon God’s timing and direction, trust Him to address injustice, let Him lead and use me as He would, in Bundibugyo and with our dear team.  But I also want to be faithful to speak out.  Wisdom means discerning when to be Moses hanging out in the desert until God dramatically works; and when to be Ezekiel actively addressing wrongs.

More Goodbyes

This morning the Gray family pulled out, three kids, 9 trunks each weighing exactly 50 pounds, strollers, car seats, shoes and juice cups, the fruit of two weeks of careful sorting and packing. It seems like we had just stood in the driveway waiting to welcome them back from their unexpected four-year detour through Grant’s surgeries and therapies (though it is well over a year ago now). That welcome day was one of dancing and rejoicing, songs and delight. . . And the expectation that now they had made it through their difficult trials and were ready to invest in building a life as a family in Bundibugyo. Instead today we stood in the same spot, with tearful hugs, sending them back to uncertain plans and possibly the end of their African journey.

This departure was unanticipated and abrupt, but Pat managed to help them pull together a major feast of goodbye. Yesterday afternoon 350 guests, friends from 18 years of ministry, gathered for a few speeches, thanks, laying on hands and prayer, and then a meal. Pictured above you’ll see Grant in front of the massive pot used to cook the pilau (rice and meat); the Gray family being prayed for; and Julia with Chase wearing the hat she crocheted him for Christmas (which is bittersweet, because measuring for the hat project was instrumental in our realization that his head was not growing normally . . . ). Pray for them, for Chase to be healed, to grow and develop and talk and walk in ways that bring God glory. Pray that the Grays would experience Jesus more fully in the way of the cross, the path of suffering. Pray that we would too, because we are suffering as well, losing our neighbors, team mates, friends, maybe for the foreseeable future. Pray most of all for their Ugandan friends, who are not used to goodbyes, to moves, who don’t have email and international travel to keep in touch with distant friends. Pray that we would all sense the comfort of God’s presence.

Goodbye Scotticus and Amy

What single guy would NOT want to join this team??? Why in the world is this one leaving??? Sigh.

The MAF plane took two tries to lift off from our somewhat soggy, hand-slashed (still waiting for our replacement mower since the old one was destroyed in August . . .) airstrip as a misty cloud moved down the mountain to envelop us in rain. Whew. Thankfully they are safely in the air and en route to Kampala, then tomorrow back to the US. Last night we had tearful prayers, a very funny video put together by Luke, gifts, reminiscences, pizza of course, and ended the evening with a wild game that was part “ghost” (tag with a blindfold) and part dancing to the Shrek soundtrack. This week is a season of goodbyes, with the Gray departure still looming. I think I’m unable to take in the reality of it all, though moments do break through, today for me it was seeing Caleb cling to Scotticus in his goodbye hug, the realization that this life of intense relationship and inevitable departure takes a chunk of my kids’ hearts too.

On Track

Click on the “Flicker Picture Sets” for the latest slide show posting . . A farewell intramural track meet yesterday to celebrate the new track and bring closure to Scott Ickes’ hard work. We were the only parents cheering . . .but it was really fun to see both our biological kids (Caleb and Jack) give their all, and some of our students and friends successfully race. My favorite moment was when Mutegeki, who walked on barefoot for the race (he’s not on the team) beat everyone in a 200 yard dash, the kid who was suspended earlier this year and has had a rough time. A little affirmation, hopefully will keep him on track . . . .

Paediatrics on Tuesday

Rounds on the paediatric ward and the nutrition clinic on Tuesday, from top to bottom:

Tumusimwe—this little boy has a wheezy tuberculous cough and skinny little limbs, trying to recover from the TB which killed his father and left his teenage mother a widow.

Bacecura—this little boy has Kwashiorkor, and as he’s begun to drink milk over the last week his massive swelling has subsided, leaving the malnourished shell, the first step. He’s lost about three pounds already, which is a lot for someone who only weighs about 20. Pray for him to gain strength.

Chance—one of my favorites, his parents are dead, his aunt breast feeds him though she’s pretty desperate herself. He’s holding on to life but only tenatively.

Ngonzi—another favorite, with his AIDS and TB and his sweet, careful but lame mother. He’s waiting for ARV medications, to rescue his immune system from a CD4 count of 60. He’s over a year old but only weighs 5 kilos (11 pounds!).

Evarette—both parents died leaving her with this grandmother. She’s feisty and just beginning to head towards recovery.

Maskia—another orphan cared for by her grandmother, improving.

Ahebwa—sweet and tiny, this baby’s young mother is afraid to tell the family that her husband died of AIDS because she knows she’s positive too, and does not want to be thrown out. Problem is that there are four other oblivious wives and collected children all living still, in Congo.

Robert T—nestled skin to skin, we call this “kangaroo care” for low birth weight infants. He is his mother’s 13th child, and the 12th was also malnourished getting help from us. Sigh.

All of those are getting nutrition help, but there is one more picture of a mystery case. This boy Mubiiru Morisi is 7. He fell ill almost 2 years ago when he was admitted to the hospital for two weeks with fevers and sleepiness and weakness. Since then he’s had dwindling strength, poor weight gain and growth, and swollen legs, and I’m not sure what is wrong with him.

Then there are three of my dearest little outpatients who came back for follow-up today, all of whom have been prayed back to life as people read their stories on the blog:
Kabugho—the baby whose mother died of TB and AIDS right in front of me, and who was nearly dead herself a few weeks ago, still with those penetrating big eyes, not giving up on life!
Masika—after one week at home her weight is up again, and she looks great!
Makuni—still gaining weight too at home, back for a check-up.

Last but not least a few pictures of the missionary crew today:
Stephanie—the woman who pulls it all together for BundiNutrition!! It is a lot of work to arrange food, transport, staff, teaching, patient evaluation, records, fund-raising. She’s amazing.
Julia and Miss Ashley, volunteering their time on their day off of school, made the work go quickly.
Pat was investigating MUAC’s , mid arm circumference.
And my life continues to be improved by the presence of Scott Will, PA from Baltimore.

WILD WILD WEST

The Stanbic Bank branch in Bundibugyo was robbed Saturday night, to the tune of 1.3 billion shillings (half a million dollars).  This is cocoa season, so buyers are coming into the district, which means money is flowing as the lorries of cocoa roll out over the muddy road.  The story is that two women approached the two police guards posted by the bank and offered them drinks which were drugged.  While they slept the perpetrators (or thugs, as they are referred to in the newspaper) used crow bars, acetylene torches, and the conveniently located keys to the vault to get in and out with the money.  This is a town where hundreds of people live within a stone’s throw of the bank, and the process could not have been silent.  This is a district with ONE ROAD and a place where NO ONE drives at night, yet when the police set up road blocks they failed to find the guilty cars (there were two).  We are sad for the bank manager who is a friendly and competent lady, and for the disruption this will likely bring to our ministries and projects as the bank recovers.  Meanwhile today Jonah is involved in meetings to investigate a mystery gastrointestinal epidemic striking people in Kasitu/Kikyo (not too near us).  The difficulties of disease investigation and the success of a brazen bank robbery both are reminiscent of what it must have been like to live in the western US 150 years ago . . . .

Hard News

The overnight get-away to Semliki Safari Lodge was . . . .words can not express.  The place is an oasis of beauty, both the wildness of nature and the order of a luxurious manicured lodge.  We were guests of the managers, along with a photographer and his wife who were shooting reams of photos for publicity, and a travel agent checking the park out.  Amazingly the photographer’s other job is a full time doctor at the Infectious Disease Institute in Kampala, dealing with AIDS, and his wife started the very successful Beads for Life project which creatively enables the poorest of the poor to start their own businesses.  They were a delightful surprise and I hope friends we can keep up with.  We always enjoy the manager couple as well, so it was a nice mix of much-needed down time for us as a couple, and of good company, fine wine, gourmet food, peace and quiet.
 
 But as we drove back through the slick mud, leaving the cheerful ambiance of the SSL behind, I felt like we were emerging from story-book Africa back into real Africa. The cavorting kob were replaced by crowds of kids, rusted bicycles, overloaded pick-ups, soldiers and guns.  And as soon as we walked into the door we began to get some hard news.  None as hard as this past week’s news about Chase, but still not what we hoped for.
 
 First, my mom can’t visit for Christmas as planned.  Her back surgery was too extensive and her recovery will not be complete by that time.  This was a big blow to all of us.  It is still sinking in how much of the next couple of months of life were revolving around that expectation.  We are all grateful she was able to have the surgery, it was much needed, but the loss of the anticipated trip is hard.
 
 Then Ndyezika walked in with his exam results.  The good news is that he passed more things than last year, and does not have to repeat any classes.  The bad news is that he has to re-take 2 of the 5 exams, either later this month or in February.  He’s a relentlessly optimistic guy, but even he was pretty sad, commenting that he had hoped just this once God would bring him all the way through, but in his life it never seems to happen that way.  It was hard for me to accept as well.  More uncertainty, more waiting, another potential failure looms ahead.  The same day we got a letter from his fiancée's family expressing their willingness to enter negotiations, and detailing a long list of expenses that will be associated with her bride price.  Now we have to choose our “mukwenda”, the go-between who will negotiate for us.  It is good news that they are willing but we know it will be weeks or months of financially draining expectations to meet.  And we will have to walk carefully between our role as his guardians who are wealthier than he could ever be . . .and raising the bar so high for a church wedding that everyone else continues eloping.
 
 Those are the two big disappointments, but it’s also continuously raining, a very demanding patient showed up early this morning, the power is shutting off the internet, I got news that my sister’s car was stolen (along with all their credit cards, house keys), and the week ahead looks like a long vale of tears as we say goodbye to Scotticus, Amy, and the Grays.  The tomb is definitely empty, and it feels like the body was stolen . . . We need prayer as a team in the midst of November clouds to hear the voice of Jesus, putting it all into perspective, that though things are not unfolding according to our hopes and expectations our God is still in control.
  

Heading for Rest

“You will find rest for your souls” . . . In a week (a month, a year . . . ) that has held much burden, we are grateful to have the gift of rest.  Friday morning Scott and I will head out for Semliki Safari Lodge, a luxury  tented camp of the wealthy colonial genre improbably located in the savannah around Lake Albert within the boundaries of Bundibugyo District.  It is about two hours’ drive from our home.  The managers have volunteered in some public health initiatives in their area which allowed us to connect, and they graciously invited us to come for a night.  This will be the third (or fourth?) year we’ve been able to take this little break, and we really look forward to it, being away from patients and responsibility, soaking in the beauty of Africa with all the harsh reality smoothed out.  Even God rested on the Sabbath, how much more we need to do so.  Last night I finally got a shower and pajamas and just about had dinner ready when Jonah came to consult on a newborn baby.  I knew he really wished (though he wouldn’t say it) that I’d come back to the hospital, but I was so tired and felt that I needed to care for my family (and truthfully myself too) instead, so I told him what should be done.  I felt a bit guilty for not going myself, and somehow I just knew that this morning I’d find that the baby had died.  It had.  Probably my presence would not have made a difference, but most people don’t have to face death as a consequence of resting . . . So that experience both leaves me more ready and eager for a real break, and aware of the cost of resting too.  The kids are staying home here with Scott Ickes, who finishes his one-year term next week, so it’s a farewell party of sorts.  We don’t leave them often, or lightly, though now that Jonah is around that is not quite so scary, but sometimes I realize there is no 911, no ER, and anything can happen.  But anything can happen every day, and usually does, whether we’re here or not.

Though the time is not long, only about 36 hours, God can meet us in that space.  We’re praying for true rest, which is more than just a break from work, the kind of rest that lays down all burdens but the yoke of Jesus, that hears only His voice calling our names, the kind we can enter into together and emerge from strengthened for the next stretch.