Goodbye, again

The Chedester Family will leave Uganda and World Harvest Mission in a little over two months from now, after a dozen years of service. They have served our team over all those years, hosting us when we had to evacuate, tracking down hard-to-find-supplies, processing paper work, managing mail, even simple kindnesses like shopping for vegetables or reminding us when our licenses are expiring. They were invited by Paul to be our link to the world by living in the more-accessible Fort Portal. But their ministry became much broader than that, supporting the church there, mentoring youth, teaching, praying, and raising a family including three children adopted from Uganda. They have been part of the fabric of our life for so long, it is hard to imagine the gap they will leave. Like most of us, though, the life-stage of their kids means access to more schooling options would be helpful, and the changing environment of Africa means that their gifts could be used even more fully in another setting. They hope to join AIM as dorm parents at RVA. So our lives are likely to continue to intersect, but this goodbye stands as another Ebenezer. By God's grace we have reached this far. But another parting takes its toll, too. We were thankful to be able to really honor their long years of work by our whole team hosting them at the Kingfisher, by silly songs and skits, by serious prayer and remembrance.

Holy Leopards . .

This weekend we stayed at the Kingfisher, a simple lodge of stone and thatch bandas overlooking the game park and lake east of us (about a six to seven hour drive from here). While there the entire team, in three vehicles, plied the roads on a game drive one morning. We were first out with no less than 11 people on our truck, in the darkness which melted into dawn as buffalo moved grumpily out of our path and kob darted warily away. We saw a half-eaten kob and guessed lions were in the area, but after an hour and a half without spotting them we stopped for a picnic breakfast among the warthogs and waterbuck. Just then Pat called to say that their car had stopped by another vehicle who had spotted about 7 lions basking in the sun! So we were off to find them, and later Annelise spotted four full grown female lions lazing close to the road. Amazing. Our vehicle later diverted to good old Campsite Two where we unloaded all the kids and read the last four chapters of the book of Job--God's soliloquy in which he answers the issues of the world by saying: look at the hippo. Watch the eagle. And we read that in a place where we could do just that, could marvel that we are NOT GOD, that He knows what He is doing. Great. By this time the other two vehicles, who took different routes, had headed back. We finally began the trek back to the lodge and suddenly a leopard sauntered out of the bushes, slowly rippling in the grass alongside us. We got good views for about a half a minute, then he was gone, without a trace, into the shadows of the dense vegetation.

Scott and I reflected on this later, and the parallel to spiritual discipline. If you don't drive and drive along the game paths, you won't see anything. But you can drive for three hours or two years or 15 minutes, and unless a leopard walks by at just the right moment, you won't find one. So daily Bible reading and prayer create the space for God to speak, to act, to be in relationship. But they do not force this to happen. Some days and months we can spend hours that seem fruitless. He still has to show up, mysterious, other, a sinewy rippling of beauty in the grass, a breathless wonder.

(P.S. - Leopard picture courtesy of Ashley Wood)

Evacuation Buddy

Rob P was a college student in 1997 whom God literally dropped into our life for a crucial four day period. He arrived on a MAF plane with another intern in June, just as the ADF war was spilling into our district. Four days later we ran away from an all-out pre-dawn attack, bullets flying, adrenaline-washed and dry-mouthed, joining a flood of Ugandan refugees. He "happened" to be a very fit cross- country runner from Covenant College, and we as parents were overloaded. I had a diaper bag back-pack, 8 month old Julia in a front pack, and embryo Jack as yet unannounced. Scott had Caleb on his shoulders, and another bag and a dog on a leash in his hands. And four-year-old Luke tried to walk, but the all-day panic journey which covered more than 15 km on narrow paths and passed dead bodies . . . well, let's just say we were eternally grateful for Rob's support. By the time we were helicoptered to safety, we knew we were in no position to host summer interns, and handed him over to missionaries in a more stable part of the country. Since then we've been occasionally in touch. That traumatic experience did not deter him from completing medical school and residency, and now he's a brilliant young doctor married to a lovely family nurse-practitioner with two awesomely cute kids, working in an academic hospital setting in Tanzania. Being a mere 20-some hours of ferries and road and only one country away, Liz and Rob decided to come back for a visit. So far the security situation is holding, so we hope God did not send him for another rescue. Instead we are enjoying the rare treat of reconnecting with a "student" turned colleague and friend.

On Sacrifice

The following quote was used by Scott in this week's prayer meeting. He took it from Frederick Buechner, The Magnificent Defeat, in a passage that describes Jacob's wrestling match with God by the Jabbok.  

"Power, success, happiness as the world knows them, are his who will fight for them hard enough; but peace, love, joy, are only from God.  And God is the enemy whom Jacob fought there by the river, of course, and whom in one way or another we all of us fight--God, the beloved enemy.  Our enemy because, before giving us everything, he demands of us everything; before giving us life, he demands our lives--our selves, our wills, our treasure.

Will we give them, you and I?  I do not know.  Only remember the last glimpse that we have of Jacob, limping home against the great conflagration of the dawn.  Remember Jesus of Nazareth, staggering on broken feet out of the tomb toward the Resurrection, bearing on his body the proud insignia of the defeat which is victory, the magnificent defeat of the human soul at the hands of God."

I feel the broken-footed stagger this day.  Unexpected waves of grief have come as we prepare the Gray's house for the Clarks.  The Clarks are an unkown, a promise of relationship which we anticipate.  But having them move into the Gray's old house solidifies the reality that our old neighbors will never return.  In a few minutes we leave for Fort Portal to spend two nights as a team with the Chedester family, honoring their decade of service in Uganda as we say goodbye to them.  They are moving on, and it is another loss.  Wednesday I discharged Peter John, a good thing, but I realized how much I loved walking onto the ward most days over the last three months to be greeted by his open-armed pick-me-up snotty smile, naked, infected, but unabashed.  In only one more week Pat will begin a short two-month furlough.  I miss Heidi, too.  We talk on the phone with Luke and he's in the midst of the future, colleges, tests, a world we barely touch on.   And had vivid dreams of my parents last night.  Who can explain, except that God decides to meet us and wrestle, why one week is more grief-laden than another?  Like Mary at the tomb I am sure as we wrestle we are meant to grasp reality, that what we see as loss God purposes for gain. 

The end of a nightmare

The last of the 30 Aboke girls abducted from their catholic boarding school in Northern Uganda by the LRA 13 years ago has returned to Uganda yesterday.  Her father is a doctor, and she was in Senior two at the time she was taken (Julia's grade now) which is perhaps part of the emotional impact of the story for me.  149 girls were herded out of their dorms by force that night, and most were rescued when an Italian nun who worked at the school followed the rebels on foot and pleaded for their release (yes, one person can make a difference).  The LRA kept 30, however, and over the years Sister Rachel and the parents and friends of the girls have continued to advocate and pray, slowly seeing most of the girls released, thought 2 died.  This return closes an long and painful chapter of Ugandan history, and brings to completion a remarkable story of faith and perseverance.  A book about the incident, The Aboke Girls, is recommended reading.  Meanwhile Catherine Ajok must reintegrate into a life she left long ago, and she will never be the same.  She returns with a toddler whom she says was fathered by the LRA leader and wanted war-crimes perpetrator Joseph Kony himself.  She has spent 13 years in jungle camps, moving from battle to battle, and one of a harem of war wives.  Her picture in the paper speaks of a calmness and hope.  Let us pray that her life pictures true redemption, good coming from evil.

Family Planning

We're planning to expand our team family . . . by five! No, no one is pregnant with quintuplets. Instead we participated in the conference call evaluation for Anna Linhart and the Johnson family. Anna is a teacher from North Carolina who has long had a heart for missions . . since she spent two years in Africa as a child when her parents worked at a school in Niger. She graduated with a degree in teaching and will come to work both with our missionary kids and cross-culturally with Ugandan children. Travis and Amy Johnson visited us in January, and we are so thankful that the visit was used by God to move their hearts towards Bundibugyo. Travis is a family medicine doctor completing an MPH at Harvard (well, we can't ALL go to Hopkins) and Amy is an educator with a master's degree and international experience. They have two children, Lilly and Patton. We eagerly anticipate working together, and growing into friendship while we do.

Family planning is an important part of health and survival. I pulled out an old prayer list from the summer of 2007 in which we anticipated Ashley, Sarah, Heidi, the Clarks, and two as-yet-to-be-found guys (Nathan, as it turned out, was one, and Scott Will will join as the other). For the last two year's we've been in the "spacing" phase of family planning, refraining from additions while we made sure to bring that 2007 list to life. When the Clarks land in a couple of weeks, that process will be just about complete. . . Which means we're ready to grow again. So today's conference call is analogous to the positive pregnancy test. We know new members are on the way, but there is a lengthy gestation before we actually see them. Anna and the Johnsons will spend the next six to nine months growing . . in grace, in prayer, in connection with supporters, in readiness to survive outside of America's protection. They will write letters and make phone calls and speak at churches; they will participate in WHM's Sonship spiritual formation program; they will attend MTI's pre-field cross-cultural orientation; they will shop and plan and say goodbyes. And we will have that time to be ready for them, to consider the impact of our changing family structure and dynamic, to make their entry into Bundibugyo as smooth as possible.

As in biological family planning, our plans may not always be God's plans (said humbly by the doctors who managed to have four kids in five years while "planning" . . . ). But we would like to see these five joined by several others, sooner rather than later. We still need a family willing to partner in education (could be administrators, counselors, pastors, handy-people, not just teachers); a couple or a young man to disciple and counsel Ugandan late teen/ early 20's post-secondary school kids; and a couple to serve as team leaders for us while we're on furlough. By faith, we hope to share more news of Great Expectations with you soon.

Provision, again

In great missionary stories, the need and the provision are always so amazingly timed that everyone can see that only God could manage to bring it together. Yesterday Ashley attended the district sports planning meeting for secondary schools, along with two other coaches from Christ School. She was well appreciated for her experience with tournament planning, and well supported in her desire to give girls an opportunity to compete. So today when David mentioned that the boys' soccer team would be sending a teacher to Kampala to purchase cleats, Ashley agreed that the girls' team should also get footwear (they pretty much play barefoot). She did not know where the money would come from, but measured the girls' feet. This evening we got a message from our faithful supporter Barb R . . she had decided to ask someone to fund 18 pairs of shoes for the team, God has just kept it on her heart as a loose end, and the friend said "yes" so she thought she'd pass on the news. Amazing. This is not just about winning or losing games. Girls who are part of an organized sports team grow in self-discipline, in friendship, in awareness of their God-given value. They are more likely to excel in school, and less likely to drop out for early pregnancies. So 18 pairs of shoes will give them a step ahead, in the right direction.

Mother-courage

I have to tell just one story from this morning's hospital rounds. Bed six looked rather crowded--a 13 year old boy, his five year old brother, and perched on the edge their wiry mother. The older boy held his arm at a peculiar angle, and I noticed his elbow was hugely swollen. The younger boy lay across his mom's lap with his equally swollen upper thigh raised in the air, and cried. It seems that a cobra crawled into their shared bed at home in the middle of the night and bit both children. I can barely imagine the terror of being awoken in the pitch dark by the screams of my children, in a house made of mud and thatch, with no lights. But this woman woke up and managed to kill the snake. She described it's characteristic hooding, and compared it's thickness to the metal frame of the bed. And there she sat this morning, with two injured but alive children, waiting for treatment. If only Eve had whacked the head off the snake in the garden, this woman would not have had to be battling for her kids' lives now. But here we are, and I admire her courage.

Nourishment....

After just one week, Kagadisa is improving.  As you can see from the photo, the shadows between his ribs are filling in and you can see that life is returning to his fragile frame.  Smiles and even a little chuckle today as I (Scott) showed him his picture.

On the flip side of nutrition (or lack thereof), I made an uncommon diagnosis of triplets by ultrasound two weeks ago.  The patient rode side-saddle on a motorcycle (10 kms over rocky, rutted roads) this morning to see me for follow-up.  I  told two weeks ago that "her work is to eat". To rest and eat, to try to grow these babies as much as possible in-utero before they are forced to survive out in this harsh world, competing for one of the two breasts that will be shared by these three.  When I asked her this morning how many times a day she is eating? Her reply: once.

One of my colleagues from residency at Cook County Hospital delivered triplets in the early 90s.  She gained 80 pounds during her pregnancy as her husband force-fed her as many calories as possible.  Her kids are now in college--in fact, one plays collegiate lacrosse.

What are the chances that all three of these Bundibugyo triplets survive into adulthood?  Slim to none.

I am tempted to despair, to doubt the love of God (and nothing bad has even happened yet!), but instead I will cling to the words of Michael Card and honestly lament the apparent injustice...

...lament and despair are polar opposites.  Lament is the deepest, most costly demonstration of belief in God.  Despair is the ultimate manifestation of the total denial that He exists. 

 

(Sacred Sorrow, p.55).

Linking education and health . . .

"The higher the woman is educated, the higher her chances and those of her child to survive. International studies have shown that a girl studying up to just Primary Seven reduces maternal and child mortality by 50%. In Uganda, of every 100,000 live births, 435 women die and of every 1,000 births, 76 children die.

Imagine what difference it would make to sustain our girls in school just up to Primary Seven!"

Dr Sam Okuonzi, a research fellow with the African Centre for Global Health and Social Transformation and he puts the saying, "educate a woman, educate a nation" into perspective.