Strong Women

Single women are the strong backbone of our team.  Yesterday four of them sat on a bench together at chapel (the 5th strong woman, Heidi,  was taking responsibility to send off our interns and drive two families back from Kampala).  On the end of the bench was Pat who had come down to the Pediatric Ward the day before to see if she could be helpful, and within a few minutes we realized one of our severely malnourished patients was dying, but the little boy's father had left to get help, so that only an 8-year old scared and crying sister remained.  So Pat spent almost the whole day holding Sunday, as I checked on him intermittently and the nurses did their best to push blood and fluids and medicines to rescue him.  She gave the gift of encircling arms, so that this little boy did not suffer alone, so that he spent his last hours on earth loved. He died that afternoon.  Next to Pat sat Kim, whose visit back to our team has been a breath of fresh air, a listening ear, a praying heart, a solid wisdom that many of us have drunk in.  Then Sarah, who sat holding hands with A., a CSB support staff who after almost 8 years of being drawn into community as a student and then staff member at CSB, made a profession of faith in March during a Bible study with Sarah.  Loving someone from a different world religion into the Kingdom of God, giving them the courage to break with family and follow Jesus, is an amazing thing.  And next to Sarah, Ashley, anchoring Julia to the end of the bench, a faithful teacher and role model, coach and friend, who gives Julia and all of us staying power in a difficult place.  Jesus chose to reveal His resurrection first to the single women.  On their testimony, love, and work, the Kingdom is built.

Pray for Clearing?

There is a heavy physical cloud over Bundibugyo this morning, the kind that brings thick humid air and dim morning light, the kind that slows movement and paints the world in discouraging colors.  We could use some cloud-lifting prayers today.  Over 200 families will begin arriving for Kwejuna Project in the next hour, and it is an all-day all-out effort to interact with each, ensure that they are enrolled in preventive care, to weigh and measure and dispense, and to pray for them in small groups.  As the school term winds down into it's final two weeks, so does our summer and its plethora of extra projects and ministries, all good but also draining.  Caleb keeps reminding us that he will leave home, essentially, in less than two weeks, and Luke keeps reminding us that we are in some ways less available to him in person than by phone at RVA.  On Tuesday I found 49 patients admitted to our 23-bed ward, and yesterday I enrolled our 31rst severe acute malnutrition admission for the month (previous average 13/month).  There are heart-aches and griefs among the people we care about; there is change ahead for our team as we evaluate Christ School and its improvement.  The sheer coordination of meals and movements feels complicated; no one is getting the attention they deserve. Yesterday Scott spent most of his morning caring for a neighbor who fell out of a tree as he was trying to cut branches from it inour yard, who broke his ankle and possibly has vertebral fractures, serious injuries.  And to top it all off, there is a dead something somewhere in our walls, attic, or under an un-movable sink cabinet, so our bathroom is permeated with a putrid smell which we've failed to locate the source of.  

God's presence is pictured as a cloud.  So perhaps our prayer should not be for the cloud to lift, so much as for our vision to clarify, to expand, to realize that God is God and works in His own ways that we can not control or predict.  So please pray for us today:  for a lifting of the oppressive sense of too-much . . or for a deep faith that we are immersed in the cloud of the substance of God Himself.

New Vision newspaper editorial about Dr. Jonah

A nice piece advocating for Melen and recognizing Jonah's sacrifice for his home and his country.

Read it here.

Extended family

It was a privilege to have three extra WHM kids with us over the weekend: Tim who grew up in Granada where his parents are the Spain team leaders; Libby who spent her early years here in Bundi until her dad became the Director of Ministries for WHM in Philadelphia; and Acacia who just left last year as her family established the new team in Sudan. I marveled at how our boys connected to Tim, their boarding school/parents as team leaders/TCK-ness providing a deep bond. This afternoon Libby and Acacia walked in and eagerly accepted rice and sombe (cassava leaf) I was re-heating, the familiar foods of their childhood. A few minutes later I heard Melen saying "my ma ma ma ma ma ma", a long exclamatory phrase, and wondered if she was OK, but it was just that she had walked up to the house and seen LUKE for the first time in months, and could not believe how TALL he was. Whoever drops by rejoices with us in the growing and maturing of kids they've known since they were infants, and it is fun to experience that (something we would have a harder time finding in the US!). I'm so thankful to welcome all these kids "home".

Weekend Away..

Back from the weekend, and thankful for prayers. Moving 29 people in 5 vehicles from two countries and on different schedules, all to converge for 48-hours of rest and community, is no small thing. We are grateful for the relaxed atmosphere of the Kingfisher, the stunning vista from the escarpment as rays of the setting sun broke through misty clouds. We are grateful for laughter around the small pool, or during games and meals. We are grateful for a handful of good heart-to-heart talks with departing interns and visiting friends, glimpses of bigger things God is doing in peoples' lives. We are grateful for a majestic view of a satiated lion, who sauntered into the bushes when we made too much noise; for up-close elephants munching trees; for dozens of baby wart-hogs (our favorite animal, which is so ugly it is cute in miniature); for herds of fierce-looking buffalo. We are grateful for an evening of prayer, launching all our visitors (2 Uganda interns, 2 Sudan interns, 1 intern from last year who came back to visit, our short-term doc, and 1 former team kid . . ) back to America.

But the rest ended as we descended back into Bundibugyo--the car-sickness from bouncing and jolting squished in the back seat of the truck combined with the general spiritual oppression which hangs over Bundibugyo like a cloud. Within ten minutes of pulling up into our yard we were confronted with a sick cow, a malfunctioning fridge, and a police problem with one of the nutrition motorcycles. Scott took on the first two, the kids unloaded the truck, and I accompanied our anxious extension worker to the police station where amidst wafting alcohol we extracted the motorcycle and a pledge that they would pay for the minor damage incurred when the impounding officers illegally took it out for a ride and had an accident. By 5 our man was back on his way to deliver our locally-made nutrition-supplementing food to outlying health centers, and we were back to unpacking and sweeping and sorting out our own dinner issues.

Scott, and Luke, took some great photos of the weekend - (click on the FlickR photos on the sidebar to see more). And pray for the next two weeks, which will be a full push sprint right up to the finish.

Goodbyes

Last night we began the goodbye process, with pizza and presents and . . . a sort of a square dance to "She'll be coming 'round the mountains when she comes . . . "  with lines dedicated to some of the funnier aspects of Tim and Doug's summer.  Jack could not believe it is already time for them to leave, and our kids always find it sad to see more people departing from their lives.  We have appreciated their patience with us, enthusiasm, and flexibility.  They saved at least one life, finding a severely malnourished child with TB on one of their outreaches and bringing him in for treatment.  They also were present at too many deaths, children who came in their last moments and did not survive.  They preached, researched, gave out food and medicine, played games with small children, killed snakes and spiders, prayed, and processed what it means to live with God in an area of poverty and hardship, what the Kingdom might look like, and how to live in community.  They struggled with cross-cultural relationship and being stared at day in and day out. They learned to eat substances not found in their normal lives (like cassava leaves or big bizarre lumpy tropical jack-fruits).  Mostly they just laid down their lives to pull alongside of us for almost two months. 

In a few hours we will all head out to a weekend at the Kingfisher Kichwamba, on the edge of the Queen Elizabeth National Park.  We will also be saying goodbye this weekend to the Pierce's friend Brian and to a doctor nearing the end of her residency, Naomi, both of whom joined us for the last ten days.  We will join the Sudan interns with Acacia Masso, our former team mate Kim, and our former team kid Libby.  Praying that somehow in the mix of getting 30 people on game drives and fed and accommodated and transported, there will be moments of real connection with God and each other, glimpses of His glory in creation, and a sense of rest.  

Gathering Perspective

God has been so good to us in the process of inviting two educational consultants to Christ School.  The idea for this process came from our field director during our regional team leader retreat in April, and after his HMA plans caught up with him the responsibility for the actual logistics fell to me.  Or rather, to the Spirit . . .who guided us via a scattering of emails to universities and church headquarters to the names of two men.  One is a professor of education at Uganda Christian University (and was a key author of the latest legislation regulating education in this country), and the other heads the Church of Uganda's Education office (which makes him responsible for five thousand primary and five hundred secondary schools).  Both have many many years of experience as teachers, as headmasters, as teachers of teachers.  It would be hard to imagine two more competent and connected consultants than the two we got!  Both are slightly older than us, established men with families and careers.  Yet both received Tim and I graciously back on the very first day of their internship in June when he bravely joined me on buses and bodas to search out the offices and make the arrangements.  Now almost two months later, the visits have occurred.  Each offered a slightly different perspective and style, and each will continue to give us unique insights and connections as we receive their written reports and lean on their wisdom.  But perhaps the unexpected thing:  it was enjoyable.  We can get so bogged down in the problems in front of our faces, in the discouragement of seeing the gap between reality and the ideal . . that it helps to have someone from outside, someone who knows what they are talking about, come in and ask questions and take notes and tour classes and interview parents and students and community leaders, and then conclude that CSB is the best school in the area, that the facilities place it in the top 15% of schools in Uganda, that the community feels blessed by the orphan sponsorship program, that the spiritual emphasis is palpable.  

There is work to be done.  A lot of it.  We need written policies in many areas, a standardized plan for the curriculum, better books.  We need to work out regulations for our boards, roles for the mission and the administration.  We need to reduce dependence on outside donations by increasing our political savvy when it comes to in-country grants, which could improve sustainability.  We need to pay teachers higher salaries, which might enable us to increase the professional level of our staff.  This will take time, years, though we can make a good start within the next year, the process of strengthening community ownership and internal accountability, will not happen overnight.  The fruition of stability will likely occur beyond the lifespan of any of the current missionaries.  Pray that new families ready to dedicate themselves to this vision, would begin to emerge.  Pray that God would lead us to excellent and godly Ugandan teachers and administrators, as well.  If there are people like these two men out there, then anything is possible!

And that is probably the greatest thing the consultants offered:  perspective.  This school has great potential.  The decade of work so far has borne fruit.  The problems we see are not unique, and those who have lived and worked in Uganda far longer than we have give us hope that it is worth the effort.  Pray for us to take the advice to heart, to consider bold change, to honor our commitments to the families of students, to strive for God's glory in this place.  As the teachers like to write on the bottom of exams . . the struggle continues.

Two burials

Burials occur in Bundibugyo on a daily basis. And attendance at burials is an extremely important part of the culture. I don't feel that we fully understand why people attend burials. Surely, there is some part in which people provide emotional support to one another in their grief, but I frequently see people attend who had little relationship with the deceased (or their family). There may be some peace-keeping aspect with the recently departed spirit as well as a peace-keeping with the family remaining behind. People being people though, there is also an "attending to be seen" aspect. Important people attract larger crowds, some who are curious and some who just want to be associated with the power or prestige to give the impression that they had some relationship with the important person or their family.

Today, two local people were buried. One was the wife of a local "big man", a man who holds a powerful government position (presidentially-appointed) in another district. As a woman, she was important only by her association with the power and prestige of her husband, but many, many people came from far and wide. People came to see and be seen.

The other burial was attended by a scant few. The one buried was an elderly codger, the sort who you might imagine in line for the downtown homeless soup kitchen, who came to our church and was considered by most to be a bit of a nuisance and disturbance. He straggled in and wandered out pretty much at random in his tattered, odoriferous rags always carrying a long walking stick. He often interrupted the service with his raucous speech and loved to move around shaking hands with as many as possible. He also would often fall asleep on the back of the church during the sermon (- when one of our single women fell asleep in church recently some of the little children started calling her by the nickname used for this old vagrant). It made me happy to see this old beggar in church because I believe Jesus would have welcomed him to his feast table. I can't think of a better picture of "the least of these my brethren."

He died alone. Neglected by his family. But my heart was encouraged this afternoon to hear that a small delegation of leaders from our small church chose not to attend the prestigious burial of the politician's wife, but of this little old man, a veritable nobody. They buried him and preached a message of the gospel, that God loves us in our weakness, in our sorry begging state.

I attended neither burial, choosing rather to spend the day pursuing an x-ray of Luke's ankle. However, in a private moment I shed tears for that old man who came to church with nothing and left this world with nothing.

I think I might hear the soft echo of his coarse voice in praise of the everlasting King.

hungry canaries

The children on the pediatric ward are like the proverbial canaries in the mine shaft, small and vulnerable, the first to show signs of impending disaster.  Over the last few weeks I've been noticing stories in our national paper, stories about famine.  Irregular weather patterns have diminished rain across northern and eastern swathes of the country, and thirsty land is failing to yield enough food.  It occurred to me today that our pediatric ward serves as an early warning of hunger.  in 2008 our average admissions for severe acute malnutrition were 13/month.  In early 2009, we were continuing to average about 10.  In July so far, we have admitted 26, with 23 still on the ward, and the month is far from over.  The summer months are the hungriest time of the year, pre-harvest.  And our ward continues to reach out further and further as desperate people come hoping for help.  Training community health volunteers means we now have active case-finding in many villages; we are not just waiting for the children to come to us.  All of that could be boosting our admission rates, but I think there is also a larger trend towards hunger in the community.  Rising global food prices, shortages of rains, over-commitment of land to cocoa rather than food, population pressure all begin to squeeze the neediest families.  So the children who have chronic illness, whose mothers have died, who live on the margins, begin to show the signs of hunger first.  

When I counted the admissions today, at least it made sense, no wonder the workload feels so intense, the sorrow there so palpable.  Pray for rescue for these little canaries, and bigger rescue for the continent where AIDS and drought and entrenched poverty and swelling families all push the weakest right over the edge.

ankle angels

We do not know the thousands of times a day God allows His angels to intervene, to protect us, to keep a kid out of the path of a careless driver, to prevent the transmission of a deadly disease.  But we could use a few angels assigned particularly to ankles on our team.  Sarah sprained hers on Sunday, after Jack, Scott, and Doug in the weeks before, all pretty mild.  Ashley had a severe ligament tear a few months ago.  And the latest to fall was Luke, playing with his old friends at Christ School Monday on the first day of his break.  For months he has been talking about how he looks forward to coming back here to play every day, to run and kick the ball, to get in shape for the Fall soccer season at RVA.  So when he went down in a slide tackle on the FIRST DAY BACK, and nearly passed out from the pain as his ankle quickly doubled in size . . it was a huge loss.  Today the xray does not show a fracture, but it could still be weeks to a month, or more, before he's playing again, and will potentially impact his ability to play at RVA.  For those who remember how hard he worked to get on the team last year, and then missed almost the whole season with a knee injury, you will appreciate just how sad this is for him, and by extension for all of us.  The spate of injuries relates to hard play, rough fields, and gripping cleats.  And to the general background of trouble in this world.

About an hour before his injury, Pat and I had been talking about parental faith, about Abraham and Isaac, and praying specifically that we could believe in God's goodness even when our kids are not well.  I find the timing pretty amazing, that God put this on Pat's heart and mine, that we actually were prepared by prayer to accept this from His hands.  Jack piped up at dinner that we can't know God's plan, and maybe the immobility of this sprain is saving Luke's life in some other way (as in the aforementioned road risks).  Out of the mouth of babes.

So we plod on in faith, hoping for a miraculously fast healing of the ligaments, praying that Luke would not be discouraged, that he would find other ways to relate to his friends, that he would rebound by September.  And we ask for continued prayers for the thriving of all our kids, who often seem to be stretched on the altar as vulnerable as Isaac, waiting for the ram in the thicket.