Red Rover, Red Rover....bye, bye...

The Landrover Defender 130 has been our constant companion for almost 10 years. Kenyan law prohibits import of vehicles over 8 years old . . so we are sadly leaving Clifford the Big Red Truck behind. Many family adventures and rescues have occurred in this truck, not to mention some births. Our mechanic in Kampala has always asked us to sell it to him, so a couple of months ago Scott checked if he was serious, and he was. He transferred the money, and today we transfer the car.

Ironically we just found out that the car we thought we were borrowing for 5 months in the State and all our travel . . is actually only available for the first three weeks, and not for any of our longer trips. So we're in a limbo of wheel-less-ness, researching missionary leasing options on line.

Kampala is emerging today, after Monday and Tuesday being eerily empty and quiet here at the ARA, families are trickling back out. The death toll climbed to 77 as three more people succumbed to their injuries. The Ugandans have responded with courage and grace, as one might expect. Archbishop Orombi pointed people to Jesus death on the cross, blood spilled for humanity's rescue, and asked Ugandans to forgo revenge. President Museveni toured the bomb sites and the hospitals. The senseless cruelty seems to have steeled resolve to bring peace in Somalia rather than triggered calls for Uganda to withdraw.

So today we move about town in our truck for the last time, another end of an era, and beginning of a new one.

Angels at War

As we flew out of Bundi, I saw the neat concentric circles of the UPDF barracks that guard Nyahuka, perched on the ridge between us and the border.  We don't think about them much.  A few soldiers are dispatched to the mission at night to guard us, coming and leaving in the darkness, silent unless one greets them.  But the vast majority are down a path that we rarely frequent, on the perimeter, holding it.  

After we left yesterday, our team had a red-letter day from, as Rick Gray used to put it, H-E-double hockey sticks.  Thieves smashed our house lock but did not get in, workers made off with sheets, children tried to steal school supplies from RMS, a friend's friend was assaulted, a vehicle wouldn't start, the attempt to move the internet dish led into technical insurmountable problems, the knowledge that bombs had been detonated in Kampala leant an air of insecurity and isolation, and on and on.  It was not a subtle attack, it was an hour by hour one-thing-after-another attack.

But the team persevered through the day, and ended together, in prayer.  And a bit of laughter.  A holy combination in the face of evil.  And as we pray for them too, now one step removed, still in Uganda but not in the community, I am comforted by the image of those barracks.  Because we are surrounded by the heavenly host of warring angels.  The fact that the thieves got so little, that the victim of the assault escaped, that the stubborn car finally started, that the bomb in the neighborhood where we are staying was defused, all point to a limit to the evil.  This far but no farther.  

The angels are pretty busy in Uganda this week.  Please keep the many devastated families who have been hit by the terrorism in prayer, as well as our team.  Thanks.

Out of Bundibugyo

Faithful to the end, our team in good African tradition "pushed" us to the airstrip. Along with many, many friends. And, according to Bamparana, ALL the boda drivers from Nyahuka, who swarmed there and stood by the plane to say goodbye. There were snaps and hugs, and big circle of prayer, then many tears. Again. For co-workers who are true friends. For kids whom we hate to leave behind. For brave team mates who will face the post-Myhre era, and make it the best yet. For a long era of life that has drawn to this point, a line drawn, sobbing as the little plane doors shut. For we will always be the Myhres from Bundibugyo, paradoxuganda, but the day-to-day existence in all its pain and glory is over. For now. Thanks for journeying with us.

D-Day, part 2 . . What God Showed Me

For weeks we've wondered what God wanted us to say as we left.  The Deuteronomy passage which we shared, Scott at CSB and I at NHC, really seemed to fit.  But we knew that on Sunday we'd be talking again. As it turned out our "speeches", which came at the end of the day, were probably not so important.  As I commented, it took all day to tell what God has done, because He's done so much!  But still, the opportunity to have parting words for a large audience, even a tired one, seemed opportune.  Pat spoke from 2 Corinthians 4 to encourage people to put faith, not in what is seen (us) but in what is not seen (Jesus).  Scott spoke from Revelations 21 to remind everyone that God is making all things new, and that all we had heard about that day was only a small glimpse of a big story.  

I woke up Sunday morning and the first thing that popped into my mind was the Great Commission, from Matthew 28.  I'd like to say that Bible verses always come to mind first thing in the morning but that's not true.  So I took that seriously.  I read the passage and made some notes on a card, and off and on all day I thought about it.  Our other talks had been Moses' last words, these were Jesus'.  He tells His followers that basically, there is still a lot of work to do to bring the Kingdom to the nations, that they must now go and carry on.  That fit with the day, remembering what God hath wrought . . but also exhorting the people of Bundibugyo to take up the joy of teaching, preaching, healing for the world's good and God's glory.  And the commission is framed by two truths:  Jesus is powerful, and Jesus is present (All power has been given . . I am with you always).  By passing through the cross, through death, Jesus was able to assure His listeners that the Victory is sure.  I think traditional African religion reflects much truth, but people need to know that no power of hell or scheme of man can come between them and God, and that God is not a distant or disinterested or neutral force.  Powerful and present.

And I wanted to end with the idea that the testimonies of the day were proof that GOD LOVES BUNDIBUGYO.  Some have written that the crisis of Africa is a crisis of confidence.  So perhaps the greatest gift to give our friends would be point them to God's love for them.  That all this testimony of schools started and students sponsored and diseases survived and churches planted and marriages saved, shows that they are not forgotten.

I did say all that, because it is true.  But as I sat through the day, my perspective changed.  From:  God sent us to Bundibugyo, because God loves Bundibugyo.  To:  God sent us to Bundibugyo, because God loves ME.

What a gift, to have lived a full life in this place of in-your-face reality, of life-and-death drama, of deeper-than-culture friendships.  I love these Rwenzori Mountains and our simple cement-floored home and our semi-farmish life.  I love being right in the medical trenches day by day, hands-on in the struggle.  I love these kids who call us "mom" and "dad" and whose lives have become intertwined with ours.  I love the pass-through-fire-and-water strength of our team community.  

So my last words to Bundibugyo came deeply and immediately from the heart.  Not to be encouraged by what they've seen God do through WHM for them, but to be encouraged by what God did through them for me.

D-Day, described

Though we've been counting down to DEPARTURE, a few hours before we left Bundibugyo there were three tragic bomb blasts in Kampala, killing (as of the count on Monday 4 pm locally) 74 people. So we left Bundibugyo only to land right in the middle of Kampala, a city sobered, with talk of who is responsible and why. One of the two sites was a restaurant frequented by our team, which we had to pass as we did some errands today. Riot police lined the road, but we could see little of any damage inside. But that's the nature of terrorism, killing only a few people terrorizes the rest because it is cowardly, unpredictable, random, final. Our hearts are saddened for Uganda, yet another strike against peace and normality. Our hearts are saddened for African World Cup fans, who were the victims, in a place where TV is not a private in-home affair, gathering to watch the finals and see Africa lifted up in front of the world as hosts. Our hearts are saddened for the family of a young American who was killed, and others injured, here on a short mission trip. Why? No easy answers to that, and none will be given this side of eternity.

In light of this, our Departure-day seems much less important. But it was important to us, and to hundreds of other people, and the reality of the beauty of it should not be overlooked because of nearby evil, which would give evil too much of a victory.

So, the party . . the whole day Sunday was amazing. Church attendance was somewhere between double and quadruple normal. Like Christmas, people decked out in their best, standing room only. I was so happy to see an entire row filled by my Nyahuka Health Center friends who do not normally worship there with us. And to see at least three men from other faiths who would not normally come inside a church. And a politician whose conversation with Pat gave us hope that he's Kingdom-aware. And a couple of people who have fallen away. And a woman who became a Christian early on with us but had not been there in a long time. Musunguzi gave a rousing Gospel plea. A delegation of faithful leaders from Fort Portal drove all the way to Bundi just for the day. We knelt in front of the congregation for prayer. So my first thanks is that the gates of the church were opened more widely, and many were welcomed, and the day was centered on worship.

After church we went down to the tents set up on the CSB pitch. Our committee and team did a wonderful organizing job. Pat could make this her next career. Imagine hundreds of people, sitting in shaded tents, flowers and music. Unlike any Ugandan function ever, we STARTED with food. So everyone lined up to wash hands from cups poured out of jerry cans and then fill plates with mounds of steaming hot food: beef pilau, rice, beans, matoke, cabbage, and beef stew. We sat eating lunch with our fingers, then walked around greeting our guests. Many smiling faces. I was overwhelmed by all three of our med students coming, at great personal effort and cost. And another nurse friend who had gone back to school but came home for the day. We felt very loved.

By 3 the program began. The day was divided into about 6 sections for testimonies of God's goodness and power in the way we've witnessed changes in education, health, Bible translation, church growth, marriage and family life, and individual hearts over the last two decades. And in between each set of testimonies, a choir. Three of our "boys" spoke, including an original goodbye poem.

The good: I think many of us were encouraged to recount, again as God tells HIs people to do, the things God has done. This is a faith-building and community-building exercise of celebration. Many past missionaries were remembered with gratefulness as stories were told of Alan Lee, Dan and Betty Herron, the Learys, the Barts, the Fillyaws, the Grays, the Tabbs, and on and on. The New Testament is 89% complete, and the idea of identity as a people coming from this written language was powerful. Young men who were students, and not always obedient, were called out now as teachers and leaders. The Bible teaching was seen to have spread revival in many denominations. One of the best speeches was given by a nurse whom we later told should run for office, she was so inspiring! Our Member of Parliament, the Hon. Jane, came and joined us. But there were also many widows and orphans, people who don't normally get served.

The great: Alpha Nursery and Primary came in force, and the sight of these 3 to 8 year olds dancing the most traditional of Babwisi dances, the muleddu, set the crowd wild. I loved it because this school is an example of a WHM-indirect effect. By sponsoring the founder (Melen) for a certificate in early childhood education and recruiting a small start-up investment, the school is off and running and self-sustaining in a way few projects are. Plus of course it is our dear friend's work. And many of the students are the children of our friends. Who will one day be our CSB entering class, and much better prepared than the kids we get now. The CSB choir also did an incredibly creative dance/drama, wordless, drums beating, two kids clearly playing Scott and I, with a public health message about clean water and disease. It was fascinating and so unlike the usual, something new.

The not-so-great: It was a LONG day. Though we asked for short testimonies, people came with prepared speeches. And there was too much praise-Scott-Jennifer-Pat, though Scott made clear statements at the beginning and end that it was about GOD not us. I know that the intent was good. Poor Travis did not need one more person to exhort him to take up the challenge of replacing us. Though I have to say that the one speech by Ndyezika showed that he "got" it on Friday . . that Travis and Amy CAN do all that was spoken about and more, because it is not them, but God who works through them. We allowed too many choirs. By the end darkness was creeping in, and more than half the crowd had drifted out the gate. From church at 10:30 a.m. to departure at almost 8 p.m. . . it was quite a marathon.

All in all, though, it was a once-in-a-decade kind of day, of huge effort and huger grace. Amy pointed out a muted rainbow on the mountains towards sunset. For us, maybe, but moreso for them. Hope after sorrow, beauty after loss. At the very end, in the dark, kids dancing on the field, and many, many hugs, and tears.

D-Day minus 1

Last early morning walks and bike rides: me with Heidi yesterday, Scott with Travis right now, drinking in the cool air, showered by damp grasses shedding dew on the sides of the paths, slipping in treacherous mud, climbing, the dawn loud with weaver birds and complaining roosters, the mountains emerging in outline as the day brightens, taking time to say a few of the things that should be said, but mostly just one last time out in this beauty. Please pray for today. Our official list of guests: 590. Food for: 700. Pray that God would be glorified by a small picture of the Kingdom as choirs from several denominations and schools participate, people from many tribes and religions, young and old, rich and poor, black and white, all come together to acknowledge what He has done. Pray for rain to hold off for one day (unless that would somehow bring God glory!). Pray for us to communicate our thankfulness, commitment, and love in a way that helps people grasp God's care for them. And pray for Pat, the committee, our family, our team to work together well for the next challenging 12 hours. Amen.

D-Day minus 2

Last NHC Staff meeting: We liked Deuteronomy 29-31 so much I did it again. It was very encouraging to me, and to all I think, to articulate what God has done at the hospital, which is why so much of the Bible keeps repeating those stories of God's victory: a pediatric and maternity ward, clinic buildings, operating theatre, lab, staff housing, protected piped water, electricity, cessation of cholera cases, staff growth from 3 to almost 40, one of the first PMTCT programs in the country, a national quality-assurance exercise in which this was rated as a top health center 4 in the country, innovation in nutrition programs, partnerships with UNICEF, NuLife, WFP, a mama-kit program that became a model for Uganda, escalating health-unit-based deliveries, innumerable life-saving blood transfusions, longitudinal preventive care for sickle cell disease, countless mosquito nets delivered, more than a decade in range of rebels but staying safe from attack, staff increasing their qualifications as many have been able to go back to school, and even answered prayers when people ran into walls of corruption. The list went on an on as long-term staff had their say. My favorite, though, was the sense that our staff Bible studies gave people staying power, that the encouragement of sitting together to be fed spiritually and heard communally had value. In the middle section on today's challenge: choose life, we went over the spiritual challenges they face with witchcraft, fear, greed, pressure to do evil, and looked at the way Moses tells the people that they are not powerless, that their choices have consequences, but that the road to life is always open through the return of repentance. And then again, chapter 31, looking ahead. I asked what people fear about the future: the demoralizing effect of trying to treat patients but not having the medicines and supplies that we've provided over the years to fill the gap; the loss of the referral service of connecting patients to help and programs elsewhere in the country, the ever-growing responsibilities with ever-smaller staff (due to study leaves, maternity leaves, no-shows to work, etc.), and lastly just missing each other's counsel, exhortation, CME, Bible study, friendship. Moses points to Joshua, and I did point to Heidi and Travis, to the hope of Jessica coming, to the stepping up that Assusi and Biguye and Costa and Olupah and Rose have done, to the young men in medical school. But the real answer is not to fix our fears by handing them on to the next leaders, but to say that GOD GOES BEFORE YOU. I mostly wanted to leave them with a vision for prayer, for their direct access to the power of God, so that they turn to Him to solve the sorrows and problems of life at a small rural underfunded health center. I think they got it, because as I said my goodbyes, they were encouraging ME that GOD GOES BEFORE ME too.

Last visits from hopeful people: everyone still has one or two problems they'd like Scott to solve. Hard. Keep praying, especially for him. Last yard sale: well, almost the first, though Debbie F did one once. Quite successful actually. Though it has been mentally exhausting to decide what is so worthless or potentially harmful it should be burned, what is nice enough to be presented as a gift to a specific person, what is potentially useful to our team to leave here, what we might want to use in Kenya, what we might save (yes, the doll-house made by Scott's dad and the rocking chair made by my great-uncle are in storage for my grandchildren now), what we need to travel with to America . . . and what we want to purge out but might be useful to someone else. Over the last few weeks we've filled a large side room of the community center with the latter. Team added and subtracted a bit. Then Friday morning we opened, and cleared within 30 minutes (!), ALL the junk. And raised just over 100K shillings ($50) for book shelves in a new library. Not a bad start.

Last day of RMS: Miss Anna put together a brief and sweet commencement, with certificates and a speech and funny awards in honor of Jack and Julia's nine (?!!) years at RMS. And more importantly, made chocolate cake! We are so grateful for, as I put it, the great cloud of witnesses, the many other RMS teachers represented by Anna. We could not have lived here without them. I am grateful.

Last dinner with Melen: darkness falling, then rain falling thunderously, drenching, lightening and thunder, as we dug into hot kahugna and matoke and chicken and sombe, sitting in the building she has constructed in Nyahuka. Melen presented us with a whole bag of gifts, outfits for all, and we hugged and cried and prayed. We will miss each other, greatly. It has been an honor to walk this hard road with her.

And last hairstying session: I am being plaited. That is the term used for hair-braiding. It is a celebratory way of entering this culture and showing I value their sense of beauty . . and also a great slow-down way to spend a day with friends. So for about six hours today I sat on a woven reed mat on the cool floor of Assusi's house while Olupah's house-helper patiently teased out tiny stands of my thick long hair to tame by braiding it into long neat strands. Olupah sat with me with her kids, and we prayed for staff and patients. Assusi joined in the braiding, and we talked and reminisced. At other times I was alone with the hairdresser, and read my Bible and thought. A patient and his grandmother visited, and a young woman whom I paid one years' school fees for many years ago who is now a primary school teacher, just coming to sit with me. Three of the staff little-girls whom I enjoy sat close, watching, for long periods. Except for my scalp being tugged and the floor getting a little hard it was a lovely, African-women-way to spend one of my last days. Only problem is, at 5 pm, Olupah checked in and shook her head, and said "oh, doctor, I don't want to discourage you, but . . " and then I knew that there was no miracle coming, that the six hours invested had brought me 2/3 or 3/4 of the way, but not quite far enough. So tomorrow they're all coming up to my house to finish.

Three roosters, six outfits of clothes, and a pineapple. . . Packing gets trickier by the hour.

D-Day minus 3

The nice thing about a blog: no one HAS to read this. So we can mourn and treasure and examine every moment of our departure, and you can choose to listen to it, or not, and we don't need to know. . . and some of you can wake up in the night moved to prayer, and rescue us (thanks Mrs. D!). Helpful all around.

Julia has been communing with her cows, a way of saying goodbye, as she strokes their noses and they nuzzle up against her.

Jack has been reading Redwall and hanging out with his dog.

Yesterday CSB let out for midterm. Some of Julia's friends from the football team came to visit, play a game, take a snap, give a hug and a homemade friendship bracelet. Sweet.

Our boys sat on the porch and we reminisced. These are the people it is hardest to leave. Their presence is a beauty and a wound. Gracious letters to every member of our family which we will keep and treasure.

Last day of rounds felt very normal. Keep praying for Assusi whom God seems to be giving vision and strength for the tasks ahead, and Biguye who had taken on the task of fixing the broken ward door hinges himself . . . a symbol that we won't be solving those kind of problems anymore. Hauled a sack of years of stuffed animals into the Pediatric ward store, but could not bear to be the one to hand them out to the kids on the ward, they are like familiar little family members being sent into foster care. Will have to be done when I'm gone.

Heavy-hearted through team meeting, pizza, and a dance party. Tried to make my feet move with some joy, but gave up when Aidan welcomed my lap. Letting go.

Moment of panic when we checked on our Monday departure flight time, and in spite of an email a month ago telling us we were confirmed the flight had not made it into their scheduling books. Frantic phone calls and gracious MAF pilots and we're set again.

Torn hearts too, as Caleb tries to take exams from the infirmary where he's having the same high-fever flu Luke just survived, and Luke is getting information about his residential college placement at Yale, simultaneous worlds which we need to inhabit emotionally while we say goodbyes here.

To end the day, the bike Julia's been riding (an old one of the boys') was stolen last night during team meeting/pizza time. Harsh reality, that for many we are merely an opportunity for enrichment.

Woke this morning remembering what I'm preaching to others: God goes with us.

D-Day minus 4, messages from Moses

Last chapel at CSB: Scott asked to preach, and went through Moses' goodbye speech in Deuteronomy 29-31. LOOK BACK (see what God has done, amazing wonders, taking our school safely into displacement when rebels attacked, providing a hundred thousand dollars at a time of desperation, the best scores in the district, the first teams to compete nationally, students graduating from University and coming back to teach, students becoming pastors of churches locally). LOOK TO THE PRESENT and CHOOSE LIFE (there are two paths before you now, life and death, and your choices have consequences . . and the path of repentance and forgiveness is always open when you choose wrongly). LOOK TO THE FUTURE with courage (we won't be with you as you move into new territory, but GOD WILL, and he's sent new leaders). Scott pulled Travis and Deus up as the two Joshuas, the Chairman Board of Governors and the Head Teacher who will now lead the school. We have been part of CSB from the days of dreaming, through the first classes and buildings, first graduates, all the way up to today. All of our children have attended. When we feel discouraged about Bundibugyo, CSB is the place we see hope, the next generation, the seismic shift in soul that will change this place. When we came home from chapel one of my former cell group members, a m'lm girl who became a Christian in our group, was waiting to say goodbye. Much of our souls have poured into this place, along with the Learys and the Barts and the Pierces. We are grateful that Travis and Amy have the vision and love for the school that will take them over the Jordan and on to victory.

Last day of class for Jack and Julia at CSB: and their classmates presented them with a letter of goodbye, complete with Bible verses, a few drawings, and pithy saying. Surprised and thankful that they thought of that. As a pair J and J have added quite a bit of spunk to that class, challenging questions and writing up problems on the board in down time to explain things. They will leave a big hole.

Last ultrasound clinic: Scott decided at the last minute to fill in because Travis had to go to the bank . . and had a blast scanning 40 pregnant women with Antonina, a neighbor, faithful church member, and friend from the very beginning of our time here.

Last dinner with Pat: which was actually our FIRST dinner on the lovely patio that Elwoods helped construct behind the Duplex last year. Pat presented us with a hand-made table cloth that will be a treasure. The life connection forged over 17 years will never be replaced, so we can only reminisce and be grateful and sad.

Last World Cup night: our satellite TV subscription runs out before the final, so we have to watch that elsewhere, but what a fun way to end a month of great games, watching Spain beat Germany, Jack was so pumped he could hardly settle down at midnight.

And on the menu for today: Last Pediatric Ward rounds, last team meeting, and who knows what else.

Read Isaiah 53 this morning. Jesus leads the way in soul-pouring, in bruising, and yet encourages us that he saw the labor of his soul and was satisfied. In the evening Ndyezika dropped by with his little son Arthur, just to visit. A good father and husband, caring for his son. I enjoyed showing him the cows being milked by Scott and Julia, and then Ndyezika's phone rang: he was being called from the hospital because a child needed a blood transfusion, and he asked very professionally "is the cannuala in and read to go . . " and then hailed a boda to take Arthur home and go down to the lab. A glimpse of satisfaction for me, this young man in the position of responsibility, a child's life preserved by his care, no longer needing to have us in the loop. A little glimpse from God that all shall be well.

D-day minus 5: Naming the Losses

The TCK book, which I am speed-re-reading as if I can minimize the damage to my kids in this last week, says that Third Culture Kids' (those that grow up in a culture different than their parents', and yet are not fully part of it, so they create their own "third" culture from their origins and their hosts) losses are so often hidden, which makes them hard to mourn.  No one dies, there is no funeral, and for Jack and Julia no graduation ceremony.  Yet they are getting on an airplane with one suitcase and leaving behind their entire life, in a place that is rather inaccessible and completely removed from day to day reality in America.  They won't run into their old friends, or sit on their old furniture, or speak their old language, in their new environment.  Ironically, there was an actual example in the book about a "rock collection", and within a few hours of reading it we came across Jack's bag of rocks.  Which we then packed.

So last night we talked a little about the losses.  For them:  their best friends at school, Charity for Julia and Ivan for Jack.  Star, our dog.  The cows, DMC, Truffle, and Oreo.  Their teachers, especially Miss Anna and Master Desmond right now (found out they made him a card on their own, and presented it to him today).  This house.  Their bikes (though they won't miss being abused on the road as they zip by).  Their school.  Playing football.  That's about where their attention span ended, but we pray that we remember to take time to keep naming.  (They didn't mention their books, but their primary coping strategy seems to be reading, hours a day, all their old favorites, like visits with friends they will soon leave behind.)

As we name the losses, we also look forward, and hold on to the paradox that longing to see grandparents does not negate their love for Bundibugyo; that missing their home here does not minimize the value of their relationships with their cousins.  That being hopeful about a house with fewer roaches and bad smells does not mean we are not content with this one.

And I'm listing as well.  The data-base I keep of HIV-affected children.  413 names, from a few weeks to 16 years old.  Many who represent a big investment of my heart, many whom I barely know, all in need of an advocate.  As I updated and printed today to turn it over, I felt like crying.  Then Assusi told me that she had just come from a workshop on early infant diagnosis, and planned as of next week to start setting up a screening point in the Wednesday clinic to track these kids!  That would be wonderful.  Pray for her!  And Costa, who labors on in spite of this marginal system.  Our team can not just swallow up all our burdens, they have to be carried by Jesus and shared with others, like Assusi and Costa and Olupah.

And so another departure paradox.  Acknowledging that only God can care for Bundibugyo, whether we are here or not.  But also looking back to say that those hours and days and years did mean something, that choices had consequences, often for good.  That our team's actions here DO indeed bring the Kingdom, and that the inevitable cutting back on some of that effort is real, and sad.  Change for good, but not all of the change is good.  A loss that needs to be named.