Paradox Parenting

"Exclusion and Embrace" is the title of an excellent book and a description of the paradox of parenting at this stage of life.  This week we celebrated Julia, and her graduation from high school.  A lot of embrace.  Photos, parties, last events.  Special food, dressing up, hugs.  And the beginnings of separation, the inevitable sending out.  Throwing out old clothes, papers, mementos.  Plane tickets and health insurance and bank accounts without us.  One thing we have learned about paradox in the last few years is that both polar ends are true and to be fully lived.  Seeking a middle, a compromise, is not the way. One might image that being less attached would make the goodbye easier.  Or that holding the child closer to home might blunt the parting.  Not so.

Instead we have to jump in, both feet, full immersion, in the love and the leaving.


Wednesday night Karen hosted a birthday party for Liana (15!!) which started with a short recognition of Luke and Jhamat's graduation.  She baked a Davenport (their Yale residential college) cake and we sang "How Firm a Foundation", a hymn that has bookmarked my experience of Luke's life from a troubled pregnancy I trembled to believe could result in a hold-able baby, to the day we dropped him off at Yale and heard the organist practicing in the chapel.  Karen knows me so well.  Her parties and Bethany's slide show (see here and have your tissues handy) have been beautiful, meaningful ways to soak ourselves in the poignancy of graduations.  I am so thankful to have friends here as we walk through these milestones.


That evening, the entire school and parents gather in the auditorium of Downing Hall for "Senior Night".  The seniors themselves had prepared a program with four sections:  elementary, junior high, 9th/10th grade, and 11th/12th grade.  Each section had funny skits, musical numbers, reminiscences, letters from old teachers read aloud, and a slide show.  It was beautifully done.  We did not enter this picture until mid-9th grade for Jules, but it was sweet to see the kids who went all the way back to Kindergarten together (and Julia had known them when we were evacuated here and she was a baby, though she doesn't really remember that).  At the end of the evening, everyone but the seniors and class sponsors left.  We stood in a slowly growing circle whereby each person greeted/ hugged/ farewelled every other person, ending in a dark room with candles being lit around the circle, then a symbolic turning outward to cary the light into the world.

I think that night helped me see that depth of embrace, how this community is a bit unusual.  We have deep ties, whether they are 2 years or 12, because of shared vision, isolation from other supports, shared faith in most cases, similar life experience.  And we have a perhaps a depth of loss that is more ripping, because these kids come from disparate countries and continents.  They won't be "home" for Thanksgiving and happen to run into each other.  This goodbye is one that may be forever.  It hurts.

Thursday was graduation day.  Sunshine, laughter, greetings.  As we arrived early for great seats, we listened to multiple senior musical ensembles.  What talented kids.  Julia sang with Small Group.  Then pomp and circumstance, the seniors marching in in pairs and sitting up front.  Mugisha, whom we visited in Rwanda, gave the senior address with a great story about fear from his childhood, and being carried home by a stranger, with the message that God is always present in the moment of greatest need.  There were a few awards, hymns, choir numbers, and then the presentation of diplomas.  Our whole row stood on our chairs and yelled "We LOVE YOU JULIA" which was the most dramatic of the claps.  As the kids march out, paired according to the alphabet, they jump to slap a sign board over the back door.  It is a tradition.  Some get a running start and really smack it loudly, some barely get their fingertips that high.  This year I watched to see what would happen with the one girl in the class who is paralyzed in her legs.  She walks with crutches from a childhood spinal tumor.  She was paired with a star basketball player and all-around great guy.  Sure enough, as they went out, he and another boy lifted this girl up to slap the sign.  It was a beautiful moment that typifies this class.  Thoughtful, solid, caring for each other, lifting each other up.

The graduation was followed by milling about, congratulations, and photographs too numerous to count.  The kids gathered to throw their hats in the air, then all went for lunch in the cafeteria.  Soon the buses were loading and leaving.  We hosted a pizza night for a few families of kids we were guardians for, or who weren't leaving yet.  It grew into quite a large party.

The next day we took Luke and Jhamat to the airport, leaving here at 4:30 am.  Then Karen and Bethany had organized a group hike up and around Longonot which took most of the day.  Strenuous, dusty, full sunshine, spectacular views, gasping breaths, fellowship, and a good way to say goodbye to a landmark spot.  The weekend has involved work and packing, packing and work.  Going through every closet, sorting shoes, throwing things away.  Gathering gifts, making piles for packing.  Washing sheets to catch up from 5 guests.  Hugs, goodbyes, last brunch, last AIC church service.

So that's where we are.  Saturated with the beauty and love and celebration of a remarkable 17-year-old girl whose academic and athletic and service and leadership records are nearly perfect.  And drenched with the sorrow of letting go, of sending out, of walking by faith.  The first separation was birth, and since then we keep pursuing that bonding love and that freeing independence, both extremes, not letting one blunt the other.

An emotional week, already, and it's only Tuesday night

The emotions of this week have barely begun.  Gaby Masso's 6th grade "celebration" (which was really a graduation complete with band, choir, speech, certificates, and handshaking) had me fighting tears this afternoon.  I was there with his mom in labor, after driving all the kids across Uganda when her water broke early and she, Michael, and Scott flew ahead on a MAF plane.  I was the person who received and held him as Scott managed the delivery, and Karen did all the work.  Now here he is in his bow tie, playing the bass drum, and getting ready for middle school.  Then the news came that Liana made the wind ensemble for next year, and I made such a noise reading the text that I had to explain the whole thing to my hospital team.

The weekend was jam packed with sick babies on call, distraught parents, puzzling labs.  And Alumnae games, cheering, food, guests.  Dressing up for the Alumnae banquet, running in for emergencies.

Greeting former students, celebrating lasts.

And as if we weren't already emotional enough, Senior Sunday, with Small Group singing, four excellent and thoughtful talks, and a beautiful closing benediction.

In the midst of all this, the victorious "honey-smugglers" returned, 94 driving hours, 5200 km, Kenya through Tanzania to the Zambia border, then west and north through Burundi, Rwanda, to Uganda, then home, then east through Kampala, Sonrise acres for old times' sake, and back to Kijabe.  Oh, and right in the middle, the huge crisis in Bundibugyo with the team evacuating.  But we let Luke go see friends are are glad we did.  The matter of 85 people dying is still stressful and important and impacting the future . . . but it didn't stop the reunions.  Here he is with boys he grew up with, and our friend and former neighbor who cooked for all of them:

What a relief to have them home, safely, with not even so much as a flat tire.  THANKFUL for prayers.  And Caleb has better communication at his undisclosed location in SW Asia than he does in America, so we can talk and hear about his flights, the humvee driving, the Arabic practice, the heat.

And while all that's going on, Scott's had five call nights and I've had four in the last week.  Yes, we're working as hard as we've ever worked.  It is nearly 3 am and I just got home from a total foray of intensive care to try and save the life of a baby after Scott performed an emergency C Section:  intubation, fluids, a ventilator, pressors, steroids, surfactant, sedation, tweaking this and that, trying everything in the book, stressful.   Which is why I'm taking fifteen minutes to write and wind down.  Baby of Maureen is still alive, and looked the best she had in her four hours of life as I left.  When your baby doesn't move much for three days, you should come QUICKLY for help and then not refuse it when it's offered.  It's been days of juggling scarce beds, evaluating super-complex patients, applying detective-work to the spate of infections we're seeing, tying up loose ends, planning ahead. 

And today I put together my first scientific poster presentation.  Because all four abstracts I submitted, research we've worked on here at Kijabe, were accepted for the International Congress of Tropical Paediatrics in August.  Which I am sadly missing, but helping my team to present our data.

So the emotions of hard work, victories and losses, closures and lasts, goodbyes and hellos, distance and proximity, worship and games, massacre and evacuation . . . all of that in the context of sleepless nights and sheer exhaustion, made it pretty hard to get the email we've only had one other time in our 20, nearly 21 years of missionary service:  our fund is in deficit.  We know we need to get the word out, cultivate prayer, ask for help.  And we will, soon.  But it was discouraging and ironic to hear that our salaries will be cut, even as we're working harder than ever.

So, give us some grace if you bump up against our weepiness and weariness.  Pray for Baby of Maureen tonight, a precious girl struggling to live.  Think of Julia, one day from graduation.  Rejoice with us that the wanderers have returned.  And ask God to care for us and give us stamina to make it through this last week until we travel USA-ward for a month of college-settling and family-connecting.  

High's and Low's

On Thursdays, our kids come home for lunch (the only day they do that) and bring an assortment of others.  Generally we started this to touch base weekly with the kids for whom we serve as guardians, back-up parent-help.  Sometimes we have a half dozen, and sometimes we have 15 or more. One of our traditions is to go around the table (and since we usually don't fit, around the room) and listen to each person share a High and a Low from the week.  It's a way to celebrate the victories and commiserate the losses, to build a little community as we talk about what strikes us from the last few days.  I am finding it harder and harder to get a lunch break and am often late.  Today I had Abigail prepare double, thinking that since it is an exam schedule with longer breaks, attendance might be extra high.  Wrong.  But still nice to see these kids one last Thursday, and share our week together.

So in the same vein, a few highs and lows of the week.

HIGH:  'Tis alumnae season.  A quiet knock on the door as we lingered around the dinner table last night at nearly 9 pm, and then big hugs.  LOW:  Caleb can't come back for alumnae weekend (the two-year-post-grad is the main event).  HIGH:  His friends are here, which makes me feel closer to him in some way.   Titus and Aneurin had just come off a bus from Uganda, hungry.  It was like old times.  Can't wait to see more of them.  Hoping to host as many as possible.

HIGH:  Meaningful goodbye parties for the Gessners yesterday.  LOW:  You have goodbye parties because people are leaving.  HIGH:  Many got a chance to verbally express appreciation.  We had a lunch for consultants, nurses, and permanent CO staff.  Then we had a cake for the interns at our weekly teaching conference.



They will leave a huge hole in our department.
HIGH: As they leave, we welcomed Dr. Carola for five to six months, a German paediatrician who wants experience.  And for a month we have Dr. Donna and family from Georgia.  New Serge missionaries Dr. Roger and Ginny Barnette (he's an anesthesiologist) arrived for a short term stay in advance of their long-term commitment starting next year.  We've had each of these newcomers for meals this past week-plus.  Tonight we also welcomed former team mate Pamela and Serge colleague Joel here on a mission-planning trip.  'Tis the season of visitors.  It rained as we made pizza, which in Africa is a sure sign that visitors = blessing.  So I won't count the rain as a LOW.

HIGH:  Because our department is working hard on excellent and compassionate care, we are busy.  Every day more patients come.  Often the sickest, the end-of the road, the desperate.  Some of them get much much better.  We've had some fascinating diagnostic dilemmas this week.  Rare syndromes.  Hypertension that turned out to be a blood clot extending from the aorta into the kidney's blood supply.  Severe malnutrition that turned out to be TB. A massive bone infection; an infected knee.  Seizures of all sorts.  A baby referred because poor growth pointed to a congenital heart defect, but who was actually infected with HIV.  A preemie discharged who returned with pallor and shock, resuscitated and OK now (this is her great-aunt praying as I bagged her little lungs full of oxygen . . she made it).

LOW:  Not enough resources of any sort.  Not enough beds.  Not enough energy or wisdom.  Not enough money.  Every day is a marathon of juggling and survival.  Who can I move from a critical-care area to a less intense one?  Who can I send home?  How can I manage this baby without admission?  Is this one getting treatment in the hours and hours of waiting for a bed to open up?  How can I respond to calls from various areas while still seeing patients on rounds?  What can I teach our trainees as we go through the day?  One day this week this came to a head when I'd been on call, was very tired, and very frustrated.  I talked to a half-dozen people to address some issues that endangered a patients' life, and I ended up hurting some feelings.  I got reprimanded.  It was a low day.  Praying for grace to infinitely extend my patience, my diplomacy, my wisdom, and even by some miracle my joy.

HIGH:  Money raised by Mardi for a patient with spina bifida, a sweet little boy PN.  He survived pneumonia, the ICU, and now he's going home.  In fact we've been spending money on lots of kids lately.  So, LOW, our Needy Children Fund account is in deficit.  But our chaplain tells us, the more we spend the more God will send.  Testing that these days.

HIGH:  Celebrating the year.  Football and Basketball League champions for Jack, plus Rugby Blackrock winners.  Football League champions for Julia, three out of three varsity years.  She also won awards for "heart and soul" in football and most improved in tennis.  LOW:  the seasons are over. HIGH:  I got a new t-shirt.

 Literal HIGH:  the pottery class does a contest to see who can make the tallest thin vase "tower".  Jack did 12.75 inches, which evidently topped the instructor, and won him two mugs.  He has brought home lovely pieces from the pottery class.  It is the right combination of his manual dexterity and artistic bent.

LOW:  If you read the post below, it is clear that a huge portion of our week was spent in sympathy with our friends and team from Bundibugyo.  The story is on CNN and the Wall Street Journal, so anyone who wants can find out the details.  Here is President Museveni's explanation which is worth reading, and boils down to tribalism.  The four traditional Kingdoms that preceded British colonization were long suppressed, but after decades of peace allowed some ceremonial roles.  However, now many smaller groups that never had monarchies have seen the financial and political bonus of a "kingdom" and demanded that their leaders be recognized as kings. After the government allowed a Bakonjo kingdom (a fairly large language group in Western Uganda and Eastern Congo, but the minority in Bundibugyo) the Babwisi/Baamba also agitated for a king.  The groups have long had a simmering conflict (does anyone remember our baptism party fiasco?) but the establishment of the recognized kingdoms has escalated divisions.  Money, power, jealousy, fear all play a role.  Maybe even the oil discovered in the Albertine basin.  Maybe mistrust, lies, the sense that it is us or them, the drive to survive.  So one group theoretically riles up its youth and sends them on 13 coordinated attacks over three districts, armed with only pangas and spears, to steal guns from police barracks and army posts.  The army fights back with actual automatic weapons and slaughters these youth.  The newspaper reads, "In summary:  Mayhem."  Here is an alternative minority view, focusing more on the possibility of cross-border anti-government rebellion. It asks some good questions about who did that impressive coordination, and what the purpose of the whole event was.  

HIGH:  It was quickly suppressed, and the army and police are patrolling in full force.  LOW:  It is another round of uncertainty and loss in a place that has known too much.  DOUBLE LOW:  Our whole team evacuated.  TRIPLE LOW: This happened at a time when a former team mate and son were trying to visit CSB, which had to close for safety concerns.  And when other visitors were there.  HIGH:  By Tuesday we were talking to friends in the district who felt much relief.  Schools had been told to open, buses and taxis were moving, shops were reopening.  HIGH AND LOW:  So we decided to allow Luke and his room mate to drive in on Weds/Thurs.  This was a big part of his epic trek, to visit his home, and greet his old friends.  It is not something one imagines saying as a parent, yes, you can go to a place where 90 people were killed three days ago.  But we are glad we listened to the people on the ground, and let him go.  He had such a wonderful time connecting with so many people and places.  The rest of the team is going to make decisions about returning next week.  Luke is now back in Fort and on the way east to Kampala and then Kenya.  LOW:  We grieve for the deaths, the divisions, the hard task of discerning what is best, the healing of tensions and fear.  And for the same in Kenya and South Sudan.

HIGH:  Scott got interviewed this morning, live, on BBC radio. LOW: He was asked about Ebola, because we once lived through an ebola epidemic.  Still it was sort of cool, and immediately followed by an email from a German TV station requesting an interview tomorrow.  My only fame moment today was as I was walking out of the hospital at 6 pm, a random dad asked me to pose for a photo with his very cute daughter dressed in pink.  I'm pretty sure she wasn't one of my patients, but I complied.  Maybe she'll be a doctor one day and look back on that photo  . . . We have some odd life moments.

HIGH:  Caleb got to fly on a C130 to a neighboring country, and is learning and observing a lot about life on an air force base in a foreign country and in a time of war.  Another HIGH, he's been able to practice some of his Arabic.  SUPER LOW:  lots of running is making his knee hurt, so he's not really healed, and we still long for that.  He's less mobile again now.  Sigh.  HIGH:  we have been able to talk over internet a couple times.  LOW: That's two kids adjacent to war zones.  Stressful.

HIGH:  Julia signed up for classes at Duke.  LOW: that means she's really going to leave and go to Duke.  One week 'til graduation.  

Statement from the Bundibugyo Team

Dear Supporters/Family/Friends,

Over the past few days there have been many reports in the news of

conflict within western Uganda.  We would like to clarify a few things

as well as ask for prayer for the people of Uganda and our team.

We believe the series of events that began on Saturday, July 5, in the

western region was caused by tribally rooted tensions.  Even though we

never felt as though our mission (team) was a target, we made the

decision to remove ourselves from the area as the atmosphere in our

immediate area intensified.  We are thankful that God granted us the

grace to be evacuated to Fort Portal and remain safe, and we are

closely monitoring the situation in Bundibugyo.

Please pray for the local families in this western region who have

lost loved ones as a result of the fighting that has been taking

place.  Please pray against any fear in our hearts that has arisen due

to the intensity of what we have recently experienced.  Pray that we

would believe Proverbs 29:25 and put our trust in Him.  Lastly, please

pray for peace in Uganda and for wisdom for our team and organization

as we continue to assess the conditions in western Uganda at this

time.

Blessings,

Serge Bundibugyo

PROJECTS COMPLETED

'Tis the season of projects, which today transitions into the season of exams.  The last week I have listened to power-point practices of presentations on the life of Orson Scott Card, the physics of forces on the Brazuka soccer ball, the calculus behind bridge designs, and the way effective nuclear charge correlates to the wavelength of light emitted by burning compounds.  Julia has been gluing popsicle sticks and Jack has been making posters.  Today the Seniors present their "End of Times" journal which is a series of essays and photos in a scrap book that tells their life stories.  I have not yet seen the 45-minute soap opera drama in Swahili that was a final project for that class, or the robot Julia and her friends made for computer science, or the lawnmower engine she rebuilt in advanced auto mechanics.  There's probably a French project of Jack's in there somewhere too.  We have a long school year.  So it seems after 200 years of habit that June means summer, and because all the AP classes have to finish their content in time for May exams, the last month of school consists of a major research/paper/art/media project in every class.

Which is a great way to learn, but also a bit stressful.  A certain child that got superb AP exam scores and nearly perfect grades begged to just quit school and drop classes as senioritis hit hard and one of these projects in particular just sapped her spirits.  But she pushed through, and as of today I think they are all done.  It is particularly hard when college things (register for classes, turn in forms) are due while high school things are still in full swing, another slight downside of our year-round schedule.

3 days of exams and then it's all parties and clean-up and alumnae games and graduation.  We're almost there.  Which gives me relief and joy for Jack, and a pit in my stomach for Julia.  She is going to be fine, but not sure we are.