Comments on Comment

You know, I don't get exciting mail very much anymore.  Well, minus the occasional surprises from a friend (which I always cherish) or a postcard from Starbucks that entitles me to a free drink on my birthday.  That rolls around only once-a-year, so you can see that my mail doesn't give me a whole lot to look forward to.  And I no longer have a subscription to Sports Illustrated, so double bummer. 

But then comes that one piece of mail every three months that I practically salivate over, waiting for it to arrive in my mailbox.  And then when I get it, it's like I can't read it fast enough.  My brain jumps into overdrive trying to comprehend what I'm reading, to take into my heart and my mind and allow it to be a catalyst for change.

I take notes and underline things and then spend the next week contemplating the articles, hashing them out with friends, writing my own thoughts in response to the concepts and principles shared. 

Comment, you are my very favorite piece of consistent mail. I love your layout.  I love the way the pages feel in my hands. I love that your photos are in black and white.  I love your simplicity.  I love your robust look at faith, and art, and music, and literature, and politics, and why it's good to make a better burger.  I love that you foster this idea of embracing all of life as a Christian, not just parts of life.  I love that you compel me to think differently about the city in which I live.  I love that you challenge me to ask the big questions, the hard questions, the ones I'm sometimes afraid to ask for fear no one else is asking the same thing or has an answer.

 And this latest issue seemed to speak to so many of the thoughts I have bouncing around in my head.  I think I said "yes!" to myself after every article, my mind in agreement with concepts and ideas, even if some of those things are what I merely long to put into practice rather than presently doing.  

"Christians should be doing things that are healing and redemptive rather than saying Jesus will take care of it.  That doesn't let us off the hook."  Yes! 

"Loving your neighbor requires attention to the nature of your activity in a particular place, year after year.  If young people use neighborhoods only as sleeping quarters and playgrounds, they will do harm to the neighborhood."   Yes! (And as I consider the idea of finding a new place to live, this particuarly speaks to me now.) 

"It can be difficult to remember that we are creative people called to faithfully live out unique callings - which may or may not conform to the local flavor."  Yes!

"Creating good food and welcoming tables speaks to the deepest parts of our being.  We are created to live artfully in daily life, to need real food to nourish our bodies, to have tables at which to belong, and to have stopping places where we can know and be known.  Cooking matters because people matter.  Feeding the hungry and welcoming the stranger are signposts of the Christian life."  I don't cook a whole lot, but yes!

"I return to Frederick Buechner's quote, 'The place where God calls you to is the place where your deep gladness and the world's deep hunger meet.' Since the world's deep hunger is present everywhere, why not focus on finding your great gladness?  By this I don't mean, 'why not just live for pleasure,' but what do you already know about what you love?  Can you make beauty?  Then be an artist.  Do you love to read?  Then study literature."  Double yes!

So, thank you, Comment, for entering my little corner of the world (and to Travis for introducing me to it).  

I can't wait for your next issue.   

When You're the Best of Friends...

"When you're the best of friends,
Having so much fun together,
You're not even aware, you're such a funny pair.
You're the best of friends."

My nephew just turned three in October.  He might as well speak Dutch because I can't understand him half the time.  Sounds and syllables never quite come out like they should and most of the time you have to ask him to repeat himself at least three times before it dawns on you what he's saying.  Or you just smile and nod and he goes on his merry way. 
 
If there was ever a little boy, it's Rocco, for he is surely all boy.  I don't think I've ever met a kid who likes to wrestle as much as he does.  And it doesn't matter who.  He's convinced, I think, that he can knock my dad over and take him out with one punch to the belly.  The other day we were playing around and he asked me if I wanted to wrestle.  My mom overheard him and she half-jokingly said, "Now, Rocco - there's no wrestling in this house."  He then proceeds to get the saddest face you have ever seen, sticks his lip out, looks like he's about to cry, walks over to the couch and says, "Ohhhhh, man!" He then flings himself down on the couch, with his nose stuck in the cushions, acting like it's the end of the world.  I had to work so hard at stifling my laughter. 
 
But the other day was probably the most precious moment I've ever had with him.  We were waiting on the extended family to arrive to celebrate Christmas (we do it a week early so that we have half-a-chance of actually getting everybody in one location on the same day).  So, to kill time we decide to build a tent, using the back of the couch and the living room railing as our means of support.  I fling a blanket over top of everything, hang another small blanket on the side so we could have a door, and voila! a tent.  We crawl underneath and stuff some pillows in so we can lay down.  Rocco's laying (lying? Sorry, Mrs. Faulk, I can still never remember the difference despite your best efforts in 7th and 8th grade English) next to me and we're just real quiet for a moment.  And then he rolls over to look at me and touches me on the arm, saying so sincerely, with his big brown eyes fixed on mine:
 
"Tortney, you're my vwery best fwend."
 
Nearly made me cry my eyes out right there.  The most precious thing I've encountered in awhile.  
 
But the moment was quickly forgotten in his mind as people began streaming in the door.  
 
But not for me.  It's one I'll cherish for a long time to come.

Dear Blank Please Blank

I am slightly obsessed with a new-to-me website that my cousin told me about.  It's a general time-waster, but man, it's funny.  It's called "Dear Blank Please Blank" and people can submit little one-liners that are written to whomever, followed by "please _________," followed by a closing of some kind.  I think the site is hysterical and I check it frequently, especially when I need a laugh.  I present to you some of my favorites:

Dear Scholarship Application Requirements,

So, in the off-chance that I'm not a blind, left-handed, Lebanese-Inuit majoring in Sustainable Pear Farming, how should I pay for college?

Sincerely, 99.9% of the Population.

Dear Prince Charming,

Who wants a castle when you could have a whole new world?

Sincerely, Aladdin.

Dear Little Miss Muffet,

What the heck is a 'tuffet?'

Sincerely, Little Children around the World.

Dear school spirit week,

I swear I'm not the only decade.

Sincerely, the 80's.

Dear Google,

Please 'auto-complete' my thesis.

Sincerely, Grad Student.

Dear Graffiti Artist,

How in the world did you get up there?

Sincerely, Confused.

Dear Noah,

We could have sworn you said the ark wasn't leaving till 5.

Sincerely, Unicorns.

Enjoy.  And make up a few of your own along the way.  :)

Scraps of Moments

Sometimes you need some reminders that life is funny.  And sometimes you need to be inspired.  And sometimes you just need to remember.

I keep a notebook for that.  

I started it several years ago and it is now one of my favorite things I own.  It started out as a means to consolidate all of these scraps of magazines and newspapers I had lying (laying?  I still never remember which to use) around my dorm room and eventual apartment.  It's this hodge-podge of things that have captured my imagination or attention over the years.   Some of the clippings make me laugh - I pull those out when I need to do just that.  Some of the clippings remind me of significant historical moments, ones I don't want to forget.  Some clippings are just creative and clever ideas I have saved for my some-day house, things to lock away for future use.  Most items are just headlines cut out of magazines, or photographs I find compelling.  On the front cover I put a quote that I snagged from a magazine, which said, "I surround myself with things I love, anything that inspires me."  It's my collection of things I love and things that inspire me.   

  

There's the one that makes me laugh every time without fail, the one on the left here.  It's a picture of a little black pug and the caption reads, "I enjoy licking faces.  And toilets."  Another page has a clipping from Sports Illustrated, when they interviewed Olympic hurdler, Jana Rawlinson, on why she she had her breast implants removed.  She said, "I absolutely loved having bigger boobs, but I don't want to shortchange Australia either."  I mean, come on.  That's funny. 

Then I've got newspaper clippings, ones about the 2008 election and how Sarah Palin obliterated the "feminist template," how the "Buckeyes unite their faithful like no other team,"  and 'Do ladies love country boys? Not if they're undereducated."  Those things that inspire, make me ask questions.   

Then there's the "stay baseball" ad.  I don't even like baseball, but I like this ad.  It says, "Stay baseball.  Stay our favorite pastime.  Stay the best part of a lazy summer day, or a tense October night.  Stay the bonding experience of choice for dads and kids across the country.  Stay obsessively statistical.  And incredibly poetic.  Stay baseball."  I can appreciate it for what it's ultimately saying even if I can't say much for the game itself.  I also sometimes pull out entire spreads of magazines, the photographs that capture a brief moment in time.  The one on the right is when Zenyatta won the Breeders' Cup Classic in 2009.  I felt like it was such a quinessential moment, with Mike Smith opening his arms up to the heavens, photographers waiting to capture the emotion.   

I like pulling out my notebook when I need a good laugh, when I'm feeling nostalgic and need to remember.  Tonight was one of those nights, no particular reason - and it just felt good to laugh.    And then I'm left to wonder why I'm silly enough to save clippings that say things like "I just want to be me.  Without the hot flashes."  ;)

Adventures in Disappointment

You ever have those adventures where you've got your hopes up so high and then you get to wherever it is you're going only to be disappointed?  I had one of those adventures today.  But as I've learned through life, you learn to make the most of the situation and try to figure out a way to redeem it.  It usually involves a lot of silliness.

Case in point - I had nothing on the agenda for the weekend but really didn't want to sit around either and do nothing.  So I texted my cousin to see what he was up to.  Nothing.  Awesome.  Glad we're in the same boat.  What do you want to do?  I don't care, whatever you want to do.  Statehouse tour?  Christmas shopping?  Tour of local caverns? (I almost wrote taverns - that probably would have been just as exciting.)  I don't care, you pick.  You're no help.  I have a coupon for the caverns, let's go there.  Awesome.  See you in the morning.

So we roll out of bed and get ready to go on our little adventure up to Olentangy Indian Caverns, about 20 minutes from where I live.  On the car ride up, while listening to Taylor Swift's new CD (my choice), we discuss the merits of her music and try to determine whether she can actually sing.  We have no solid conclusion to that discussion, other than the fact that Taylor gets bonus points for writing her own music. 

As we get closer to the caverns, we're taking bets that we will be the only people there on a cold Saturday in November.  We were pleasantly surprised to find about 5 cars in the parking lot, better than nothing.  We grab our tickets and head underground.  We've got our handy dandy map and I look like I'm about ready to climb Everest.  I've got a ski cap on, my quilted jacket, a polar fleece coat under that, a long sleeve t-shirt under that, mittens, and snow boots on.  Hey, I get cold easily.  I know to be prepared.  So even though I look like an eskimo to the rest of the world, I'm quite comfortable.

We trudge down the stairs into the cave, pushing the buttons along the way that give audio recordings explaining this, that, and the other.  We follow the map to the first room.  Basically stand in one point spot, turn in a circle, and that's about it.  So maybe you're 150 feet below ground at this point and the ceiling is about 50 feet high.  Cool. Okay, next room.  Skinny Man's Squeeze where we find Indian Lover's Bench (no joke - that's what it's called on the map).  And yes, it's skinny.  Even I had to turn sideways to make it up there.  End of that room.  Next.  Turn in a circle, go up a few walkways and we're done.  Next.  A stalactite that looks like a beehive.  Hmm. Could have fooled me.  Crystal Room?  Uh, you might you want to give it a different name because I'm pretty sure these look nothing like crystals to me.  Looks more like moss.  Chief Leatherlips' profile in the rock?  Your guess is as good as mine.  I think maybe this is his nose and those are his eyes.  Or maybe this is his forehead and that's his nose?  Wait, if you stand here I think I see an elephant.   

Twenty minutes later we're wondering if we read the map wrong and somehow missed half of the cave because there's no way we can be done.  

But we were.  And then we were invaded by a Boy Scout troop and we decided to exit stage left.  

So now what?  We drove all the way up here and we've seen it all in less than 30 minutes.  Disappointment was setting in.  Is it possible to be disillusioned with a cave?

What do you do when all else fails? Picture time!  This is when silliness sets in, shortly after you learn to let go of your disappointment.  We trounced around the cave looking for the next great photo op.  But try finding a flat surface in a cave that isn't covered with dripping water or moss so that you put your camera on self-timer.  Not easy.  So we walked back through all the rooms again wondering we where we could snap our next Kodak moment.  Some photos I felt like we were shooting really cheesy senior photos, only underground.  But then we got to laughing so hard we didn't care.  After awhile we decided we could no longer delay our return to the surface because there was literally nothing else left for us to do.  Only so many photos can be taken.

By the time we got to the top of the 3 flights of stairs, we were both breathing so hard and our legs were burning so bad that we had to take a pit stop and gulp in air, right next to the life-size wooden Indian, of course.  (I have never claimed to work out regularly or do any form of exercise.  It clearly showed today.)  We made it back to the car and where we decided we had no Plan B by which we could redeem the day.  So we drove home, watched Ohio State's game and decided that we were glad we had a coupon for buy one get one free because I'm sad to say, Olentangy Indian Caverns isn't worth the $8.50 they charge.  

But I did get a smashed penny out of the deal.  :) 

Rafiki Update

I was excited to receive word from both the Village Director and the ChildCare Director about some recent happenings in the village.  There are moments that catch me by surprise, when I wake up in the morning maybe or when I'm at work and I see a picture of Glen and I suddenly get wistful, missing Kenya and the children like crazy.  I miss Elijah and tutoring him every day.  I miss Kate saying "super cute" in nearly every other sentence (even though the phrase does drive me slightly crazy now to hear it).  There are a lot of things I miss, but I know life goes on and I know the children are doing well and I know God is continuing to do a work there. 

From the Village Director:
Thank you very much for all the photos you have sent.  They are great!  I shall print them off for the children and into their picture books.  You may already know that we now have 96 resident children - 48 boys and 48 girls.  Four new children came "home" from Kitui early this month.  Hopefully, before month-end, the 97th "son" will come home too.  We are asking the Lord to bring us another "son" and another two "daughters".  If He permits it before the end of the year, then we will be 100.  A nice figure to work with - 50 sons and 50 daughters.

From the ChildCare Director:
On Tuesday, three days after we returned (They had been in the States), twelve-year-old Charles broke both of the bones in his left arm just above the wrist. On the way to Gertrude’s Children’s Hospital, a bus side swiped our Village director’s car in which Patty, Charles, and Rafiki Mother Lydia were traveling but it didn’t delay them too long because the local police station was less than 100 yards away. Once at the hospital, the staff took great care of Charles. A theater, anesthesiologist, and orthopedic surgeon all became available for Charles’ three and a half hour surgery at 8 P.M. For those of you who are not familiar with British English, when you’re in a hospital, a theater is an operating room, not a place of entertainment. There was no joy in the break in Charles’ arm but we’re very happy to have good medical care available here in Kenya.

Wednesday evening Rafiki Pediatrician, Dr. Elaine Tan, and Nurse Liz Prince arrived at Rafiki. It’s a huge blessing for us to have them here to do yearly physicals for the children. In addition to tablets, ointments, and syrups, Dr. Tan dispenses smiles, hugs, and encouragement to follow God’s Word.

They ask prayer for:

Patience as we wait on the government for income-tax exemption, the school registration certificate, and our charitable children’s institution certificate.


• Wisdom for the Home Office as they evaluate bids for construction of the senior secondary school.

• Funds to be available to confirm building of the first residence hall.

• God to bring us a social worker, two teachers, and a Rafiki Mother-in-training.

• Court committals and birth certificates for the new children who have come.

• God to direct us to two more orphaned girls and one more orphaned boy to make a full complement of 100 resident children by the end of the year.

• Health and safety for everyone at Rafiki Village Kenya.

• Wisdom and discernment for leading well.

• Consistent supply of water and electricity.

• God’s provision for our next term which begins January 1, 2011.

Single Today

I really appreciated this quote that my sweet friend Emily sent my way from a book she is currently reading:

"Ultimately we are single because that's God's will for us right now.  That's it.  It's not because we are too old, too fat, too skinny, too tall, too short, too quiet, too loud, too smart, too simple, too demanding, or too anything else.  It's not wholly because of past failures or sin tendencies.  It's not because we're of one race when many of the men around us are of another.  It's not because the men we know lean toward passive temperaments.  It's not because there are more women than men in our singles group.  It's not because our church doesn't even have a singles group.  Though perhaps these all feel like valid reasons, they don't trump God's will.  One look at the marriages we know or the announcements in the newspaper will assure us that these factors are present in many people's lives and they still got married.  We are single today because God apportioned us this gift today." 

- Carolyn McCulley

Taking Bets

"All men dream: but not equally. Those who dream by night in the dusty recesses of their minds wake in the day to find that it was vanity: but the dreamers of the day are dangerous men, for they may act their dreams with open eyes, to make it possible. This I did."  - T.E. Lawrence

I'd say year 25 was all about crossing a few things off the bucket list and crossing off a few things that were never on the bucket list to begin with.  I've been thinking a lot about what has happened in the last year, expected things, unexpected things, but always an adventure.  It was all about being a dreamer of the day, acting on dreams with open eyes.  This I did. 

I've always had it on my bucket list to own a Great Dane.  Well, that didn't happen but I did get to meet Tucker the Great Dane.  That will have to suffice for now since I don't foresee owning 80 acres anytime soon to accommodate owning such an animal.  My dad thinks I should just skip the Great Dane and buy a horse.   It's the same thing to him.

And then I got to watch one of my very best friends marry the Future Husband she had written about for years and in the process I got to meet one of my favorite authors at her wedding.  It was sweet to watch Erica throughout this process, seeing the crazy days, the good days, and the days when she would e-mail me in a panic about how to insert an anchor JPEG into her invitation.  I always love being a part of people's weddings and this was the year for quite a few.  I also got to see Steph get married, and numerous other friends have since gotten engaged.  I celebrate with them in those moments.

I welcomed a new niece into the world, which wasn't so much on the bucket list (like I have control over that) as it was just a fitting moment in life.  I sold some of my paintings (Thank you, Debbie S., for supporting the arts and my then-grocery budget).  I read a grand total of 45 books since last October.  That's not one of my life's aims, but I started keeping a log a year ago May of every book I have since read and I went over my list last night just to jog my memory on some of my favorites that I had read in the past year.  I capped off year 25 by finishing up Susan Casey's The Wave, which was a fantastic read.  I am now fascinated by all things surfing.  I just have no desire to add to my list "surf the world's biggest wave."  But maybe I'll add to the list "sit on the beach in Hawaii and watch someone else surf big waves." 

After that was a trip I had dreamed about since I was a kid.  Africa.  I don't need to elaborate on this one I think since I chronicled so much of that adventure on here.  But that trip was so worth it.  Even this morning, I woke up missing those kids, in particular, little David.  For some reason his sweet face popped into my head and I got a little sad about not being able to see him anytime soon.  But I know I'll go back some day.  I don't know when that will be, but I'm determined to make it happen.                                                                     

In between, I finished my MBA.  That was one of those things that wasn't on the list.  I had no intention of ever going to grad school, but away we went.  I got to laughing the other day because I pulled out my notebook where I write down the list of things I want to do in my lifetime.  I had on there "graduate from high school" and "graduate from college."  Check and check.  Just didn't have on there anything about grad school.  So that was a bonus for the year.   

 But I guess I couldn't have picked a better way to end year 25 when my brother told me he bought me tickets to the Ohio State vs. Indiana game this past weekend. I know, I know.  I had felt like I was committing some kind of crime by having lived in Ohio all my life and having never been to an OSU game at The 'Shoe.  I was waiting for the police to show up on my doorstep.  I loved everything about the game, about the traditions, about the stadium, about the Skull session, even the crazy Indiana fan sitting next to us who I thought was going to burst a blood vessel.  To top it off, it was Jim Tressel's 100th win. (Thank you, South Carolina, for bringing down Alabama - that certainly helped to catapult OSU to #1 in the country.)

So, yeah, year 25 was pretty great.  But I'm taking bets that year 26 will be better.  God has shown him faithful in numerous ways, both big and small.  And it's not to say that the best years are always sunshine and roses, for they are surely tempered with a few storms.  But I don't ever want to be the kind of person that says the best years of my life are behind me.  I think I'll tackle "own a hammock" and "spend a week or two on a dude ranch" for this year.  And who knows what will be unexpectedly added to the list. 

Why Can't They Last?

There are some stories I don't ever want to end.  I felt that way about Lord of the Rings.  I felt that way about A Severe Mercy and Seabiscuit.  I almost felt that way about the Twilight Saga until one of the characters started drinking blood to keep her half-vampire baby alive in her womb.  In fact, I get rather annoyed when some of my favorite stories end.  There's just such a sense of let-down.  I feel this sense of dread as I near the final page because I know it's all about to be over and I can't do a thing about it.  Most of the stories that I feel this way about are the ones that are so epic in nature - the ones that captive both the mind and the heart, the ones that elevate you beyond where you presently are.

I just put down Secretariat:  The Making of a Champion  by William Nack and I nearly wanted to cry when I finished it because it's just such a beautiful and inspiring story and I was so sad it came to a close.  I know, I know.  It's just a horse.  I get it.  Just like the Michigan-Ohio State game is just another football game and Mother Theresa is just another woman.  But to anybody who watches that kind of history unfold knows it's never just another horse race and it's never just another horse.  I wanted to stand up and cheer just reading the darn thing.  I wanted to yell along with everyone else when Secretariat set blistering records in each of his Triple Crown races.  I mean, good grief, the horse ran each eighth of the Kentucky Derby successively faster and faster, which is just mind boggling because the times should get successively slower, not faster.  He won the Belmont by a stunning 31 lengths.  The horse was a maniac. 

When he died - 21 years ago tomorrow - they did an autopsy on him and found that his heart was twice as big as a normal thoroughbred, which meant he could pump far more oxygen into his bloodstream, giving him a competitive edge that other breeders could only dream of developing in their horses.  His offspring weren't much to brag about, with only a few garnering serious accolades - none would come close to accomplishing what their daddy had. 

But I guess the really great stories have to come to an end sometime.  At least until another comes along.



"Do you give the horse his strength or clothe his neck with a flowing mane?  Do you make him leap like a locust, striking terror with his proud snorting? He paws fiercely, rejoicing in his strength, and charges into the fray. He laughs at fear, afraid of nothing; he does not shy away from the sword. The quiver rattles against his side, along with the flashing spear and lance. In frenzied excitement he eats up the ground; he cannot stand still when the trumpet sounds. At the blast of the trumpet he snorts, 'Aha!'  He catches the scent of battle from afar, the shout of commanders and the battle cry."
- portion of Job 39

Oh, Charlie Brown...

I'm particularly fond of two classic cartoons:  Garfield and Peanuts.  I feel like most of the things that come out of Garfield's mouth are usually things I have said or thought at one point another.   Not that that is a good or bad thing, but rather just a reflection of personalities.  But I felt yesterday's Peanuts was very appropriate for my recent train of thought about living life intentionally. It seems I have had several people cross my path in recent weeks, mentioning other people in their life who have lost all sense of purpose or pursuit of the world around them.  And sometimes I wonder if maybe if I shouldn't just hand people comic strips when I feel compelled to impart important life lessons to them.  Maybe that would soften the blow some? 



Oh, how the words of wisdom ring true.  Thank you, Peanuts.

Magic in an Ordinary Life

A friend recently asked me while chatting on Facebook what books I had been reading.  And I said that I was a little burnt out on fiction and had since dived into the world of non-fiction, and then proceeded to give her in a nutshell my present selection:  "Well, one is on the Holocaust, another is about an Antarctic expedition, another is about horses, and one is about gambling."  I've got Ernest Shackleton's South and Ben Mezrich's Bringing Down the House being simultaneously read, with Bill Nack's Secretariat, Luci Swindoll's I Married Adventure, and Doris Bergen's War and Genocide on deck.  I'm going to have to work up to War and Genocide, which is a concise history of the Holocaust and I pulled Nack's and Swindoll's books off the shelf because 1) in preparation for Disney's upcoming movie version of the story of Secretariat and 2) Swindoll's book is just such an encouraging read - and talks a lot about Africa.  They are both books I've read before but books that good are always worth re-reading.  I remember having to slog my way through Nack's book initially when I read it the first time so hopefully I can make it through again.  Mezrich's book is just all together fascinating now that I have seen the movie 21, the movie being based on the book.  It's a true story about six MIT students who lead double lives and take Vegas for millions by playing black jack and counting cards.  It's a wonderfully stunning, unnerving, and exciting read all at the same time.  Makes me wish I was brave enough to take on Vegas and smart enough to count cards.  It's a fleeting thought. 

But I think the book that has been most compelling for me as of late has been Shackleton's South.  I had been talking to my friend Jonathan about our latest reads and I had mentioned I wanted to get my hands on some books about Shackleton's expedition to the South Pole.  He was sweet enough to pick up a copy of Shackleton's memoir for me at a half-priced book store and I've been reading it ever since.   If you're not familiar (like I was prior to reading this book) with Shackleton's adventures or his life, you can read the cliff-notes at Wikipedia.  The short version of the story is that Shackleton set out on the dawn of WWI to cross the Antarctic from sea to sea, but his ship Endurance was eventually crushed between some ice floes and him and all of his men were stranded on ice floes for months at a time.  They all eventually - despite some of the worst weather conditions known to man and some of the severest trials - make it back to civilization alive.  Meanwhile almost all of World War I had happened without their knowledge.  Once Shackleton reached a whaling station in South Georgia and attemps to rescue the remaing men left behind in his party, he writes:

We were like mad men arisen from the dead to a world gone mad.  Our minds accustomed themselves gradually to the tales of nations in arms, of deathless courage and unimagined slaughter, of a world-conflict that had grown beyond all conceptions, of vast red battlefields in grimmest contrast with the frigid whiteness we had left behind us.  The reader may not realize quite how difficult it was for us to envisage nearly two years of the most stupendous war in history....No other civilized men could have been as blankly ignorant of world-shaking happenings as we were...

 But you know what really has me so captivated by Shackleton's story?  I think it's something that I've been thinking about for a long time, years maybe, off and on - this idea of the ordinary life.  This idea that even in the most obscure and mundane and monotonous life, there's something worth telling, a life worth living.  I think I went through this phase in college where I told myself if I didn't achieve x, y, and z, I was going to be a failure in life.  I was so driven by this idea that everything had to be a grand adventure.  And then I realized that even in a so-called common and ordinary life, I could still have a great adventure.  Now, not to say that Shackleton and his men were exactly living ordinary lives, but to them they were.  They were doing what their hearts had been set on and that was common for them.  It was their lives to be men of the sea and to suffer through freezing cold temperatures.  Shackleton would often mention times though when the ship would be stuck in a floe for a few days, the men would get out on the ice and play football.  One part of me wants to say, "You're out in the middle of the stinkin' Antarctic freezing your fannies off, and you're playing football?!"

But this was life for them, a common, ordinary life.  Shortly after the Endurance sank and the crew was facing a bleak outlook, Shackleton wrote about how some of the men were telling the cook how they wanted their tea made.  "It occurred to me at the time that the incident had psychological interest.  Here were men, their home crushed, the camp pitched on the unstable floes, and their chance of reaching safety apparently remote, calmly attending to the details of existence and giving their attention to such trifles as the strength of a brew of tea." 

An extraordinary life being played out in ordinary ways.  And as I drove to work the other morning, thinking about the story and just life in general, all I could come up with is that there is magic in an ordinary life well-lived.  It reminds me of Chesterton's (I think he said it anyway) quote when he says "one of the most extraordinary things in life is an ordinary man, his ordinary wife, and their ordinary children."

I think sometimes it's easy to get down and out about our "ordinary" lives, when we feel like all we do is punch the clock and do it all over again the next day.  But it's a matter of perspective.  If that's how we choose to view our lives, then yes, that's all it will be.   But if we choose to see our lives - common or otherwise - as as adventure, an opportunity, then even the simplest tasks are things to be valued.  I'd like to think I've been on my fair share of adventures, but I'd also like to think I can find magic in living that ordinary life.

Satisfaction

I've been running into all sort of friends and family members since I've been home from Africa.  Saw some at a local festival.  Saw them at church.  Saw them at family get-togethers.  And the question is always the same.

"Sooooooooo....how was Africa?"

I honestly think I'm a little baffled by the question sometimes, not because it's necessarily a bad question, but more because sometimes I don't know just how much of an honest answer to give.   

Do I say, "Well, it was a really great trip.  Can't wait to go back"?

Do I say, "Oh, the safari was fantastic and the children are wonderful.  Just so adorable!"?

Do I say, "It was the trip of a lifetime and I'm so thankful I was able to go"?

Those are all good and sufficient answers I suppose on some level, but I always feel this need to pull people in close (I never actually do) and look them right in the eye and really tell how Africa was.

I want to tell them about the overwhelming sense of satisfaction I feel when I think about my time there.  Not in a that-was-a-great-meal-I'm-so-satisfied kind of way, but a deep-in-your-gut, terribly profound sense of joy, satisfaction, and fulfillment.  I want to tell them what a rich and rewarding experience it was to not only labor alongside the Kenyans, but to play alongside the Kenyans, to see their country, to see their animals, to see their cities, to love on their children.  I want to tell people how fulfilling it felt to do something, to physically get work done and fall into bed at night and to feel like you had been productive.  In times past when I had been doing ministry overseas, the focus was so much on evangelism, which is great and has a place in God's plan, but this time around I just loved the fact that I worked.  That I was literally being the hands and feet of Jesus in practical day-to-day ways.

I miss Kenya on a frequent basis.  I do things like watch Invictus or flip through my photos or try to catch the latest online news out of Africa, just to momentarily have the satisfaction of feeling like I'm maintaining some kind of connection.  Maybe it's time to start planning the return trip?  Who wants to go?  :)        

"I'm Courtney and I don't have a ten-year plan..."

Last night kicked off the new women's Bible study at Lifepoint, Beth Moore's updated version of A Woman's Heart, God's Dwelling Place.   I had done this study once before while in college and when Beth had really big hair, but it's shaped my view of Scripture and faith in a lot of ways, so I was anxious to get started last night.  While I was watching the intro video session, I really just wanted to say to the screen, "Hello, Beth. It's good to see you again."  I've never met Beth before in person but I've met her countless times on the pages of her books, studies, and her blog, and it was good to see her again last night, to hear her deep Texas/Arkansas accent.  Her studies are always rich and rewarding, full of Scripture, grounded in its truth, and at times funny as can be.

What I think I look forward to more than anything in this transition back to life in Ohio is this time spent every Tuesday with women in this small group and then Wednesday nights with a mixed age/gender/marital status group that builds on the pastor's Sunday teachings.  I think a vast majority of people in my generation miss out on the value of multi-generational groups.  We always want to be with people our own age because that's safe, but people our own age haven't lived life any further than we have most of the time.  Not say that our own peer groups aren't vital - they certainly are.  But they come with different advantages and viewpoints than of those who have a few more adventures and experiences under their belts.  There's something to be said for spending time with people who have been down the road, miles ahead of you, and who typically know way more than you do.  That was one of the greatest gifts for me in college and the years since was to be mentored by someone older than me, to spend time listening to her words of wisdom. 

My dear friend, Myrt, pulled me aside last night and said she didn't want me to feel like she had railroaded me into coming to her small group, thinking that maybe I would like to be around people my own age.  Myrt is maybe in her 80s and is one of the neatest people I know, but I looked at her and said, "Myrt, the last thing I need is a singles group or a young adult group.  I've had enough of those in my lifetime."  I'm not anti-twenty-somethings, I think I've just spent my life gravitating toward older people.  Maybe they have more stories to tell and maybe they know how to tell them better?  I don't rightly know.
 
But there's always that moment when I feel a little out of sorts at introductions for small groups, regardless of age.  Women inevitably introduce themselves according to their marital status and the number of children they have.  "My name is Susy Q and I'm married with 3 kids."  Nobody go up in arms - I'm not saying that being defined by your husband and children is a bad thing, but I always feel this need to spice up introductions and somehow say something like, "I'm Courtney, and I don't have a ten-year plan and kids scare the living daylights out of me."  I don't think I'm brave enough to try such an introduction yet, though.

Maybe someday I'll get the gumption.       

The Lion King

I was already missing Kenya and so I figured watching The Lion King might help.  So I nestled into the couch and enjoyed seeing the animated versions of all the animals I had seen in real life, still wishing I was seeing the real thing, though.  Little did I know, however, that when my nephew came over to visit and wanted to watch a movie that, of all the countless movies we have in our house, he picks The Lion King.  So I watch it for the second time in one day.

And then I remembered I never showed you my photographs of the male lion I saw on safari.  Truly, the lion king.

Wait for it...

Let him have his beauty rest...

Now he's posing for the others...

And there you have it...

Love it.

The Other Side of My Dreams

I started the journey home on Saturday afternoon at 2:30 and made it back on Sunday afternoon at 2:00, and there were a lot of emotions and stops in between.  I didn't have anybody mixing her cheesecake with her roast beef on the plane ride, but I'm pretty sure I looked at the lady in the shop in the airport like she had three heads, much like I did with my former seatmate.  I was killing time waiting for my flight in Nairobi so I stopped in one of the shops to get some water and see if maybe there were any last minute souvenirs.  I grabbed a bottled water and happened to see some bookmarks off to the side that had photos of some of the wildlife in Kenya with "Kenya" written in big bold letters across the top.  "These should be simple enough," I thought, something I could give to a few people as small mementos.  I go up to the counter, tell the lady I'm paying shillings since I still had some left and she told me it would 1,050 shillings for two bookmarks and a bottled water.

"Excuse me, how much?"

"1,050 shillings."

I'm kind of screeching at her at this point, "For what?  How much is the water and how much are the bookmarks?"

"Fifty for the water and 500 shillings for each of the bookmarks."

I think my jaw dropped at this point and I must have looked at her like she was mad.  The exchange rate is right around 80 shillings for one US dollar.  So the water was costing me less than a dollar, but a flimsy bookmark that should really cost no more than 75 cents was costing me over $6?!  I nearly told her that was crazy, but instead simply said no thanks, got my water, and kept my shillings.

I said good riddance to ridiculous airport prices, I enjoyed my water and then hopped on my flight to Ethiopia.  Once there, we made our way to Rome, then to D.C. and finally to Columbus.  It was hard saying goodbye to Kenya, hard saying goodbye to the children.   I was doing so well holding it together until David come out to give me a hug and when he turned around and left to go back to his room, one of his brothers came out and said, "David's crying."  Gee, kid, thanks for breaking for my heart and making this even harder by telling me that little fact.  I managed to hold it together long enough to tell them all goodbye and then I just cried my eyes out walking back to the guest house.  Some of them had given me notes, thanking me for coming, saying they'll miss me.  I'll treasure those notes always.

Since being home, I feel like I have wanted to eat everything in sight and nearly have.  Hawaiian pizza has never tasted so amazing and neither has apple pie, nor the spiced pumpkin cookies, nor one of my mother's milkshakes.  My body is probably going to hate me after having lived on beans, rice, and ugali for the last month.  There's a lot I'll miss about Kenya, those three things not among them, though.  I know God has a sense of humor, though, when I sat down to have my last meal with the kids.  I thought I had eaten beans for the final time on Thursday for dinner.  But then I sat down Saturday for lunch and saw that it was beans again.  "You would do something like this, wouldn't you, God? You're soooo funny."  I had a good laugh and still managed to eat my meal. 

I'm sure in the coming weeks and months I'll continue to unpack exactly what this trip meant to me and in the context of my life.  I think it has lifelong ramifications and implications, ones I may not see for years to come.  And I suppose it would be fitting to end this particular portion of the adventure by going back to a starting point - my paper in 7th grade.  Seems a little different now that I'm on the other side of my dream, doesn't it?

"I would definitely visit the exciting country of Kenya, Africa. To me, the animals and wildlife that live in Africa are fascinating. I would probably take an exciting safari trip! I could even take a few pictures of the herds of animals.

It sounds really exciting! After that I would tour the country to see what the region is like. I would visit the villages and cities to see the different customs and cultures that they have. Maybe I could learn to speak their language. Meeting the people of Kenya would be a special experience!!

It would be interesting to see how different Kenya is from the United States. Learning about the government, people, animals and farming of Kenya would broaden my horizons. The continent of Africa, in general, entices me. The animals and wildlife would have to be my main purpose to go to Kenya, Africa. This country seems to be very impressive.

That is why I want to visit this country so badly."

I like being on the other side of my dreams.  But there are many more dreams left and hopefully I'll get to see the other side of those, as well. 

"I'd Like to Thank the Academy..."

I feel like I'm about to get up on stage and say, "I'd like to thank the Academy and all of the little people who helped me get where I am today."  If I were saying the following in person, I'd probably be crying but since it's not, you'll be spared my tears and I won't be embarrassed .

In less than 24 hours, I'll be on a plane out of Kenya.  I'll say my goodbyes to the children and the staff, gather my things, and head home.  I'm anxious to get home - probably more so than ever before - but it will be sad to leave, too.  I was just thinking last night about how maybe I've said one too many goodbyes in my lifetime, especially in the last 7 years - it has become such a common part of my life that it's like second nature.  But it won't change the fact that my heart will still be sad.  I don't know that I can adequately convey what a rich and rewarding time this has been for me, in so many different ways.  I could go on and on about the blessings I have received while here.

But what I really want to take the time to say right now is "thank you."  Thanks for reading, thanks for "virtually" coming along with me on this trip, thanks for commenting, thanks for laughing and crying along with me.  This blog has been an unexpected blessing - it's not only afforded me the chance to write, which I love doing, but it's afforded me the opportunity to share stories, to share photos, to share life with others who cannot be here with me.

I won't have the space nor the time to adequately and sufficiently outline every single person that has had a hand in this trip.  You would get tired of reading after awhile.  So I'm writing to say thanks with broad strokes, but I'm trying to avoid saying "and I'd like to thank every person I have ever met," which just sounds insincere and lame. 

To my family at First Baptist Church in Fulton - Ed, Debbie, Pastor Gary and Kristin, the Missions Committee, those were at my prayer send-off, and so many others.  You helped make a dream come true.  I have spent nearly 7 years with you and you have welcomed with open arms, whether I was coming or going.  I would never be able to fully express what a gift you have been to me.  The countless college lunches, the prayers that you covered me with, the financial support for this trip, the time spent investing in my life, challenging me, supporting me, loving me.  You truly are the body of Christ in action.   Whatever thanks I have to say will always fall short.

To my new Rafiki family here in Kenya - Yeen-Lan, Patty, Catherine, Stephen, Peter, the Aunties and Mamas, the other ROS, and national staff.  What gems you have been to me.  I think short-term volunteers come here thinking they will be a blessing, but it us in fact who have been blessed.  My life is richer because of the opportunity to have labored alongside you.  It has been satisfying work, rewarding work.  Thank you for encouraging me and being such faithful followers of Christ and for so obediently serving Him.

And here's the part where I would probably start crying so hard that I wouldn't be able to get the words out and the stage director would say it's time for a commercial and would cue the orchestra so that I would get off the stage faster.

Mom and Dad - I know I said most of this in the letter I left you, but I want to say it publicly because you need to know that your support has mattered a great deal to me.  Being a parent is a thankless job, and your children often forget that you have emotions and fears as well.  I know you have had to battle many of those fears through this process - it was hard enough to send me to Missouri, to San Diego, to Russia, to North Carolina, then back to Missouri, and a few other places in between.  Then I decided to come to Africa and I'm sure the fears roared.  But I'll never be able to sufficiently tell you how grateful I am to have the kind of parents who said "go" even though I know you desperately wanted to say "stay" (which you certainly did say on several occasions, but also had enough sense to know I'd be going anyway).  :)  Thanks for giving me the chance to take flight when you would have liked to have clipped my wings, even if for my own protection and your peace of mind.  You have done well and I'm honored to call you my Mom and Dad.

Jeremy, Josh, Grace, Julie, Grandma, MawMaw, and the rest of the clan, whom I dearly love - you can't be replaced.  Thanks for keeping in touch even when I'm galavanting all over the place.  Thanks for loving me even when it seems I spend more time apart from you than with you.  I'm hoping my time apart from you becomes few and far between in the coming years.  I'm tired of always being gone from you all.  

I know there are plenty of other people I could thank who have been a part of this trip in both big and small ways, and I write these knowing I'm just grazing the surface - I'm not intentionally trying to leave anyone out so don't take offense.  Stephanie and Zach, thanks for your financial support.  Em, thanks for dreaming alongside me and going to training with me even though it didn't work out for you to likewise come to Africa this summer.  I know your Africa will someday become a reality, too.  Alex, you are a priceless gem.  I'm glad you were in Germany the same time I was here just for the sheer fact that even though we were thousands of miles apart, we'll share in the experience of being abroad.  I'll think of you tomorrow when I have to become a Girl Scout again to navigate the airports.  Kristen, Erica, Venita, Travis, Student Life Staff, and so many other friends and former co-workers - thanks for your prayers and e-mails of encouragement.

I know, my words aren't enough.  And the music is playing telling me I need to get off stage.  Thank you, Father, for truly I would not have missed this for the world.           

Just One Request

As I was watching Peter one day, I was amazed at how he took the time to say hello to each one of the children or to sit down with them and ask them how their day is.  There are a lot of other things he could be doing.  He is on the maintenance staff here so gutters need to be cleaned and repaired, roofs need fixed, trim needs painted, and the list goes on.  But Peter sets those things aside so that he can get down on the same level as the kids, look them in the eye, and genuinely care about them.

But you want to know what's really amazing about Peter?

He's an orphan.

Just like the kids that he stoops down to talk to, he has no parents.  And so he takes the time to let each of them know that even if he or she doesn't have parents, they at least have a few minutes with him and they have his undivided attention.

It's stunning to realize in that moment, watching him, here was proof of the sovereignty and grace of God for here is an orphan helping influence the next generation of orphans.  And I imagine there will be a day when these Rafiki orphans will turn and reach out to other orphans.    

There are others here on staff that are likewise orphans, and here they are working at an orphanage, investing in the lives of 91 young Kenyan children who once upon a time had no hope.

You see, Rafiki is committed to making a difference in the lives of orphans, both young and old, in ten different countries scattered throughout the continent of Africa.  They firmly believe in raising these children in their native country, teaching them their native language in addition to English, and equipping them so that they can give back to their own countries.  I think sometimes it's easy for us to think in America that we can just slap a band-aid on something to fix it, or in the case of these children, we may want to just remove them from their country all together, bring them to America, teach them our culture, our ways, and send them to our schools.  There certainly is a time and a place for that, but one of the chief reasons why I gladly stand behind Rafiki's vision is that they do not allow their children to be adopted.  They are not simply removed from the situation.  They are equipped in the midst of it.  Their own countries need them to be godly leaders and students more than America or other countries need them to be godly leaders and students.

But why do I say all that?  Because I want you know that what Rafiki is doing, what God is doing through Rafiki, matters.  It matters a great deal.  It matters to the people who work here, the native Kenyans, the long-term overseas staff, the children, people from the community who come and go from the village.

I'm not the kind of person to ask anyone for help normally.  I get a little too self-sufficient and self-reliant for my own good (I'm working on it).  But in this case, I have one request and in this situation, I'll unashamedly ask:  Help.  Not in a desperate HELP! sort of way, just help.  Schools and cottages need to be built as more and more children are brought into the fold, children need sponsors, volunteers are requested to come and to labor alongside those who are already here.  The villages don't run on air, good intentions, and imaginary labor.  But I want to be sure to say this too - I'm not here to appeal to pity and I'm not here to appeal to guilt.  This isn't about feeling sorry for these children.  God is working here and he has been faithful to carry each of the children to their respective villages and he will be faithful to carry them unto the end.  He can do it without you and he can do it without me.

But why not jump into the fray of it all and get your hands dirty a little bit and find out just how big our God is?

There are several ways to get on board and help out.  One, you can sponsor a child, which entails monthly financial support.  You can obtain more information at Rafiki's Sponsor page or you can call the Home Office at 352.483.9131.  I know for a fact that Lilian (pictured left with Clint trying to make her smile by pulling her cheeks back), who is just three years old and just arrived here in the village a couple of months ago does not have a sponsor.  You could help be the first.

Two, you can come.  Come to Africa.  Doesn't matter if it's Kenya or another Rafiki village in Africa.  Just come.  Have construction skills and knowledge?  Come build a new school for them.  Come build some new cottages.  Want to teach little ones on up to high-school aged students?  Come teach for awhile.  Come love on some kids, even if for a couple of weeks.  You can obtain more information about the short-term trips here.    For other ways to give, you can go here and see a complete list.

It doesn't matter how big or small - could be $10 or $10,000.  Could be 2 weeks here or two months here.  Could be 1 child sponsored or 10 children sponsored.  Could be 1 square foot of space provided for, could be 100 square feet.  Whatever it is, whatever prayers offered, it matters.          

Join Peter in raising up the next generation of godly leaders, not because they are orphans, but because they are humans, God's children, and we are responsible to them simply because of that very fact. 

Out of the Darkness

From the time I moved into my office during grad school, I had a map of the world hanging on the wall.  But it wasn't your usual map.  It was a map of the world at night, a composite image of satellite photos taken over the course of time.  I've always had a fascination with maps ever since I was a child, but this one in particular always captivated me.  Maybe because I wondered what it meant for all those lights to be on at night - it meant people were working and living and doing, right?

But what of those places that had few, if any, little yellow dots indicating that electrical currents were flowing freely?  Was life happening for them?  Were they not able to work or were they merely working under the cover of darkness?

For some time now, I've been haunted by a particular concept in Scripture.  It seems I can't escape it and my thoughts often turn to it when I'm studying.  I first stumbled across the idea while doing one of Beth Moore's studies.  From there it has spawned a hundred different thoughts and caused me to trace the concept across the pages of God's Word, but I'm always left asking the same question:  What is the connection between work and darkness?

If you look in Leviticus 16:29-30, it says, "This is to be lasting ordinance for you:  On the tenth day of the seventh month you must deny yourselves and not do any work - because on this day atonement will be made for you, to cleanse you."  But connect the dots with me over to Luke 23:44 where it says, "It was now about the sixth hour, and darkness came over the whole land until the ninth hour, for the sun stopped shining.  And the curtain of the temple was torn in two."  

You see, when the sun stopped shining, the Father and the Son went to work.  Atonement was being made for the people under the cover of darkness.  It's pitch black outside and now no one can work.  The only person working was the Son.

And from Genesis to Revelation, from the first page of the Bible to the very last, I think this concept holds true.  Now, I'm no Hebrew or Greek scholar, so I'm sure there is a lot to the language that I would need to really dig into to confirm this, but even without such academic understanding, it's still saying the same thing:  God goes to work when it's darkest.  Out of the darkness, God called forth the light when he formed the earth.  Out of the darkness, God caused a deep sleep to come over Adam and God went to work forming woman (Genesis 2:21-22).  Out of the darkness, God God brought a darkness over Abram and made a covenant with him (Genesis 15:12-21).  Out of the darkness, God sent his one and only Son to die on the cross, making the ultimate atonement for his people.

But it will be out of the darkness when God says I have no more need for you, no more need for darkness because I have completed the work I set out to do.  Revelation 22:4-5 says, "They will see his face, and his name will be on their foreheads.  There will be no more night.  They will not need the light of a lamp or the light of the sun, for the Lord God will give them light."   There will come a day when there will no longer be a need for darkness because the work of atonement will be finished.

I know I haven't seen the worst of the worst here in Africa, but I've seen enough to know that it's just on the other side.  And I wonder sometimes if God is working here.  I look into the faces of the people, and look into their eyes, and I wonder what hope they have.  I look out over the land where all I see is desperation and despair at times and I wonder how God is working in the face of it all.  I wonder if any work is being done on the Dark Continent.   

But then I remember that map of the world at night.  If we looked at the world based only on strength of light, Africa might as well not exist.  It's nothing but darkness except for a few small corners of it.   And as I ponder that map, I remember that God is a God who does his best work under the cover of darkness.  I think God is doing some of his best work in the darkness of Africa, an atoning work.  He's out to redeem his people - the orphans, the widows, the sick, the hungry, the poor.  Am I saying His work is being done exclusively in Africa and not elsewhere?  Of course not.  God cannot be so confined and I cannot be so foolish to believe that it is only in darkness that he works.

But whether darkness or light, I know God is working here.  Because there are 91 little orphans and 50 or so staff who are some incredibly bright lights in a very dark land.  They will be his hands and feet that go to work bringing the Light to this darkness.  

"Into marvelous light I'm running, out of darkness, out of shame..."

"It's 5 o'clock somewhere..."

Who knew going to church could be such an entertaining adventure.  I really felt Annie Dillard's quote was appropriate for this morning, in a very literal way:

“Does anyone have the foggiest idea of what sort of power we so blithely invoke? Or, as I suspect, does no one believe a word of it? The churches are children playing on the floor with their chemistry sets, mixing up a batch of TNT to kill a Sunday morning. It is madness to wear ladies’ straw hats and velvet hats to church; we should all be wearing crash helmets. Ushers should issue life preservers and signal flares; they should lash us to our pews.”

Maybe I didn't need the usher to issue me a crash helmet, but I imagine it would have been appropriate for the bus driver to give me one. 

I've only been able to go to church two of the Sundays that I've been here and today would be the first time I would go with the children.  Normally there are two cottages that go to the Anglican church, while the other 8 cottages got to Thika Road Baptist Church.  Today, however, was a little different.

Today the bus got a flat tire. 

This was before anybody had been picked up yet, so none of us were on the bus when it got a flat tire, but it caused a chain reaction which led to all 91 children plus the 10 mamas going to Thika Road instead of dividing up.

But here's the thing.  The church bus is like a short bus and a half, and you have to deliver the kids in two trips.  Most regular school buses in the states I think fit around 45 kids.  Okay, well, lose some space and we still have to fit the same number of kids, plus some of the mamas.  We've got kids in their Sunday finest sitting on each other's laps, faces squished against the windows, mamas trying to suck it in, and me left sitting on a worn out cushion on the bus steps at the door's entrance, holding onto whatever I can find anchored down.  It's a good thing it's a short drive, albeit through some rough roads. I also had my own little knight in shining armor next to me during the bus ride.  Not only had Johnson informed me this morning while waiting how to change a tire and that he can successfully do so himself (he's 4-years old), he also warned me when the big bumps or hills were coming and told me that I need to hold tightly to the bar.  I let go at one point, and he instructed me again that I must hold on.  It's nice to know someone is watching out for me, even if he's barely tall enough to reach my waist.  :)

We make it safely to church, the streets of Mwiki and Kasarani a blur as I stare out the window during the trip.  We drop all the kids off to the children's church service and I head into the main church service with the mamas.  Church starts at 10 and usually lasts until noon.  Both churches that I have been to now follow a similar line-up that churches in the states do - open with praise & worship, prayer, announcements, sermon, end with more praise & worship.  And, of course, there is also that standard routine in every church it seems:  the meet and greet.

I have no idea why I hate this part of church so much and why it makes me literally groan out loud, when the pastor tells you "turn and greet the person next to you, introduce yourself, tell them how glad you are they came this morning!"  (Is anybody else with me on this tradition?) I certainly am glad my pew neighbors came this morning, I just don't feel particularly compelled to tell them or to shake their hand.  I'm not trying to be rude or anti-social, I just want to get on with the service.  Maybe I'm too much of a pragmatist for my own good.   It's also a time that causes me to morph into the most awkward person on the planet.  I suddenly act like I'm twelve again and don't know how to look people in the eye.  Jess Tipton, Katirose, and I often laughed about this point while in church.


But on with the service we did go.  After two hours, we wrapped up and headed out the door to climb on the bus.  On the ride back, though, I managed to snag a seat with little David sitting on my lap, both of us crammed against the window.  The radio was on, which sounded weird to me since I hadn't heard one in awhile.  We're cruising along and what is this I hear playing?
 
"Pour me somethin' tall an' strong, make it a "Hurricane" before I go insane. It's only half-past twelve but I don't care.  It's five o'clock somewhere.

I had to hold in the laughter because I knew there was no way I was going to be able to adequately explain to a bunch of orphaned African children when they asked why I was laughing.  I found it so amusing to hear this song playing while on the bus ride back from praising Jesus.  They have no idea who Alan Jackson is, don't care who Jimmy Buffett is, and think a hurricane is probably just a big scary storm out in the ocean.  So I tried to control myself.

I just found the whole situation so amusing and ironic.  I dearly love country music, but really?  Of all the songs to be playing.

But we finally made it back to the village, no hurricanes in sight.  Crash helmets needed, indeed, when going to church.