Waiting and Watching

There is no other way to say it other than to state the obvious - these kids are putting me to shame!  Whether it's eating or running around or whatever it is we are doing, they are out-eating me (which, let's be honest, isn't hard to do), out-running me, and just generally out-smiling me (also not hard to do, as some people tend to think I have a perpetual frown on my face).

Most evenings after dinner, the kids have a general free time to play games and run around.  I went out last night with them after dinner to play - I really had no idea how to begin because there were dozens of screaming kids running everywhere and I stood there looking like the typical lost American in a foreign country.  I'm really intimidated by kids anyways so the fear alone of diving into these kids lives is enough to paralyze me fairly often.  But then I thought, "You know, you've only got one shot at this, Courtney - thirty days to soak this up and to be a part of their lives.  So you better figure out a way to deal - and fast."    So somehow or another, I worked up the gumption to waltz into a game of tag.  Okay, waltzing probably isn't the best word.  Clearly, we're running at this point.

And then it was like I couldn't get enough.  Tag morphed into Red Rover, which morphed into Red Light/Green Light, which morphed into London Bridges, which morphed into general exhaustion.  I'm out of shape as it is (anybody who spends a fair amount of time with me knows of my aversion to physical exercise) and being up nearly 5,000 feet in elevation makes the breathing even harder.  So we had barely begun and I was already out of breath and so I squatted down for a second and all of the kids swarmed around me in a circle.  I had my chin propped up on my hands and then they all started mimicking me and laughing, each of them squatting down and doing the same thing - all with the biggest smiles pasted on their faces, knowing full well they were making fun of me.  Then I jumped up and scared the living daylights out of them and they scattered to the four winds.

When I originally went out to play, I still had my skirt and slip-on shoes.  That definitely doesn't work when you are trying to catch a bunch of screaming kids.  So I told them to hold on a few minutes and I'll go change.  The cottage that I'm staying in was across from the basketball court where we were playing, with a few shrubs and trees in between.  When I walked back out of the cottage, I could see this line of little heads peeking out from behind trees and bushes.  They were waiting for me, and watching.  Nearly made me want to cry my eyes out right there.

And in terms out out-eating me.  Good grief, I've got half a bowl of food left and they managed to wolf down an entire bowl and then some.  Some of these kids are pint-size and can barely reach the top of the table, but they've got spoons the size of their hands and can't shovel fast enough.  The first few meals have been slightly awkward in the fact that I'm still picking up on some social cues.  Cue #1 - don't talk while eating.  The kids would be asking all sorts of questions before the meal - "How did you get here?"  "How many planes did you take?"  "Where are you from?"  "How long will you be here?"  And then the food would be set out and it's like they all became mute.  And then they would eat in silence and as soon as plates are cleared, "Where are you going now?"  "Are you going to come play with us?"

All in all, so far so good.  The plan is to help with administrative tasks while I'm here.  There is a new long-term couple that just moved here from Rwanda and the wife is the childcare director, so she definitely needs help getting settled and sorting through papers that she has inherited.  I'll be working with her primarily and then pick up other duties as they come up.  I know this trip isn't all about fun and games and at the end of it, I'll be gone but these kids are still here in Africa and there is a life here that they still have to deal with.  

And so it begins...

Well, I have arrived.  Literally.  After busting out of Columbus at 6 a.m. yesterday morning, I am now in Nairobi enjoying the view from my temporary home.  And let's just say right off the bat - PRAISE JESUS!  The craziest thing happened to me.  I got on a plane in Columbus that left on time.  I got on a plane in D.C. that left on time.  I got on a plane in Ethiopia that left on time.  And miracle of all miracles, both of my bags were waiting for me at the Nairobi airport.  Can you believe that?! With my awful flying history I thought for sure I was going to be late, miss connections and have to live out of my carry-on for the month.  But no, all those prayers that people had been praying about the flight were surely answered! Thank you!

But apart from all that - 1.) I realized how much it stinks flying by yourself just for the sheer fact that there is no one to turn and say, "Did you see what I think I saw?"  Take for instance, the woman sitting next to me on the plane ride from DC  to Ethiopia.  Older woman, maybe in her 70s, of African descent.  One of the first meals we were served was roast beef and some funky looking potatoes and squash, with a fabulous piece of cheesecake.  Now I could be wrong - I mean, we're up 35,000 feet and I'm medicated on Dramamine, but I'm pretty sure she put her cheesecake in with her roast beef.  No, I'm not joking.  I had to do a double-take, but I promise that's what she did.  At first I thought it was her bread, but no it was the cheesecake.  It's kind of hard to mistake the swirls on the topping.  But you know, to each her own I guess.  I will have to remember the phrase that everyone adopts while overseas, 'It's not good or bad, it's just different.'  Clearly.

And 2.) speaking of plane food, I'm just so grateful for bread and dessert because what's in between in usually questionable.  If all else goes wrong and you can't figure out what they put in front of you, just eat the bread and the chocolate dessert.  It's hard to mess those two things up so it's usually a safe bet.  My saving grace on these plane rides were those two things and the homemade chocolate chip oatmeal cookies that I hoped and prayed no security person would take from me for some reason.

3.)  I will never drive a car in Nairobi.  You only do that if you want to die and I don't  want to die.  So I'll let someone else do the driving.  I passed all sorts of wildlife on the road to the village - and by wildlife, I mean a lot of goats, with an occasional pig and a herd of cattle.  No lions yet.

4.)  This adventure is just beginning!  Stayed tuned for further stories from the world of Nairobi - and leave a comment and let me know who's reading!        

"Courtney, we are Girl Scouts..."

Meet Alex.  She is one of my very best friends, despite her affinity for things such as P90X, half-marathons, "healthy cookies" that contain cranberries, oatmeal, and Splenda, and being chronically late, none of which I am a fan.   In the words of Pastor Brad, she is one the "least self-promoting people I know," meaning Alex quietly goes about her business and is content to do it without fanfare or recognition.  But I can't let her off the hook that easy.  You see, Alex is leaving for a trip overseas the same day I am - she's headed to Germany to do research for THE Ohio State University, likewise for a month.  

She came over last night for a little bit, catching up before we both head out the door and across The Pond.  We've gone back and forth with each other, asking questions and telling each other, "Did you get this done?  GET YOUR PASSPORT! Were you able to get your global phone?  Are you taking this with you?  Why are you taking your rock climbing gear?  GET YOUR PASSPORT!"  (Alex was the one dragging her feet about getting her passport and I had to keep harassing her about it - she's also the one taking rock climbing gear.)  We spent last night giving each other pep talks about the trip and flying by ourselves and how we were going to manage it all.  We talked through a lot of fears and all the things that could possibly go wrong and Alex finally said, quite seriously but with half of a smirk, "Courtney.  You and I are both big girls, we are Girl Scouts [not literally, but meaning we are resourceful gals and have got a lick of sense] and if something does go wrong or we miss a flight or something gets lost, we'll figure it out.  We open our mouths and we ask, 'Do you speak English?'  No, okay.  'Do you speak English?' Okay, moving on...' It'll all be okay and we'll make it.  If God has called us to this, he'll get us there then.  Now, it might take a few  days or he may get us there in a roundabout way, but we will get there."   By this time I had the giggles so bad envisioning the two of us standing in airports somewhere trying to figure out where the heck we are supposed to be and wondering if we missed our flight. 

Yes, we will get there and it will be like Beth Moore said when talking about her own recent trip to Africa and all of the complications that went along with:  We'll turn to the Father and say, "I would not have missed this for the world." 

Checked Luggage

I try to avoid checking baggage like some people avoid taking out the trash, doing the dishes, or catching the plague.  I don't remember the last time I checked luggage - years probably.  I've had one too many encounters of misdirected luggage to bother anymore.  If I can't cram it into a carry-on, then it's not going.  Simple enough.  When I went to Russia, I had my orange backpack, weighing maybe 20-30 pounds, and one piece of checked luggage (this was pre- anti-checking luggage days) that weighed a mere 16 pounds.  And we were there for 7 weeks.  Oh trust me, it's possible.  The wonder of Ziploc bags can work miracles.  Unpacking my suitcase that summer was like watching circus clowns pile out of their clown car.  You were amazed at how much stuff was packed in there.  And honestly, when you travel a lot and are in-and-out of airports, you realize quickly that half the staff you pack you don't need.  I thankfully learned that early on in my travel days. 

That plan isn't working for this trip.  Two suitcases, a carry-on backpack, and a purse later - with a bathroom scale to prove it - I think I have everything I need.  All 100 pounds of it.  Now, granted, 50 pounds of that belongs to the village as I'm carrying supplies over for them.  Hopefully I don't get stopped in customs and have to unpack any one of these.

Somehow I don't think I'll be accumulating 50 pounds of souvenirs for the trip home, unless I find a really stupendous piece of artwork or a small lion cub, so I should be able to stuff the smaller suitcase in the bigger one and call it a day.  And check only one bag.  Still one more than I would like, but I can't do anything about it.  At least I've got some really great pink polka dot ribbon to flag my bags and matching Delta Gamma tags.

Now I'm just wondering whose bright idea it was to go to Africa for a month.  Nerves are setting in.

Telling a Better Story

I've been reading (surprise!) Donald Miller's latest book A Million Miles in a Thousand Years and I have to say it's pretty stellar.  It's given me a lot to think about and I actually just need to go get my own copy as I originally just checked it out from the library - with my own copy then I can highlight things and write in it, and go back to refer to it months from now. 

There's a lot I could say about the book, but for now I'll just leave you with a few quotes from it:

• We live in a world where bad stories are told, stories that teach us life doesn’t mean anything and that humanity has no great purpose. It’s a good calling, then, to speak a better story. How brightly a better story shines. How easily the world looks to it in wonder. How grateful we are to hear these stories, and how happy it makes us to repeat them.

• It’s interesting that in the Bible, in the book of Ecclesiastes, the only practical advice given about living a meaningful life is to find a job you like, enjoy your marriage, and obey God. It’s as though God is saying, Write a good story, take somebody with you, and let me help.

• Do I still think there will be a day when all wrongs are made right, when our souls find the completion they are looking for? I do. But when all things are made right, it won’t be because of some preacher or snake-oil salesman or politician or writer making promises in his book. I think, instead, this will be done by Jesus. And it will be at a wedding. And there will be a feast.

• Back then I’d be lying in bed or walking down a hallway at college, and the realization I was alive would startle me, as though it had come up from behind and slammed two books together. We get robbed of the glory of life because we aren’t capable of remembering how we got here…what I’m saying is I think life is staggering and we’re just used to it. We all are like spoiled children no longer impressed with the gifts we’ve been given – it’s just another sunset, another rainstorm moving in over the mountain, just another child being born, just another funeral.

• If you watched a movie about a guy who wanted a Volvo and worked for years to get it, you wouldn’t cry at the end when he drove off the lot, testing the windshield wipers. You wouldn’t tell your friends you saw a beautiful movie or go home and put a record on to think about the story you’d seen. The truth is, you wouldn’t remember that movie a week later, except you’d feel robbed and want your money back. Nobody cries at the end of a movie about a guy who wants a Volvo. But we spend years actually living those stories, and expect our lives to feel meaningful. The truth is, if what we choose to do with our lives won’t make a story meaningful, it won’t make a life meaningful either.

Footprints of Adventures

Everybody collects something, some more than others. Just watch Hoarders on A&E for proof of that. I know one lady who has thousands of Barbie dolls and every other kind of doll imaginable. I had a middle school teacher that collected frog paraphernalia. You can imagine what her Christmas gifts typically were. Some people collect the intangibles, though. Stories. Memories. Friendships. Adventures.

I've got a few of my own collections. When I was a kid I collected pencils. You know, the really cool pencils with the special tops and erasers. I've got one with ash from Mount St. Helen, another with the word "Coke" written in different languages that I snagged from the museum down in Georgia, and a variety of others that represent my travels.

I've also got a stash of postcards, the bulk of the collection coming from my 4th grade teacher. I had his wife for 3rd grade and then I had him for 4th grade and both of my brothers had them, as well. Well, in 4th grade that teacher introduced me to all things Route 66 and postcards. Ever since then it's been on my bucket list to take a trip down Route 66 from Chicago to Santa Monica, start to finish. Anyway, once I left 4th grade, my teacher and I started sending postcards to each other, one from each place we happened to be traveling to. He and his wife has criss-crossed the country on numerous occasions and were always diligent in sending me a postcard from their travels. We kept it up for nearly 10 years before here in the last several we've just haven't kept in touch as well. But, yes, ten years.

Smashed pennies also join the ranks of things I collect - I've got somewhere around 80 or so, all packed nice and neat in the special smashed penny display binder random stores sell. I think my first one was probably from grandparents (or at least I think it was them) - it was one from the Pearl Harbor Memorial. I've even got a few from Russia. I was in shock when I was in St. Basil's Cathedral in Moscow and turned the corner and found a smashes ruble machine. I couldn't believe it. I got a smashed ruble of every design they had available. They've even got an entire website devoted to the hobby. I checked to see if Kenya had any, but no such luck.

But maybe the thing I like collecting the most are the little artifacts of life - places visited, notes written, movies seen, flights taken, football games attended, musicals watched - all represented by ticket stubs. I don't know when exactly I started collecting them, but I think sometime around early middle school, maybe 5th or 6th grade.  And ever since then, so far as I've been able to manage, I have every ticket stub to every movie I have ever been to, every football game, every trip, every museum exhibit, a few plane tickets, etc.  I figure it's better than collecting t-shirts and random things that take up space that I'll probably forget I even have.  I've got two 16x20 frames at the moment, plus two smaller 8x10 frames, chocked full.  So I sort and organize and frame the tickets. And look back and remember the stories, the memories, the friendships, and the adventures.

How do you collect the artifacts of your life?

If C.S. Lewis were 40% More Sarcastic...

So I've been reading this book called "Stuff Christians Like" by Jon Acuff, given to me by Jess T. (thank you!) and let me tell you, there's some seriously funny (no oxymoron intended) stuff in that book.

Here's what the back of the book says to give you the jist of what it's is about:

Sometimes, we fall in love on mission trips even though we know we’ll break up when we get back.

Sometimes, you have to shot block a friend’s prayer because she’s asking God to bless an obviously bad dating relationship.

Sometimes, you think, “I wish I had a t-shirt that said ‘I direct deposit my tithe’ so people wouldn’t judge me.”

Sometimes, the stuff that comes with faith is funny.

This is that stuff.

Jonathan Acuff’s Stuff Christians Like is your field guide to all things Christian. Like a satirical grenade, Acuff brings us the humor and honesty that galvanized 730,000 online readers from 209 countries in a new portable version. Welcome to the funny side of faith.

I've followed the blog for awhile and always found it amusing and the book is equally amusing. I probably find it so entertaining because he says the things I either say anyway or have at least thought to myself when it comes to Christians, church, God, and whatever else belongs in that boat of faith. My favorite line in the whole book was in regards to what an alternative title to SCL could have been: "Stuff Christians Like: The Book C.S. Lewis Would Have Written if He Had Been 40% More Sarcastic and 100% Less Dead."

I have no idea why I found that so stinking hysterical - maybe because I just got done reading a book not too long ago about C.S. Lewis and J.R.R Tolkien and have those two authors on the brain. Who knows. Nevertheless, if you have a moment, pick up the book - and if nothing else, check out his blog. And laugh at the funny side of your faith.

Weddings!

I forgot to mention what a great time I had at Erica's wedding and how fun it was to finally meet Karen Kingsbury!

A Special Country

Sometimes I'm amazed at the things I unearth in my room. It's kind of a disaster right now with boxes, clothes, paintings, and a host of other things scattered about. For whatever reason this afternoon I decided to sort through my filing cabinet. Mind you, I bought this filing cabinet when I was in middle school, if not elementary school. No exaggerating. I love having things organized and it started at an early age. I've got papers and notes in the cabinet from when I was in third and fourth grade - writing assignments, stories, drawings, notes, graded tests, etc. It's a small treasure trove, a glimpse into my life.

Well, I came across a paper today that made me laugh out loud and then I nearly started crying. Because to me it was evidence of so many things - dreams, goals, ambitions, a life that has come full circle, yet again, just like I mentioned in the last post. I wrote this paper when I was 13 years old, now nearly 13 years ago - I would have been in the 7th grade. It was dated October 8, 1997. Here is what I had to say in my paper entitled "A Special Country," a response to the question asked by the teacher of what country would we like to visit:

"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!! (Clearly I was a fan of exclamation marks, and using two for emphasis.) 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 (does anybody in 7th grade use that word other than me?) 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."

Oh, man. Isn't that crazy? After all these years. Africa was on my mind all along, even if it wasn't always at the forefront. Even in 7th grade when I was writing (thank goodness my writing has evolved to get beyond simple sentences and paragraphs that include more than two sentences) and dreaming, I was dreaming of Africa. My dreams have changed a little - it's not for the animals that I go and it's not for the safaris, although those are wonderful things. It's for the people - it's for the little ones who have been orphaned by AIDS and epidemics, war and famine. It's for the chance to be the hands and feet of Jesus, even if for a moment.

Besides...

"In his book A Severe Mercy Sheldon Vanauken, who lost his wife to cancer, tells of the last day he saw his friend C. S. Lewis. They had lunch together and talked about death or, as he says, "the wakening after death." Vanauken suggested that death would be a sort of coming home, and Lewis agreed. When it came time to part, he insisted that they keep in touch and then said with a cheerful grin, "We'll certainly meet again here or there." The two friends shook hands and Lewis made his way across the busy highway. Then he turned to Vanauken, raised his voice above the traffic, grinned and shouted, "Besides, Christians never say goodbye."

I've been thinking about this quote often here lately as I prepare to wave farewell to Fulton. It's from yet another one of my favorite books, A Severe Mercy by Sheldon Vanauken. I certainly don't think of it in terms of the references to death, but more of the idea of saying goodbye. You know, I learned awhile ago what it means to exit gracefully, thus the name of this blog and the quote on the right side bar. People keep asking, "Are you ready to leave? Are you ready to be done here?" And my answer is "yes." Not in a "yes - thank God, I can't get out of here soon enough" sort of way, but rather "yes, I'm grateful for this season, and I know it's just one of many that I'll pass through." I'm ready to exit gracefully and to embrace whatever season God has for me next. I know that I'll keep in touch with many people and I'm fairly confident it won't be the last time I'll ever see them. Missouri has been a big part of my life and that's not something you just walk away from and never return to.

There will be many friends that I will turn to this weekend, grin and shout to them, "Besides, Christians never say goodbye!"