The Hindsight of a Year, and the Death that is Life

It's funny the things that get you ... and the things that don't, when you walk this part of this kind of journey. One morning before Christmas I was in the post office. One letter to mail. There was the usual post office humdrum and conversation (comforting really ...), the rotating rack of greeting cards, the smell of newsprint, the reassuring presence of people just like me, waiting in line. Normal life.

A poster of coming holiday stamps was up and my eyes sifted through them thinking which ones I might like to use this year. Such a regular, routine activity. Yet after 2 + years of constant change and nothing dependable from season to season or year to year, for that matter, it's a deliciously conventional feeling ... like, 'wow, my life may approach some semblance of normalcy, and I can think about doing normal things at normal times again!'

I'm Grateful: The Journey From Autumn to the Most Wonderful Event in History (Part 3)

Every year when the bounty of summer starts to give way to the mysterious and ancient winds of change that are Autumn
when leaves fall
when skies are blustery
when hopes of something secret and riveting
hidden in the deep sleep of winter flicker on frosty air
when squirrels busily eat the red berries off the dogwood trees
and here in South Sudan when grasses die
when the mud turns to dust and clay
when the vibrancy of rainy season is sucked away by the sun
when the days burn off the humidity
and the nights find me snuggled away from the chill under multiple blankets, candles lit -

I'm Grateful: South Sudan (Part 2)

I'm grateful this year, to be back in South Sudan. Surrounded by the earthy Moru existence that I love so well. By drums, and gourd shakers, and dancing, singing friends in church. To know the words of the Moru hymns and pipe in heartily with my own voice - loud enough to make me happily hoarse afterwards - like everyone else.

Break, Planes, and this African Life

Yesterday’s departure from Mundri for our break was like a scene out of Home Alone.  The one where everyone finds out they slept in because the alarm clock didn’t go off and they might miss their flight. They jump into a flurry of frenzied activity, throwing things into suitcases, running about the house getting this or that, and squeezing into the airport van hoping that they haven’t left anyone or anything behind.

24-ish Hours of Wow

It’s been a rare 24 hours indeed.  As I stood sopping wet from the shower getting ready to go to town for some errands, my friend Cici called.  Her very pregnant sister Maria was in labor, the baby sitting bum-side down, and things were not looking good.  Maria already has 6 children, and none of her labors have ever been as bad or long as this.  Cici asked if we might be able to help them get to the hospital in Lui (17 miles away - but an hour or so by car, owing to the bad roads).  'Of course!’

One minor problem.  Our main vehicle (Brown Sugar - the land cruiser that seats 11) had just been taken by another team to Mvolo.  Our other vehicle (White Bull - the water truck that sits 3 in the cab) had been taken by our friend Rooney to do a bore hole repair.  Someone had seen him pull back into town this afternoon, but he hadn’t shown up at our place yet.  And we couldn't seem to reach him by phone.

Isaiah 58

My it has been a while.  Or a year and a half!

The silence (without going into a 5 volume novel about this missing chunk of time) has been a result of being exorbitantly busy, then burnt out to a smoldering piece of bacon, then spending time healing.

I'm just now starting to feel snatches of my old self (and a new self) emerge from the rubble with an undeniable and ever-growing helping of 'chutzpah,' as my old roommate Heidi would say.  :)  I actually feel excited about things.  And the excitement is paired with a hope that I might really be able to get back on my two feet and bring something to the table after all this time.

At some point, I think I'd like to share a little of what has transpired in these months - both from a mental/emotional/spiritual perspective, as well as from a physical perspective (including the awesome things I have learned about health & medicine, and using good food and lifestyle habits to nurse my body back to health).  But I'll leave that for another day.

Today I'll share a passage that Heather, wife of Shawn - both of whom are now leading the Serge (formerly World Harvest) team in South Sudan -  shared with us today.  And I share it because it so clearly expresses the work that it seems God has been doing in my life over the last eight months in the US, and a brilliant hope for the work that we are reopening with a host of new teammates shortly.

Isaiah 58:10-12

If you pour out yourself for the hungry
and satisfy the desire of the afflicted,
then shall your light rise up in the darkness
and your gloom be as the noonday.
And the LORD will guide you continually
and satisfy your desire in the scorched places
and make your bones strong;
and you shall be like a watered garden,
like a spring of water,
whose waters do not fail.
And your ancient ruins shall be rebuilt,
you shall raise up the foundations of many generations;
you shall be called the repairer of the breach;
the restorer of streets to dwell in.

The passage is aimed at the people of Israel but gets to the heart of what God desires for and of His people throughout time.  Such a beautiful picture!

Please pray that this is what God would be using us to do.  Currently, my former teammate Scott and new teammate Justin are on the ground in Mundri, shortly to be joined by our new team leaders (early September), followed by two other new teammates (Will & Theresa), and myself (sometime in that same window, Lord willing).  It's been a long hiatus, but He knows what He's doing and I'm ever so excited to see what is next.

You Make Beautiful Things

Andrew just made a new video clip of our work here in South Sudan.

Feel free to check it out here.

Kid's Club

We used to get really irritated with neighbor kids coming and fishing in our trash pits, making noise, leaving messes, sometimes stealing things. We try to get them to first greet us and ask for things rather than jumping in the pit and getting hurt (one morning I had to fish a kid out who couldn't climb up!!) or running away like thieves when we come outside to address them. Then we give them containers and other prized trash that we've saved so they don't rummage in the pit.

Merry Christmas!

From the South Sudan team...

our neighbors...

my incomparable home-stay family...

our Moru friends...

and my favorite little Moru boy Caleba and I!

May you find joy in knowing Emmanuel has come to you

and celebrating Him with all the sweet souls He has put in your life.

Love and Hugs,

Larissa

Olofo Ngwa Te (Lit: The Baby Was Taken Out)

Yawn. Yep, that was pretty much my sentiment when the clock went off at 6:15 to rouse me to yoga this morning. It was dark and raining (as it seems to be all the time these days). At 7:30 my eyes opened again and I attempted to shoot my tired body out of bed. It ended up more like a drag, but I made it out, and that's what counts on days like this! 

Tea, homemade yogurt and granola, starting four workers into their work on the compound, doing some dishes, getting in some reading in Genesis and Psalms, and I was off to Mama Viviana's house to celebrate!

Teaching Ag at BNTC

It's 6:39pm on the clock. I've been banished from my garden by a feisty afternoon rainstorm. I'm not complaining - grow cucumbers!  Grow radish!  Grow squash!  Grow tomatoes!  Grow! And actually, it's a good moment to sit down and share some exciting and much-overdue thoughts about BNTC.

Guor Marial

Last night we were invited over to the Bishop's house for dinner (we share a compound). A team from Bethany's church back in Philadelphia (Liberti) was here visiting and it was an opportunity for fellowship. The awesome perk was that the Bishop has satellite TV, and we got to watch the Olympic marathon!! (HOW did we not realize that he was getting Olympic coverage all this time?!*). I was scouring the screen for Guor Marial - a South Sudanese runner competing under the Olympic flag. An unfortunate sufferer of the recent civil war, Guor landed in the States through the UN refugee program. Not yet a citizen of the US, and South Sudan not being organized enough for an Olympic team of its own, he was invited to run under the Olympic flag. For those interested, his story is here:

For South Sudan runner, just reaching London was a marathon

Absentee Bloglord. Part Three: Anything and everything you could desire to know about what I do in agriculture.

Installment Three: May

Eating by Season, Fruit, 'Prune'-Ups, and Planting. :)

It's a wonderful thing to live by seasons here. In November and December we are rolling in citrus: succulent key limes, big gnarly lemons, sometimes oranges and tangerines, even. Once they disappear from the market in January and February, the tamarind comes ready on trees and everyone is walking around sucking it or shaking bottles of it mixed with water and honey. The juice is AWESOME.

Absentee Bloglord. Part Three: Anything and everything you could desire to know about what I do in agriculture.

Installment Two: April

Mango Madness & Experiments in Dehydration, Fermentation, and Preservation.

The arrival of mango season is always a cause for major celebration. First off, it's hot as it comes, and second, there's hardly anything resembling fresh produce left in the market. Excitement about what to cook for dinner hits an all-year low. The entrance of mango at just such a time of year, combined with the fact that everything here is so confined to its season has gotten me thinking since I arrived: how can one save the bounty of different seasons for the rest of the year? Caleb and I put our heads together to come up with solution #1: a solar dehydrator. Ingenius and persevering one that he is, Caleb slapped this together and we were on our way.

Absentee Bloglord. Part Three: Anything and everything you could desire to know about what I do in agriculture, not including my work at the college - ha!

RAINS, DIGGING IN GARDENS, AND PLANTING.

Installment One: March

Towards the end of dry season (March), you wonder that anything could be different. The ground is hard as rock, baked into granite by the never-ending sun. All manner of vegetation is dead and desiccated. A few trees sport their green leaves for the long haul, but others stand bare, either having dropped their clothes, or having had them eaten off by Lulu caterpillars, grasshoppers, or some other ravenous thing. Shades of bleached brown, red, and yellow stretch out as far as the eye can see - and owing to the lack of vegetation, that's a long way.

Absentee Bloglord. Part Two: Team Fun

Following a month and a half of home-stay with Margaret's family during dry season, I moved back home to the team compound.  And here's a little snipet on some of the joys to be found therein.

Absentee Bloglord. Part 1: Changing Seasons

Visiting Lui's yet dry resevoir before the rains

So there are absentee landlords ... and there are absentee bloglords. Yep, that's me. I haven't been in the blog world for a while. But I hope to be back for a bit. With some stories from my travels in the real world. Do forgive my long absence. Sometimes there's a lot happening. And not much time to write about it. But here are a few glimpses from the last few months, and a handful of thoughts to go with them.

Join Me For Life at Margaret's

Meet Christina. That's her church name. At home and among her friends she goes by Koba. I share a hut with her. Older, and never having had children of her own, she lives here with her one remaining brother (of an original 10). Hard working, she doesn't complain when she gets up and down and her rheumatism twinges something awful. She's no-nonsense. Direct. And would probably strike you as rather brash at first glance. We first met on a bench outside of church. I was talking with a bunch of ladies, and she was sitting next to me. She kept grabbing at my arm to get my attention, telling me that I was going to teach her English, and animatedly engaging me in conversation. At other times, that could have bothered me, but in her case, something about her matter-of-fact way hinted at a beguiling mix of soft-hearted sincerity and honorable fighting spirit just below the surface. And I've loved her ever since.

It's 4:10pm. Where has the day gone? I came back to our compound to get some stuff done. But I think I've spent more of my time chasing ornery goats out of my garden. God used them, as He does all things if I'm aware enough to catch on, to clue me in a little more to His own heart today. After the third time running like a lunatic through the compound hurling stones, I walked all the way down the path behind our house to our closest neighbors to have a "chat" about the goat situation. The situation is that our neighbors have stopped tying the goats because good pasture is harder to come by in dry season. Now the charming animals have decided that my house is their favorite hang-out - which aside from their free eating of months of my work in the garden, they stink, they're loud, and they're constantly hounded by one rather virile beast that can't keep his eyes off the ladies. I'd had enough.

Pray Please! Home-Stay #2

Dear Friends,

It's hotter than hot. And my brain feels like melted butter and scrambled eggs all at once. At noon I dropped my entire team off at the air-strip, sending everyone off with multiple bear hugs and kisses as they left for a bit of work and a bit of play in Uganda. And I drove home to an empty compound. Weird! I felt a true pang in my heart of hearts to send them all away like that. Standing alone on the road and waving as their dear little faces disappeared from sight. It was a sweet sadness - one that tells me these are my specials, my people, and I really, really love them.

That done, I am switching gears again majorly and will shortly bike off to Miri-Kalanga and Margaret's house. Two heads shorter than me and with enough hugs and smiles and genuine love to more than take the edge off the loss of my team, she is a member of the church I've been attending for the past two years, and part of the Mother's Union there. I'll stay with her at least for the next two weeks - but hope to hop between her house and another lady's for the next month and a half or so (if I can stand the heat).

I covet your prayers for me:

1. For grace in getting to know everyone, loving them well, finding our stride together, and fielding the awkwardness that's bound to hit at times!

2. For great gains in learning more language and culture (these folks don't speak a lick of English, so there's great potential for real improvement.)

3. For true help with the heat. I'm not just joking or complaining when I tell you it's hot. It is getting past 100 every day. Some nights are not cooling off any longer. And by noon everyone is wilted and cranky. On top of that, I'll be surrounded by people all the time, not in my own place, and I've had some struggles with heat rash (which by the way, is HORRIBLE). So, I need God's intervention - to keep my brain sharp, my heart soft and willing and patient, and my body able to deal with the heat (since I won't have the usual access to an ice cube, shower, mango slushy, or the privacy of my own room when I'm just DONE.)

4. Fun. Deepening relationships. Heart to heart communication. Creative ideas to engage people. Strength to move towards people. There is nothing more dear to me in life than going deep with people and truly feeling connected with bonds of love. What better thing could I share with people than myself and my God? It's what I've come here for. Please pray that I will be a huge blessing to this family and all their neighbors, and that they in turn will be the same for me - so all of us can grow and be encouraged and inspired by the goodness of our God.

THANK YOU!  So much love to all of you - even the ones who haven't had a personal email from me in months. Please know you are on my mind and in my heart, even though I'm not able to stay in touch better.

Larissa