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.

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!