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 Premise (penned last Thanksgiving)

I am sitting at my desk this morning, eating a particularly fine set of soaked grain pancakes obscured by mountains of fresh mulberries, bananas, soaked almonds, cultured pumpkin spice syrup, and the last little bits of an apple brought from Juba. And I thought to myself, "Larissa, I want to write a list today.  It's Thanksgiving, and I want to give thanks." But not as an exercise or duty.  Not a guilt-driven "I should be grateful" activity. Rather, as a response. An outpouring of delight in all the things I love and have been so blessed to have experienced and influenced by.

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.

Ebenezer Totem

1 Samuel 7:12 "Then Samuel took a stone and set it up between Mizpah and Shen and called its name Ebenezer [meaning 'stone of help'], for he said, "Till now the LORD has helped us."

One very fortunate advantage of living this crazy between-two-worlds missionary life is the frequent book-ends that mark and divide my time. Quarterly goal reviews with team leaders; yearly team vision retreats; the welcome trek back home to Philadelphia and Canada once a year; and the regular cadence of birthing projects and reporting back as the different seasons unroll themselves like ticker tape.

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.

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.

Fine Dining with the Fam

Staying with Mama Viviana and her family has been an exercise not only in language and social custom, but also in the culinary arts - such as the refined skill of commanding the charcoal cookstove. Lest you scoff at the assertion and suggest that any old person can use charcoal to cook - I challenge you to cook an entire meal (and I don't mean hot dogs) from scratch; lighting your own charcoal from the embers of the last fire; using no measuring cups or spoons; getting the rice perfectly done (and not burnt); making sure you didn't use too much charcoal; using as your utensils a knife, a ndeṛi (wooden stirring stick), and a small metal sppon; and not burning your fingers in the process. It's more difficult than it seems.  I assure you.

Little People. Big Victories

Doors are opening. Everywhere. And blessings are growing and blooming. There's no better way to see them than in my relationship with kids . . . the three on our compound, and all the neighbors surrounding us. Two Sundays ago, Mami said she wanted to come to church with me. But she hadn't planned. I was going on bike, and she would have to walk (since she has no bike). So the next Sunday, she Äpi, and Queen (our neighbor) got themselves bathed and dressed in their Sunday clothes a whole hour early so they could set out on foot and meet me there. And so they did. I beat them despite the 40 minute head start (I have a strong feeling there were more than a few side-tracks along the way ;).

Growing Into My Skin

I like to call them our Christmas bugs - bright red - this is their season

So much for thinking the rains are tapering off. True enough, it isn't exactly pouring down buckets most of the time, but the number of days it has rained in one fashion or another has definitely rivaled its sunny counterpart. Last thursday, when I returned to Mama Viviana's after my day of rest at home, was no exception. After plowing through the afternoon heat trying to finish my post, I went to hit "publish" and the internet cut out.  Rain clouds blocked the satellite connection. I dashed from the office to my tukul just in time for the floodgates to open. DELUGE! Rain thundering down so raucously you could barely hear anything else, and lightening so bright and close that the thunder clap felt like it could set our walls heaving inwards. With little else that could be done (and Christine having just gotten home from a hot afternoon of teaching Physics at the local secondary school) we got the dvd player for some down time with Temple Grandin.

Imperishable Seed

I sit at my desk in the early afternoon.  Orange flowers like tall, slender ladies sway elegantly on the breeze just outside my window, tilting their ochre heads towards the sun.  The ever steady sun. The tin roof crackles above me, contracting as a cloud blocks us momentarily from its view.  Birds chatter in the distance.