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.

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.

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.

Adorn Your Days

"If ye fulfil the royal law according to the Scripture, Thou shalt love thy neighbor as thyself, ye do well."
                                                         -James 2:8

"...we must learn to adorn every day with sacrifices. Good manners are made up of petty sacrifices. Temperance, courage, love, are made up of the same jewels. Listen to every prompting of honor."
                                                                                                                            -R.W. Emerson

Adorning every day with sacrifices. I really like that. The little things, something as simple as good manners, say, "my life is not only about me." I can choose to decorate my days with things that say, "you are also important." God's kingdom is so very different to the kingdom of this world. So humanizing. May God give strength to adorn the day - to make deliberate choices to sacrifice. To love. To show there is another way to live.

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.

Cruising the Highways and Byways - Part Two: Kajo Keji

Not long after our trip to Garia, we set out on a longer hike out to Kajo Keji and Juba - going southeast from Mundri. Our purpose: to visit the Diocese of Kajo Keji and their Church Community Mobilization Project (CCMP); and to stop in Juba (current capital of South Sudan) for multiple errands, securing supplies, visiting Juba University, and checking out South Sudan's first Agricultural Trade Fair sponsored by USAID.

Cruising the Highways and Byways - Part One: To Garia

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.

What it's Like to Leave; Living on Grace Lane

Foreword:  Preparing to leave is an odd endeavor for me.  You write out this massive list of things you need to do, unsure how long each will take.  You try to plan it out as best you can, never knowing if it'll work.  But you set out excited because you're starting to make progress.  Time passes, things are crossed off.  But unexpected additions come up as well.  And doubt starts to niggle you.