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DATELINE: Somewhere in Northwestern Uganda.  10:28 P.M. Village time.  That’s 2:28 P.M. CST for those of  you keeping score at home.

THE FIRST GOOD-BYE

Today – as we’ve been reminded numerous times on this trip – is Chris’ birthday!  It is also the day she and Maddie and Cindy leave for home.  We will definitely miss them – they have added a unique dimension to our team.  And having the time to spend with Cindy, seeing her in her “element”, hearing her heart as she’s here with “her” kids, having the opportunity to get to know her has been an unexpected blessing.  Our campfires at dinner will definitely be quieter with them gone.

But that was only part of the reason today was hard.  I spent most of this day in a fierce internal personal struggle because of something that happened after breakfast.   I was confronted – in love – by a team member who felt I had overstepped my bounds and encouraged me to take more of a background role in the worship time with the children.  Though I understood her perspective and appreciated her willingness to confront me, I must admit I was deeply wounded.  I wanted to be sensitive and not overreact but I was honestly very angry and disappointed.  I had a hard time keeping my composure as I prepared the materials for ESL.  I realized that what I *thought* I had been called here to do was actually not what God wanted me to do.  I quickly spiraled into questioning my very purpose for being here.  And after struggling with that very thing on the last trip, I really didn’t want to go down that road again.  Unfortunately, I spent a long time in a personal “pity party”, but praying for God to reveal His truth to me in this situation.

So that I could get a grip on my response and process through the emotions that threatened to overwhelm me, I handed off the majority of the day’s activities to someone else.  It was at this moment I realized that ESL was not why I was here.  As hard as I had worked to prepare lessons and materials, as much time as I had spent researching and gathering supplies…none of it seemed to matter at this point.  The focus was on the kids…what was best for them, what would reach them, touch their hearts.  It wasn’t about *me* or what *I* thought I was supposed to do.  It was bout being obedient, being humble, being yielded and willing to be used by Him.  This day became a true turning point for me in many respects.   It was the day I had to give up everything I thought was supposed to be right and true about why I was here…the day I relinquished *MY* dreams and *MY* ambitions and *MY* goals…the day I was brought to absolute humility before God…the day I surrendered all my control to Him and allowed Him to reveal His true purpose to me.

I spent some time in the morning with the teachers.  Denis and I spent quite a bit of time going page by page, grade by grade through the curriculum, reviewing objectives and studying the instructional goals.  I was able to help him with a number of things he didn’t know or understand.  He absorbed all that I was telling him and was so gracious and humble and appreciative.  We had to stop to say good bye to Cindy and Maddie and Chris, but planned to resume in the afternoon.

And where there is a good-bye, there’s always time for pictures!

As soon as a camera comes out, they’re ready to ham it up.

See what I mean?

The crowd grows larger…

…until I’m drowning in a sea of my new best friends.

Stella and Susan…my Ugandan daughters.

Don’t we look alike?

Hangin’ with Geoffrey, my personal Acholi tutor.

After we had said good bye, it was time for lunch, so we suspended our activities until the afternoon.  We enjoyed some time together as a team.  I was still wrestling through my emotions, so I decided to head to one of the classrooms for some “alone” time.  I brought along my journal, so I could catch up a bit.  Because I process my emotions by writing, it wasn’t long before tears were falling down my cheeks as I dealt with my shame over my reaction, my longing for forgiveness and restoration, and my desperate desire to simply be used in whatever form or fashion that might be.  Next thing I knew, my sweet friend Justin walked in on me.  I’m sure it was obvious I had been crying, but no words were said.  He simply came over and wanted to see what I was writing.  I let him look at my journal, but as it is written in cursive he couldn’t read it.  So I got out my Acholi notebook and found some of the ESL picture strips and allowed him to be my ASL teacher (Acholi as a Second Language).

It wasn’t long before a few more wandered in…and got a hold of my camera, which is how I ended up with pictures like this:

And  yes, these pictures are unedited, oriented just the way Norman and Norbert took them.  Silly boys.

I finally showed them how to hold the camera and ended up with pictures like this:

But with a little practice, they finally got it right:

And ended up capturing some very special moments I shared with just a few precious children…moments I’m grateful to have had…moments I probably didn’t deserve…moments I loved having all to myself.

When the afternoon session resumed, I went back to meet with the teachers.  Denis and I finished up our discussion fairly quickly, and then I had the privilege to just “hang out” in the staff room with all the teachers as well as Pastor David.  I felt right at home, in the “teacher’s lounge”, solving the world’s problems over examination papers and curriculum guides.  We discussed everything from American History to the Ugandan political system to America’s “national preachers.”  I really didn’t want our time to end, but I knew at one point I had to let them get back to their work, so as the afternoon session closed up, I left them to their duties, knowing we had formed a lasting and deep friendship.

I saw that Jon had gotten out the hackysacks he had brought, and Careenna was rounding up another group of kids to play some sort of game.  Knowing that games was more of Careenna’s area of ministry, I didn’t want to overstep or be seen as taking control, so very cautiously I suggested a game of “Red Rover.”  Careenna immediately took to that game and she and Amy led it.  Soon, the majority of the children were involved in playing this game.  Even all the older boys and girls joined in!!  Careenna ended up being the “treasured prize” during the game, causing great cheers any time she was able to switch lines.  The children loved the game so much that we played it for a couple of hours…until we realized we had gone way past chore time and it was nearly dinner time!

Because we had played the game for so long (nearly 2 hours) dinner was practically ready for us so we quickly said good bye to the children and cleaned up for dinner.  After dinner, we went down for worship where Denis taught a new song in preparation for the closing ceremonies of the school tomorrow.  They practiced several times, using each of our names in their song.  Once they were sure they had learned the song, they had a time of worship, which was particularly sweet since it was our last one together.

I realize this was only the first good-bye…the next two are going to be even harder.  For now, though, I will cherish the moments we have, knowing that God has allowed us to have this precious time together.

DATELINE:  August 10, 2010.  7:52 A.M. Village of Hope time.  That’s 11:52 P.M. CST on August 9 for those of you keeping score at home.

THE VILLAGE OF HOPE!

There wasn’t an opportunity to write yesterday so I will try to capture the experience from the perspective of a new day. Read the rest of this entry »

Tonight was the fulfillment of a dream come true for Crisana, apparently.  It was the annual downtown McKinney Christmas Parade – the “Parade of Lights” – and her Daisy Girl Scout Troop had chosen to participate.  Our theme was “The Nutcracker”, so some girls dressed as mice and some as nutcrackers.  And Crisana?  Of course, she was a ballerina.

It was a COLD evening, even by New England standards.  The daytime high had been somewhere in the upper 30′s and the lows that evening were projected to be in the 20′s.  But despite the chill – and having to stand in it for an hour before the parade even got going – Crisana never complained.  She loved the thought of being the center of attention and being part of such an exciting event.

The floats went first and there were several other Girl Scout troops walking in the parade, so we waited until nearly the end before we had our moment of glory.  But Crisana rose to the occasion – literally – walking en pointe the whole way, working the crowd at every opportunity, and living her dream.

Unfortunately, I wasn’t able to get many pictures, but thankfully our troop leader did, and she made this video “scrapbook” of the occasion.  Enjoy!

It’s the end of my very first week working full-time, and I gotta tell you, I’m tired!

I’m not used to waking up earlier than my children on a regular basis.  I’m not used to having to cook breakfast and make four lunches and feed both pets and get showered and dressed and out the door by 7:30 either.  And that’s just before school!

So this weekend, I intend to rest.  A lot.  Put my feet up.  Take a breather.  Relax a little.  Who knows, maybe I’ll even listen to some music.  Perhaps something quiet and peaceful like this:

This week is a fulfillment of a dream made reality.

You may remember a previous post alluding to this week, but for various reasons I had to keep things under wraps.  Now that it’s here, I can spill the beans.

It’s time once again for the McKinney Fellowship Preschool Worship and Arts Camp.   This year’s theme?  “Rockin’ Rollin’ Praise.”  Our theme verse is 1 Samuel 2:2:

There is no one holy like the LORD; there is no one besides You; there is no Rock like our God.

We had anticipated an increase in our enrollment from last year when we had 25 little people join us for our “Jammin’ Jungle Praise” adventure.  With the recession in full force, I did not dare to get my hopes up.  But our God is a big God and He provided 44 exuberant campers!  With the increase in enrollment came an increase in our staff needs as well.  I was amazed by the way God once again answered prayer as we had two adult leaders in every rotation as well as 4 high school and middle school “counselors” to lead the groups through their rotations, and assorted young helpers for the various activities.  All told, we had over 20 volunteers helping each day making sure camp ran smoothly and the children were safe and had fun.

We extended our camp day by 45 minutes this year to accomodate an additional Bible story rotation.  Our day began with a large group time, where my good friend “Shell-don” the turtle made a visit each morning to help us understand about God, our Rock.  I had a great time stretching my creative writing skills to write a puppet script for each day, and the children really loved Shell-don.  We then moved into our rotation times with about 30 minutes per rotation for crafts, rhythm/creative movement (where they also received a snack), Bible story, and music.  After two hours of rotation, we had a recreation period where campers rotated each day through playground, bubbles, and sidewalk chalk creative play.  We closed our day in a large group time where we rehearsed our special program to present to parents on Friday.

I’ve been a Christian a long time.  I made the decision to accept God’s gift of salvation when I was five years old.  I was raised in a Christian home with Christian parents who worked at a Christian school and were very involved in our local church and made our faith a huge priority in our home.  So I know the lingo.  I know the words.  I know how to “talk the talk.”

But I didn’t really understand: what’s so “good” about Good Friday?

I’ve spent many years living in pride: I was a “good” sinner.  I’ve never done anything truly horrible in my life.  I’ve never murdered anyone.  I’ve never stolen anything – intentionally.  I got good grades in school, I studied hard and didn’t cheat, I respected my teachers.  I’ve never smoked, done drugs, or gotten drunk.  For most of my life, I lived with the lie that it was easy to save me.  I was already a pretty good person.  God didn’t really have to sacrifice much to save someone like me.

So I didn’t really understand: what’s so “good” about Good Friday?

But in recent years, God has shown me the devastating effects of that lie.  How living with that sort of pride has made me reluctant to share my story because it’s not “dramatic” enough.  How I’ve hidden my light and my testimony under a bush because no one would be interested in it.  And I wonder…how many people will go to hell because of me?  Because I was too proud…too nervous…to afraid to share my story.

And I still didn’t understand: what was so “good” about Good Friday?

Recently, God has also been slowly revealing to me the depths of my sin.  How my “little” sins have still completely separated me from God.  How all that “goodness” I believed was inside of me was still distasteful and displeasing to Him.  How I truly – TRULY – had nothing to bring to the table to negotiate my salvation.  How – despite living on the straight and narrow – my sin still was enough to cause Jesus to endure torture, ridicule, and shame to the point of death.

But I still didn’t understand: what’s so “good” about Good Friday?

About 10 years ago, I had the privilege of praying in the Garden of Gethsemane.  As I sat under an olive tree in the middle of the garden, I wondered if this might have been the exact spot where my Savior wept as He prayed over me…someone who wouldn’t even exist for another 2,000 years.  What could I say at that moment?  What pitiful prayer could I offer?  What words could express the gratitude, the awe, the wonder of it all?  What sacrifice could I offer in return for that night of agony and sorrow, those hours of loneliness when even Jesus’ closest friends abandoned Him?  I found I couldn’t pray.  I sat under that olive tree, and like my Savior, I wept.  I wept over my pride…my sin…my unworthiness.  I wept over His great love, His endless compassion…and His ultimate sacrifice, made for me.

And I began to see: what IS “good” about Good Friday.

I can hardly bear to watch the movie “The Passion of the Christ.”  Though I don’t like graphic depictions of physical violence, that’s not what bothers me most.  Fact is, it hits too close to home.  You see, I did that.  I was the soldier beating His back to a bloody pulp.  I was the disciple who cursed His name and abandoned Him in His darkest moment.  I was the one in the crowd who shouted for his death.  And I was the soldier who put the nails in his hands and lowered that cross into the ground.  I stood and mocked Him.  You may not have seen me, but it was my sin that held him there.  My sin that motivated Him to endure all that suffering.  My sin that caused Him to remove all His heavenly glory and live a life of humiliation to the point of death.  Those “little” sins…all that “goodness” I had been so proud of all my life.  Yes, that was what He came to save.

And I now can see: what is truly “good” about Good Friday.

Because it was on that day that my debt was paid.  My penalty was given.  My sin was accounted for.  My punishment was delivered.

And Someone else took it all for me.

Okay, so no one’s in the hospital.  And hopefully, HOPEFULLY, this week will be our last time to make that trek, too!

Matt had his final scheduled treatment on Monday.  That means he’s home this week and has been puttering around the house, doing important things like catching up on tv shows, getting in his facebook hours, and taking lots of rests.  But today he did something different.  He went with me to my weekly Bible study.  We’ve been studying Genesis 1-11 and knowing how interested Matt is in “beginnings and endings” (i.e., Genesis and Revelation), I allowed him to tag along with me.  The women were very gracious in welcoming him and joining in discussions with him.

And at the end, they did something that touched my heart: they anointed Matt and prayed over him for healing.  The room was thick with God’s presence as I believe He came near to us in that moment.  Today, I’m grateful for Jehovah Rapha, the God who heals.  I’m grateful for women of faith who, by being humble servants, are lifted up as mighty warriors in God’s kingdom.   I’m grateful for their compassion and tenderness toward my husband.

But most of all, I’m grateful that no matter what lies ahead of us, I know there’s nothing to fear.

Insomnia is a great thing for catching up on blog posts.  Since I’m trying to keep things in chronological order, many of them are buried in previous month’s archives.  If you’re interested in reading a months’ worth of Sunday posts, here they are:

February 1

February 8

February 15

February 22

March 1

March 8

Yesterday, Matt and I had a date.  A date with a boy king, no less.

The background to the story is long and since no one probably cares, I’ll spare you the details.  However, through the generosity of a very special family member, we were able to go see the King Tut exhibit at the Dallas Museum of Art.  Egypt holds special significance for us as a couple, since it was while Matt was living and teaching in Egypt that we began dating and essentially fell in love.  He had visited many of the sites while he was there, but this is probably the closest we’ll ever get to seeing them as a couple.

We had tickets for a 3:00 entrance but were encouraged to watch the Egypt 3D movie first.  It was an experience watching the 25-minute history lesson with funky glasses on, but we learned some things and gained some historical perspective on the exhibit.  We then toured the numerous galleries and saw artifacts from not only Tutankhamen but other pharaoes and members of the royal family.  And yes, believe it or not, I enjoyed my time in an art museum!

After we had filled our brains with information, and indulged our senses with the beauty and amazing craftsmanship of the ancient Egyptian civilization, it was time for some shopping!  We raided the gift shop, and since the rest of the galleries were closed, we headed back to the car to find a place to eat dinner.  We managed to find Thomas Avenue Beverage Company, a place Matt had taken me for my birthday dinner about 11 or 12 years ago.  The fact that we haven’t been back has more to do with an inconvenient location lack of a children’s menu (or playland for that matter) and the fact that it’s a BAR than anything to do with the quality of food.  We began with their hummus and pita bread and I think we would have licked the bowl clean if that would have been appropriate.  Matt enjoyed a bleu-cheese stuffed steak and I opted for the non-South Beach friendly spinach ravioli with cremini mushrooms and tomato sauce.  We talked without interruption, enjoyed a liesurely meal without questions of “what’s this green stuff” and “do I have to eat more vegetables before I can have a treat?”, and even watched a bit of the Steelers-Ravens game.

After sufficiently stuffing ourselves, we weren’t ready to head home immediately – and it was only 7:00 which is early even for our standards.  After weighing our options, we decided to take advantage of free babysitting and no curfew and see a movie.  We arrived at the theater about 15 minutes too late, so we had to wait about 45 minutes before the next show.  We sat in the theater’s cafe and sipped hot chocolate from Starbuck’s while we waited to see Paul Blart, Mall Cop.  Yes, we went from one end of the cultural spectrum to the other in a matter of hours.

Not sure the movie was worth the $18 price of admission, but the time spent together was worth far more than that.  All in all, it was a pretty great way to spend a Sunday – from the ruins of ancient Egypt, to the kitschy neighborhood of Uptown Dallas, to the Orange County Mall in New Jersey (which was really filmed at the Burlington Mall in Midlesex, MA – my very favorite mall from college days, and home of the only Chili’s within several hundred miles of Gordon!!) – all without leaving home.

I was never very good at math.  I struggle with even the most basic mathematical concepts.  I have a hard time balancing my checkbook.  And let’s not even talk about geometry or calculus.  I do much better when letters represent sounds, not numbers.  But here’s a proof I discovered – on my own, no less – this week.  See if you can follow this logic problem:

If Debbi = Tired,

Then Dinner = Easy.

If Debbi = Stressed + Emotional,

Then Snacks = Chocolate (subset of Comfort).

If Week = Busy,

Then Matt = Fend + For + Yourself.

Therefore, since Debbi = Stressed + Tired + Emotional and Week = Busy,

And Dinner = Easy and Snacks = Chocolate (subset of Comfort) and Matt = Fend+For+Yourself,

Then Scale > Last Week.