Post-Christmas Happiness

We had a simple, charming Christmas here in East Africa. The Russell family, Tait, her friend Adam and my parents (of course) were here with the 6 of us for Christmas dinner. It was the normal fare: plump chickens standing in for turkey, dressing (with chunks of mango inside), mashed potatoes, gravy, green beans, corn casserole, one GIANT fresh fruit salad, banana cake and pumpkin pies with whipped cream. We scored on having the Grandma here to make the pies :-)

I took a nap in the early afternoon on the 26th and slept a deep, drugged kind of sleep. Honestly, I slept like only a mom who has just pulled off a Christmas can sleep :-) But I can't let it go unnoticed that Byron did the lion's share of the cooking. What a guy. He's better at ordering the kids around than I am and they made that mound of potatoes that needed peeling into pretty quick work. After my Boxing Day nap, I got up and made birthday cake because the 26th is Colin's birthday!

Well, I will post another little photo journal some time in the days ahead. For now, here are the babies all together.

Recycled Wrap

I thought you might like to see my recycled wrapping paper. I've done this before because I feel so bad about all that paper being used when I have other things that will do. Even though I use baskets and my Trader Joe's bags at the shops and the market, I do end up with overflow at times that requires I bring home plastic bags. So this year we have a lot of blue plastic grocery bags on our gifts under the tree. They are double bagged so you can't see through them and tied off with a ribbon made from whatever I have on hand. Some have the tops chopped off (like the package in the photo) and some still have handle tops sprouting out above. (That way I can use them again when I return to the market.)

You might not agree, but I think they look cute :-)

Joy Creeps In

I can't remember a holiday season when I've been less prepared than I am right now. It's the goofiest thing to have Christmas right around the corner and me be like, "Uh, what day is this?"

Between the lack of recognition that Christmas is really just about here, and the busyness of all that has been going on, I am supremely disorganized in every way.

And yet...

Today I ran around town with Byron, dashing, well, not actually DASHING since traffic was ridiculous, but sort of charging in a sluggish way from one thing to the next.

And in the heat of the heavy after-a-huge-thunderstorm weather, in the bumpiness of the muddy potholes and in the crush of vendors and hawkers mobbing our car windows constantly, in it all I just felt this crazy, creeping joy.

Joy because I love being alone (even in the middle of this city) with Byron. Joy because our Christmas gifts are so simple and unglamorous. Joy because we can open our home to Tait, the lovely Peace Corps volunteer that our family has adopted. Joy because Peter and Tammy are still smiling even though the delays in fixing up their new rental mean that they are moving in tomorrow, not 2 weeks ago like they would have liked. Joy because my parents are just so darn easy to please and they enjoy the smallest things truly. Joy because the sound of the rain on our roof all night is a magical, mysterious melody to me.

And JOY because Christmas isn't a fairy tale.

"The myth that is true," as C.S. Lewis calls the story of Christ. It's just too good!

It's Good...

... to have big brothers. For one thing, their laps are good for sleeping in :-)

Boys Home (Posted With Photos for Darrelle)

The boys are here, blinking in the bright African sun :-)

Trevor sobbed and sobbed when he got his arms around his Daddy.

Mmmmmmm.... feels good to have them home.

Feeling My Way Toward Christmas

Sitting on this lantern-lit porch, I hear the crickets making a racket in cool foliage around the edges of our garden. I hear two, maybe three different kinds of song-making insects. One is sharp, like a high squeak. The other is more melodious in a froggy kind of way. And I just can't tell if I'm hearing a third one or not.

We spent many Christmas seasons in Kenya where the fragrant fruit and flowers announced the goodness of the time of year. I grew accustomed to summery celebrations and sunscreen applications before we gathered as believers to sing and dance in an open place.

Moving to Europe meant that Christmas was no longer accompanied by flowers and plates piled high in mango. We learned to peel the shells off hot chestnuts, fresh from the coal fires in carts that stood on cold corners of grey streets. We made new traditions: coffee and pastry after dark in Sintra with the Uhlers, (where the twinkly white lights made it look like a scene from Disneyland's best attempt to create a quaint Old World charm, only it was better and it was REAL,) and wintery breakfasts with the Dempsey family.

Now the slapping cold of the damp Portuguese winter seems far away and my ability to comprehend that Christmas is coming seems farther away still.

Transition takes time-- this is certainty.

And so is this: the Christ-child was born in a manger to bring hope to a very needy world. Though my heart is slow to awaken to the celebration this year, there is no doubt that the truth of it still stands.

A Tale of 2 (Old) Ladies

I have recently met 2 older ladies, both of whom have stayed much on my mind. I estimate their ages to be between 75 and 80, most likely closer to 80. Both of these ladies are expats here-- white ladies in Africa.

At any rate, these ladies made a big impression on me. The first lady was the most darling, smiling, friendly, joyful kind of person that you could ever hope to meet. "Oh, they took my farm from me," she said, her eyes bright and clear. Then she laughed about some happy thing and leaned over to plant a kiss on the cheek of her adult daughter.

The other lady was dreary and dour and pretty much downright grumpy. I was seated across from her at a meal and, try as I might, I could not get a smile out of her. I was the most charming, interested and friendly self that I could coax up, but she made no attempt to connect and she certainly did not crack a slight or sneaky smile. It felt very much like she just couldn't be bothered about being nice. I wondered to myself what might leave her this way and I realize there could be a host of painful things weighing on her.

But I concluded this:

I want to grow more cheerful and smiley as life goes on. I want to make choices for joy and find room for laughing. I want to smile frequently, broadly, generously and even wrinkly.

Yes, I do!

Mary's Question

This morning I was reading about that famous incident when Gabrielle shows up to a very young Mary and announces that she's going to have a baby (who is going to be the son of The Most High and who will save the world, BTW.)

Gabrielle has big, amazing, lofty, heavenly things to say about the baby:

*He's going to be the Most High's son.
*He's going to be given (by God) the throne of his ancestor, David.
*He's going to reign over the House of Jacob FOREVER, (as in, his kingdom will never end.)

This is a big job description for a baby.

What I loved, as I read this morning, was Mary's response.

First of all, when the angel greets her as one who is "highly favored" by God, Mary is troubled. I love this humility. The girl is thinking, "Me? Not likely. I KNOW me."

Then, after the big description of awesomeness that will surround this baby, Mary has a simple question.

"How will this be," she asks. "I'm a virgin."

God's messenger has just given her a hugely heavenly message. It is weighted with historic significance and supernatural ramifications. This is BIG news.

But Mary has this one plain and down to earth question: "How am I going to get pregnant?"

Sometimes I feel unspiritual because, in the midst of great heavenly leadings, I have dull, practical, party-pooper kinds of questions. Things like, "How would we do that with our limited number of people on this team?" Or, "When would that really fit into our schedule?"

I don't mean to rain on any supernatural idea. I just want to know how we walk it out. I liked Mary's question because it showed me that it's ok to be a wondering girl like me. And the angel didn't rebuke her for wondering, he just explained.

"Well, alright then," she says after getting her answer. "Let's do this thing."

The Dreaded Joy

Jesse and Trevor will arrive here in Arusha on Monday night, December 17th. It's just over one week away!

They fly LA-Washington D.C.-Addis Ababa (Ethiopia, where they have to spend the night. ) Next morning they fly to Nairobi and THEN they take a 5 hour bus ride down to our town.

We are eager, excited, crazed little family members, waiting to throw our arms around them and kiss them to pieces.

But inside, I almost fear their return. I just don't like that their arrival is followed shortly by their departure.

My throat thickens in that awful way and my chest feels heavy at the thought of it.

I'm so glad they are grown and in college.

I so hate the number of miles between us.

Grand Folks

My parents are here :-) They arrived at Kilimanjaro International Airport (and into our huging arms) last night. Hurrah!

Ordinary Hero

Yesterday a guy named Steve Peifer was honored by CNN for his work to help school kids in Kenya. CNN did this cool awards show for heroes, (and mentioned that we didn't need another award show where people who are pulling in $20,000,000 receive fake gold statues.

Steve and his family moved to Kenya at about the same time that our family left Kenya. He is a college entrance counselor at Rift Valley Academy, (where Byron attended many moons ago.)

On the side, if you like, Steve has figured out how to feed about 11,000 Kenyan school kids one meal every day so that they have the energy to go to school and learn. He also sets up computer labs for them.

I cried as I told Byron about the award but I was mystified by my own tears...

...I think they came from the same place in my heart that is weary of seeing beautiful, famous, outrageously rich people honored for what they do (out of their excess funding) for Africa. (OK, I KNOW it's good they use their celeb power to raise awareness, but I would not classify them as heroes.)

Steve and his wife are normal folks. He gave up a good job in the States and they have planted themselves in the African soil where they make far less and give far more.

I am so happy for them to have received this award.

PS All the recipients of the awards were normal every-day hero-type folk. I also really liked hearing about the Catholic sister who works to rehabilitate girls who were kidnapped by the Lord's Resistance Army in Uganda, and the doctor who gives his time and talent to kids in Ethiopia.

Wild News

There's some very nice Wild Hope NEWS over on our Wild Hope BLOG but I'm not going to tell you what it is :-)

Heather

It's Heather's 9th birthday today. (Though my site records this as 3 Dec, it's 4 Dec where I am.)

I still call her "Baby Girl" all the time. I supppose I should stop that now.

Maybe I'll just wait till next year when she hits the double digits ;-)

PS Edna, Paulo, Juran and Barbara just sent this love from Portugal for Heather. So nice!

Africa Wounded

Yesterday was World AIDS Day.

Yesterday a baby girl of 11 months old died in the Democratic Republic of Congo. She died of internal injuries because she had been raped the day before.

Everyone is saying that we still need better prevention (which I assume includes many, many things) and better treatment for AIDS, most especially in struggling countires like those that cover this continent.

They are right, of course.

But there is something much deeper and more basic needed. A gaping wound of violence needs to cleansed, closed and healed.

Standing on that healing, prevention and treatment will make headway. Or maybe they all come simultaneously, I don't know. But they won't come if one of them is not addressed.

I don't know how to help.

Prince of Peace, please come.

The Great Mosquito Trap (or Ahh...The Weekend)

We have a nice big mosquito net that we close every afternoon to cover our bed before the night. It works pretty well, (most of the time.)

But there are nights (like the last two) when it convolutes itself into doing the exact opposite of what it should do. Rather than keeping us free from the mozzies, it just traps them in with us at close range. It's maddening! Yesterday morning we killed 6 (!) inside our supposed safe zone. No wonder my arms and hands were itching in the night. And this morning we killed 3 more.

I'm on a rampage now. If you are a mosquito that hides under my bed all day and then floats up to get me in the night, your time is up!

Besides the mozzie war, it's a good weekend ahead of us. Byron is looking fresher after last week's many visits in government offices. As I mentioned, we were helping a colleague with some hassles so it was in and out of the District Commissioner's office, in and out of the Chief of Police office, and in and out of heavy conversations and confrontations.

The beauty, as seen in the photos from the post below, was a good balance to the work of last week. But it's nice to have the weekend now.