Too Many Programs Running...

Byron left here on Monday and I have not yet heard if he's made it to his destination. I heard from him part way through the journey, but I haven't had that, "Got here safe and sound" email yet.

So I thought I'd leave my laptop open in case he skypes and I would possibly hear it. But the computer is making me crazy cuz it's running and running--that sound it makes when it's spinning inside. Whatever that is.

Anyway, so I've decided there are too many programs open and I've shut a bunch down. Now I'm shutting the lid and going to bed.

And I realize that my head feels just the same as my Mac right now. Too many programs running.

I'm trying to figure out the ebb and flow of different visitors this summer. I'm trying to figure out how to help different ones save money in their travels. I'm trying to figure out Heather's best piano practice time and how to fit in Swahili lessons, and how to help Colin more effectively with his schooling, and when I can work out and where I'll meet Stacey tomorrow and what's going on this weekend. I'm wondering how I can be a better daughter to my parents far away and how Byron will fit in everything he has to do in LA next week and if I should order these board shorts for Colin or not.

It's just a buzz in my head like the whirring of this computer and I'm going through each program of head noise now and shutting down. I'm handing them over to the one who is so much smarter than I am and asking him for wisdom even in the night.

Did you know that the Psalms say the Lord will give us wisdom even during the night as we sleep?

Bring it on! I'm turning in.

And I am Tired...

I am so tired tonight.

It doesn't make a lick of sense that I'm writing here. But I just want to make sure I am as close as possible to sound asleep before I put this little Mac away because I don't like going to sleep when Byron's not home. (I know, kinda pathetic.)

Neither of us slept much last night-- he with that pre-trip thing that keeps your mind ticking, veiled just ever so slightly by a light and unsatisfying sleep. It's a bad sleep like a non-fat something. Gross.

Me with all that too, just vicariously for him. I didn't have to get on a shuttle early this morning, rattle over 5 or so hours of bad road and then spend the afternoon in the back streets of Nairobi purchasing hundreds of dollars worth of beads for our fair trade artisan project, then getting said beads shipped back to our town before grabbing food and then making the painfully slow taxi ride through the congestion out to the airport for a midnight flight to the States. But I slept like I was facing it too.

Today I sort of bumped into walls and vaguely saw that Heather did school. I put laundry up and down on the line several times as the rain stopped and started throughout the morning.

I got stuck in the most nasty gridlock I've seen yet in Arusha. I spent about 3 hours getting across town and then back. This is just a little African city! Holy cow, Mother!

And I wandered into Tammy's house tonight for our team dinner, fully aware that I was too tired to be much company. I hate it when I can hear how incoherent I am being.

But now I think I can safely say that the day is done and it's time to sleep. There is a little girl sleeping next to me in her Daddy's spot. She says the pillow smells nicely of him.

Yes, I am tired, tired, tired. But I am happy, content, and peaceful.

The rain has begun on my roof again and I'm settling in for a good sleep. The full fat kind :-)

Foto4Friday

"Ok," Byron said as he looked out of the window this morning,
"I'm getting a little tired of the rainy season now."

Barf Happens

I woke up at about 2:30am to the sound of terrific retching.

"Retch-splat!"

Moms have good ears for these things. Dad ears are, frankly, a little faulty in this regard. (Though they are very good at listening for security alerts like the things that go bump in the night that I don't seem to hear.)

"So, anyways..." Colin was at the kitchen sink getting rid of his dinner. It was shocking how intact it still looked. It was a big bowl of spaghetti slapped into the sink and only slightly decomposed. (Sorry for the details.)

Today he is still feeling poorly. He's snoozing on the sofa, half hot and sweaty and half freezing cold.

I guess this is Colin doing some solidarity with our Nelly .

Monday Again

Monday arrives in a blanket of overcast
Everyone seems a little grumpy and short
I am annoyed with a certain young girl
(Probably because she is reflecting my own mood)

But I hold onto Sunday night...

The wide dinner plate moon
Filling the clouds with back-lit luminescence
The cold air in our lungs
The little girl sitting on the edge of the driver's window
Feet in her dad's lap
Singing hymns and laughing
As she spots owls and night jars with her brother
Who hangs out of the back seat window in like manner
Our tummies full of food shared in a small mud and wattle home
Our souls full of the goodness of friendship and the blessing
Of bridging cultures together

Foto4Friday

Byron and his buddy, Samson-the-sacked-out-puppy.

"...Not an anchor but a mast."

"Home" is a fairly loose term in our family and for good reason, I suppose. By my calculation, Jesse, our eldest, has lived in 11 different houses. That's just a little more than 1 house for every 2 years of his life.

It's not an outrageous number, really. I know people who have lived in many more in fewer years. So that score of 11 is just a figure that plots this family on some graph for global nomads.

******

"Your house shall be not an anchor but a mast."

I read this today in Kahill Gibran's little book, The Prophet, and it did something for me. We have not been able to provide for our children an anchor in a certain community. I suppose we weren't really looking to do that, after all, but whatever we were looking to do, we have not rooted them in a geographical location. There is not a spot on the map that reels them in and says, "This is where you are moored."

I'm not saying that they lack places to love that hold for them a collection of memories, speaking to them of who they are. The streams in Loita remember their bare and sun-browned bodies, I am sure. Those hills are imprinted with their growing foot prints. And then there is Portugal's Atlantic coast. The cliffs launched them off into the cold water far below and must retain the echo of their yells and laughter. They slept in the dunes and grew tall in the salty air there.

For all our wandering, I am hoping that our home is, somehow, a strong mast. May each of our 4 find it a true and trustworthy place from which to raise their sails.

Behold, I am Thankful...

1. That this morning broke out with a blue sky after a very wet weekend

2. That the lost Fed-Ex delivery man did eventually find Colin, who had gone out on a search and rescue mission for him, and we now have Byron's airline tickets firmly in hand

3. That even though my cupboards are bare, I have cash in my pocket and can go shopping shortly

4. That it is now officially less than one month till Trevor gets here and only slightly longer than a month till Jesse gets here (!)

5. That Samson, the puppy, is perhaps the cutest puppy in the world and that he lives at our house

6. That Heather and Colin have been arguing less and laughing together more

7. That my skype phone call with my sister was quite clear on Sunday morning

8. That we have the joy and challenge of living in Africa again

9. That when the sun goes down I know that there is a roof over my head and a nice bed I can climb into

And finally,

10. I am very thankful for my mom, Carolyn, who has for all these years that we have lived overseas worked hundreds and hundreds of ours on our behalf doing every thankless job you can imagine from calling the VISA company for us to reminding us of bills coming due, being our highly skilled Personal Shopper, ordering supplies for us, booking airline tickets for us,taking care of our college kids for us,and basically keeping us in line, on task and out of debt! The lady is a wonder and I challenge you to find better deals than she comes up with. Honestly, we would be in really bad shape without her. I am more thankful for her than I can express.

What are you thankful for?

(PS I posted today on my Conversant Life blog about my need to forgive.)

Foto4Friday

The other day our little fam (and the Russell kids) hiked into Uru Falls on the slopes of Kilimanjaro. It was lovely.

Photos by Skyler Russell

Magic Night

Tuesday night in Southern California and Trevor and the sweet Darrelle are making a tiny video message on the phone to send to yours truly, me.

Not too long later, I wake up on Wednesday morning in Tanzania and find a fresh email waiting with the video attached. Their cute faces shine with exultant expectation as they announce to me that the secret surprise date that Darrelle planned was culminating in minutes as they await the lights going down and Mr. Bruce Springsteen taking the stage.

"We're seeing Bruce Springsteen tonight and we wish you were here."

I'm so jealous I can hardly see straight. I'm so happy that Darrelle has pulled off such a great surprise. I delight in the fact that, even though the drive was over 2 hours long, Trevor never guessed where they were going until they drove up to the venue and he read the billboard. I am impressed with the excellent planning and thoughtfulness of the date.

And I'm terribly proud that I raised a boy with such good taste in music.

:-)

(PS I posted today on my Conversant Life blog about my African sisters.)

Of Hedgehogs

I read today on the BBC that a man in New Zealand is being charged for using a hedgehog as a weapon. He threw the wee thing about 16 feet to hit a young man with whom he must have had some problem.

Weird.

Another weird thing... Last night I woke up to the strangest noise. It was a squeaking screaming barking kind of thing. I asked Byron if he knew what we were hearing and he said, "It's a hedgehog, " followed by, "Charlotte!! Cut it out! Leave it alone! Charlotte!"

So I have this Jack Russell (Charlotte) that feels compelled to protect our garden from hedgehogs. Terrific. I wish she would just leave them alone. They are cute and harmless (though I hear you can contract dread diseases from them) and I don't know why the dog has developed such a strong dislike for them.

Our night guard rescues them from her. He scoops them up and tosses them over the hedge in an effort to help them escape the crazed terrier. I hope they find refuge on that side.

(Photo taken by Jesse last summer here in TZ)

Foto4Friday

I'm so glad it's the end of the week.

April Arrives

It's April and the rains are here in full swing. We can't get the drilling rig out to Wild Hope's new property to begin the work of searching out water because the final four kilometers to the land are not passable for a 20 ton truck right now.

Sigh. Africa does teach a person patience.

I posted today on the Conversant Life blog about my struggle to make sense of good gifts in the face of poverty.

See you over there...