I Talk

One thing I've figured out from all this time alone while the rest of the family is out hosting volunteers in "the bush" is that I talk to myself. A lot.

I mean, I knew that I occasionally commented out loud when no one was around, but having this much time in solitude has caused me to realize that I do it more than just a little.

Now, I'm not totally by myself since Josephine and Eva are in the kitchen 5 days a week working on the dry fruit project. But I am at my desk in my bedroom most of that time being a very disciplined little lady. They head home around 4p.m.

I wonder, does this go back to being a mom to babies? I mean, I always talked to my babies even when they couldn't possibly respond. All mamas do that. And once that first baby came along 22 years ago, I've never really been alone again since. I've pretty much been in a group with family and we've all been talking constantly for over 2 decades now!

So maybe it's just normal to keep on talking even when they are all away. It's pretty engrained in me now to speak out loud, don't you think?

And I don't just talk to myself. I talk to the dogs and to the goldfish as well.

Does that make me sound a little more balanced? (I'm kinda doubting it.)

Bless Them as They Go!

This morning, bright and early, the family set off on a 10 day trip with a team of visitors. There are 15 of them all together and we've been pretty flat-out in prep for their time. It's been really good and really such a pleasure to host this group of students.

Now I'm looking around as the dust of their departure settles and making a 180 degree turn toward a whole different task. Much as I would have loved to join them on this trip, I am writing toward a deadline of the end of August and I can't actually afford the time.

They will have an amazing adventure, I am certain. They will see and experience and learn and grow so much. May it be beautiful; a lasting blessing in their lives.

Heather, above, blew me a kiss as they pulled out of the drive.

I'll be missing them so much!

Sidai

"Sidai" is a Maa word used for good, well-being, pretty, beautiful.

It's fitting, then, that we had 2 days away filled with good friends, well-being, pretty places and beautiful views. We slipped away to Sidai Camp and just chilled for a couple of days.

Time for contemplative meditation, poetry and reading alone. Time for the togetherness of friendship and campfires and meals shared.

Esidai :-)

Home at Last (or It Takes a While for the Heart to Get Home)

Sometimes the transition between cultures can be easy and other times it is challenging or exhausting... or maybe both.

We were ready to leave the States. After only a little more than 2 months there, we were well ready to get home.

But "home" can be a vague and elusive concept.

Waking up in Africa that first morning back felt good. We weren't home yet, but the Mennonite Guest House in Nairobi feels familiar, a favorite childhood haunt to almost everyone in our family. In fact, I am the only one in our family of 6 who didn't grow up with frequent stays there. I began staying there in my early 20's though and that's hardly very grown up, is it?

Anyway, the magical garden with it's dark green shade, bright flowers and chameleons is always a comforting sight.

Funny, though, when we finally got back to Arusha, we hit a bit of a wall.

It was the Africa factor. Not the wonderful parts of Africa factor. No, it was the hard parts factor. The friends who are struggling. The crops that failed. The hardships we know of. Then it was the funny things like the poor workmanship on things that Byron would really like to see done better. The seemingly strange ways the city plans... or doesn't.

Our conclusion after the first kind of difficult (but not entirely so) week home was that 1) we were very tired from our work in the States and 2) we weren't anticipating anything less than joy at being back. (That's always when you get the transition-shock... when you're not expecting any.)

Things have settled down now and we've already hosted one of our summer teams. We are back in the groove, let's say, and it all feels so normal and, for the most part, so very, very good.

Again, it's as I've said in numerous other posts on transition between worlds, it just takes time. It doesn't help to arrive tired and jump straight into things but that's just the way it had to be.

What I held onto it this: our family was happy to be home.

After the long flights that connected us from Los Angeles to Nairobi, the announcement finally came that we needed to buckle up to land. Strange as it sounds, we hadn't given much thought to Africa as we had been so occupied with getting out of America.

But as the steward announced the approach and decent, Colin turned to me.

"Hey," he said, his voice lilting up into the smile that was appearing on his face, "Hey... Africa!"

Yes, Africa.

It's good to be home.

Gospel Road: An Album Review

As Brian Houston’s new album, Gospel Road, opens, I am immediately snapping my fingers and feeling that I must know this song, if only I could remember it. Maybe it’s the Elvisy piano, maybe it’s the oo! oooooohs and deep voiced backing vocals, I don’t know.

I know that the first track, “Glory Glory,” starts out with this simple early Cash-like guitar and then has, what I think of as, this Elvisy piano thing. I could be totally wrong about those two associations but that’s where I go. It definitely makes me want to shimmy and shake, which feels a little shocking given that the lyrics are all about God.

Maybe that’s the cute dichotomy of the song and, in fact, of most of the album; the lyrics are straight out of old time Sunday School but the music is from the dance hall on the Saturday night before. Not that I’m old enough to actually have attended a sock hop, I’m just sayin’. I might have thought I was listening to the soundtrack to The Sand Lot or Stand By Me, which is a compliment since those 2 are set to great music.

The theme of the album is reflected in the opening line.

“Well tonight I feel like God’s favorite/I’m laying down in his arms…”

God’s favorite? OK, can God have a favorite? Apparently he can and, guess what, we’re it. There is a tremendously sweet innocence that goes with resting in God’s arms, assured that you’re his favorite. It’s at once very childish and very mature because it’s foolishly true.

Later this same song says that God is…

“Smilin’ down on me/and all my sins have been forgiven/all my past wiped clean/ oh I, I will lay my burden down.”

It’s this comforting knowledge that allows a person to rest in the feeling of “favorite”. All has been set right. No need to carry a burden. And he loves us. No wonder the overall vibe of the album is unapologetically happy.

The charm of the album is unquestionably this: simple truths set to good music. But let’s not confuse simple with small. Security in God’s accepting love and His ability to see us through the challenges of life are BIG truths. It’s just that they’re put simply on Gospel Road. Whether Houston is talking about love that heals or confidence in the face of these troubled times, his lyrics are not complicated but they are rich.

And, as I said, the music is finger snapping and hip shaking good. Listening to Gospel Road reminds me of watching a film directed by either Ron Howard or Robert Redford, both of whom place high value on a good story told well, by which they mean GOOD ENTERTAINMENT. How the album took me to those associations, I can’t say, except that it’s just that kind of music. It's fun. Yet the truths Houston is crooning about do much more than simply entertain.

The Gospel Road is something entirely different and yet pleasingly familiar. For me, it was a welcome change and a comforting old friend. I love that there is joy and faith and confidence and humility all set to some kind of when-my-dad-was-in-high-school dance music, or church music, or some collision of the two.

You can find it HERE

PS Personal fav: “Sweet Jesus.” This perfectly tender little lullaby of a beauty tells of a heart healed. I’d recommend the album for this one alone. Lucky you that you’ll get 10 other nice ones along with it.

(My review can't be very technically clever. I'm not that smart. The best I can do it talk about how an album makes me feel and what it is I like about it. But then, that's what's important to me :-)

The Famine and Michael

Last night I sat in a Chinese restaurant in East Africa with a group of Californians while cable television beamed Michael Jackson's memorial service above us as we ate our Szechuan Beef. The Tanzanian waiters were attentive, though their real focus was on the screen. We munched our Spring Rolls as I pondered it all...

The memorial service and the entire giant "event" of Jackson's passing, felt both very close and very far. I return to LA every 2 years and I just drove past the Staples Center less than 3 weeks ago on my way to LAX for my flight back to Africa. I can easily imagine the buzzing helicopters overhead, the snarled freeway nightmare of traffic, the way all else seems to be on hold until LA decides to move on again.

But our group of 12 was out for dinner after a day of prep for some days in the wilderness. Byron, my husband, is leading them today into a remote area of Maasai-land on a reconnaissance trip, if you will, to visit different projects we are involved in. The team is on a journey of discovery regarding how they might build involvement in Africa.

Initially, we planned this time to include some interaction with the local church, the local primary school, a well-digging project we have going and a fair trade artisan group we work with. But the April/May rains failed in this area of the country and our friends in this community are now struggling for their lives. There is widespread hunger and the "f" word is now being used regularly. Oh, lest you think we're losing it, the f word in this case is "famine."

Famine. I hate that word. I hate what it does to my friends. I hate the demeaning, ugly reality of lack of food.

As I sat there passing the rice, (with way too much food on our table) I thought about those thousands and thousands of people gathered in LA to honor a celebrity. The service was a mild distraction for us. We star gazed with the rest of the world. "Mariah Carey!" "Queen Latifah!" "Oh... who is that.... Oh! Lionel Richie!" But our hearts weren't into it. At least for Byron and me, our hearts were heavy with the anticipation of what the group might find as they assess the extent of the famine and the plausibility of doing something appropriate, immediate and lasting in response. But the thousands, yea, millions, watching the service weren't thinking of famine. They were grieving a man.

And that's when it hit me...

The millions of people watching that service were totally unaware of famine in northern Tanzania, but they were experiencing famine just the same. The total distraction of millions of people by the death of one terrifically talented, if broken and hurting, man reveals a famine in hearts. There is an aching famine of hope; a powerfully destructive famine of meaning.

I didn't resent the attention given to the death of one man any longer. Instead, I grieved that there is so much devastating famine all around me.

Monday

The morning breaks like a storm over us.
We clasp the rails and look wildly into
Each other's plainly panicked eyes.

Far too much going on for one day;
For one week.

I find myself worried that our bodies
Will be hurt by the pressure.

Teach us again to breathe.
You who designed these lungs,
Show us how to fill them softly.

What is the opposite of "Amp it up"?
Do that inside our hearts.