So, I find myself amazed, and perhaps a little disgusted, at how quickly I have forgotten the lovely land of Liberia that I have just left, as if West Africa was something less than my current calling in life. Certainly a week-long journey over sea is less abrupt than flying out of Monrovia and into JFK 24 hours later, and it allows for a certain amount of processing, but these overarching life inconsistencies should not fall so quickly out of mind. We've gone from serving the poorest of the poor, visiting the dying in the Sisters of Charity (Mother Teresa's establishment), worshipping in the bush with hand drums, gourds, and dance, and wild all-terrain adventures in Land Rovers....to a modern, european city. Here my biggest concerns are which store to buy new clothes at, where to order a coffee or what kind of beer to order, how I'm going to manage the tiny, paved streets in the Land Rover, etc. You get the picture.
Sometimes there are reminders. I hear that many Africans risk the dangerous trip from African nations of Western Sahara or Morocco in search of a better life. Many die, as they are trying to cross open seas in some small, perhaps unworthy vessel. Many also survive, or get here other ways, I guess, and you can encounter them in the market, wearing their lovely "lappas", selling various goods in the street. I see them and I realize I'm not living in 2 different worlds. I have seperated them in my mind. In Africa I'm ministering, in Spain my life is about me. But there aren't two worlds, that is a constructed idea that I have had and accepted. We live differently, but we are one people before God. It's so much to process, and to think through, rightly, with truth guiding. I love the time here in the Canaries, but don't want to forget what and who we've left, and don't want to seperate the places out as two different worlds, because they are one.
Sunday, December 28, 2008
Sunday, December 14, 2008
The Seas of Change
5 days of leisurely (slow- 10 knots) travel could not produce a greater change in environment. We are out over the watery blue deep, sailing toward Spain. The air is getting cooler and dryer. The seas are getting bigger. Due to our current course, we're charging straight into the waves, not rolling, but being jolted with strongs bursts of energy coursing their way through the entire ship. I got a little whoozy today while trying to make some Christmas cookies, quite unexpectedly, and met an urgency to get in the supine position. The atmosphere is festive and celebratory as we prepare for Christmas. We're looking back in Thanksgiving for the things God has accomplished over the last 10 months, and in joy over a work started and completed, lives changed, hope and healing received by many.
Today my Nepali friends, the Ghurkhas (sp?....the guards we hire to watch over the ship), are cooking Napalese food for the entire ship for dinner.....curry, I'm sure. Yum, yum. It was my idea and request, so my assistance has been requested in return. I'm not so helpful, but I can peel the eggs, watch in amazement as they toss in all the various spices, and, I hear, I'm to be assigned the forming of the small breads that we will fry in a pan to serve with the curries. I watched them deep-fry 300 hard-boiled eggs, I see something new most every day. I stand amazed and overwhelmed at the opportunity to live in community with people from all over the world, what a rich gift.
Being on the sea is wonderful, even when it's playing mean tricks on one's sense of up and down. Feeling small and insignificant must be healthy for us, and the sea seems to be just the trick to this. I slept out under the stars last night, on the 8th deck of the ship. One full moon, one meteor shower, several friends, just the right ratios. The sail is a quiet time, people are in the mode of resting, reading, being together. Simply put, no one can leave, so we are together unlike any other time. We stop to look and listen and reflect. For me, it feels almost magical, all being together, looking for the small, simple joys, enjoying each other, finding fascination in the sunset, the dolphins and flying fish soaring about around us, the skies. Being on this sea is bringing us great change in our environment, bringing us into transition. But we're given this gift of time, a padding, between the stages of our work and play. And I hope and pray not to come away unchanged, with a new perspective of myself and the world around me. Well, I'm overdue back to my Nepali boss, Lok.
Today my Nepali friends, the Ghurkhas (sp?....the guards we hire to watch over the ship), are cooking Napalese food for the entire ship for dinner.....curry, I'm sure. Yum, yum. It was my idea and request, so my assistance has been requested in return. I'm not so helpful, but I can peel the eggs, watch in amazement as they toss in all the various spices, and, I hear, I'm to be assigned the forming of the small breads that we will fry in a pan to serve with the curries. I watched them deep-fry 300 hard-boiled eggs, I see something new most every day. I stand amazed and overwhelmed at the opportunity to live in community with people from all over the world, what a rich gift.
Being on the sea is wonderful, even when it's playing mean tricks on one's sense of up and down. Feeling small and insignificant must be healthy for us, and the sea seems to be just the trick to this. I slept out under the stars last night, on the 8th deck of the ship. One full moon, one meteor shower, several friends, just the right ratios. The sail is a quiet time, people are in the mode of resting, reading, being together. Simply put, no one can leave, so we are together unlike any other time. We stop to look and listen and reflect. For me, it feels almost magical, all being together, looking for the small, simple joys, enjoying each other, finding fascination in the sunset, the dolphins and flying fish soaring about around us, the skies. Being on this sea is bringing us great change in our environment, bringing us into transition. But we're given this gift of time, a padding, between the stages of our work and play. And I hope and pray not to come away unchanged, with a new perspective of myself and the world around me. Well, I'm overdue back to my Nepali boss, Lok.
Tuesday, December 9, 2008
Heading Back
Well, after several kind, gentle, yet persistent urgings from my mom to write an update, I'm finally doing it! So, that picture of the canaries map at the top of this page is still there from my trip a year ago, some might call it ridiculous, I prefer to blameshift and say "That's just how I am", too bad it's such a pathetic excuse! Anyway, I'm going to try to start writing again, as we're packing up to leave Liberia for good. This place has been my home for the last year and a half, although probably only 10% of my home, if a percentage can really be assigned, since most of my life, work, and social interaction occur her onboard the Africa Mercy. Regardless of the amount of time spent here, it's sad to go and say good-bye to such a loving, warm, beautiful, strong people. I will remember some people and stories for the rest of my life, and trust that I am not departing unchanged.
So, sorry if you wasted time checking this blog every so often for weeks or months. I'm sure you've given that up a long time ago, now, so I hope someone will even read this, if not, I'm sure it's still a good exercise for me. I was about to make promises about my next entry, but we both know how reliable those are, so I'll stop there.
So, sorry if you wasted time checking this blog every so often for weeks or months. I'm sure you've given that up a long time ago, now, so I hope someone will even read this, if not, I'm sure it's still a good exercise for me. I was about to make promises about my next entry, but we both know how reliable those are, so I'll stop there.
Sunday, March 30, 2008
April's fools
Hello one and all, hope you're ready to welcome April in (whether that means warmth or snow, depending on your location), and if you're around my parents in the vicinity of Unity, ME, please wish them a happy 30th Anniversary on April Fool's day! Looks like it was never a joke after all, what a relief!
This is just a quick update of what's going on here on the Monrovian front. We've had some adventures since I last wrote, and survived to tell about them. Last weekend a group of us travelled to a local beach town called Robersport and camped overnight on the beach. As always, it was the transit that spiced life up with UN checkpoint stops, flat tires, and even one of the cars in our caravan in a ditch! Thank God no one was hurt and we were able to laugh loud and long over the fact that some of our crew got a ride in the back of a big Pakistani UN truck atop bamboo, alongside many middle eastern men with long beards who speak Hindi. You never know what life in Liberia will bring, but it's safe to trust that it will be an adventure.
Then, today for church, we had an opportunity to visit a Calvary Chapel in Liberia, which happens to be the church that my family attends in Maine, and I also attended while living in Oregon. This church was started in 1995 by some people from Florida who still come and go. It turns out that there's 13 Calvary Chapels in Liberia, 2 of which are in the city of Monrovia. It was interesting to note the similarities and the differences between the churches at home and here in Monrovia. I'm so thankful for the diversity that God has placed in the world, what a boring place it would be without it! He really has made this a rich, colorful, exciting, surprising world, how creative He is! Hope (no, really) to put some pictures up soon!
This is just a quick update of what's going on here on the Monrovian front. We've had some adventures since I last wrote, and survived to tell about them. Last weekend a group of us travelled to a local beach town called Robersport and camped overnight on the beach. As always, it was the transit that spiced life up with UN checkpoint stops, flat tires, and even one of the cars in our caravan in a ditch! Thank God no one was hurt and we were able to laugh loud and long over the fact that some of our crew got a ride in the back of a big Pakistani UN truck atop bamboo, alongside many middle eastern men with long beards who speak Hindi. You never know what life in Liberia will bring, but it's safe to trust that it will be an adventure.
Then, today for church, we had an opportunity to visit a Calvary Chapel in Liberia, which happens to be the church that my family attends in Maine, and I also attended while living in Oregon. This church was started in 1995 by some people from Florida who still come and go. It turns out that there's 13 Calvary Chapels in Liberia, 2 of which are in the city of Monrovia. It was interesting to note the similarities and the differences between the churches at home and here in Monrovia. I'm so thankful for the diversity that God has placed in the world, what a boring place it would be without it! He really has made this a rich, colorful, exciting, surprising world, how creative He is! Hope (no, really) to put some pictures up soon!
Sunday, March 2, 2008
Hello again, Mama Liberia!
Well, the Africa Mercy has arrived safely back in the Freeport of Monrovia, Liberia after a long and refreshing break in the Canary Islands. While we were on a sort of holiday in Tenerife, I found it hard to imagine returning here to work for an entire 10 month outreach, yet now that we have arrived, I find myself amazed by how God has prepared my heart to serve here again. I have found overwhelming joy in returning to our church, the busy, crowded marketplaces, and even to the hectic surgery schedule. These Liberian people blow my mind with their warmth, joy, thanksgiving in the midst of adversity, heartiness, and unique culture. I think I can truly say that I love mama Liberia (the name of a popular Liberian gospel song, claiming "All hail, mama Liberia", and that I long to see Liberia rise again. This is most certainly God's intention and plan for this beautiful, rich nation.
I wanted to share a significant experience that I had last weekend, which came as an unexpected blessing. A group of about 5 of us went walking into town to do some shopping in the market and see what was going on between here and there. Whenever I am out walking I try to speak to any blind people and look at their eyes to try to determine if they would be good candidates for surgery on the ship. Well, early in our walk, we saw a young woman being set out onto the sidewalk to make her way all alone down the busyy street, using an umbrella to pick out her steps. The sidewalk had lots of dips and rough spots, but also was totally missing some manhole covers...slightly treacherous, if you can imagine it. So, we struck up a conversation with her, found out her name was Mary and was 33 years old. She had been blind since birth, and I knew that surgery would not help her vision, but we discovered that she had the same destination that we had, so we asked if we could walk with her. I was amazed at how trusting she was as I held her hand, telling her to step up or down, go to the left or right, etc. I tried to imagine myself in the same situation and knew how tentative and untrusting I would most certainly be. As we walked, we asked her why she was out, and she explained that she was singing "God's songs". The only way Mary can make any money to support she and her son was to go out onto the streets singing songs of worship to God, playing her little Sasa (typical Liberian church percussion instrument, made of a gourd). We continued on, learning a little more about Mary's life, and before we parted ways, we asked her to sing for us. She pulled out her sasa, started a rhythm, and began to sing like an angel. Her songs were of God's goodness, her blindness, and yet full of spiritual sight and deep joy. A crowd quickly began to gather to listen. How can a person with so much difficulty and seeming unfairness handed to them sing with such thanksgiving, peace, and joy? It convicts us for our ingratitude, and reminds us that joy is not always found where we expect it. As we parted ways from Mary, we thanked her, gave her somse money, and knew that she had given us a much greater gift.
I wanted to share a significant experience that I had last weekend, which came as an unexpected blessing. A group of about 5 of us went walking into town to do some shopping in the market and see what was going on between here and there. Whenever I am out walking I try to speak to any blind people and look at their eyes to try to determine if they would be good candidates for surgery on the ship. Well, early in our walk, we saw a young woman being set out onto the sidewalk to make her way all alone down the busyy street, using an umbrella to pick out her steps. The sidewalk had lots of dips and rough spots, but also was totally missing some manhole covers...slightly treacherous, if you can imagine it. So, we struck up a conversation with her, found out her name was Mary and was 33 years old. She had been blind since birth, and I knew that surgery would not help her vision, but we discovered that she had the same destination that we had, so we asked if we could walk with her. I was amazed at how trusting she was as I held her hand, telling her to step up or down, go to the left or right, etc. I tried to imagine myself in the same situation and knew how tentative and untrusting I would most certainly be. As we walked, we asked her why she was out, and she explained that she was singing "God's songs". The only way Mary can make any money to support she and her son was to go out onto the streets singing songs of worship to God, playing her little Sasa (typical Liberian church percussion instrument, made of a gourd). We continued on, learning a little more about Mary's life, and before we parted ways, we asked her to sing for us. She pulled out her sasa, started a rhythm, and began to sing like an angel. Her songs were of God's goodness, her blindness, and yet full of spiritual sight and deep joy. A crowd quickly began to gather to listen. How can a person with so much difficulty and seeming unfairness handed to them sing with such thanksgiving, peace, and joy? It convicts us for our ingratitude, and reminds us that joy is not always found where we expect it. As we parted ways from Mary, we thanked her, gave her somse money, and knew that she had given us a much greater gift.
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