We are nearing the end of our final sprint of this marathon first year. The last week has been intense. All of us on staff have been in meetings, conversations, cleaning projects or planning for 2009 – the Leadership team are tired, we are tired. It’s almost over.

Last night we celebrated our first year with staff at the traditional end-of-year party. We also celebrated Betty who has been on staff with CSB for the last five years. She is leaving us for a while to focus on her two daughters and her continuing education. It’s a huge loss. Betty is our strongest female leader and truly one of the strongest and bravest women I know. She is our Deputy Headmaster for Student Affairs, a position that nobody believed two years ago a woman could hold. She has done it with grace, strength and style. I admire her tremendously.

At 6pm yesterday we were gathering in our front yard pre-party. The perfect sunlight of the beginning of dry season still filtering across our yard and through the leaves of the mango tree. Watoto worship music was blasting from our ipod stereo and the shouts and laughter of all the staff kids (including N and Q) filled the air as they danced. The ladies on staff all came over to help me hang balloons in the trees, students on discipline contributed by carrying over chairs and dancing to the music, male staff ambled in to sign the framed photo wall hanging I had made for Betty. Running in and out the door to get things ready, I paused on our front steps to appreciate the scene. So many prayers and hopes for the staff to feel welcome, to feel unified, to be our family and we to be theirs. Already being answered – the party had not yet started but already I could see God had given it success. We were doing this together.

Contrasting this to our first staff party two years ago. A true fiasco which aborted quickly as we reached the staff room and began greeting people. The food had been begun AND FINISHED before we even arrived. Betty reminded me of that this week, saying that that was the most humiliating moment of her tenure at Christ School. Sometimes we DON’T act like family; but last night we did. What an amazing praise for this Thanksgiving Day.

Newlyweds at Christ School:
Wesley and Patience, Agaba and Naija, Ndizeka and Juliette . . . . .

Electricity is coming to Bundibugyo?! This is what we have heard. An electrical cooperative has mobilized over the last year and now the real proof is before us: the Tree Assassins, a group of about fifteen men who are chopping down massive numbers of trees along the road from the mountain to us. If electricity is really coming, Bundibugyo could be on the brink of big improvements, of new opportunities. But of course it’s hard to know how the infrastructure will all come together and whether the system will ever be completed or be monitored in a fair and useful manner.

Most sadly for the moment, the loss of trees seems symbolic of rape and pillage in the land. Walking outside the Christ School gates to visit the local duka (shop) for biscuits, the sun beat down unusually mercilessly on dark and sweating heads. Shade, gone. Africans NEVER stand in sun and tend to walk quickly from shade patch to shade patch, stopping to linger in the cool. They have adapted to heat in ways those of us from metro D.C. Never did. We go from air conditioning to air conditioning, sweating profusely and complaining vociferously about the heat. Africans handle it graciously, gracefully, with the assistance of their enormous mango trees.

But here you see, just outside the Christ School gates, our school sign which previously stood beside an enormous mature mango tree. A gathering center for people on their way to the market. Now, no more.

I woke up this morning feeling a very strange sense of quiet and calm. Walking out to the porch steps where I talk with God in the early mornings, I remembered why. Students have gone.

Yesterday was a whirlwind of activity. Two final exams for students, a final assembly, final cleaning and at last the trek to the gates where students boarded motorcycles or put trunks on their heads to walk home.

Most significantly, the final assembly was also a student goobye to Madame, one of their most beloved teachers and administrators. Betty has been with Christ School for a number of years (eight?) her little girl Bethany has grown up in Bundibugyo, despite them being from Kampala. Betty cried in her speech, not a common sight here, and reminded students that the sacrifice she made to leave the city for rural Bundi has been worth it to see God work in the lives of her students. She encouraged students to come back to serve once they finish university. There were skits and a song and lots of clapping though I had a surprise visitor and very sadly missed it all.

Once students had gone, CSB workers scavenged the dorm areas for useable trash that had been left behind in the students’ hurry. And students who have relatives on-staff merely shifted quarters from dorms to apartments to spend the next week with us as we finish the final press. The weekend will be full of marking for teachers then Monday begins 25 individual staff evaluation meetings as well as daily group brainstorming sessions for teachers, leadership team, etc. We will also be cleaning all the neglected areas of the school which have been under teacher control throughout this year; sports, labs, bursar store, etc. And selected Senior 6 students will be coming back as temp employees to reorganize beds into different dorms and number each bed and mattress for improved bed checks and sleeping charts next year.

I woke this morning feeling a bit sad at the quiet, the calm, the lack of students. When I was young I valued time alone but here in Africa you are seen to be “like an orphan” when you are alone. Maybe I’m starting to embrace that. I expected only joy and relief when the students left but instead I almost miss them! Maybe the feeling of not being quite done comes because we still have one more week of extraordinary work including the staff goodbye for Betty. Feels like we are only just about to begin the final sprint of this marathon year.

It is 11 pm and there is no moon. Stepping outside our house twenty feet to the football pitch, I cannot see my hand in front of my face. Blackness. Noise from the girls dorms, so I head another forty feet to the closest building where lanterns are blazing through the high windows despite the clear rules prohibiting them due to fire risk. Radios blare and girls voices are raised. Moments later I see streaking shapes in the light of my flashlight; scantily clad girls running from dorm to dorm. Walking farther around the pitch towards the classrooms and the boys dorm area, I can hear the boys signaling to the girls. A flashlight flashes from the boys dorm and they call out in Lubwisi ” all of you come!” A drum is pounded softly. I am not their intended recipient. But I have already chased away those who are.

I continue heading down towards the boys dorms but stop before reaching the assembly hall. The prickly feeling on my neck warns me of danger. I carry a heavy metal night flashlight but it won’t do much against students with better weapons in hand. Staff in Uganda have been killed by students when found alone, and I have received my share of angry threats. I head back towards the girls, a safer bet.

Now I hear rocks thrown in the girls compound, a well-hated female teacher is being warned by students not to keep punishing them. The rocks are small but thrown from close distance could easily do damage. Tomorrow the girls will be seriously punished but for now we chase them inside and bring a gateman to stand watch.

Heading back towards home I am stopped by another female teacher who is reporting a sick student. I question her, look at her, ask her what she is worried about. From my limited experience I sense a panic attack rather than physical sickness but she does not respond to my counseling. I grab my keys and head the 1/4 mile down the road to Nyahuka “hospital” as midnight nears. This is my third late night trip there this week. We pass shouting drunkards who try to approach the vehicle before making it safely inside the hospital gates where we find the nurse who works for our school part time. No medicine is available but she tells me what is needed and gives me the extra keys to our school medical cabinet. Moments later I am back at school, deep in darkness at the school’s Sick Bay searching a crowded medical cabinet for obscure drug names I don’t recognize. I count four each of four different pills and trek back up to dose the sick girl and pray with her before closing the dorms again.

Another few feet back to home where our solar electricity is still going strong and there is light and safety and David’s compassionate ear. I pass under the palm trees where a six inch lizard falls just past my head, making a soft thump as it hits the ground. Things rustle away beneath my feet and I walk carefully to avoid the rutted and puddle-filled “driveway” in our yard. My two children stir as I go back inside ” Mom, is another girl sick?” Naomi asks and we pray for Tumissime to feel better soon while Naomi drifts back off to sleep. Another night closes as CSB finally quiets, at least for five hours, until the bells ring again for candidate morning preps; 5:30 am.

Naomi, Quinn and I spend many late afternoons and early evenings on the porch, visiting with CSB staff and kids, munching African snacks like maize and mango and watching for David’s bike to round the football field track from the office (classrooms and offices seen in distance) towards home. Here, Naomi retreats when the girls tease her about her hair, clothes and skin and Quinn takes aim at passers-by with his “yam gun” a rifle made from the tall, succulent yam stalk. Male students enjoy play fighting with Quinn.

“The Headmaster should discipline his family plus the wife because they are unruly and she likes to disturb students.”

This found on one of 250 anonymous student evaluation forms that I have spent the last two mornings reading through and taking notes from. I always knew I would be labeled unruly one day. The wonder is that is has taken this long!

The real joy is that these students, of course, don’t know that I am the one who asked for the their opinion. And while I have gotten depressed reading 200 angry and discontent series of fifteen answers; I have hope too. Many students gave really helpful ideas and comments and I sense that we are so much closer than we were six months ago to understanding what they want, what they need and how to bridge the gap between those two.

I’m a people-pleaser by habit, though, so I fell into a bit of a funk yesterday until a Senior 6 (oldest and ready to graduate) student came by in the afternoon to say goodbye to me and I asked him what he thought we were doing wrong. “Madame,” he said, “we students are very stubborn. It is when we leave Christ School that we realize how much we love it. For me I don’t know if I will ever be as happy as I have been here. This is my best family.”

Well! That makes it all worthwhile; at least until I read another student evaluation form and learn that my husband has no understanding because he “values discipline instead of always forgiving.” Oh well, tomorrow is another day.

As we think and pray over adoption and what God has for our family in the future it is impossible not to be continually thankful for our two precious gifts: Naomi, whose name means “sweetness” and Quinn, meaning “wise.” Please pray for these two who face so much physical attack and soul-danger daily. Our hearts greatest fears and hopes, wrapped up in such small packages.

Wednesday’s chapel was the last of our school year. A milestone for me as I feel the greatest spiritual oppression on Wednesdays leading up to and encompassing our chapel and cell groups. I dread it yet I know God is moving or Satan wouldn’t care.

Barbara and Skip Ryan shared on alcoholism, the scientific causes of addiction and how Jesus enters into our pain allowing us to turn to him instead of substances. It was really, really good. Barbara’s twenty minutes of talking about the “new frontiers” of science and the brain’s “plasticity” were met by fierce student concentration. “Clearly,” their faces said, ” This is educated and important information and I’m going to try hard to figure out what she’s talking about.” Staff was similarly engaged and caught even more of the science in her lesson, leading to new understanding for many, including me! Skip’s wrap up was a beautiful pointing to Jesus in a sermon full of humility and honesty.

Later in cell groups, the staff room and evening preps the phrase of the night was ” you are what you drink.” Skip referenced this as he talked about seeing drunks on the road in and out of Nyahuka (our little town center) daily. Seeing them lie on the side of the road in ridiculous poses. They are what they drink. What do you want to be? In response, the staff board was covered with a chalk-written list of drinks ranging from waragi (local brew) to porridge with staff members names written in next to “safe” items like water and milk. And at evening preps disruptive students were put in place by fellow students who called out ” you are what you drink.”

As we prepare our calendar for the coming year we hope to include much more than we’ve managed this year in the way of life education; sexual education, financial education, relational education, etc. Pray for our wisdom as we seek to find the right time in the schedule, the right materials and the right teachers. Pray especially that God will bring in the special speakers He wants for these important topics and that we will learn truth while being drawn back to Jesus.

Monday was a very long one for David, begun by babysitting seven straight hours of computer exams for UNEBs. Due to a lack of printers (exactly one!) he arranged a special set-up for the exam to help students not to disrupt each other with their likely mistakes. Of course UNEB assumes that all schools in their developing country can afford a computer and printer for each computer studies student. Not so. The generator ran continuously all morning, giving us power despite the ongoing rain and mud standing thick around the UNEB rooms. David finally came home late in the day to grab some beans and rice and debrief for a few minutes before heading back to close the last exam at five.

As evening came, I prepared a simple dinner that the four of us enjoyed together, talking about our day and drawing our hearts back to home. Then David took the kids off to bed as my Monday night staff Bible study ladies began to gather. This was our final week in Captivating – chapter 12, “an invitation.” I had been delaying this final study with a sense of something better around the corner. When God orchestrated Barbara Ryan’s entrance into our group that “something better” became clear. She will help us close our last three study times.

So we gathered last night in response to the hand-written invitations I made out for each woman, to draw them in to the theme of His invitation. We reviewed the concepts of the book: the way God calls us to enter relationships, His Kingdom and the World. We talked about what holds us back, primarily fear. And that God is calling us to move past it, to share our true selves. Stasi writes in the book, “You have only one life to live. It would be best to live your own.” Words that we must hold close. The chapter closes with a description of the last scene in the movie The King and I where Anna, an English woman, is invited to dance by the King of Siam. She is afraid, of falling, of not knowing what to do. But in the end she responds because of what he says to her and his trust in his and her abilities. ” I am King, I will lead.” A profound statement from God too, that we can dance into the life He calls us to because He will never stop leading.

And then, in a moment of big personal risk, I told my story. The one that I normally edit for public consumption. The one that includes my losses and failures that I think many (especially here) won’t understand. As I prepared for the study praying for these friends to embrace intimacy and vulnerability, God revealed my own hiding heart. Of course I never think of it as hiding, I just don’t include the parts that they “wouldn’t understand.” But God revealed it as hiding yesterday and gently and surely talked me into sharing it all. I felt tremendous spiritual opposition throughout the day and especially the evening, but it served as catalyst for my willingness to share, knowing that Satan wouldn’t try to block something that wasn’t crucially important.

And I shared my fear too. My fear that they wouldn’t get it. That they would see me differently, lose respect for me. Fear that I am not what they hope me to be. And hope that in moving past this fear, they will respond and move past too. At Christ School we are people who live lives so intertwined, so closely in community yet rarely sharing many of the deepest and most influential parts of who we are. Barbara shared parts of her story too, most necessarily the last twenty years of caring for a severely disabled child, and let us in on a bit of God has grown her and changed her through it all.

So we ended our evening with hot drinks and sweet banana cake and chocolate cookies. With prayer and some tears. With hearts that have moved out some but haven’t escaped fear yet. I stand in amazement of what God has already done in this amazing group of woman and in me, through them. And I look forward to the next two weeks as Barbara leads us in studies about sexuality and purity as we close our year together. This has been an amazing journey and it’s not over yet.