A darkened, kerosene-lantern-lit staff home. Three beautiful Christ School staff ladies. The requisite furniture, provided by the school; a couch, two chairs, coffee table and shelf. Nothing else. Four hearts raised to God in prayer. Four voices mingling in beautiful harmonies over simple song: “Jesus, we need you.” Four spirits drawn into One as we prayed. Black hands joined to white, forming a circle. Hands laid on, spirits released. Sickness flees. True Glory.

If this isn’t a snapshot of God’s success here, I don’t know what it is. So I take this moment to affirm it, to glory in it, to be thankful.

I realized recently that our time as leaders of Christ School has closely mimicked the process of gestation and labor. God has continually tried to help me see this but I kept “glimpsing through a veil, darkly” and not quite getting it until this week when I finally saw more clearly.

The first year here was much like my first trimester with both children. Exhausting, depleting and overwhelming but with much growth and health developing in the new little one inside. I had hyperemesis with Naomi and was quite sick again with Quinn, so my first trimester’s did not involve glowing and happy occasions of sharing the news but instead lots of vomiting and ice chips. In the same way, last year involved fear, violence, turmoil, uncertainty, loneliness and so much stress.

The second trimester often is (and was for me) a time of relative calm, peace and health for the mother. So was the earlier part of this year at Christ School. Not that you ever forget you are gestating, the pains and discomforts are right there right below the surface, but your belly ‘pops” and you begin to really show signs of growth, change and life. We are so thankful for the many signs of growth, change and life that God has shown us this year at Christ School.

It was just this week that I realized what I am feeling right now. The Gumby feeling I posted about earlier this week. It’s just like the transition part of labor. Early labor you are excited, middle labor you are exhausted, but when you reach transition it is a whole new level of pain and exhaustion and fear. It is then that the mother says, ” I can’t do this!” and truly believes that she will not live to see the child’s birth. It’s then that her community (husband, midwives, etc) must gather all their strength to say, ” you ARE doing it!”. For this is the greatest and clearest sign of transition, that the birth is so, so close.

I’m in transition now. In many ways I feel like a surrogate mom here at CSB, or a mother bringing a child to life for an adoption. I love this school, love the hearts here, love the lives here, love the very soil, yet know that it is not mine to keep, to cherish, to hold.

So I give it what I can. I lay down my body through gestation, I lay down my body through birth. And I believe with all my heart that the beauty which is about to come into existence carries my blood, my very life within it. It is enough.

And God’s message to me, as I keep claiming that ” I can’t do it” is ” you ARE!.” From Ephesians 5:1 he tells me: ” Watch what God does and then do it, like children who learn proper behavior from their parents. Mostly what God does is love you. Keep company with him and learn a life of love. Observe how Christ loved us. His love was not cautious but EXTRAVAGANT. . . . . . LOVE LIKE THAT.”

So even when I can not believe that I can do it, I will follow the angels who declare ” You ARE!” I will choose to live each day in love; to believe that love will overcome the darkness, will break every disagreement and disunity, that love is Enough because HE IS LOVE.

And the child will be born. A child that will change eternity. Lives will never be the same, heaven will have a whole new crowd, a whole new choir. The angels will dance and I will dance too. And the pains of labor will fade behind leaving me to look forward to another labor of love, another child to mother, another chance to be God’s agent of change in a world that so desperately needs rebirth.

Praise God.

Senior 4 candidate students started their exams last Monday. Not just any exams, the national exams, which take multiple weeks to complete and years off of lives . . . . well, we hope not really . . . .

There is no re-take or make-up here, if you get sick you study for a whole ‘nother year before getting the chance to sit for exams again. And failing exams (as you do if you don’t complete them) greatly impacts your chance to go on to another school or university.

This is why I was up at 4 am on Wednesday morning helping a sick 17 year old vomit and praying with her while she writhed. Her stomach was in pain, she had a bad case of gastroenteritus, but mostly she was just stick scared that she would fail her exams because of the nausea diahrea and pain.

Now I might be crazy here, but I’d say there’s something wrong with the system.

Most mornings right now involve multiple trips to the local police station where David picks up the morning’s exams, sealed in special UNEB (Uganda National Examination Board) packaging. From there he hands them off to the special UNEB examiners who are teachers from another school and have been approved. They check pockets, make sure all desks are a minimum number of centimeters apart from each other and supervise the giving of the exam. Time is kept exactly and when the two hours end the students file out, the exams are repackaged in another sealed UNEB package and transported back to the police station by David where they are picked up by the UNEB coordinator for the area. This happens twice a day, every day, for three weeks.

And then our Senior 6 students begin THEIR national exams.

Earthquake!! In the last few weeks there have been a number of small tremors keeping us wondering if we are working our way up to a bigger one. About thirty years ago there was a very significant earthquake here that killed a number of local people. Since our missionary home has been much renovated I am wary of it’s stability and of the earth shaking!!

Two nights ago we were woken out of deep sleep by the biggest one I’ve felt yet. Sent me running to grab Naomi from bed and heading towards the door before the shaking settled. Last night the baby tremors happened about every two minutes and lasting several seconds long. Started to feel like sea sickness.
I guess the big one registered as a 5.0 on the Richter. Still tiny.

That’s who I feel like right now. Like that flexible pulled-in-all-directions guy, Gumby. (that was his name, right?)

Six weeks left to wrap things up for Christ School in a way that can be easily taken over by a Ugandan Headmaster in January. SO MUCH TO DO. Since we have just barely started getting our heads around things here at school, getting it all set out and written down is not simple.

Two children to walk through all of a cross-cultural life here. Two children’s wounds to kiss, hearts to pray with, friends to greet, meals to cook, homework to check, stories to read, tears to cry with, hands to hold, thoughts to safe-guard.

A husband who arrives home each day exhausted, truly spent. Who is grateful that he will soon walk away from the most discouraging job he has ever encountered. Who spends time doing things he never imagined he would – in-depth accounting, tasting of cassava porridge and spending time in the local jail to name a few. Who learns more about the Spirit daily. Who can barely keep his eyes open after dinner. Who nevertheless finds ways to show me he loves me everyday.

Between work at Christ School; caring for my children; keeping our family in food; keeping ants out of the food; planning for our future; trying to make sense of the past; loving old friends; making space for new friends; hearing testimonies; sharing testimonies; living life as a testimony . . . . .

Well, I could go on and on but since I am feeling exhausted just thinking about it all let me just say again that I feel like Gumby (if that was his name.) I am really weary: soul weary, heart weary, body weary. And God hasn’t yet answered a lot of my questions. And I’m wondering if I should still keep asking. And I am determined to wrestle Him out.

All prayers and encouraging words appreciated.

That’s who I feel like right now. Like that flexible pulled-in-all-directions guy, Gumby. (that was his name, right?)

Six weeks left to wrap things up for Christ School in a way that can be easily taken over by a Ugandan Headmaster in January. SO MUCH TO DO. Since we have just barely started getting our heads around things here at school, getting it all set out and written down is not simple.

Two children to walk through all of a cross-cultural life here. Two children’s wounds to kiss, hearts to pray with, friends to greet, meals to cook, homework to check, stories to read, tears to cry with, hands to hold, thoughts to safe-guard.

A husband who arrives home each day exhausted, truly spent. Who is grateful that he will soon walk away from the most discouraging job he has ever encountered. Who spends time doing things he never imagined he would – in-depth accounting, tasting of cassava porridge and spending time in the local jail to name a few. Who learns more about the Spirit daily. Who can barely keep his eyes open after dinner. Who nevertheless finds ways to show me he loves me everyday.

Between work at Christ School; caring for my children; keeping our family in food; keeping ants out of the food; planning for our future; trying to make sense of the past; loving old friends; making space for new friends; hearing testimonies; sharing testimonies; living life as a testimony . . . . .

Well, I could go on and on but since I am feeling exhausted just thinking about it all let me just say again that I feel like Gumby (if that was his name.) I am really weary: soul weary, heart weary, body weary. And God hasn’t yet answered a lot of my questions. And I’m wondering if I should still keep asking. And I am determined to wrestle Him out.

All prayers and encouraging words appreciated.

Last night our team and one special Ugandan friend joined Quinn for his seventh celebration of life. Quinn has so many interests and joys that we could not narrow it down to a theme and instead decided to make it “Quinn-i-full” – all Quinn. Right now that means mazes and courage, Waldo and Tin-Tin, science experiments and tree climbing, barefoot-ness and S’mores among other things.

God amazed us with a rain-free afternoon and evening, almost unheard of this time of year in Western Uganda. And our team showed its’ usual heart by dressing in a bizarre mix of suggested costumes and joining gamely in all the activities. We played hard, from the Lego Challenge to World War Capture the Flag and an “Amazing Feats of Skill and Courage” Picture Scavenger Hunt which had each team posing in groups through all kinds of adventures. Quinn LOVED it.

Incredible bbq chicken, twice baked potatoes and a light saber cake followed. A bonfire with back rubs, tickles and funny conversation ended it all beautifully. A truly wonderful celebration of a truly wonderful kid.

Quinn has had his share of pain this year. His share of heart-loss. We have walked through a lot with him. And yet he is stronger, more compassionate, tenderer and even more full of courage. Like most boys his age he struggles to feel as brave as he wishes he were. And unlike many, his heart breaks for the hurting. He is handsome; oh that dimple and those curls. He is wise; so often sharing with us things about God, life and people that we haven’t noticed. He is truly brave where it matters most; entering Babwisi culture daily in ways that the rest of our family is often afraid to. He is kind; carrying his baby “sister” Nancy and checking in with her mom many times a day.

Quinn, stay you. Compassionate, Comedic, Courageous – You. You’ll never know till Heaven what a difference you make. We can’t wait to see all you turn out to be.

Christ School’s annual Parents Day was well punctuated by laughter. After last year’s dismally negative tone, my expectations for this year’s event hovered just above total dread. But in the two days leading up to it I began to embrace a spirit of hope. The energy and joy in our school campus were palpable as everyone prepared. Students and teachers working cooperatively and constructively. Creative and innovative activities being imagined and performed. The happy hum of engaged children – still a rare thing at our school in the bush.

And it was, overall, a GREAT day.

The tone was set by one of the early speakers, young Kakungulu – a new boy from one of our rarer tribes. A gem of a kid with intelligence, multilingual abilities (about five languages at 17), strong character, a deep faith, and the ability to withstand the onslaught of opposition from fellow students. Somehow, miraculously, voted in by his often jealous peers as the Prime Minister for students, he gave a speech which balanced needed improvements with praise.

Art displays, originally written and choreographed musical pieces, drama and recitations, and a stunning fashion show of traditional tribal wear rounded out the day. Truly a day of laughter; I even caught the old woman behind me laughing so hard she cried as she watched the drama!!

Then more speeches. David, in his speech, made me proud as usual. Proud of his honesty, his integrity, his willingness to sacrifice his own reputation for the sake of those he leads. So like Jesus. The hallmark of his term as Head Teacher has been vulnerable and risky transparency and a willingness to patiently disciple his staff through their needed growth. Not a bad legacy to leave. What a gift to be his partner.

So much ground has been gained here at Christ School. So much territory needs to be held, and again advances must be made. Deep in enemy territory as we are, there is little time for relaxing. Each day brings new attack.

And with each space between two breaths we once again ask the Spirit to heal this land, revive all of our hearts, and guard our spirits with His own. Amen.

Our brief camping trip felt like much longer – and I mean that in the best sense.  Leaving behind the still vomiting and quite sick team mates who ate the ice cream, we packed up several trunks of bedding, food and gear and headed one hour down the road to the national forest where natural hot springs and amazing woods are found.  We set up our tent in the Ugandan Wildlife Authority’s prepared spaces and found it a perfect spot for car camping.   It’s rainy season here in Uganda so we did have an 8 pm downpour followed by steady rain all night but despite wet blankets and pillows, our enthusiasm was not dampened at all. We had a blast!

John, Loren and Brian Clark joined us and taught us much we needed to know about lighting fires and setting up tents (we were definitely NOT boy scouts.)  We gained confidence and new respect for these great friends.  And the friendship definitely got deeper as all five of us shared a single tent space!  Good conversations ranged from Dave Barry (of course) to  bringing out the best in people through love.  Meat grilled on the fire, jacket potatoes roasted in the coals, maize cooked in its own husks, this was the food of our 26 hours away.

Our walk in the woods on Sunday morning was magical; flower-like fungi, baboons before and behind us (grab a big stick, these things eat goats!!), colobus, blue and vervet monkeys leaping in the trees around us, exotic long-tailed birds and some incredible old trees and amazing greenery.  It was definitely Church of the Forest for us as we marveled at all God had created.  After moseying through the leafy, cool woods we came out at the most scenic part of the Bundibugyo road and walked down to where the hot springs trail started.  These sulfurous springs have a magic of their own and geologist John explained the science behind their creation.  Quinn was enthralled.

Quinn said, “this is the best 7th birthday EVER!”  He loved eating cake in the woods, roasting marshmallows as his pre-dinner appetizer and getting to see monkeys, baboons and COOL DANCING SPIDERS on his birthday weekend.  After all, what could be better for my courageous kid than an adventure all of his own to celebrate another year of his life?  Memorable, mystical and muddy.  Thanks, Daddy-God.

And it’s no small gift that none of the young kids ate the ice cream.  Salmonella can be life threatening, especially to peanuts like Brian and Naomi.   I feel intensely thankful for health.  Please continue to pray for Heidi, Pat, and Nathan as well as the Myhre four.  They are well on the way to recovery but still pretty miserable.

Deep Economy is a fascinating look at the needs of the world for happiness, wealth and health. Written by well-traveled christian Bill McKibben, this book is revealing, fascinating and inspiring.

McKibben’s premise revolves around the very obvious truth that more money has not made the developed world more happy. He notes the statistic that wealth only makes us happier up to a per capita income of $10,000/year. Not easily confirmed, and perhaps just a number, but to me as a privileged American living in a very poor community it finally makes sense of the unhappiness I see on both sides of this wealth divide.

So what is true wealth? True wealth is the security of an interconnected life, he argues, in contrast to the hyper-individualism that characterizes much of American life. It is both having enough basic resources to guarantee access to food and health care and little enough resources to guarantee dependence on those around us. Having everything we need isolates us. Not to mention the job it does on the environment and the developing world. For those who are not sure the way we live needs to change in response to global warming and climate change, his section on China must be read.

His words about the real needs of our souls struck a chord: “You could call it the Laura Ingalls Wilder effect . . . . A life rich in family, rich in connection to the natural world, rich in adventure but materially deprived. That one dress, that same bland dinner. At Christmastime,a penny – a penny!! And a stick of candy and the awful deliberation about whether to stretch it out with tiny licks or devour it in an orgy of happy greed. A rag doll was the zenith of aspiration.”

As we think about arriving back in America after this adventure is over, we cringe at the thought of fitting back into a world that we no longer know or understand. We have changed, our American lives must change too. Yet we still value the friends and family and churches that must have changed too, but in their own ways and directions. Arriving home shall also be an adventure.