Last night, the we got the news that Kevin Bartkovich, our founding Headmaster, had suffered a cardiac arrythmia that had put him on life support in a North Carolinian hospital. Minutes later, around 9:30 pm we gathered staff together in the office and broke that news that Kevin had almost died and was in very critical condition. Men that we love cried like babies for a man that they love, Kevin.

This follows a day of difficulty. Yesterday morning we awoke to signs posted up all over campus. They mimicked the words in one of the hate mail letters we received a few weeks ago: “the days of mercy have ended” and “get rid of Christ School leaders now” among others. The signs threatened violence towards the school while the other note had promised to burn and stone all of us. Meanwhile, other situations were also erupting on campus. Problems in several English classes had led to near breakdowns in communication and angry demonstrations following classes. One boy had been kicked unconscious in an unrelated bullying incident the day before. Later that night two students forced their way into the kitchen after dinner, enraged that the kitchen manager had refused them a second serving. They assaulted and threatened him leaving him very shaken and afraid. In yet another incident, the daughter of one of our staff members seems to be suffering from a psychological, emotional or spiritual attack and she also became violent that night.

David spent all of yesterday engaged with teachers and students, checking handwriting samples, talking to “informers” and questioning involved teachers. After classes he met with teachers while Senior 6 students demonstrated through a sit out. And last night he was meeting each group of students by class when we got the news from America that Kevin was in critical condition.

Twenty minutes later, after informing staff and praying briefly with them, each of us walked into a classroom in the final 10 minutes of evening preps. I gathered Senior 5 students and some girls began crying as I explained Kevin’s medical situation. We gathered hands there in the classroom and that group of students prayed for a man that many of them spent three years with. The Holy Spirit was incredibly present in that moment. Kevin’s kids, who so often fought him while he was their headmaster, know what it is to be an orphan. They asked God not to allow Kevin’s kids to be orphans too. Walking in to a classroom where students faces showed hate and disgust, where students have threatened our lives, and getting to join hands and pray with them . . . . This was the lion laying down with the Lamb. This was God breaking through in some other-worldly way I can not know or understand.

So we remain in the tension of threatened violence and near-death mourning. We do not think the timing of all this is coincidence. Despite our significant fears that last night would involve real violence, the night was relatively quiet. As students went back to their dorms quietly, following the awful news, the staff gathered back together with us to sing and pray for Kevin. Many of us cried as we sang. We broke up shortly after midnight and walked home watching for skulking figures in the bushes – rocks always fly at night. Today is another day of watching and waiting; for Kevin’s life and for the school that He poured His life out to build. May God have mercy.

This week I fasted, really fasted, for the first time. I am writing about it (despite the risk of glamorizing it) because I haven’t seen much in my christian reading that humanizes it, that takes the super-spirituality out and relates it to normal life. I am encouraged towards fasting by the example of my new Ugandan friend, Eunice, who fasts as a lifestyle and who gets deeper with God in the process. You could say she fasts out of a desperate certainty that she needs Him more than she can easily meet Him. I have that desperate certainty more each day.

For me, choosing to fast was a “take that, Satan” because of my history, because of how he defeated me in past. I used to way 55 pounds less than I do now. I was really good at fasting – except it wasn’t a fast, it was a starve. Somehow in my confused and intense teenage brain, losing weight became a competition with myself. It became a way to tune into my heart’s pain while tuning out to the hard work of meeting it. It was a solution that became a really big problem. And since that time, since I did the hard work of recovering (both my weight and my perspective), I have never come close to dieting again. Since then, the thought of spiritual fasting brought too many bad memories and too much fear of being tempted. To be honest, it has taken me about ten years to be sure that a simple fast of a day or two wouldn’t bring me back into the beginning of the end. Satan didn’t have me, but he still held fear over me. So this week I say, take that, Satan. And I celebrate a new victory, the victory of not fearing what He will do when I relax my guard.

I think in America we fear being hungry almost more than anything. Yet we ignore our hunger for God, the very hunger which our physical hunger is a reflection of. I don’t have big, dramatic, spiritual statements about my fast. But it brought me much deeper with God. I don’t know quite how. It was a secret communion with him that allowed us to meet in the spirit despite the busyness of everyday life. If I could have just fasted from people and activities this week (gone off alone) I would have. But since I couldn’t, fasting allowed me to be present deeply with God in my spirit while being actively engaged with the world around me.

I told Eunice that the Holy Spirit was very open to me this week. She laughed and I swear I heard God laugh too. “He’s always open, my dear,” she said, “it’s you who aren’t!” How totally true. But this week I have felt my spirit open to new revelations from His heart to mine. We have re-connected, re-affirmed our vows of commitment to each other, and once again I been told how beautiful He finds me. “Baby, you got issues”, He’s said, ” and I can’t wait to see how those issues come together with your amazing strength to make history.” Who wouldn’t want a friend and Lover who speaks this way??

So I’m recommending the spiritual fast. With a footnote that American women are way too thin, that you shouldn’t even think of fasting if you are hoping you might lose weight in the process. And with the confession that I’m a total novice and would love to learn more. Here’s hoping He’s ready to teach me.

Wednesday we “celebrated” the Martyrs of Uganda, if you can celebrate such a thing. It is a national holiday and we commemorated with historical speeches, music, End of the Spear (yes, American martyrs, but at least martyrs in a movie) and an afternoon of games and sports competitions. In every way this day demonstrated the new CSB; leaders stepping forward in ways we didn’t ask for and wouldn’t have known to want, students losing their fear of embarrassment as staff made fools of themselves in the competitions, lots of laughter and a healthy disgrace, self-forgetfulness, release of the tensions of teenage-hood, school and discipline.

Half way through the afternoon, the staff blindfolded race began. I was in the line-up along with all the other staff ladies. And I was thrilled to get to take part. But as a student tied the kitangi over my eyes, cutting off all vision, I began to feel a little less confident. I got a little afraid of feeling stupid, of looking ridiculous, of plain-old-hitting-my-head-against-the-goal-post!! As the whistle blew we took off. Or at least I took off, I had no way to know what any of the other competitors was doing. My strategy was to run hard and fast and as straight as I could manage. I had in mind that I had a pretty good idea of straight ahead and could easily win through reckless tenacity.

I ran hard, I ran fast, I ran straight, and then I heard laughter begin from the crowd. I slowed. I stopped. I waved my arms out in front of me. I faintly heard the voices of some students: “madam, to the right” and another ” madam, to the left”. I stumbled blindly first to the left, then to the right and then I yanked off my blindfold. I was ten feet from the goal, right where I should have been only that I had stopped too soon. I would have won had I only continued on.

I do not spend time writing this because winning is so important. Truth be told I am anti-competition and much prefer cooperation. I only participated in the blindfold race because it was a “just for fun” thing. But something stuck in my craw about this ending. And because I was in the middle of a fast, perhaps God was able more clearly to speak to me through my circumstances. (By which I mean I was more able to listen.) And God said: “this is what you have been doing in your life here.” In other words, God tells me to “run” and I begin to run with courage, determination and real talent. Yet before I can accomplish what he has called me to I slow down, I stop, I second-guess myself, I listen to the laughter and voices of others. In the end I can cause my own failures because I fear and doubt myself. When I step back from reckless obedience, I risk losing the goal.

Later that evening as I spoke with a good Ugandan friend, God confirmed what He is trying to teach me. He spoke through another story. And it all began to come together for me. A friend reminded me of the power of remembering how God has worked in past in our lives and it further cemented where God is teaching me. God has never worked slowly and surely in my life. He has never worked through listening to voices that proclaim uncertainty. He has never worked through proving me wrong or encouraging me to doubt those things which seem most clear. Instead he has spoken dramatically, surely, and in ways that don’t make sense to most around me. And it has only been in the long run that the plan looks good. He has required great faith in me and he has encouraged me towards reckless obedience time and again. And when I look back I see how very good all that recklessness has been for me.

So I renew my reckless spirit, I renew my courage in the gift of discernment which God has given me. I am reminded that though God may not speak clearly and audibly to all, He surely does with me. I will not be ashamed. I will not doubt. I will gather strength in the community of other saints. I will remember my testimony. I will run not only with perseverance but I will run despite blindness. And I believe that He is bringing me towards a very great goal. Time will only tell if recklessness will prove to be faith. But for now, I’m sure enough that God is calling me to it, that I’m willing to throw my life away on the chance that I’m wrong. Reckless-Acceptance, that’s where I am, that’s what I want to offer, and that’s what He’s given me.

“I looked in the mirror and the problem was me.” – Donald Miller, Blue Like Jazz

“Search me, and know my heart . . .” – David, the Book of Psalms

These two quotes sum up a lot of my past few weeks. It’s been a time of quiet, a time of thought, a time of uncertainty. I’ve been trying to see more than the cracks in my life, but at the same time to begin by seeing some of my own cracks more clearly.

I have been blessed as I have reflected on King David’s request to ask God to “search my heart.” It’s not a personal soul searching, a personal self criticism or self judgment; it’s allowing God to search our hearts and show us truth about ourselves (the flaws and the gems) that we most need to see. I’m so thankful that God does not allow me to do that deep work of soul searching alone, but that He shields me and protects me by doing it for me. He has already revealed a lot. Most importantly that I have gone into hiding in many ways, that I have chosen self-protection instead of growth in far too many circumstances. He is showing me a renewed path towards obedience in the areas which are hardest for me.

Blue Like Jazz is a refreshing read about spirituality in the modern age. I haven’t finished it but I have already been blessed. He talks about all his angst about the developing world, poverty, the plight of the Congolese . . . . And all the judgment and criticism he leveled at how we as a society have tried to fix these situations. “And then,” he says, ” I looked in the mirror and the problem was me.” That just hits me on SO many levels. Not in a sadistic, I-hate-myself way, but in a reflective path-towards-acceptance way. In some strange sense we must simultaneously free ourselves from blame through acceptance of God’s total grace while realizing that we carry real personal responsibility for the worst of the world’s problems. Because the problem IS each of us first and foremost: not politicians or NGOs or the church or the people who are suffering. We too would take the fruit, can we truly believe otherwise??

“I have learned to stay in uncomfortable places of unresolved conditions to wait for new possibilities to emerge.” So says Christopher Janney (who creates tech art through use of light, music and special effects), adding: “I believe pushing two seemingly disparate conditions together is what can create new possibilities.”

That same concept is also behind the the sociological term “innovative dissonance” a technique used in the corporate world to bring growth through conflict. And God help me if it’s not true, since our entire term thus far in Bundibugyo has been chock full of unresolved and seemingly disparate conditions. I keep waiting in uncomfortable places!! Problems are abundant, solutions require real innovation. And many times the path towards growth involves soul searching, conflict, and plain old pain.

I fast and I pray. I ask God to search my heart and see what in it needs to change, I seek advice wherever I can, I try to release my own perspective enough to see the perspectives of others. I read 1 Corinthians 13 with our staff and am deeply humbled and convicted my my sheer perseverance towards NOT loving. I keep running up against total depravity (mine and others) which has been overcome by total grace (God’s for us.) Our minds have been transformed and our hearts of stone taken away but we still hurt each other deeply. I am never completely in right yet in all my interactions I carry a deep seed of God’s rightness, truth and my unique gifting to show Him off.

Mired in the unresolved, surrounded by the disparate, I wait for truth to emerge in the form of new possibilities. It’s a very tough place for me. A place where peace feels elusive and where self-protection constantly creeps in. I cling to Him, and cry out for your prayers.

From Jesus is Calling by Sarah Young: (the words written as if spoken by Jesus to us)
“I want to be central in your entire being. When your focus is firmly on Me, My peace displaces fear and worries. They will encircle you seeking entrance, so you must stay alert. Let trust and thankfulness stand guard, turning back fear before it can gain a foothold. There is no fear in my love, which shines on you continually. Sit quietly in my Love-Light while I bless you with radiant peace. Turn your whole being to trusting and loving me.”

Eleven years ago, Friday, we Celtic danced, Psalm-singed, and antique Rolls-Royced our way to matrimonial bliss. It was a unique day!! The photos are beautiful even if it’s not all the same as what I would choose today. I’m pretty amazed by my good taste at age eighteen and still incredibly thankful for my parents financial and emotional investment in making that day everything it was.

David and I celebrated our anniversary yesterday with a family morning (food, coffee, good books and a short movie) then Sarah came over to give us the afternoon off together. We drove an adventurous hour (read: mud, ruts and near unintended off-roading) to the Sempaya Park where we saw the “male” and “female” hot springs and cooked our eggs in the boiling sulfurous waters. Accompanied by a forest ranger, we stalked through the ancient jungled woods and nearly stepped on a brilliant green snake which she identified as a Mamba. Later we went off-trail to discover the pool at the bottom of a tall waterfall we have often glimpsed by the road. Nearby we passed a local man making charcoal from ancient hard wood trees felled to make room for the new electrical poles.

So yesterday was a day for seeing, for glimpsing new beauty and new danger. For remembering the old and the way that it makes for the new. For noticing the value that is lost in the process, sometimes. We followed a long walking bridge towards the second, larger hot spring. The bridge was made of split wood, spaced just far enough to create the illusion of the possibility of falling through. When I looked down I walked slowly, gingerly but when I looked ahead, around, up, I walked surely and with confidence. In reality I couldn’t fall.

We wrote our wedding vows ourselves and they are still intensely beautiful and excruciatingly commitment filled. Eleven years on we can even better see the depth of our hearts for each other, the fullness of our desires to see each other grow, and yet the complexity of loving each other well. What do we do when we fail to love well, when vows which were promises based on our best hopes and wishes are impossible to really keep?? And so we talk about what vows mean, what we do with our imperfect selves, how to relearn each other now amidst the struggles of parenting, ministry and life in rural East Africa.

I have a tendency to look down at the cracks (like in that bridge I mentioned above); to focus in on the fears, the potential failings, to panic. In my better moments I am a visionary; but that too comes with it’s own issues. I can see a better future reality but my fear of the cracks get in the way of reaching it all. That’s where I tend, but that’s not what I want. So instead, I will choose (again) to embrace the beauty and the danger, to embrace David, to embrace all the choices that have brought me to this point, to embrace today and tomorrow as well as yesterday, to embrace my children and my friendships. To embrace the challenges that I fear and the ones I can’t wait to overcome. I don’t know where we’re going or how the world we’ll get there but the bridge ahead beckons, and I’m keeping my eyes up. With David beside me, and God in and around me, NOTHING is insurmountable. After all, I’ve got the faith that can make a mountain JUMP!!

Our dinner began with warm sodas, good worship music and a conversation centered around a new book by Zambian economist Dambisa Moyo in which she promotes ending all aid to Africa in the next five years. It was quite a conversation starter. I look forward even more to the school debate which will center around this topic on Friday.

As we gathered around the table an hour later to eat amazing beef cooked up by Asiimwe, I paused my heart in a moment of thankfulness for the incredible leadership team God has placed us within. This year’s experience of co-working with these six strong men and women has been an unforgettable one already. As we dug into our g-nut sauce and cabbage, and continued our conversation about aid to Africa (2 for, 4 strongly against and one quiet voice) we made it more personal. What about aid our school? What about the huge stack of 700 counter books (heavy duty notebooks) which are waiting in the bursar’s office for distribution to or Scholarship Students as part of the fees paid by their sponsors??

We have been asking many, MANY questions recently, so it was awfully nice to be able to ask them in community last night. As we continue to ponder the way forward for Christ School, we ponder what success looks like, what success we’ve had and where we’re likely to attain more success in future. We talk about sustainability and making the school more indigenous. We discuss how to safely bring aid in without creating corruption or damaging the local economy more. We face the hatred of a community that doesn’t like the way CSB has done things and we ask whether that hatred is to be lived with and confronted or whether it has an important message for us to hear.

After dinner we dug into peanut butter chocolate chip cookies (my secret weapon with staff!) and asked our friends to offer us feedback on the ideas that have come up in recent meetings: bringing in a Ugandan headmaster, becoming a government aided school, more comprehensive parental care from the “founding body.” (WHM) It was a long conversation and not a simple one. I think hearts begun to be heard and minds began to open to problems in new ways. I know mine did. Hearing from our African staff, many of whom have worked here for many years across changes in leadership and styles and many of whom have also worked in other church-led schools or government schools was incredibly helpful. For them, I think they have a mixture of satisfaction at their participation in this process and deep fear at the potential losses. Talking about our own need to leave Bundibugyo some day is nervous-making to them. And while they welcome the increased salaries that government aid would give them, they also fear the loss of control and vision that could easily come in too.

Questions, questions . . . And so few answers. We need prayers as a couple, as a leadership team, as partners with team leaders, and as field workers for the mission . . . For unity, collaboration, partnership, and true wisdom. Pray that we would find many other parts of this experience community-building, just as we found our time last night, because God is honored when our processes reflect real love in relationships even when the outcomes aren’t clear. Pray for us to listen well to each person who has wisdom to add and for God to supernaturally guide the way ahead. In the end, this is His school, His community of teachers, students and parents. Despite all our fears, all our doubts, all our unsures; He knows the way ahead.

With thanks to former team mate Rick Gray who passed this on . . . . .
Here’s the link to an interview with the author Moyo that I spoke of in my last post. http://www.guernicamag.com/interviews/953/aiding_is_abetting/

Any thoughts??

I will never forget Sudan; do you know why? Sudan is beautiful, bare, flat, scrubby and dry. I loved it because I felt at home. We walk down the streets every week day to lunch.

The Masso’s house was small and squished. Liana, Gaby and Acacia shared a room. They have a very tiny kitchen and a small dining room table. Their living room has some Moon chairs.

Mundri is an interesting place! The community has few taps. At the Arabic Restaurant they take pita bread from a box. At the market they sell tomato paste.

I really enjoyed Sudan because my friends were there.

Seems I may never get around to mentioning Sudan, so let me try, briefly . . . . .

Not so hot as we expected, Mundri was nevertheless dry and quite warm. Very flat and scrubby. Not nearly as beautiful as Bundibugyo. The people are calmer and friendlier in a real way. There was little to none of the rude behavior we see here in Bundi from children and overzealous visitors. The people, unsurprisingly, are gorgeous in their own African way.

Mooru is the language and I learned just a few words of greeting as we reached the market, the local primary school and the church during our week there. Mostly we spent our time holed up inside the Masso house, slurping up conversation and play time like the thirsty travelers we are.

Quinn and Gabriel spent about eight hours a day situated on a tarp outside with their basin of legos. They built, fought, and designed as we slowly rotated them out of the sun as it moved across the sky. Lots of drinking water is needed in Sudan, even more than here, so we would catch glimpses of our boys each time they flew inside on their winged, bare feet for a hearty glass of tepid water.

The girls did a LOT of art. Us moms joined in occasionally but mostly talked as we watched. Talked about marriage,kids, travel, future plans, all the things we think so obsessively about.

The Sudan team lives very communally, sharing a few buildings in a square compound ringed by reed fencing. Just outside, the community carries on life; I especially enjoyed watching the energetic manueverings of the disabled man next door who managed to accomplish much while on hands and knees! Each night a different team mate cooks dinner, a new way of living that greatly interested me! (Here in Bundibugyo us few mothers tend to cook for the rest of the team!) The team also shares the chores of living; latrine cleaning, sweeping, washing. Despite or perhaps because of the small compound and living quarters, there is a sense of family among the team that is very strong. The only downside was sharing a single shower among fifteen!

We brought home hibiscus flower tea, a staple in their market. It cooks up into a deep magenta color and tastes as sweet as juice when flavored with sugar. Their local brooms are made of sorghum stalks with the seeds still attached! They buy and sell millet, cassava, maize and beans as well as many greens. Fruits and other vegetables are more rare.
Several rivers stand in the Mundri area; murky, brown and threatening with cholera, river blindness and parasites. The boys fished but did not swim! We visited the Masso’s land where they hope to build team quarters by the end of the year and dreamed of a house where only bushy grasses and trees stand.

Lunches shared in one of the Episcopal church’s buildings gave us a flavor of emerging partners in Mundri. We ate beans and rice, pasta and beef, cooked to goodness by one of the local women. David also shared theological conversations under the mango tree.
Acacia made me promise to spread the word that their dog Chai is the sweetest puppy in the whole world and becoming better behaved every day.
Those are the highlights; come and see for yourself!