There’s an old song we used to sing at New Tribes Missions the first time we headed to Africa. I was in first grade, but I remember it well. It went like this:
Please don’t send me to Africa
I don’t think I got what it takes
I’m just a man, I’m not a Tarzan
Don’t like lions, gorillas, or snakes
I’ll serve you here in Suburbia
In my comfortable, middle-class life
But please don’t send me out into the bush
Where the natives are restless at night.
My brothers and sisters are laughing right now - that, or singing along. :-) I always thought they should change the first line to “Please do send me to Africa . . .” In my mind, the restless natives and roaring lions were fascinating things. Not to mention meeting gorillas and snakes literally face-to-face. But in that aspect, I was disappointed on my first trip to Africa. I remember seeing a tiny little scorpion on the library floor once that promptly sent us all screaming and running for safety. The little guy wasn’t even two inches long. My parents got to go on a trip to see the restless natives and hear the roaring lions, but I had to stay at home. Such is the life of a first-grader.
Nearly twenty years later, I get another try. A little older . . . maybe wiser . . . and just as ready as ever to meet the restless natives and hear the roaring lions. I guess the first thing you need when you’re headed to a foreign country is a plane ticket to get you there. So, that’s what I’ve been working on these last few weeks. And it has been weeks. Here’s the story:
After long hours of gaping dumbly at a computer screen full of itineraries, flight times, prices, and destinations, I decided to purchase two separate tickets: one round-trip to London and another round-trip from London to Kigali, Rwanda (that being my first destination, followed by three weeks in Uganda. How I was to get back to Rwanda after the Uganda trip I was going to worry about later). So, late last Monday night out at the Royal Family Kids’ Camp, I booked the cheapest tickets I could find, printed out my flight information, and went to sleep, ready to devote myself entirely to the coming week of camp.
Then I got back from camp and checked the five phone messages and thirty-six emails waiting for me . . . and discovered that my ticket from London to Rwanda had been cancelled while I was at camp. London isn’t exactly known for its restless natives and roaring lions. I was only half-way to my goal. So, I started gaping dumbly at the rather aggravating computer screen again (three weeks before I’m supposed to be flying out) in search of a cheap flight from London to Rwanda. There weren’t any, and my creative genius wasn’t coming up with any grand ideas for getting me there. Camel-back through Europe and down past the pyramids was going to take too long. I’m deathly afraid of sharks, so swimming the Mediterranean was no good. And I don’t know any bush pilots who run regular routes from London to Kigali, Rwanda. My options were definitely limited.
Then I got this brilliant idea - and I’m pretty sure it was straight from God, cause that’s where all my brilliant ideas come from. What if I flew into Uganda, since that’s where I’m ending my trip anyway, and just got a ride over to Rwanda? So, I checked flights from London to Uganda, and - what do you know? - it was not only doable, but less expensive than the flights to Rwanda had been! I bought a ticket the next day, taking one step closer to those restless natives and roaring lions.
Also turns out we’ve got some Ugandan helpers who are going to be driving down to Rwanda to help with that trip and then head back over to Uganda for the Uganda trip. So, they’re just going to take me with them. Amazing how simple and perfect everything works out when God’s the One making the plans.
Saturday, June 21, 2008
Monday, June 16, 2008
Sparkly Pink Fingernail Polish
I am typing this with sparkly pink fingernail polish. No joke. I’m pretty sure it’s the first time in my life I’ve ever had pink painted on my fingers. Every other finger is pink. The ones in between are blue. They’re all sparkly. You should have seen the beaming face of the little girl who got to paint them.
I’ve expanded my knowledge database as well. I now know all the actions to “Pharaoh, Pharaoh.” I can rap “Humpty Dumpty.” I’ve personally met a very talented 11-year-old who can wrap both legs up over her head and around her neck. I learned something new about bacon bits, sunflower seeds, and a bread stick. Put a hole in the latter and stuff in the first two, and you’ve got a fairly tasty lunch. I learned that “Oh, tartar sauce!” can actually be used as an exclamation of extreme irritation. (From what I gather, the phrase was coined by none other than SpongeBob SquarePants.)
No, I haven’t been to college . . . I’ve been to camp! This last week Royal Family Kids’ Camp hosted five days of craziness at Covenant Cedars, a beautiful little camp half-an-hour down the road. Royal Family is an organization that reaches out to children who have been abused, neglected, and generally just not gotten a chance to be kids. So, Covenant Cedars got together 67 children, half as many counselors, and a whole host of other volunteers for a week of zip lines, bad hair days, canoeing, bubbles, and more. Every child’s dream world - and possibly mine too.
The counselors - they called us “big campers,” and that’s probably a more accurate description - arrived Sunday night, more or less cheerfully clueless, clutching our hair dye and streamers. Monday morning the kids came in on the bus, which we promptly sprinted - or panted - after down the driveway. The next five days went something like this: introduce-room-hat day-fishing-zip line-“aaahh”(that was me screaming going on the zip line)-sing-sunglasses-carnival-swim-eat-“don’t tip the canoe over!”(that was the kid in the canoe I was trying to maneuver)-magic show-ooh!-ah!-swim-yum, chocolate-we hate mosquitos-dress up-birthday party-eat-talent show-bubbles!-one last time on the zip line-do we have to pack?-eat-bye!
It was a great week. Although trying to describe it gets a little scrambled, as you may have noticed. I heard and saw all sorts of hilarious things, most of which are probably a “you had to be there . . .” sort of thing. I would, however, like to share with you just one moment in the midst of all the craziness at camp.
On Thursday night we held the best talent show I’ve ever seen. We had all sorts of amazing gymnasts, singers, dancers, magicians, hoola-hoopers, artists - and some other rather, um, fascinating talents. In the middle of all this laughter and very loud applause, one little boy walked up to the stage, gripped the microphone, and, calmly peering out at all of us, started to sing “Our God is an Awesome God.” It’s the most amazing rendition of that song I’ve ever heard. I don’t know that boy’s past; I didn’t even catch his name. But there we were - disheveled, sleepy-eyed counselors and darling, naughty kids who’d finally gotten a chance to be spoiled and loved on. And, perhaps as a response to this, one little boy was answering back, “Our God is an awesome God.”
It suddenly made impossible things seem not so impossible anymore. If a child who has been neglected - abused - who knows what? - if that same child can get up in front of a hundred people and sing out at the top of his lungs, “Our God is an awesome God . . .” What is it the Bible says, “From the lips of infants and children, You have ordained praise.” If the children will praise Him, how much more should we? If the children will give a gift so sincerely, so generously, how much more should we? Or, put in a different light, if we have perhaps somehow, somewhere let go of the simplicity of delighting in our Creator and letting Him delight in us . . . perhaps we need to become like little children again.
I’ve expanded my knowledge database as well. I now know all the actions to “Pharaoh, Pharaoh.” I can rap “Humpty Dumpty.” I’ve personally met a very talented 11-year-old who can wrap both legs up over her head and around her neck. I learned something new about bacon bits, sunflower seeds, and a bread stick. Put a hole in the latter and stuff in the first two, and you’ve got a fairly tasty lunch. I learned that “Oh, tartar sauce!” can actually be used as an exclamation of extreme irritation. (From what I gather, the phrase was coined by none other than SpongeBob SquarePants.)
No, I haven’t been to college . . . I’ve been to camp! This last week Royal Family Kids’ Camp hosted five days of craziness at Covenant Cedars, a beautiful little camp half-an-hour down the road. Royal Family is an organization that reaches out to children who have been abused, neglected, and generally just not gotten a chance to be kids. So, Covenant Cedars got together 67 children, half as many counselors, and a whole host of other volunteers for a week of zip lines, bad hair days, canoeing, bubbles, and more. Every child’s dream world - and possibly mine too.
The counselors - they called us “big campers,” and that’s probably a more accurate description - arrived Sunday night, more or less cheerfully clueless, clutching our hair dye and streamers. Monday morning the kids came in on the bus, which we promptly sprinted - or panted - after down the driveway. The next five days went something like this: introduce-room-hat day-fishing-zip line-“aaahh”(that was me screaming going on the zip line)-sing-sunglasses-carnival-swim-eat-“don’t tip the canoe over!”(that was the kid in the canoe I was trying to maneuver)-magic show-ooh!-ah!-swim-yum, chocolate-we hate mosquitos-dress up-birthday party-eat-talent show-bubbles!-one last time on the zip line-do we have to pack?-eat-bye!
It was a great week. Although trying to describe it gets a little scrambled, as you may have noticed. I heard and saw all sorts of hilarious things, most of which are probably a “you had to be there . . .” sort of thing. I would, however, like to share with you just one moment in the midst of all the craziness at camp.
On Thursday night we held the best talent show I’ve ever seen. We had all sorts of amazing gymnasts, singers, dancers, magicians, hoola-hoopers, artists - and some other rather, um, fascinating talents. In the middle of all this laughter and very loud applause, one little boy walked up to the stage, gripped the microphone, and, calmly peering out at all of us, started to sing “Our God is an Awesome God.” It’s the most amazing rendition of that song I’ve ever heard. I don’t know that boy’s past; I didn’t even catch his name. But there we were - disheveled, sleepy-eyed counselors and darling, naughty kids who’d finally gotten a chance to be spoiled and loved on. And, perhaps as a response to this, one little boy was answering back, “Our God is an awesome God.”
It suddenly made impossible things seem not so impossible anymore. If a child who has been neglected - abused - who knows what? - if that same child can get up in front of a hundred people and sing out at the top of his lungs, “Our God is an awesome God . . .” What is it the Bible says, “From the lips of infants and children, You have ordained praise.” If the children will praise Him, how much more should we? If the children will give a gift so sincerely, so generously, how much more should we? Or, put in a different light, if we have perhaps somehow, somewhere let go of the simplicity of delighting in our Creator and letting Him delight in us . . . perhaps we need to become like little children again.
Thursday, June 5, 2008
The Benefits of an Early Retirement
So, I hope I’m not the only person who randomly checks other peoples’ blogs every once in awhile - even blogs that haven’t been written on in a LONG time . . .
In January, I started working at our local elementary school as a para-educator for a special need’s child and the pre-school. Para-educators are my new heros; I’ve never known a job that requires that much patience. Then May came, they let all the kids go home, and the teachers (and para-educators) didn’t have anything to do. So, we left. And I suddenly found myself out of a job. I like to think of it as “Retired at the age of 25.”
In this early stage of “retirement,” I - like most people who retire - feel very strongly drawn towards the idea of traveling. I have “settled down” in a place for exactly 1 ½ years, and now I feel it’s time to move on. By the way, one of the teachers at the elementary school once asked if I had commitment issues (you know, with staying in one place for any extended amount of time), and I’m rather afraid that I do.
So, I’m buying a plane ticket to Africa. Kigali, Rwanda, to be exact. This is true. Although my reasoning so far could use a little improvement. The REAL reason I will be going to Africa - flying out in one month, to be exact, and I’m so excited! - is to join with Music for Life (parent organization to the African Children’s Choir) in some kids’ camps that they host over in Africa. I’ll be traveling with two separate teams, the first to Rwanda and the second to Uganda, and we’ll be working with various local schools, orphanages, and churches to share the incredible love of Christ with some of Africa’s neediest children. Our camps will consist of songs, Bible lessons, dance (which I most definitely should not be in charge of!), crafts, games, snacks, etc.
I am incredibly thankful to God for this opportunity to travel - to teach - to enjoy a different culture - and to try to reconcile my memories of one year in Senegal, Africa as a first-grader with what I will be experiencing this summer. I will be doing my best to keep this blog updated with information/pictures/stories, etc. about this trip - and would invite you all to keep in touch. You never know what might happen when you’re retired!
In January, I started working at our local elementary school as a para-educator for a special need’s child and the pre-school. Para-educators are my new heros; I’ve never known a job that requires that much patience. Then May came, they let all the kids go home, and the teachers (and para-educators) didn’t have anything to do. So, we left. And I suddenly found myself out of a job. I like to think of it as “Retired at the age of 25.”
In this early stage of “retirement,” I - like most people who retire - feel very strongly drawn towards the idea of traveling. I have “settled down” in a place for exactly 1 ½ years, and now I feel it’s time to move on. By the way, one of the teachers at the elementary school once asked if I had commitment issues (you know, with staying in one place for any extended amount of time), and I’m rather afraid that I do.
So, I’m buying a plane ticket to Africa. Kigali, Rwanda, to be exact. This is true. Although my reasoning so far could use a little improvement. The REAL reason I will be going to Africa - flying out in one month, to be exact, and I’m so excited! - is to join with Music for Life (parent organization to the African Children’s Choir) in some kids’ camps that they host over in Africa. I’ll be traveling with two separate teams, the first to Rwanda and the second to Uganda, and we’ll be working with various local schools, orphanages, and churches to share the incredible love of Christ with some of Africa’s neediest children. Our camps will consist of songs, Bible lessons, dance (which I most definitely should not be in charge of!), crafts, games, snacks, etc.
I am incredibly thankful to God for this opportunity to travel - to teach - to enjoy a different culture - and to try to reconcile my memories of one year in Senegal, Africa as a first-grader with what I will be experiencing this summer. I will be doing my best to keep this blog updated with information/pictures/stories, etc. about this trip - and would invite you all to keep in touch. You never know what might happen when you’re retired!
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