Saturday . . . a day of rest and relaxation. So much so that I have found almost nothing to write about today. Just before noon, we had team debriefing for a couple hours, which did seem to drag on a bit. But I suppose that is due more to my lack of interest in meetings than any detriment in the actual structured conversations. One of the things I did appreciate about the debriefing was our time of affirming one another. Jon is amazing at music; Molly never lacks crazy ideas to share with kids; Candice is tirelessly helpful. Etc, etc, etc. It was soothing to hear words of encouragement at the end of a trip that has been at times rather discouraging. I must admit, God, there were moments when I simply disliked being a part of this particular team. Fresh from the unforced cheerfulness of Rwanda, it was hard to adjust at first to a team that gave me the initial feeling of, “Oh, great - I’m back in America again!” But, my Lord, I have seen You bless others through our struggling selves. I have seen the children grin widely because of something we as a team gave them. I have heard Your Name glorified again and again. Here is the positive. You led us all here, Father, so very blatantly, and You have done well to bring us here.
We did get to enjoy one brief shopping adventure this afternoon at a local craft market. I really felt very immensely rich. Although I didn’t want to buy many of the things up for sale, I could have with the money I had with me, and that was the point. I think that is the thing, regardless of how much actual cash you are carrying, that makes you feel wealthy: the ability, with or without the desire, to buy whatever is in front of you. In Africa, they are firm supporters of the bargaining system, which is something I have greatly missed in America and greatly enjoyed today!
Eva and John Paul (two of our favorite translators) spent the afternoon with us. They had been away from camp this last week except for one evening, and it was good to see them again. But, dear God, I feel an ache in my chest when I remember that I have to leave this place - these people. I’ve already said too many goodbyes; must there soon be more? I do not want to say them. These people have filled my days with such radiant smiles and glorious outpourings of deeply sincere love. It is hard to accept leaving them, especially not knowing when we might meet again. But, Father God, I thank You all the more for Home - for the family we shall be when we reach those dear golden shores, for the sweetness of knowing all Eternity awaits us. I have been asked many times how I have stood to say goodbye to so many friends. “Doesn’t it break your heart?” is what they are asking. My unshakable hope in the reality of Your Heaven is my only answer. This world is really only a very short goodbye, if goodbye it must be, and we’ve all of forever to more than make up for that.
For now, Jesus, I ask You to hold my hand. You, my Breath, my Life, You are sufficient. Again and again You have proven Yourself, my Lord. I lack nothing because You are with me. There is nothing in You that I do not have - nothing in You that is incomplete. Jesus, You have my heart. I fall at Your feet and surrender to You my everything. Holy God, take all of me. I am Yours completely. Lead me on, dearest Savior. Amen.
Tuesday, September 30, 2008
Monday, September 29, 2008
Day 33: August 8, 2008
My precious Heavenly Father, I think I am the richest person in all the world. I do not see how anyone, even with whole bank-fulls of money, could possibly know themselves to be more blessed, more content, more loved than I am. My God, from the depths of my heart, I thank You.
Today was our last day of camp at Nabinoonya. We woke early and tired after last night - but You have blessed us with good health and rest, and we are grateful. This morning just before lunch You granted us sunshine and a nice little breeze that made perfect weather for the treasure hunt we had planned. Molly, Candice, Jon, and I scurried about for half an hour, hiding clues and double checking map coordinates, while the others distracted the kids (I think they were doing some art project). We very nearly lost a clue to an over-zealous camp worker, but after some rather worried searching, we recovered it. Then we lined up all the kids (they had no idea what was coming) and announced our surprise. Their faces pulsed excitement like the beat of their drums, but they listened very intently, albeit fidgeting, while I explained the rules. But the moment I passed the teams their map and first clue, the silence was gone!
As the “genius mastermind” (note: this title may be debatable) behind the idea, it was my solemn duty to dart aimlessly about the camp, trying to be in the right place at the right time to help whatever team was presently in a quandary utterly beyond their skill. I also got to take pictures. Which was a bit difficult in the midst of all that running and laughing and shouting exhortations and giving out hints without being too obvious or too vague. But I did manage a few snapshots - some of them even made it to the camera; the rest are in my mind:
. . . The frenzied way they’d dash from clue to clue, some in each team inevitably lagging behind, panting, but all laughing . . .
The boys leaping on top of the stone elephant (wild and potentially dangerous according to the clue!) . . .
Inside the hut next to the lake, a little girl, in dire straights to find a quality she was thankful for for the little boy sitting next to her, finally blurting out, “I thank God for you . . . because you are handsome” . . .
The girls on the yellow team stretching their arms to the utmost (you could tell by the happy little grimaces they were making) to complete the circle and hug one of the round huts that serve as cabins . . .
. . . The grimaces on the faces of the girls when, for the human pyramid, the boys made them make the first row, so they could climb up on the second! I don’t think they’d ever actually made a human pyramid before . . .
Another team down amongst the grand trees, singing, “Jesus is my King.” (Remember the hated theme song?) I wasn’t anywhere near them, but I heard their voices from across camp . . .
The teams, one and all, launching themselves off the wall, arms flailing, mouths wide open (Because, really, why would you jump off a wall without your mouth wide open?).
Dear God, it was truly marvelous.
After the grand finish of the best scavenger hunt ever (we gave everyone suckers), we enjoyed another delicious lunch of rice and some sort of stew. Although, I do have to admit, the meat was a little iffy. When it takes more than five minutes to chew it, you start wondering . . . At 2:30, we attended a rather long awards ceremony for the academic semester, since, after all, this was a school of children we had camp with. It was quite interesting to hear some of the awards they gave out though. There were the standard, “Best Student in Math,” “Most Improved,” “Best Athlete.” That sort of thing. Then came the “Cleanliness Award.” We decided it was because when you’re working with a school of children who are coming out of, really, very poor homes, you can’t take cleanliness as a guaranteed habit. As the ceremony drew to a close, they invited us all up so we could tell each other thank you for the incredible week at camp. To express their gratitude, the entire group of children sang “Friends Are Friends Forever.” Nothing against Michael W. Smith, but I’d rather hear the African kids sing that song than him any day. Every day of camp, they would start the morning with devotions that included singing. The treasure of hearing truly gifted children join their sweet, clear voices together in sincere worship moved me every time. I do not think I can ever forget the music those children made as they sang in such angelic, effortless harmony.
At the close of the ceremony (and time for us to say goodbye), the entire crowd of children rushed on stage and overwhelmed us with hugs. They are such little darlings. There was one little boy (I think he had been one of the naughtier ones in our music sessions) who was counting the number of hugs he could give Uncle Jon. “One,” he started, then let a few other kids in line have a turn before he snuck back in and counted, “Two . . . three . . .” and so on. Oh, how we will miss them!
We said goodbye to the Brits (though not for the last time!), abandoned our peaceful nunnery, and, with bags packed yet again and hearts running over, returned to Adonai Guest House in Kampala. I am writing this from “home sweet home,” but I think the silence, though restful, is also a bit sad. Our camps are over, it is hard to believe! It seems years ago, and yet only a handful of days, that I left the States. You, Father, have filled my heart with such joy, such love, such dreams, such hope, such gratefulness. I praise You. I told the children today that my favorite thing at camp was their smiles. I love to see them smile, and I thank You, Jesus, for the multitude of grins You have sent my way.
I pray for the children, Lord. I thank You for their dear hearts before You and Your overflowing heart for them. Father God, carry Your children. Wrap them up in Your arms, hold them as the apple of Your eyes, guard them in the shadow of Your wings, keep them close to Your heart every day of their lives. They go tomorrow to their homes for a three-week holiday before returning to school for the next semester. Some of their home situations are not good, and my heart bleeds for the things these children must face. Immanuel, God with us, pour out Your love upon Your children. Amen.
Today was our last day of camp at Nabinoonya. We woke early and tired after last night - but You have blessed us with good health and rest, and we are grateful. This morning just before lunch You granted us sunshine and a nice little breeze that made perfect weather for the treasure hunt we had planned. Molly, Candice, Jon, and I scurried about for half an hour, hiding clues and double checking map coordinates, while the others distracted the kids (I think they were doing some art project). We very nearly lost a clue to an over-zealous camp worker, but after some rather worried searching, we recovered it. Then we lined up all the kids (they had no idea what was coming) and announced our surprise. Their faces pulsed excitement like the beat of their drums, but they listened very intently, albeit fidgeting, while I explained the rules. But the moment I passed the teams their map and first clue, the silence was gone!
As the “genius mastermind” (note: this title may be debatable) behind the idea, it was my solemn duty to dart aimlessly about the camp, trying to be in the right place at the right time to help whatever team was presently in a quandary utterly beyond their skill. I also got to take pictures. Which was a bit difficult in the midst of all that running and laughing and shouting exhortations and giving out hints without being too obvious or too vague. But I did manage a few snapshots - some of them even made it to the camera; the rest are in my mind:
. . . The frenzied way they’d dash from clue to clue, some in each team inevitably lagging behind, panting, but all laughing . . .
The boys leaping on top of the stone elephant (wild and potentially dangerous according to the clue!) . . .
Inside the hut next to the lake, a little girl, in dire straights to find a quality she was thankful for for the little boy sitting next to her, finally blurting out, “I thank God for you . . . because you are handsome” . . .
The girls on the yellow team stretching their arms to the utmost (you could tell by the happy little grimaces they were making) to complete the circle and hug one of the round huts that serve as cabins . . .
. . . The grimaces on the faces of the girls when, for the human pyramid, the boys made them make the first row, so they could climb up on the second! I don’t think they’d ever actually made a human pyramid before . . .
Another team down amongst the grand trees, singing, “Jesus is my King.” (Remember the hated theme song?) I wasn’t anywhere near them, but I heard their voices from across camp . . .
The teams, one and all, launching themselves off the wall, arms flailing, mouths wide open (Because, really, why would you jump off a wall without your mouth wide open?).
Dear God, it was truly marvelous.
After the grand finish of the best scavenger hunt ever (we gave everyone suckers), we enjoyed another delicious lunch of rice and some sort of stew. Although, I do have to admit, the meat was a little iffy. When it takes more than five minutes to chew it, you start wondering . . . At 2:30, we attended a rather long awards ceremony for the academic semester, since, after all, this was a school of children we had camp with. It was quite interesting to hear some of the awards they gave out though. There were the standard, “Best Student in Math,” “Most Improved,” “Best Athlete.” That sort of thing. Then came the “Cleanliness Award.” We decided it was because when you’re working with a school of children who are coming out of, really, very poor homes, you can’t take cleanliness as a guaranteed habit. As the ceremony drew to a close, they invited us all up so we could tell each other thank you for the incredible week at camp. To express their gratitude, the entire group of children sang “Friends Are Friends Forever.” Nothing against Michael W. Smith, but I’d rather hear the African kids sing that song than him any day. Every day of camp, they would start the morning with devotions that included singing. The treasure of hearing truly gifted children join their sweet, clear voices together in sincere worship moved me every time. I do not think I can ever forget the music those children made as they sang in such angelic, effortless harmony.
At the close of the ceremony (and time for us to say goodbye), the entire crowd of children rushed on stage and overwhelmed us with hugs. They are such little darlings. There was one little boy (I think he had been one of the naughtier ones in our music sessions) who was counting the number of hugs he could give Uncle Jon. “One,” he started, then let a few other kids in line have a turn before he snuck back in and counted, “Two . . . three . . .” and so on. Oh, how we will miss them!
We said goodbye to the Brits (though not for the last time!), abandoned our peaceful nunnery, and, with bags packed yet again and hearts running over, returned to Adonai Guest House in Kampala. I am writing this from “home sweet home,” but I think the silence, though restful, is also a bit sad. Our camps are over, it is hard to believe! It seems years ago, and yet only a handful of days, that I left the States. You, Father, have filled my heart with such joy, such love, such dreams, such hope, such gratefulness. I praise You. I told the children today that my favorite thing at camp was their smiles. I love to see them smile, and I thank You, Jesus, for the multitude of grins You have sent my way.
I pray for the children, Lord. I thank You for their dear hearts before You and Your overflowing heart for them. Father God, carry Your children. Wrap them up in Your arms, hold them as the apple of Your eyes, guard them in the shadow of Your wings, keep them close to Your heart every day of their lives. They go tomorrow to their homes for a three-week holiday before returning to school for the next semester. Some of their home situations are not good, and my heart bleeds for the things these children must face. Immanuel, God with us, pour out Your love upon Your children. Amen.
Sunday, September 28, 2008
Day 32: August 7, 2008
I am so immensely loved. Jesus, Your love, Your life, Your joy - You amaze me, my Savior. I praise You.
It rained on us this morning towards the end of the first session. A fistful of chilliness came rushing down on us through the tops of the trees, and when we looked up, we saw the low, gray sky moving in. So, we gathered up our drums, guitars, and ourselves, and headed across camp towards the only empty shelter, a slightly leaky hut on a hill beside the lake. From there, we held a magnificent view of the rainy masses thundering steadily towards us, like an army sweeping battalion by battalion onto the battle field. The children huddled close together in jackets and sweatshirts quickly pulled from empty cabin rooms and watched in silent awe the power of creation, all the while doing their best to evade the dripping spots as much as possible. When the silence grew tiresome, they requested a repeat of the story of the princess and the frog. It was the girls who first asked, and I wasn’t quite sure what the boys would think of the idea, so I turned to them with the question, “Do you want to hear a story about a princess?” American boys might have hesitated, thinking it would seem unmanly to be interested in such a tale, but not these boys! “Yes, Auntie!” they enthusiastically replied. So, I told the story. I have never had a better setting or a more rapt audience.
The downpour dissolved before lunch, and the sun burst out with a brilliance that seemed intent on making up for the grimness of before. The two made a lovely contrast. In the meantime, we’d happily found the time to finish preparations for a surprise treasure hunt planned for tomorrow. And, with the sun shining once more, we got to follow through with the water balloon fight we had prepared for everyone, younger kids, older kids, Brits, and Westerners all included! It was fantastic fun filled with cheerful screaming and laughingly-uttered threats, and I’m sure you can imagine we all ended a bit wetter than when we’d begun.
After drying off (ie: changing shirts, but the drenched jeans sadly didn’t have a substitute), we ate, then prepared for our evening of presentations. All the things the kids have been practicing they got to perform tonight in our main hall. It was filled to the brim with rather disorderly rows of plastic chairs, and at a word, the groups would tromp up on-stage to perform as quickly as possible before bashfully scampering back to their seats. And this from children who have sung and danced before hundreds! I found it quite amusing. Jon and I directed music again for our four groups, and they did a marvelous job. We also got to watch the older children (the Brit’s groups) perform short skits, songs, and dances, all of which they’ve created in the past four days. Very impressive! Abraham, Barnett, and Henry were even called up to do a short traditional dance - the, uh, “butt shaking” one actually. The kids positively howled with laughter.
To start off the performances, the Brits had showed a five-minute movie clip of pictures and verses made into a love letter from God to us. It provided the perfect intro to the songs I got a chance to share, once again, with the children. Into the hush of a large group of very silent children, I sang first the Kinyarwanda song (as some of these children hail from Rwanda), and then the Luganda song. It was so quiet, and then they just erupted in cheering and clapping all the way back to my seat. I was touched, my Lord - albeit, a bit embarrassed. To see their hearts so moved . . . moved me. I thank You, Jesus. I praise You for this opportunity to share.
The man who was filming for the evening (a man in his forties, I would guess, who I also learned later is the cook at the MFL school) came up to me afterwards and said, “God bless you,” with such a big smile on his face. He said the song made him cry. A group of older girls (one of which, if you remember, was Rachel, who “preached” at the bonfire) thanked me for the song, then quite energetically encouraged me to sing more in Luganda - to even learn the language - and to go back to America and record the song so I could send it back to them. My Lord, it was such a support for me to hear these children urging me to do exactly what You had already put in my heart to do once I return to the States.
But nothing moved me more - as Karim’s silently offered piece of candy had in Rwanda scant weeks ago - than when Douglas saw me. He is the same Douglas who wears a funny little black hat and who was sick not so many days ago. He looked over at me and said simply, “I’ve never heard a mzungu (“white person”) sing in my own language before.” It was as if all the children of Africa looked up at me with that one sentence and said, “We just want to be loved. Will you love us?” And, oh, God . . . that is why I sang. To be able to touch these precious children in the deepest way possible through music in words that they understand in their hearts. To give them this small gift that You have given me - and through the gift, to show them that they are most sincerely, most deeply adored. To be able to share with them in the language they know the truth of Your love and care for them . . . I thank You so very much, Jesus.
Dear Emma came to give me a big hug - and carry out my guitar again. He carries my guitar everywhere - he is not the first willing volunteer for this task - and it is a simple token of his appreciation, and I am touched. He came to sit by me at lunch earlier, while I was on the wall eating with a group of other mzungus. The dear child steered himself over and plopped down right next to me as if he couldn’t possibly belong so well in any other place at camp.
The children came for their goodnight hugs, and then we had to leave - and so hurriedly too! - as it was late and it had been rather a long day. So there you have it - a God-blessed day of moved hearts . . . of touched lives. May we be changed to become more like You. Your character, Jehovah, is magnificent. Your plans and the work You put into motion is so fascinating, so fantastic. I stand in awe of You tonight - of what You have done, what You are doing, what You will do.
* Note from today: Since returning to the States, God has given me the opportunity, not once, but twice, to share the Luganda song with children from Uganda who have come here to Nebraska with different choirs to sing and raise awareness for their brothers and sisters back home. Each time I sing for the children in their language, I am deeply blessed, and I praise God that He has allowed me to continue singing to the African children even back here in America. As of right now, I have not gone to the studio to record the song for the children, but I have complete confidence in God that He will provide the opportunity when His time is right.
It rained on us this morning towards the end of the first session. A fistful of chilliness came rushing down on us through the tops of the trees, and when we looked up, we saw the low, gray sky moving in. So, we gathered up our drums, guitars, and ourselves, and headed across camp towards the only empty shelter, a slightly leaky hut on a hill beside the lake. From there, we held a magnificent view of the rainy masses thundering steadily towards us, like an army sweeping battalion by battalion onto the battle field. The children huddled close together in jackets and sweatshirts quickly pulled from empty cabin rooms and watched in silent awe the power of creation, all the while doing their best to evade the dripping spots as much as possible. When the silence grew tiresome, they requested a repeat of the story of the princess and the frog. It was the girls who first asked, and I wasn’t quite sure what the boys would think of the idea, so I turned to them with the question, “Do you want to hear a story about a princess?” American boys might have hesitated, thinking it would seem unmanly to be interested in such a tale, but not these boys! “Yes, Auntie!” they enthusiastically replied. So, I told the story. I have never had a better setting or a more rapt audience.
The downpour dissolved before lunch, and the sun burst out with a brilliance that seemed intent on making up for the grimness of before. The two made a lovely contrast. In the meantime, we’d happily found the time to finish preparations for a surprise treasure hunt planned for tomorrow. And, with the sun shining once more, we got to follow through with the water balloon fight we had prepared for everyone, younger kids, older kids, Brits, and Westerners all included! It was fantastic fun filled with cheerful screaming and laughingly-uttered threats, and I’m sure you can imagine we all ended a bit wetter than when we’d begun.
After drying off (ie: changing shirts, but the drenched jeans sadly didn’t have a substitute), we ate, then prepared for our evening of presentations. All the things the kids have been practicing they got to perform tonight in our main hall. It was filled to the brim with rather disorderly rows of plastic chairs, and at a word, the groups would tromp up on-stage to perform as quickly as possible before bashfully scampering back to their seats. And this from children who have sung and danced before hundreds! I found it quite amusing. Jon and I directed music again for our four groups, and they did a marvelous job. We also got to watch the older children (the Brit’s groups) perform short skits, songs, and dances, all of which they’ve created in the past four days. Very impressive! Abraham, Barnett, and Henry were even called up to do a short traditional dance - the, uh, “butt shaking” one actually. The kids positively howled with laughter.
To start off the performances, the Brits had showed a five-minute movie clip of pictures and verses made into a love letter from God to us. It provided the perfect intro to the songs I got a chance to share, once again, with the children. Into the hush of a large group of very silent children, I sang first the Kinyarwanda song (as some of these children hail from Rwanda), and then the Luganda song. It was so quiet, and then they just erupted in cheering and clapping all the way back to my seat. I was touched, my Lord - albeit, a bit embarrassed. To see their hearts so moved . . . moved me. I thank You, Jesus. I praise You for this opportunity to share.
The man who was filming for the evening (a man in his forties, I would guess, who I also learned later is the cook at the MFL school) came up to me afterwards and said, “God bless you,” with such a big smile on his face. He said the song made him cry. A group of older girls (one of which, if you remember, was Rachel, who “preached” at the bonfire) thanked me for the song, then quite energetically encouraged me to sing more in Luganda - to even learn the language - and to go back to America and record the song so I could send it back to them. My Lord, it was such a support for me to hear these children urging me to do exactly what You had already put in my heart to do once I return to the States.
But nothing moved me more - as Karim’s silently offered piece of candy had in Rwanda scant weeks ago - than when Douglas saw me. He is the same Douglas who wears a funny little black hat and who was sick not so many days ago. He looked over at me and said simply, “I’ve never heard a mzungu (“white person”) sing in my own language before.” It was as if all the children of Africa looked up at me with that one sentence and said, “We just want to be loved. Will you love us?” And, oh, God . . . that is why I sang. To be able to touch these precious children in the deepest way possible through music in words that they understand in their hearts. To give them this small gift that You have given me - and through the gift, to show them that they are most sincerely, most deeply adored. To be able to share with them in the language they know the truth of Your love and care for them . . . I thank You so very much, Jesus.
Dear Emma came to give me a big hug - and carry out my guitar again. He carries my guitar everywhere - he is not the first willing volunteer for this task - and it is a simple token of his appreciation, and I am touched. He came to sit by me at lunch earlier, while I was on the wall eating with a group of other mzungus. The dear child steered himself over and plopped down right next to me as if he couldn’t possibly belong so well in any other place at camp.
The children came for their goodnight hugs, and then we had to leave - and so hurriedly too! - as it was late and it had been rather a long day. So there you have it - a God-blessed day of moved hearts . . . of touched lives. May we be changed to become more like You. Your character, Jehovah, is magnificent. Your plans and the work You put into motion is so fascinating, so fantastic. I stand in awe of You tonight - of what You have done, what You are doing, what You will do.
* Note from today: Since returning to the States, God has given me the opportunity, not once, but twice, to share the Luganda song with children from Uganda who have come here to Nebraska with different choirs to sing and raise awareness for their brothers and sisters back home. Each time I sing for the children in their language, I am deeply blessed, and I praise God that He has allowed me to continue singing to the African children even back here in America. As of right now, I have not gone to the studio to record the song for the children, but I have complete confidence in God that He will provide the opportunity when His time is right.
Friday, September 26, 2008
Day 31: August 6, 2008
You give us beautiful days, Jesus. I thank You from the bottom of my heart.
Today we tried the very American game of Capture the Flag with the kids. It sort of worked. They quickly caught on to the idea of pouncing on anyone who came over to their side from the other team. The idea of themselves racing across the line in search of their hidden flag was a bit more abstract. With such lopsidedly defensive philosophies in effect, it was rather humorous to see them standing there on either side of the line, trying to taunt and tease the other team into coming over, all the while themselves being too nervous to make the attempt! Nobody actually won in the end, but they all went to lunch afterwards smiling, so I think it’s fair to count it a success.
Jon and I practiced the songs with the kids in their groups again today . . . It is actually the nearest yet I’ve come to being annoyed with the children. There were an aggravating few in each group - in one group, practically the whole lot of them! - who were just so lazy. They would sing and dance so obviously half-heartedly, and I would encourage them to put some energy into it, and they would - for all of five seconds. But the moment I looked away, they were back to their lackadaisical half-efforts. They were being so . . . so American! And then I had to laugh at myself. Was it really possible that in only a few short weeks, I had accustomed myself so utterly to my almost-hero status with the dear little black children that when they responded to me like they might a normal, everyday teacher, I was offended?
In less serious news, the red team cut out the falsetto “washes, washes” part from their song today. We took a popular vote, and, with the duetist’s hearty approval, the measure passed to cut the improv. Their reasoning behind the decision they told me quite earnestly, “But, Auntie, we will lose the competition. We will lose!” I was more or less heartbroken, but we were in a democracy, and there wasn’t much I could do unless I had issued a presidential veto or rigged the votes. I didn’t think as a role model I should stoop to that.
At the close of our sessions this afternoon, we crowded into our bus with the Brits to go for a quick view of the MFL school-in-progress building site. You see, the school where they are now teaching the former choir children is so small, they are in desperate need of new facilities. They hope to have the project completed by January - but that will depend largely on finances. I love to walk through half-finished buildings, and it was very impressive to know that the hardworking Africans had done all this work with nothing but hand tools! I’m sure any construction workers back in America would be even more impressed than I was.
We returned to the camp with dusk settling in, and ourselves perhaps a bit sleepy - but what was coming next would be worth every hour we were going to miss of sleep! After enjoying a lovely dinner, we gathered our plastic chairs into a circle for another true African bonfire. The children danced and sang for us - clapping all the while and every so often letting out an ear-piercing chant/shriek of some sort that sounded very tribal and would take a lot of courage to do at a church in America. Those who had something special to sing to us, or say, all got a turn. I have to admit, when the two mid-teenage boys got up to sing and their voices cracked, the audience was not very kind to them. But our hearts were touched. A young lady, Rachel, stood up in the face of all her peers and preached something that sounded very like a sermon. We had our turn too, as they rather unexpectedly invited us up to try our best at copying a dance we had seen them do. We call it the “butt shaking” dance, and it’s rather self-explanatory. I should add also that I for one failed miserably in my imitation - and I’m sure I was not the only one! Judging from our audience’s laughter though, I’d say we were a huge hit!
So, the day - and the evening especially - was full of laughter and fun. But I do not think I ever had more fun today than I did with a little boy named Emma (yes, I know, it’s a girl’s name; we were confused at first too). This evening before the bonfire, he volunteered to help me get my guitar. As the sun had gone down already, the hall leading to the room with my guitar in it was quite dark. If there was a light switch, I never saw it, and neither of us had a flashlight. So, we decided to make a game of it. We’d creep halfway down the hall, whispering furiously to one another to, “Be quiet!” Then, at any moment the impulse took us, we’d pretend we saw some huge, terrifying monster, scream something unintelligible that meant, “Run for your lives!!” and tear back down the hall for all we were worth. It took all of ten minutes to actually gain the safety of the room, dive under the table, grab the guitar, and dash out again in one piece. It was hilarious!
I thank You for this day, my Lord. For all their quirks and irritations, these children are utterly precious. Lead me to love them as You love them. I cannot capture today in words. I am tired, and everything in this past month is starting to blur together. But I love You, and I love what You are doing. I will follow. My Good Shepherd, lead me on. Amen.
Oh, and Douglas said he was feeling better today. I praise You for that.
Our attempt at Capture the Flag.
At the end of the game . . . Pretty sure you could call this a good ending.
The school-in-progress building sight.
Every brick made and laid by hand. Impressive, isn't it?
Today we tried the very American game of Capture the Flag with the kids. It sort of worked. They quickly caught on to the idea of pouncing on anyone who came over to their side from the other team. The idea of themselves racing across the line in search of their hidden flag was a bit more abstract. With such lopsidedly defensive philosophies in effect, it was rather humorous to see them standing there on either side of the line, trying to taunt and tease the other team into coming over, all the while themselves being too nervous to make the attempt! Nobody actually won in the end, but they all went to lunch afterwards smiling, so I think it’s fair to count it a success.
Jon and I practiced the songs with the kids in their groups again today . . . It is actually the nearest yet I’ve come to being annoyed with the children. There were an aggravating few in each group - in one group, practically the whole lot of them! - who were just so lazy. They would sing and dance so obviously half-heartedly, and I would encourage them to put some energy into it, and they would - for all of five seconds. But the moment I looked away, they were back to their lackadaisical half-efforts. They were being so . . . so American! And then I had to laugh at myself. Was it really possible that in only a few short weeks, I had accustomed myself so utterly to my almost-hero status with the dear little black children that when they responded to me like they might a normal, everyday teacher, I was offended?
In less serious news, the red team cut out the falsetto “washes, washes” part from their song today. We took a popular vote, and, with the duetist’s hearty approval, the measure passed to cut the improv. Their reasoning behind the decision they told me quite earnestly, “But, Auntie, we will lose the competition. We will lose!” I was more or less heartbroken, but we were in a democracy, and there wasn’t much I could do unless I had issued a presidential veto or rigged the votes. I didn’t think as a role model I should stoop to that.
At the close of our sessions this afternoon, we crowded into our bus with the Brits to go for a quick view of the MFL school-in-progress building site. You see, the school where they are now teaching the former choir children is so small, they are in desperate need of new facilities. They hope to have the project completed by January - but that will depend largely on finances. I love to walk through half-finished buildings, and it was very impressive to know that the hardworking Africans had done all this work with nothing but hand tools! I’m sure any construction workers back in America would be even more impressed than I was.
We returned to the camp with dusk settling in, and ourselves perhaps a bit sleepy - but what was coming next would be worth every hour we were going to miss of sleep! After enjoying a lovely dinner, we gathered our plastic chairs into a circle for another true African bonfire. The children danced and sang for us - clapping all the while and every so often letting out an ear-piercing chant/shriek of some sort that sounded very tribal and would take a lot of courage to do at a church in America. Those who had something special to sing to us, or say, all got a turn. I have to admit, when the two mid-teenage boys got up to sing and their voices cracked, the audience was not very kind to them. But our hearts were touched. A young lady, Rachel, stood up in the face of all her peers and preached something that sounded very like a sermon. We had our turn too, as they rather unexpectedly invited us up to try our best at copying a dance we had seen them do. We call it the “butt shaking” dance, and it’s rather self-explanatory. I should add also that I for one failed miserably in my imitation - and I’m sure I was not the only one! Judging from our audience’s laughter though, I’d say we were a huge hit!
So, the day - and the evening especially - was full of laughter and fun. But I do not think I ever had more fun today than I did with a little boy named Emma (yes, I know, it’s a girl’s name; we were confused at first too). This evening before the bonfire, he volunteered to help me get my guitar. As the sun had gone down already, the hall leading to the room with my guitar in it was quite dark. If there was a light switch, I never saw it, and neither of us had a flashlight. So, we decided to make a game of it. We’d creep halfway down the hall, whispering furiously to one another to, “Be quiet!” Then, at any moment the impulse took us, we’d pretend we saw some huge, terrifying monster, scream something unintelligible that meant, “Run for your lives!!” and tear back down the hall for all we were worth. It took all of ten minutes to actually gain the safety of the room, dive under the table, grab the guitar, and dash out again in one piece. It was hilarious!
I thank You for this day, my Lord. For all their quirks and irritations, these children are utterly precious. Lead me to love them as You love them. I cannot capture today in words. I am tired, and everything in this past month is starting to blur together. But I love You, and I love what You are doing. I will follow. My Good Shepherd, lead me on. Amen.
Oh, and Douglas said he was feeling better today. I praise You for that.
Our attempt at Capture the Flag.
At the end of the game . . . Pretty sure you could call this a good ending.
The school-in-progress building sight.
Every brick made and laid by hand. Impressive, isn't it?
Thursday, September 25, 2008
Day 30: August 5, 2008
We have a simple song we do with the kids that goes like this: “It’s a great day to praise the Lord/ It’s a great day to praise the Lord/ It’s a great day to praise the Lord/ Walking in the light of love.” It’s perfect for kids who don’t know English very well, cause they don’t really have to remember that many words - plus it’s upbeat with fun actions (I get a workout anyhow). Well, today was a great day to praise the Lord. I am so grateful, Father. You have given me a fascinating summer to play with Your precious children and reach out to them with Your amazing love. I am blessed.
Today the green, red, yellow, and brown teams began writing their own songs. Jon and I decided it worked so well at Bugolobi, we might as well do it again! The songs are to be sung on Thursday this week, and today is already Tuesday, so we felt a bit rushed to come up with ideas, but the children did well. No “I love my shirt because it is good,” but the kids are incredibly talented. We have a song about “kingdom safari” (our theme for camp), an upbeat praise tune, and an “It’s a happy day” song that sounds suspiciously like the original “Oh, happy day.” But my new favorite is a very serious song from the red team, our naughtiest bunch of them all. They sing with great gusto, “The blood of Jesus washes us clean,” and then two of the more mischievous boys came up with the echo, “Washes, washes” which they sing in hilarious falsetto.
Story-time with the girls commenced precisely on schedule (ie: I might have forgotten all about it, much to my chagrin, had not the girls come in search of me). This time we wisely forsook the ant-infested picnic blanket for a safer spot on the wall under the shade. After the fairytale (about a mouse named George who fearlessly - accidentally - vanquishes a fierce dragon), I sat with one of the girls for nearly an hour, listening to her tell various stories, riddles, and jokes. She went nearly page-by-page through the telling of Corrie ten Boom’s The Hiding Place. I don’t think I’ve ever known a child so avid about reading. In the midst of all the story-telling, I even forgot to get her name!
I also sat with a boy named Douglas, who had on, I think, the coolest hat I’ve seen in Africa. It made him look part gangster, part French artist, and it fit him perfectly. Douglas wasn’t feeling well today, so we skipped out on watermelon together and enjoyed a bit of peace and quiet away from the crowds. I promised him I would pray that You heal him tonight - as, really, we didn’t bring him all the way out to camp so he could be sick the entire time, and it would be a shame for him to miss out on things. So, dear Father, heal Douglas tonight; may he wake up tomorrow refreshed in body and spirit. You are God. Amen.
Today the green, red, yellow, and brown teams began writing their own songs. Jon and I decided it worked so well at Bugolobi, we might as well do it again! The songs are to be sung on Thursday this week, and today is already Tuesday, so we felt a bit rushed to come up with ideas, but the children did well. No “I love my shirt because it is good,” but the kids are incredibly talented. We have a song about “kingdom safari” (our theme for camp), an upbeat praise tune, and an “It’s a happy day” song that sounds suspiciously like the original “Oh, happy day.” But my new favorite is a very serious song from the red team, our naughtiest bunch of them all. They sing with great gusto, “The blood of Jesus washes us clean,” and then two of the more mischievous boys came up with the echo, “Washes, washes” which they sing in hilarious falsetto.
Story-time with the girls commenced precisely on schedule (ie: I might have forgotten all about it, much to my chagrin, had not the girls come in search of me). This time we wisely forsook the ant-infested picnic blanket for a safer spot on the wall under the shade. After the fairytale (about a mouse named George who fearlessly - accidentally - vanquishes a fierce dragon), I sat with one of the girls for nearly an hour, listening to her tell various stories, riddles, and jokes. She went nearly page-by-page through the telling of Corrie ten Boom’s The Hiding Place. I don’t think I’ve ever known a child so avid about reading. In the midst of all the story-telling, I even forgot to get her name!
I also sat with a boy named Douglas, who had on, I think, the coolest hat I’ve seen in Africa. It made him look part gangster, part French artist, and it fit him perfectly. Douglas wasn’t feeling well today, so we skipped out on watermelon together and enjoyed a bit of peace and quiet away from the crowds. I promised him I would pray that You heal him tonight - as, really, we didn’t bring him all the way out to camp so he could be sick the entire time, and it would be a shame for him to miss out on things. So, dear Father, heal Douglas tonight; may he wake up tomorrow refreshed in body and spirit. You are God. Amen.
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