Today was the first day of Spring semester, and I'm already feeling the weight of it. Not because my classes have any heavier work load, or crazy hours, but because of the content. My spirit is heavy with the same heaviness I feel when I watch the news reports about Haiti or spend a couple days wandering around Manila. The feeling of being helpless. Of not being able to do enough. Or comprehend the enormity of the problems surrounding me. The feeling of being hopeless. Lost. Of asking, "How?" and "Why?" and "What if?" even when I know I have the Hope of the world.
More than that, it's the the feeling, the thought, that maybe I don't really know what the problem is. Maybe I've been lied to. Maybe my perception is completely distorted, not even a reflection of reality. The realization that maybe I am a little more racist than I thought. That maybe I am selfish and prejudice and a little bit ugly inside. Please don't try to make me feel better about this, I'm just being raw and open and real and writing my thoughts as they come. By no means is this an attempt to get people to help me feel better about myself.
From the time I was little I have loved Africa. I hate to say it that way, but it's true. I hate it because I hate it when other people that I consider to be ignorant and less educated on the topic than myself say that they love it. I hate it because they treat Africa like a country. Or they have a fantasy about changing the world and rescuing a starving, impoverished child. Sometimes I have myself convinced that my reasons for loving Africa are better, more developed. I've been there. I've lived there. But even in saying these things I lump it all together, make it one entity. Maybe because I know that's how people in my culture relate to it. Because if I say "When I was in Burundi..." or, "My friend Sarah is a Teso," there is usually no one who can follow my story.
Why do I love Africa so? Because I see her beauty and her potential. Because my whole life I have prayed for her. Because I believe the the message of Jesus really can change her when it's not twisted and used to abuse people. This is true of many places though, including my own country. People here are messed up and need Jesus' message too. And while I may not have prayed for the United States as much, I definitely have spent many hours praying for revival here as well. So why is my love for Africa deeper? Why do I sometimes hate that the color of my skin is not black? The need is everywhere, so why this distant land?
The truth might be that I need Africa more than Africa needs me. That might not be just my truth, but the world's. Maybe that's why we inhibit her progress by "helping" her. We give, but only so we can take more, and only when our requirements are met. But even after years of our giving, what change do we see? We feel better about ourselves, both individually and as "the West" because we are moved by some images of starving children and throw our money at them? We feel better because we've done our good deed to "save the Dark Continent"?
I have a feeling this semester might produce more questions than answers. It's a scary process. Hard questions must be asked. I don't even know what I just wrote and will probably need to delete this tomorrow. For now, I will wrestle these questions until I fall asleep.
Monday, January 25, 2010
Friday, January 22, 2010
Consider This
What is the gospel? I know, I know, I should know the answer to this question, right? But when is the last time you really stopped to think about it? Is it simply, "Jesus loves me this I know, for the Bible tells me so," or is there more to it than that?
We call the first four books of the New Testament "The Gospel According to Matthew," "The Gospel According to Mark," etc. I'm finding I have a problem with this, because so often we in the Church limit our understanding of the gospel to just what we find in these four books, when really it is so much more- it's the whole Book! We fragment and compartmentalize, chop and distort the beauty of the Book to fit our Western ideas and religious traditions.
The gospel is about love, and love is about the good. Yeah, it means "good news" and we all know that, but often we forget that there's a lot more good news in the Bible than Jesus dying on the cross. For villagers living in poverty in India, the gospel looks like this:
Now, to you and I, that might not sound so great when we have indoor plumbing, flushing toilets, and no shortage of water. Many of us wouldn't step near an outhouse even in a time of need. However, I've seen slum dwellers lean out of their shanties in broad daylight and drop their excrement on the ground below. Imagine the contamination and disease associated with this and other similar practices employed in poverty stricken areas. This information could be revolutionary! And this, too, is the gospel.
Obviously, this example is not applicable to most of our lives, but it's real. It's especially real for the billions of people that aren't walking in the grace of salvation, many of which are unreached by the Church, but also by much of what we would consider common or practical knowledge. This Book is rich with insight on how to live: before our God, with one another, on social and political levels, in science and hygiene. And it's all the gospel.
When we take this gospel "to the ends of the earth" let's be careful not to rip people off by stopping the message at Christ's death, burial and resurrection. He died for the next life, but we must not forget that it was for this life too. Let's make sure we provide the same opportunity to walk in the blessing to all of our brothers and sisters in Christ, no matter their pedigree.
I'm asking you to take some time and consider what parts of this gospel you may have overlooked or forgotten about lately. And think big. What does it look like at a corporate level, a national level? Debts being forgiven? Prisoners set free? Land rights restored? It may really challenge your political position. It may make you uncomfortable. You may end up with more questions that answers, but don't give up. Love leads, and we're on a journey. Let's enjoy the process together.
We call the first four books of the New Testament "The Gospel According to Matthew," "The Gospel According to Mark," etc. I'm finding I have a problem with this, because so often we in the Church limit our understanding of the gospel to just what we find in these four books, when really it is so much more- it's the whole Book! We fragment and compartmentalize, chop and distort the beauty of the Book to fit our Western ideas and religious traditions.
The gospel is about love, and love is about the good. Yeah, it means "good news" and we all know that, but often we forget that there's a lot more good news in the Bible than Jesus dying on the cross. For villagers living in poverty in India, the gospel looks like this:
Designate a place outside the camp where you can go to relieve yourself. As part of your equipment have something to dig with, and when you relieve yourself, dig a hole and cover up your excrement.
Deuteronomy 23:12-13
Now, to you and I, that might not sound so great when we have indoor plumbing, flushing toilets, and no shortage of water. Many of us wouldn't step near an outhouse even in a time of need. However, I've seen slum dwellers lean out of their shanties in broad daylight and drop their excrement on the ground below. Imagine the contamination and disease associated with this and other similar practices employed in poverty stricken areas. This information could be revolutionary! And this, too, is the gospel.
Obviously, this example is not applicable to most of our lives, but it's real. It's especially real for the billions of people that aren't walking in the grace of salvation, many of which are unreached by the Church, but also by much of what we would consider common or practical knowledge. This Book is rich with insight on how to live: before our God, with one another, on social and political levels, in science and hygiene. And it's all the gospel.
When we take this gospel "to the ends of the earth" let's be careful not to rip people off by stopping the message at Christ's death, burial and resurrection. He died for the next life, but we must not forget that it was for this life too. Let's make sure we provide the same opportunity to walk in the blessing to all of our brothers and sisters in Christ, no matter their pedigree.
I'm asking you to take some time and consider what parts of this gospel you may have overlooked or forgotten about lately. And think big. What does it look like at a corporate level, a national level? Debts being forgiven? Prisoners set free? Land rights restored? It may really challenge your political position. It may make you uncomfortable. You may end up with more questions that answers, but don't give up. Love leads, and we're on a journey. Let's enjoy the process together.
Wednesday, January 20, 2010
Some Thoughts on Development from Wangari Maathai
"'Development' doesn't only entail the acquisition of material things, although everyone should have enough to live with dignity and without fear of starvation or becoming homeless. Instead, it is a means of achieving a quality of life that is sustainable, and of allowing the expression of the full range of creativity and humanity.
...I was reminded of the traditional African stool, which is comprised of three legs. The first leg represents democratic space, where rights- whether human, women's, children's, or environmental- are respected. The second leg symbolizes the sustainable and accountable management of natural resources both for those living today and for those in the future, in a manner that is just and fair, including for people on the margins of society. The third leg stands for what I term 'cultures of peace.' These take the form of fairness, respect, compassion, forgiveness, recompense, and justice.
Just as the African stool is made out of a single block of wood, each leg, or pillar, is reinforced by the others and formed from the same grain, so the issues must be addressed together and simultaneously...
The three legs of the stool support the seat, which in this conception represents the milieu in which development can take place. Citizens, feeling secure that the three legs are in place- that their country has robust democratic principles, equitable distribution of resources, and strong cultures of peace- can be educated, productive, and creative. In this situation, the spirit of citizenry not only welcomes development, but drives it itself, because individually and collectively the people feel they have an opportunity to contribute...
Whether we we work in development agencies, international institutions like the UN and the World Bank, or NGOs... it is critical to approach development from this perspective, in which an environment is created for citizens to engage productively."
Taken from The Challenge for Africa by Wangari Maathai.
...I was reminded of the traditional African stool, which is comprised of three legs. The first leg represents democratic space, where rights- whether human, women's, children's, or environmental- are respected. The second leg symbolizes the sustainable and accountable management of natural resources both for those living today and for those in the future, in a manner that is just and fair, including for people on the margins of society. The third leg stands for what I term 'cultures of peace.' These take the form of fairness, respect, compassion, forgiveness, recompense, and justice.
Just as the African stool is made out of a single block of wood, each leg, or pillar, is reinforced by the others and formed from the same grain, so the issues must be addressed together and simultaneously...
The three legs of the stool support the seat, which in this conception represents the milieu in which development can take place. Citizens, feeling secure that the three legs are in place- that their country has robust democratic principles, equitable distribution of resources, and strong cultures of peace- can be educated, productive, and creative. In this situation, the spirit of citizenry not only welcomes development, but drives it itself, because individually and collectively the people feel they have an opportunity to contribute...
Whether we we work in development agencies, international institutions like the UN and the World Bank, or NGOs... it is critical to approach development from this perspective, in which an environment is created for citizens to engage productively."
Taken from The Challenge for Africa by Wangari Maathai.
Saturday, May 9, 2009
War Child
Around the world today, there are thousands of children for whom each day is a challenge and miracle to survive. This is not due to trafficking, AIDS, malaria, sexual abuse, neglect, or poverty, although many such tragedies plague these children as well. These are the world’s child soldiers- gun toting ten year olds who have forgotten how to smile, and know more about military strategy than they may ever learn about math or science. They are largely unseen or overlooked, and though they carry power in their tiny hands, they have no voice and no defense. Who are these children, and how have they found themselves trapped in the midst of these hostile conflicts that have ruined grown men?
From Eastern Europe to Colombia, this is a global problem where those struggling for power have exploited children to strengthen their armies. Children are desirable recruits, because in war-torn and poverty stricken regions, they are already vulnerable, seeking stability, have no hope for a future, and are very easy to mold. Child soldiers are currently involved in armed conflict in nineteen countries around the globe. According to UNICEF, the total number of child soldiers in military service worldwide is over 300,000, and many thousands more are vulnerable to recruitment. Government armies are known to recruit children as young as fifteen, while rebel groups have been known to have youth as young as five join their ranks.
While many children “volunteer” to fight in the conficts, it is usually because they have few other options. Many were born into war zones where the familial, political, and economic frameworks have been all but destroyed. Lacking any hope for an education and tired of surviving on foreign aid in camps for Internally Displaced Persons, they turn to armed groups in hopes of finding security, food, wealth, and a sense of family. Young girls join to escape a life of domestic service, arranged marriage, or sexual abuse, but often find themselves caught in these very perils, while still having to carry a gun. Having seen war their whole lives, some hope to avenge the death of a loved one, or have turned to the motto of “kill or be killed.”
There are many others, however, who are not given a choice in whether or not to join. In the Democratic Republic of the Congo, a former child soldier who was abducted at thirteen gave this report to the BBC: "When they came to my village, they asked my older brother whether he was ready to join the militia. He was just seventeen and he said no; they shot him in the head. Then they asked me if I was ready to sign, so what could I do? I didn't want to die."
The problem is worst in Central and Eastern Africa, where abductions are common and training is gruesome. In Northern Uganda, a twenty three year civil war between the government and the rebel Lord’s Resistance Army has destroyed any hope for a normal life, and the Acholi people who live in the region live in constant fear. In this conflict alone, over 30,000 child soldiers have been abducted, with approximately 6,000 currently fighting for the LRA. Children now comprise ninety percent of the rebel army, but for many of them, this is the only life they have ever known, and they have no family or home to return to anyways. It becomes safer to remain and fight than to risk defecting and being killed or recaptured.
The LRA began abducting children when they lost favor with their people and could no longer get grown men to volunteer their services. Refusing to give up the fight, they resorted to kidnapping. During the abduction, children are forced to watch the murder of their families, and are often forced to participate. If they cry, they too are killed. After this initial act of brutality, they are marched into the bush for training, all the while told that they are killers, and because of this, their villages would never take them back anyways. Malnourished and forced to carry heavy equipment and weapons over long distances, these children know not to complain or lag behind, because those who do are beaten and left for dead. The more blood they see, the harder their young hearts become, and these trained killers are then sent in to capture more children.
The reports are overwhelming, but there is hope for these kids. Some do manage to escape, and the world is beginning to hear their stories. For those who have witnessed such evil, the process to recovery is long, but restoration is possible. Many non-profits have been started to minister to the needs of the former child soldiers, offering them love, education, and counseling. There is still great need, but programs have been developed to restore the rescued and provide education to those who are vulnerable to abduction.
Young people in the West have been challenged by the stories of these children, and in recent years, have taken up their cause in large numbers, recognizing the injustices and pledging to fight on behalf of those who have no voice. Organizations like Invisible Children have brought the struggles of the children of Uganda to a global platform by raising awareness, lobbying politicians, and mobilizing thousands through peaceful demonstrations, film screenings, blogging, and more.
In April of this year, over 100,000 youth in cities around the world came together to give their voices to these forgotten children. The weeks leading up to the event were spent making phone calls, writing letters, and making youtube videos, asking the media and the moguls- those with political, social, and economic power- to respond to their demonstration, deemed “The Rescue,” by bringing publicity to the event and pledging their support in bringing an end to the war. For The Rescue, these youth spent the night in the open, with just their sleeping bags, in an act of solidarity with the child soldiers. They took time to pray for the soldiers, write letters to their political leaders, and call on news and radio agencies to get coverage. They refused to leave until a mogul showed up. Over forty U.S. Congressmen took part in the event, as well as many Hollywood stars and professional athletes. They pledged to use their influence to help end the war, whether by writing or voting for helpful legislation, or speaking to the public about this injustice. In some places, the youth camped out for several days before anyone responded to their calls.
The dedication of these youth, who gave up their weekends, sacrificed their comfort, and mobilized others to get involved, prove that this generation is passionate about justice and really is looking for a cause to give itself to. It shows that despite all the differences between them and the world’s child soldiers, they have also found they have much in common. And finally, it is evidence that something can be done to change the situation in which the child soldiers find themselves. They have an equal right to a hope and a future, and the struggle to win these rights for them is one worthy of our time and energy.
Check out the following websites to learn more:
Invisible Children
Zion Project
Resolve Uganda
Enough!
Child Soldiers
----------------
Now playing: Emmanuel Jal - Warchild
via FoxyTunes
From Eastern Europe to Colombia, this is a global problem where those struggling for power have exploited children to strengthen their armies. Children are desirable recruits, because in war-torn and poverty stricken regions, they are already vulnerable, seeking stability, have no hope for a future, and are very easy to mold. Child soldiers are currently involved in armed conflict in nineteen countries around the globe. According to UNICEF, the total number of child soldiers in military service worldwide is over 300,000, and many thousands more are vulnerable to recruitment. Government armies are known to recruit children as young as fifteen, while rebel groups have been known to have youth as young as five join their ranks.
While many children “volunteer” to fight in the conficts, it is usually because they have few other options. Many were born into war zones where the familial, political, and economic frameworks have been all but destroyed. Lacking any hope for an education and tired of surviving on foreign aid in camps for Internally Displaced Persons, they turn to armed groups in hopes of finding security, food, wealth, and a sense of family. Young girls join to escape a life of domestic service, arranged marriage, or sexual abuse, but often find themselves caught in these very perils, while still having to carry a gun. Having seen war their whole lives, some hope to avenge the death of a loved one, or have turned to the motto of “kill or be killed.”
There are many others, however, who are not given a choice in whether or not to join. In the Democratic Republic of the Congo, a former child soldier who was abducted at thirteen gave this report to the BBC: "When they came to my village, they asked my older brother whether he was ready to join the militia. He was just seventeen and he said no; they shot him in the head. Then they asked me if I was ready to sign, so what could I do? I didn't want to die."
The problem is worst in Central and Eastern Africa, where abductions are common and training is gruesome. In Northern Uganda, a twenty three year civil war between the government and the rebel Lord’s Resistance Army has destroyed any hope for a normal life, and the Acholi people who live in the region live in constant fear. In this conflict alone, over 30,000 child soldiers have been abducted, with approximately 6,000 currently fighting for the LRA. Children now comprise ninety percent of the rebel army, but for many of them, this is the only life they have ever known, and they have no family or home to return to anyways. It becomes safer to remain and fight than to risk defecting and being killed or recaptured.
The LRA began abducting children when they lost favor with their people and could no longer get grown men to volunteer their services. Refusing to give up the fight, they resorted to kidnapping. During the abduction, children are forced to watch the murder of their families, and are often forced to participate. If they cry, they too are killed. After this initial act of brutality, they are marched into the bush for training, all the while told that they are killers, and because of this, their villages would never take them back anyways. Malnourished and forced to carry heavy equipment and weapons over long distances, these children know not to complain or lag behind, because those who do are beaten and left for dead. The more blood they see, the harder their young hearts become, and these trained killers are then sent in to capture more children.
The reports are overwhelming, but there is hope for these kids. Some do manage to escape, and the world is beginning to hear their stories. For those who have witnessed such evil, the process to recovery is long, but restoration is possible. Many non-profits have been started to minister to the needs of the former child soldiers, offering them love, education, and counseling. There is still great need, but programs have been developed to restore the rescued and provide education to those who are vulnerable to abduction.
Young people in the West have been challenged by the stories of these children, and in recent years, have taken up their cause in large numbers, recognizing the injustices and pledging to fight on behalf of those who have no voice. Organizations like Invisible Children have brought the struggles of the children of Uganda to a global platform by raising awareness, lobbying politicians, and mobilizing thousands through peaceful demonstrations, film screenings, blogging, and more.
In April of this year, over 100,000 youth in cities around the world came together to give their voices to these forgotten children. The weeks leading up to the event were spent making phone calls, writing letters, and making youtube videos, asking the media and the moguls- those with political, social, and economic power- to respond to their demonstration, deemed “The Rescue,” by bringing publicity to the event and pledging their support in bringing an end to the war. For The Rescue, these youth spent the night in the open, with just their sleeping bags, in an act of solidarity with the child soldiers. They took time to pray for the soldiers, write letters to their political leaders, and call on news and radio agencies to get coverage. They refused to leave until a mogul showed up. Over forty U.S. Congressmen took part in the event, as well as many Hollywood stars and professional athletes. They pledged to use their influence to help end the war, whether by writing or voting for helpful legislation, or speaking to the public about this injustice. In some places, the youth camped out for several days before anyone responded to their calls.
The dedication of these youth, who gave up their weekends, sacrificed their comfort, and mobilized others to get involved, prove that this generation is passionate about justice and really is looking for a cause to give itself to. It shows that despite all the differences between them and the world’s child soldiers, they have also found they have much in common. And finally, it is evidence that something can be done to change the situation in which the child soldiers find themselves. They have an equal right to a hope and a future, and the struggle to win these rights for them is one worthy of our time and energy.
Check out the following websites to learn more:
Invisible Children
Zion Project
Resolve Uganda
Enough!
Child Soldiers
----------------
Now playing: Emmanuel Jal - Warchild
via FoxyTunes
Thursday, February 5, 2009
Learning to Live as God Intended, or Life Lessons in Guatemala
Here I am, back in Guatemala City again. It's been eleven months since I was here last, and a total miracle that I was able to come this time! Back in September, when I was barely getting used to life in Uganda (side note: does anyone ever really get used to life in Uganda?), I told my new friends that I loved Guatemala and I was determined to somehow make it there with the MTI students again this year. Upon my return from East Africa, I inquired about the Guatemala trip, but at the time, I was jobless, broke, and trying to figure out how to be an American again, so a trip to Guatemala with an $800 price tag was out of the question.
Pastor Raymond and I talked a few times about me coming in and doing some teaching and missions prep with the first years, who would be going to Guatemala and Nicaragua, and the second years, who were venturing off to Sri Lanka. We never got me on the schedule, though; things are pretty crazy this time of year. Then, a week before the teams were to embark on their journeys, Pastor Keith called and asked if I could join the team going to Guatemala, as the other leaders going suddenly needed to back out. Another leader was needed because all of the students were in teams on different flights, and there was a leaderless team of 18-20 year olds with no travel experience. Within two days, I had the green light from my employer, as well as a church-purchased ticket to Guatemala City! My God loves me, what can I say?
After several delays and spending the night in the terminal of Dallas-Ft. Worth International Airport, I was so happy to arrive and see the familiar faces of people I love. I felt like I was coming home in many ways. Our flight delays had ruined my plan to surprise Alejandra, Eduardo, and the rest of the Elim Central crew, but I was just glad to see them. I wonder if outside the Body of Christ, people feel as connected as I can with these people who have a language and culture completely different than mine, that I only spent one week with nearly a year ago.
That's the focal point of what God was showing me on this trip, and in this season of life: everything, everything in life comes down to relationship. We're not designed to be isolated and independent. If you go back to the beginning, pre-Genesis, before the world was formed, God had a thought, a desire in His heart, to love and to be loved. That's why we were created. Then, after the fall, which separated us from Him, Jesus came to restore what we had destroyed. Creation. Incarnation. Death. Resurrection. All about one thing: relationship. And not just between me and Him, but between me and every other part of the Bride He is preparing for Himself. We're interconnected, interdependent.
I have a lot of acquaintances in Guatemala now. But I also have a few friends. You know, we Americans throw the term "friend" around so loosely, it's no wonder we're so terrible at this thing called relationship. We don't know how to do it. We live our lives in front of shiny screens and in shiny boxes on wheels, always improving our ways to effectively isolate ourselves from the rest of the world. And then we wonder why we have so many problems.
Back to my Guatemalan friends. There's one in particular that means a great deal to me. She is amazing. From the now two weeks I've been in her presence, I don't really deserve to have the quality of friendship I do with her. For whatever reason, though, it was God's design for us to connect, to be able to share dreams and hopes and fears, and to pray for one another. Distance does a lot to show you what true friendship is, because it can't be about what the other person can do for you or how they make you feel. It requires work and communication. I wonder what my friendships here at home would be like if I was intentional in communicating and trying to relate and understand as I was with a good friend in another country, whose first language is Spanish? Wow.
You know, we didn't build an impressive building, see a ton of miracles, or save a village in Guatemala. But I made a lifelong friend. And two churches came together to work and serve and pray... that alone would be considered a miracle by some today. And in the years to come, even though it may be ten or twenty years down the road, this relationship between two churches will grow, and the Bride will grow more and more glorious. We will learn to love and serve together. To love and serve each other. It won't be about names or money or impressive stories. It will be about new experiences for some, and deepening relationship for others. All in all, it will be about life, and living life together, just as we were designed to do.
The buildings crumble, the paint eventually chips. Our good intentions often cause more problems than solutions in the long run. But underneath it all, a Body is being built up, and a Bride prepared, and we will spend eternity together, worshiping the One who designed us for this purpose.
Monday, December 8, 2008
Tuesday, November 18, 2008
Just to Make You Laugh
As I read many of your responses to my blogs, I realized even more the serious nature of the topics I have covered recently. While I’m glad that my writing has been impactful, I would also like to make you laugh on occasion! Life has many challenges, but it is beautiful, and there are so many reasons to smile. With that, I’d like to share a few experiences here in East Africa to allow you to laugh at me:
On Birth:
A baby was born this morning. I was one of the first to receive the announcement, as our watchman came to my bedroom window to share the news. “Sister Catherine, my wife has had the baby. Thank you so much for your prayers last night, I know it is because you prayed that she and the baby are okay. I don’t know yet if it is a boy or girl, but if it is a girl, I will give her your name. Thank you so much!”
Immediately, even as I congratulated Simon on this new addition to his family, and thanked him for this honor, I began praying in my spirit for Benna and this new child, that they would be healthy and strong, and speaking destiny over the child. But mostly, I prayed to God that this newborn was a boy- when Simon had asked for prayer the night before, I was dragging my exhausted body to my room, and completely forgot to lift up his laboring wife in my prayers. Now, as he was wishing to honor me with naming his 15th child after me, I did not have the nerve to tell him the truth!
We visited Benna at the hospital this afternoon; it was a 20 minute ride on the back of a motorcycle, along dirt roads, to reach the place. By the time I arrived, my face was plastered in red dirt and my lips were dry. Exactly how you want to look when you meet the child named after you and her mother, right? As she pulled back the sheet to reveal the child, I was delighted to see a beautiful baby boy! The name is yet undecided, but he is a perfect 3.2 kilograms with a full head of hair. Thank you Jesus for sparing me from the guilt I would feel if it had been a girl!
On Vanity:
For anyone who has ever lived in a tiny town, you know how difficult it can be to get a stylish haircut. Now, imagine how much worse it is when you live in a tiny town in AFRICA where it’s school policy for girls to have shaved heads, and small children cry when they see your white skin and long, straight hair! But, after two months here, I was in desperate need of trimming my bangs. I used to think I was both intelligent and patient, but yesterday, as I walked into the “World Beauty Saloon” and sat down in a metal folding chair, I proved myself wrong! Aside from the above mentioned indications that getting my haircut in Tororo was a bad idea, you’d think I would be a little turned off by the fact that the sign really does say “saloon” and they definitely aren’t serving adult beverages (although, with the outcome of this experience, it wouldn’t surprise me if my “stylist” had a few drinks before I arrived!). My other crystal-clear indicator should have been when this woman began combing my hair and questioned why it was so dry, and don’t I put oil in it? This is the point at which I began praying in tongues, but for some reason (desperation?) I remained seated and let her pick up the scissors. My only saving grace in this situation was that I was facing the mirror and she wasn’t blocking my view. I had told her exactly how to do it, but apparently my instructions were lost in translation! Right after telling her that a certain section of hair was supposed to go to my jaw line, she chopped it almost level with my overgrown bangs. Ugh! I put an immediate halt to the work and fought to not cuss. Her boss, working on the woman next to me, tried to explain to her how to do it, and finally told her to just stop and that he would fix it when he finished with the woman. By now I am really questioning what I’ve gotten myself into, and wondering if I should just run now. Unfortunately, I am too vain to have left in my current condition, as I still had a long walk home, and couldn’t bear having the other Americans see me in this state. So, I risked allowing this man, with the best of intentions, bring the scissors back to my head. He managed to fix the damage, sort of, but I ended up having to do a little work on it myself when I got home. Now, it’s, well, special… I’ve somewhat redeemed it, but my bangs are still too long, and it looks like they’ll remain that way for another month. Needless to say, I am already trying to schedule an appointment with Sara Engel immediately upon my return!
On Birth:
A baby was born this morning. I was one of the first to receive the announcement, as our watchman came to my bedroom window to share the news. “Sister Catherine, my wife has had the baby. Thank you so much for your prayers last night, I know it is because you prayed that she and the baby are okay. I don’t know yet if it is a boy or girl, but if it is a girl, I will give her your name. Thank you so much!”
Immediately, even as I congratulated Simon on this new addition to his family, and thanked him for this honor, I began praying in my spirit for Benna and this new child, that they would be healthy and strong, and speaking destiny over the child. But mostly, I prayed to God that this newborn was a boy- when Simon had asked for prayer the night before, I was dragging my exhausted body to my room, and completely forgot to lift up his laboring wife in my prayers. Now, as he was wishing to honor me with naming his 15th child after me, I did not have the nerve to tell him the truth!
We visited Benna at the hospital this afternoon; it was a 20 minute ride on the back of a motorcycle, along dirt roads, to reach the place. By the time I arrived, my face was plastered in red dirt and my lips were dry. Exactly how you want to look when you meet the child named after you and her mother, right? As she pulled back the sheet to reveal the child, I was delighted to see a beautiful baby boy! The name is yet undecided, but he is a perfect 3.2 kilograms with a full head of hair. Thank you Jesus for sparing me from the guilt I would feel if it had been a girl!
On Vanity:
For anyone who has ever lived in a tiny town, you know how difficult it can be to get a stylish haircut. Now, imagine how much worse it is when you live in a tiny town in AFRICA where it’s school policy for girls to have shaved heads, and small children cry when they see your white skin and long, straight hair! But, after two months here, I was in desperate need of trimming my bangs. I used to think I was both intelligent and patient, but yesterday, as I walked into the “World Beauty Saloon” and sat down in a metal folding chair, I proved myself wrong! Aside from the above mentioned indications that getting my haircut in Tororo was a bad idea, you’d think I would be a little turned off by the fact that the sign really does say “saloon” and they definitely aren’t serving adult beverages (although, with the outcome of this experience, it wouldn’t surprise me if my “stylist” had a few drinks before I arrived!). My other crystal-clear indicator should have been when this woman began combing my hair and questioned why it was so dry, and don’t I put oil in it? This is the point at which I began praying in tongues, but for some reason (desperation?) I remained seated and let her pick up the scissors. My only saving grace in this situation was that I was facing the mirror and she wasn’t blocking my view. I had told her exactly how to do it, but apparently my instructions were lost in translation! Right after telling her that a certain section of hair was supposed to go to my jaw line, she chopped it almost level with my overgrown bangs. Ugh! I put an immediate halt to the work and fought to not cuss. Her boss, working on the woman next to me, tried to explain to her how to do it, and finally told her to just stop and that he would fix it when he finished with the woman. By now I am really questioning what I’ve gotten myself into, and wondering if I should just run now. Unfortunately, I am too vain to have left in my current condition, as I still had a long walk home, and couldn’t bear having the other Americans see me in this state. So, I risked allowing this man, with the best of intentions, bring the scissors back to my head. He managed to fix the damage, sort of, but I ended up having to do a little work on it myself when I got home. Now, it’s, well, special… I’ve somewhat redeemed it, but my bangs are still too long, and it looks like they’ll remain that way for another month. Needless to say, I am already trying to schedule an appointment with Sara Engel immediately upon my return!
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