What do you see?

And now, brothers, as I close this letter, let me say this one more thing: 

Fix your thoughts on what is true and good and right. Think about things that are pure and lovely, and dwell on the fine, good things in others. 

Think about all you can praise God for and be glad about. 

Philippians 4:8 (TLB)

When the alarm went off, Ken jumped out of bed.  I, on the other hand, groaned, turned over, and pulled the blanket over my head.  I was going over my options. On the one hand,  I could muster up enough energy to get up and prepare for the day, or alternatively, I could just tell Ken that I was unwell, send him on his way, and go back to sleep.  Boy, I thought, that would be so easy.

Now before you judge me too harshly, keep in mind that you've had similar thoughts on occasion.  And just like you, I eventually crawled out of bed, got dressed, and was ready to go by the time our driver arrived.

The new corps we were scheduled to visit does not yet have an officer.  So as we often do, we have placed an accepted candidate in charge, which keeps the Army running and gives that individual some experience before he or she goes to training.  When Ken and I arrived, we were warmly greeted by the young leader and her local officers and quickly ushered into the quarters for breakfast.

The quarters, I should mention, consists of a two-room mud hut.  It has no power, no running water, no ceiling, and no floor.  It is simply mud and sticks.  That's it.  But when Ken asked the candidate if she was comfortable in her home, she smiled broadly, threw out her arms and exclaimed, "Oh, yes Commissioner!  I have never lived in such a big home.  And it's all mine!"  She was not kidding. 

There was more to come.  When the time came for the offering during worship, the people of the corps made their way forward to give their tithes and offering.  But after most had resumed their seats, an elderly woman walked to the front cradling three small eggs.  It was all she had, but she too wanted to give her tithe.  She turned to the congregation and began to speak quickly in Swahili, asking if anyone would buy an egg for five shillings so that she could give it to the church.  There was no response.

I looked at Ken with that, "Do something!" look.  He leapt up and said that they looked like wonderful eggs, and said that we'd take two -- at 100 shillings each.  Then he pulled the district officer to his feet, who took the hint and offered to buy the third for another 100 shillings.  The woman smiled from ear to ear, and the congregation burst into applause.  Those few moments only raised about $3 for the corps, but the blessing was priceless.  And by the way, the district officer got all three eggs. 

Driving home, I thought about how these two women had touched me that day, and I was reminded of a quote by Eckhart Tolle:

The primary cause of unhappiness is never the situation, but your thoughts about it.

I silently asked the Lord for forgiveness.  That morning, I had focused on all of the reasons I shouldn't get out of bed.  What I didn't see was the gift of a brand new day, an opportunity to worship, and a chance to be blessed beyond measure.  The truth is that, when you change the way you look at things, the things you look at change.  It's all a matter of perspective.

My prayer, dear Lord, is that my perspective will be yours, and that no matter what I encounter, I'll always see you in it.    

Is It Time for Tea?

Jesus replied, “‘Love the Lord your God with all your heart, soul, and mind.’ This is the first and greatest commandment. The second most important is similar:
 ‘Love your neighbor as much as you love yourself'...... Keep only these and you will find that you are obeying all the others.”  

Matthew 22:36-40.

I make lists.  I can't help it.  Lists are my attempt to control the chaos around me, to make sure that I'm covering all of my responsibilities, and to achieve some sense of accomplishment at the end of each day.  

And there has been plenty of chaos in my life recently.  For one thing, the government is widening the main road through Kakamega, a process which destroys literally everything in its path.  The gracious old trees that used to line the road through town are now just firewood.  More important, the construction has leveled some of the small businesses established by the women we're trying to bring out of prostitution.  It's even brought down the walls of the local prison.  Oddly enough, though, there have been no escapes.  

As part of the municipal make-over, the Army was asked two weeks ago to round up the street boys with whom we work and deliver them to the local juvenile detention facility. One official said, "If you feed one mouse, more will come."  We refused.

Thanks to our Social Services Secretary and a generous donor,
our street boys (to whom we refer as "Martha's Boys") will look smart in their new uniforms
when they sit for their National Exams.  This mama couldn't be more proud!

At the same time, all the work needed to put on a fundraiser for the Chapel at our new Officers Training College has kept us very busy.  I was glad, of course, to see that the whole community, including a number of official dignitaries, gave active support to the event.  One of the politicians even arrived at the event by helicopter.  As usual, though, a number of the checks were postdated.  It's at moments like that when I feel as if all my work is for nothing, and I come to the depressing realization that no list will ever be able to fix it all.

But as I lay in bed the other night, wallowing in self-pity, the Lord reminded me of a quote from Ken Blanchard: 

Jesus came to Earth not to build a religion, but to create relationships. 

So often we focus on organisational problems - the buildings, the finances, the systems, the results. That's not right.  We shouldn't put the programmes before the people.  If anything, Christianity is about putting aside the lists, the ledgers, and the plans, and simply loving others through the chaos of life. 

You know, I think I'll put down my day planner now.  Let's see who wants tea.

Useful Trash

One man's trash is another man's treasure. 
English Proverb

As I passed the guards this week on my early morning walk, I noticed the huge smiles on their faces.  "Oh, thank you Mum!  Thank you for the plastics!"  I had no idea what they were talking about until one of them said, "Our children now have lunchboxes."   Then it occurred to me.  Sometimes I will place bags of washed recyclables on our back porch for the workers on our compound.  So as I walked away, I thanked the Lord for plastic ice cream containers, which are now prized by others as lunchboxes.

Paul and Joseph, Two of Our Guards at Shimalavandu

The truth is that I hate to waste anything.  For example, knowing that I love yogurt, Ken frequently scours the markets for my favorite treat.  Some months I have to go without, but when he does find some, I make the most of it.  After getting as much as I can with a spoon, I'll use my fingers to scoop out the last drop from every container.  But not just to eat.  I've found that a small amount works wonders as a cleanser or as a face mask (with honey -- Yum!).  And when I can only get an expired container, I just comb the yogurt into my hair as a conditioner.  The only danger there, of course, is that I have to make sure I don't go to the office with hair that smells like sour milk!

I always thought I was pretty good at recycling, but our Martha's Boys (street boys) really put me to shame.  Kakamega has no trash service, which means that all rubbish is simply thrown into a pile and burned.  So we were skeptical when the boys planted seeds a few months ago on the THQ trash heap in order to grow food.  But now their plants are thriving.  One boy recently said to our Social Services Secretary, "See Mama Major, it 's just like us.  From garbage, good things can grow."

In my devotions, the Lord brought James 1:2-4 to my attention:

Dear brothers and sisters, when troubles of any kind come your way,
consider it an opportunity for great joy.  For you know that when your faith is tested,
your endurance has a chance to grow.
So let it grow, for when your endurance is fully developed,
you will be perfect and complete, needing nothing.  

Perhaps that's something I've been wasting.  When God allows a trial to enter my life, He surely has a purpose for it.  So instead of wasting the opportunity, I should squeeze out of that situation every ounce of spiritual growth that I can.

There's a blessing in every trial, and I am determined not to waste a single one.

Have I Been Wrong All Along?

Be strong enough to stand alone, smart enough to know when you need help,

 and brave enough to ask for it. 

Ziad K. Abdelnour

President Obama has arrived!  The local news is reporting that two-thirds of Kenya's security forces have been taken to Nairobi to protect "the most powerful man alive." People are flocking to the big city to get a glimpse of their hero as he returns to his ancestral homeland.  And those who can't go are doing their best to stay fully informed. On a walk around our compound yesterday, I was tickled to find our three security guards huddled around a radio listening to the Star Spangled Banner as the announcer reported every detail of the President's arrival.

Maasai men watching Obama's arrival on TV

I've also noticed that rumors are everywhere.  "Why are the market shelves empty?"   "Obama's security personnel have stopped shipments."  "Why haven't we had internet this week?"  "Obama's security detail has blocked it." "The crops are dry, where is the rain?" " The nation has been praying for dry weather for Obama's visit."

But while everyone's attention seems to be on the American President, I do have to admit that mine has not.  My attention has been on the women with whom I have the privilege of serving at Territorial Headquarters.  Three of the ladies in my department are ill -- one with typhoid, another with malaria, and a third with pneumonia. In fact, a fourth is on bed rest with a blood clot in her leg.  I have been praying hard that they will all get appropriate medical care.

At the same time, one of my expatriate friends recently woke up to find that her husband had died during the night, leaving her with young children to raise.  She is a successful, independent business woman, but now she finds herself desperate for the support of a faith community.

During my prayer time for these women, the Lord brought 1 Corinthians 12:21 to mind:

The eye cannot say to the hand, “I don’t need you!” 

And the head cannot say to the feet, “I don’t need you."  

Suddenly I realized that for years I have been striving to empower the women in my ministry to be independent agents, relying solely upon God.  Have I been wrong?

Dedicating the community well in Sabatia

Perhaps I should have been encouraging them simply to do their part, and then to let others do theirs.  After all, even the most powerful man in the world needs help. Interdependence is what we really need.  We need a healthy, reciprocal relationship in which parties are mutually influenced by, supported by, and helped by one another.  We need to trust and rely on each other's unique contributions.  That is why God has given each one a gift that can benefit the entire Body of Christ.

So maybe independence is overrated.  After all, being interdependent takes a lot more guts.  It takes trust, faith, and courage to lean on someone else.  And it takes the strength to hold them up as well.  

Off Road Adventure

Dear brothers, is your life full of difficulties and temptations? Then be happy,  for when the way is is rough, your patience has a chance to grow.  So let it grow, and don’t try to squirm out of your problems. For when your patience is finally in full bloom, then you will be ready for anything, strong in character, full and complete. 
 James 1:2-4   TLB

Our recent staff conference was a big success, but I confess that I was looking forward to getting home to Kakamega.  I missed my own bed, and was craving an American-style tuna fish sandwich!

A Typical Meal at the Staff Conference

We arrived at the compound gate, were saluted by the security guard, and drove in. When we reached our quarters, we climbed out of the mud-covered vehicle and fiddled with the key ring to find the correct skeleton key to open the steel gate.  Then Ken searched his keys once again to find the right key to open the front door.  As I waited, I thought about the recent discussion our staff has been having about beefing up security in light of terrorists threats.  "Great," I thought, "Then it will take forever to get in the house."

The Security Gate on Our Compound

As we entered, I did my usual loud tap dance so as to scare away unsuspecting critters. Then I reached over to turn on the light.  No power.  Ken put down the suitcases and went back out, only to learn that our area had been without power for several days, and that the generator had run out of fuel.  So he sat down to call the Property Secretary while I said a little prayer.  Please, Lord, don't let me lose everything in my freezer.

My next job was to check the house for any floods that may have occurred during our absence. Fortunately, there were none, but for some strange reason, the hallway floor was covered in termite wings.  I went into the washroom, and as I turned, a large spider descended from the ceiling right in front of my face.  Really? I whined.  In the past, that alone would have sent me yelling for Ken to "do something."  But since a deadly black mamba was found in our back garden recently, spiders just don't get the same reaction from me that they used to.  Of course, it doesn't help that, while cleaning Ken's study last week, I found a snake skin.

Yes, life here is just one little adventure after another.

Our family has been in Kenya for more than five and one-half years now, and this place has become home in many ways.  The cows, pigs, and occasional baboons blocking the road just make me giggle. I've learned to let my body flop around inside our vehicle to avoid another whiplash on the rough roads.  Police officers with AK-47's don't even get a rise out of me.  I've made good friends with the guards who search me whenever I enter the market, and I've even learned to stand on my toes when planting a tree so as to prevent my heels from sinking into the mud.  Try doing that while hundreds of people are watching!

But once in a while, as you would anywhere, I hit a rough patch.  That's when I have to remind myself of what van Gogh said:

"Normality is a paved road.  It's comfortable to walk on, but no flowers grow on it."

God puts us in uncomfortable situations now and then in order to stretch us and force us to exercise our faith.  He does that because He loves us too much to leave us where we are.

So while I'm never sure where he is taking me, I choose to be patient as the Lord guides me over the rough terrain. With His help, I'll continue to grow into a woman strong in character, full and complete.  Bring on the adventure!

What Do You See?

Faith is being sure of what we hope for. It is being sure of what we do not see.

Hebrews 11:1 (NIV)

Ken found me rummaging through the cupboards before the sun came up, an empty Easter basket in my hand.  "Sweetheart," he gently asked, "What are you doing?"  Turning to him with tears in my eyes, I whimpered, "I haven't been able to find anything to put in your Easter basket."  With an understanding smile, he pulled me into his arms and whispered, "It's OK, darling."

Standing there together, I thought about the ways in which we would celebrate different holidays before Ken and I entered international service.   A loyal disciple of Martha Stewart, I always made sure our home was decorated.  It didn't matter how important the holiday was for me.  I was determined that it would be special for my family.  So that morning, as I sobbed and apologized, I came to the conclusion that I had not only failed my husband, but I had probably let Martha down as well.

I was still in a bit of a funk as we left the quarters to conduct the Easter meeting.  But as I stepped out the door, I spied a lovely lily in our garden. "Look!" I shouted.  "Have you ever seen an Easter lily around here?"  Ken and our driver just shrugged their shoulders. "It's an Easter miracle just for me!" I yelled.

Believe it or not, it was only a few minutes later that I saw a baby lamb on the side of the road.  No, really.  Then, as we were driving into the compound in which we would worship, I saw not one, but two rabbits.  I could hardly contain myself.  As we got out of our vehicle, I exclaimed to the District Officer,  "There are two bunnies over there!" Oddly, he didn't see my announcement as big news, but I nevertheless turned to our driver, gave him my phone, and said, "Take some pictures of my miracle!"

Sitting in the corps quarters a few minutes later, I found myself listening to a conversation about the Army's primary school in that community.  And for no reason in particular, it suddenly occurred to me that I had never seen a Kenyan child with glasses. I asked about this, and I was told that most families simply can't afford glasses.  Parents rely instead on herbal remedies, and when that doesn't work, the children simply drop out of school.  They can't read a book, they can't see the blackboard, and they can't take the tests.  My heart broke.  The solution was so simple.

A Typical Class in Our Schools

On the way home, the two strands of thought came together. I thought about my Easter miracles and about the children who couldn't see the blackboard.  I remembered something that Thoreau wrote:

"It's not what you look at that matters.  It is what you see."

It's easy to be blinded by the glare of the physical world, and without the spectacles of faith, our vision of what is and what should be can be way off the mark.  The lily, the lamb, and the bunnies of my Easter Sunday could have been overlooked, dismissed as a mere coincidence.  Or maybe, just maybe, they were a gift from a loving God to his homesick child, telling her that no matter where she is, she's home.

So tell me.  What do you see?

Heaven's Gain

For to me, living means opportunities for Christ, and dying—well, that’s better yet!

Philippians 1:21 

The long rains have finally arrived.  Bushes that I thought had died are turning green. The dust that seemed to cover everything has been washed away, and even the dirt itself has come to life with worms and other insects. Farmers are breathing a sigh of relief, and families are celebrating God's provision in newly-filled water tanks, wells, and ponds.  Our THQ family is even celebrating the safe arrival of two perfect little babies.  This Territorial Mama could not be more pleased and more proud.

Madzuu Salvationists Carrying Water

But although we are rejoicing in new life, death is always nearby.  Last week, one of our corps treasurers was murdered.  The young son of an officer couple went to bed and never woke up.  On Sunday, a home league secretary was killed in an accident outside the corps compound after worship.  Five members of one Army family was hospitalized after eating poisoned rice, and while most recovered, one young boy did not.

A Typical Coffin Made in Kenya

I never did like that well-known quote:

Our Loss is Heaven's Gain. 

But for me, that phrase has taken on new meaning.  While we spend a great deal of our time using health charts, teaching disease prevention, and partnering with medical professionals, we are not here to be doctors. We are not here as police or security. We're here for heavenly purposes.

So I suppose it's true.  If we take every opportunity to point others to Christ and to the salvation He offers, our loss will always be Heaven's gain.  And when we all get to Heaven, what a day of rejoicing that will be.