Mission Safari: The Next Chapter(s)

Back from Vacation

If you read my last post, I was not nice at all describing my hopes for our family vacation. And fortunately for us, our time at the beach was incredible. It far exceeded the anticipated fun and memories to be made. At one point last week, I thought I might post a few essays entitled "The Best of Kiawah" describing the wonderful scenes and memories we were making, but I decided not to. And I can do that because this is my blog.

All I will say is that for the first time in two years, I really feel refreshed and energized by my week off. I am not quite sure why I feel so encouraged and at peace about the coming month as we prepare for our departure September 27th, but I imagine it is a combination of the fun in the sun, the increased physical activity of the week, the increased time for reflection and meditation, and quality family time. I am reminded once again about the truism that rest is good for the body and soul.

Well, that is enough for today. I have quite a bit of work to do this week as we pack up our apartment and prepare to leave the country in 4 weeks.

Closed - On Vacation

Sleeping in. No schedule. No "To Do" list. No urgency to keep up with correspondence and email. Hot, humid weather relieved by ocean breezes. Cool water skimming across the soft gray sand. Hanging out with Marti and the kids. Building sandcastles and other sand sculptures. Refreshing bike rides through wonderful natural preserves.

Aren't I a bit mean?! These are the images in my mind as we prepare to leave for the beach today. We are going to our favorite South Carolina resort today - our little retreat from the demands of life. Have a great week - I know we will.

The Belgian Waffle

The Belgian Waffle. No, I'm not talking about that light fluffy wonderfully tasty treat in Belgium. I am talking about the "newsletter" that was produced and printed while we were in Belgium. Over 20 missionary families spent last month in Belgium for Pre Field Training. I have spent much space here detailing our experiences. However, we just received our "final" installment of the newsletter. It was produced to allow supporters get an in-depth view of the types of experiences we all had. So, enjoy the following excerpts from The Belgian Waffle.

Put Your Pen In Your Nose and Laugh.
It is 6:45 on the morning of July 28, or 28 July as they transcribe it here in Europe. It is Wednesday - three more days of Urban Jungle Camp and then we all board planes and head to our next destination in this missionary journey. For most of us that means returning to the States to continue our itineration process with the single prayer that God will provide the needed financial support, the buyers for family homes, the visas, the new living situations and the answers to the multiple issues that come with letting go of the life you have known, packing up what remains of goods and kindred (leaving some of both behind) and getting to each prospective field as soon as God allows. More importantly there is the prayer that God will continue to provide the courage and conviction one can only imagine it takes to do all these things.

I woke up to the sound of a mosquito in my ear this morning, a common occurrence here at the Don Bosco Technical School for boys in Ghent, Belgium. It has become a part of my morning routine to do battle with that last persistent denizen of the swamp and then to sit up and assess the damage of the previous night, usually appreciable by the number of new bites sustained, despite the use of repellant, and the number of mosquito carcasses on the floor that fell pray to my razor sharp reflexes. By the way, it is possible to box your own ears without intending to do so. Believe me, I know.

Most mornings I wake up to another sound as well…a sound that continually amazes and delights me. It is the sound of the Jeh language echoing inside my brain. Although I cannot recount to you the specific words in speech or in writing, they are there and they speak to me each morning. Moreover, I have little doubt that if a Jeh speaker were to vocalize the litany of commands that are lodged in my mind that my body would respond, except if asked to stick a pen in my nose in which case I would know to laugh.

“So, what is this Jeh?” you may ask. Jeh is the language of the Jeh people, an indigenous tribe in Vietnam. Our language acquisition mentors, Dwight and Barbara Gradin were Wycliffe Bible translators assigned to the Jeh during the years of the Vietnam War. It is the primary language they used to impart their extraordinary method of learning a new language. I don’t yet know how to us it (Jeh), nor do I really know how to spell it, but, I know it’s there. I cannot tell you how this seemingly little thing delights and encourages me. Somehow the experiential knowledge that I can learn like a child again gives me hope. Somehow that has given me an unexpected excitement and anticipation about learning a second language, even though I personally don’t have a second language to learn.

Another unexpected yet much cherished dividend from the encounter with the Gradins, Dwight in particular, was how this unassuming, soft-spoken Midwesterner of Swedish descent could say so little, yet communicate and effectively teach so much. For me, Dwight was one of the best examples of the integration of word and deed I have encountered in some time. Not that I am in any great position to judge this, only that I am grateful for having received it. I imagined briefly that perhaps this is what it might have been like to sit under the discipleship of the apostle Paul. Dwight, to me, seemed to have the same sort of seamless walk of faith. He was the master, I was the student and that was good.

I dare say that when each of us is able to sit down and digest the fire hose feeding we have received over the past month we will each recognize the indelible marks left by the Gradins. If you, the reader, have any doubts about this fact I invite you to ask one of the missionaries who represented you at this training how they will respond the next time they hear a helicopter overhead.
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Cloud and Fire

I don't know why I sometimes approach my Bible reading as if it is just something I "have to do". But, I must confess that as I looked at my reading program and saw that I was to read Numbers 9-12, I did not anticipate much. But, our Living God, had something in store for me.

Briefly, as a reminder to those of you who do not instantly remember these texts. The Israelites are in the desert. Moses is in command. To move the whole nation of Israel, there was a sign given to them - the Cloud and the Fire. The cloud was for the day, the fire for night. Whenever it remained still, the Israelites were to stay in camp, and whenever it moved, they were to move. Then as the text continues, we see that although God is providing manna for them, they cry out for meat. So God gives it to them - in an overwhelming abundance so much so that they could not stand the sight of the quail at the end of a month. To top off this story, we see Aaron and Miriam (siblings of Moses) approach him in the tent of meeting and proclaim that they have just as much "right" to speak to God as he does. Miriam ends up afflicted with leprosy immediately. As I read this text, I realized that there were some lessons in it that I have experienced this past year (and no, I didn't get leprosy!).

First, God continues to provide "clouds" for us to understand His will. I have been asked, "how did you KNOW that God was calling you to Africa?" This is a legitimate question. I don't know that I have a "great" answer, except that as I began to seek out God's answer to this, it became obvious that He placed some "markers" for us to follow. As we focused on these markers, we became more aware of when we were to move and when we were to sit still.

Brain Drain

Throughout this past year as we raised our support AND raised people's awareness of the issues facing the country of Kenya, we have often talked about "Brain Drain". In a nutshell, this is where a developing country loses "people resources" to other countries. In regards to physicians it can have a devasting effect on the overall health of the country.

Today I came across this information about the extent of Brain Drain in Africa. According to JOHN KIWANUKA SSEMAKULA on the website Medilinks there is a significant amount of Brain Drain in Kenya and all of Africa. Consider these facts:

*Africa lost 60,000 professionals between 1985 and 1990 according to the UN*

*Kenya, 50% of graduates go to South Africa *

*More Ugandan Doctors registered in South Africa than in Uganda *

*Ghana 50% of nurses, 90% of Dr’s go abroad*

*30,000 PHD’s live outside Africa according to UNESCO *

*There are more African Engineers and Scientists in USA than Africa itself

The article goes on to explain other factors involved in this "Brain Drain" and even offers some ideas to help correct this problem.

And please pray that as one little family doctor from little old Newberry goes abroad that God will use him to impact this overwhelming problem.

Grandmother's House

One of the more difficult parts of this journey to the mission field is the good-byes. We spent the past 4 days in my hometown where I grew up and where all of my grandparents live. I really tried to pay attention this visit to the many things that made growing up special.

This started Friday in our visit to Busch Stadium. It continued through the weekend. On Sunday, I was asked to "preach" at my parent's church. It was difficult at times looking out at many old and familiar faces. I saw my baseball coach, my Sunday School teacher, my parents, grandparents, uncle, and even an old girlfriend. It was humbling to be speaking to those who really "knew me".

We continued our stroll down memory lane by going to my Grandmother's house after church. Except for being more crowded than I remember as a kid(with my wife and 3 kids, my brother's family of 5, and my cousin and his family of 4)it seemed very familiar. My Grandmother had 21 different bowls and plates of food - something for everyone with at least one favorite dish for everyone - things like black-eyed peas, green beans, sweet corn, cooked apples, macaroni and cheese, biscuits, cornbread, 3 meats, and best of all the deviled eggs. And then of course 3 different deserts to choose from. Grandmother has cooked like this every Sunday for as long as I can remember. Even after lunch, just like old times, my brother and cousin went outside in the yard to play wiffle ball - with their own kids!

Then of course we went back to Grandmother's house this morning for breakfast - eggs over easy, fresh biscuits, sausage, bacon, and lots of homemade jellies. All this made to order and washed down with the strongest coffee in the St. Louis area! But instead of my dad taking me over, it was me taking my kids over.

However, this stroll down memory lane was a bit painful today. Instead of the usual hugs and kisses "goodbye", there were quite a few tears. You see, my Granddaddy is 88. And his health is declining somewhat. And he (and I) both knew that this may very well be the last time we see each other this side of glory. And although we both fully believe in the promises of God regarding eternity, it hurts to think that it may be a while before we see each other again.

My kids heard and saw this crying...and they joined in, with hugs and tears for Granddaddy. I am glad they experienced this. I want them to know that there is some pain and sacrifice involved in going to Kenya. Even at their young ages I want them to value their elders and lineage. I want them to realize that life is but a vapor, it is fleeting. I want them to experience the sorrow that comes when our loved ones aren't with us anymore.

I have forgotten this somewhat this year. I have been so busy with raising support, making plans, transitioning through jobs and houses and so on. I have forgotten the fact that for better or worse, my family (parents, grandparents, aunts and uncles) have left a mark on my life. They have impacted me. They are part of who I am.

I needed to take in my upbringing this weekend. I needed to be reminded of all the fun times. All the ordinary things that make up life, that give it meaning, purpose, direction. And I needed to be reminded that I am leaving them (family) behind for now. And I may even "lose" a few of them to the grave. But, I am reminded that I serve a Covenant loving God. A God that makes Covenants with Families.

It's in the Cards

As I watched Jason Isringhaus, the St. Louis Cardinal's reliever, strike out the last batter of the game last night to preserve another Cardinal victory (70 - the most in the Major Leagues), I stood there with bittersweet emotions. I was of course happy to see the Cards win, but also sad as I watched my last Cardinals game in person for at least another 4 years. To heighten the emotion, I realized that this was the LAST game I would watch in this stadium; the Cardinals are building a new stadium to open the 2006 season.

After our long month in Belgium, this was about as comforting a setting as I could imagine to remind myself that I was in America. We (Marti and the kids, my brother and his family, and my mom and dad - a party of 12) left the house 2 hours before game time. We drove to the MetroLink and rode the tram (yes, another form of public transport) to the stadium. The tram was filled with red hats and shirts as people were "dressed" for the game.

When we arrived, we walked half way around the circular stadium to the gate to let us into the bleacher section. We easily found our seats and watched the Mets (the visiting team) take batting practice. We were gathered with hundreds of others "hoping" for a batting practice home run to be able to take home a special souvenier. As is usual, we did not catch one - but at least we "tried".

We then made our ritual trip to the concession stand to buy hot dogs, soda, and Cracker Jacks. It would seem un-American not to do so. The only thing we left off the list was the beer. We squirted the dogs with ketchup and mustard and ate them together as a family stating how "wonderful" they were!

After this, we went back to our seats for the start of the game. We sat in the bleachers with spilled sodas on the ground below us and waited for our beloved Cardinals to come running out in their pure white uniforms for the familiar redbirds perched atop the yellow bat on the front of their jerseys.

As the game progressed, we went through the ritual cheering of the good plays and moanings of things that could have been. We shared smiles and high fives. We explained the meanings of certain plays and moves. We taught the kids to cheer for sacrifice flys, for runner substitutions, and pitching changes. We explained the score board, strikes and balls, and batting averages. We had a great time. It was of course made happier by the victory.

But what makes this rather routine ritual of a single ball game (of 162 games not counting the playoffs) so special and bittersweet? Why makes sitting in uncomfortable bleachers with sticky soda on the ground so fun? I believe that it has to do the fact that it is an event. Although the game itself is a linear experience, the event is circular.

I started going to games with my parents when I was 5. I have attended hundreds of games over the past 30 years. And although the players are different, the team is different, the costs are different, the game and the experience are the same. We always come early. We always get hot dogs and soda. We always cheer on the good plays and moan for the bad ones. We always discussed the plays, the rules, and the nuances of the game. I some ways, it became part of who we are.

This is one of the reasons I will miss this Busch Stadium. Although I live a thousand miles away in South Carolina, I almost always made at least one trip a year to see my parents and to see the Cardinals. Catching a game on TV, radio, or internet are good, but not the same as being there. I will soon be 10,000 miles away. I won't be able to watch the game in person. I won't smell the hot dogs, I won't hear and feel the applause, and I won't share in this summer ritual with my family.

When I think about it, "church" is much the same. It should not just be something on the calendar, but it should be an event. It is one thing to watch it on TV or listen to it on the radio. It is totally different to experience it. And we should approach it much the same we do with baseball. We should anticipate the event. We should pour ourselves into the worship. We should cheer for righteousness and moan for wickedness. We should explain it to our kids. We should miss it when we can't be there.

And you know what, unlike the uncertainty whether the Cardinals will win the World Series this year, I can know with great certainity that God will win this World Series with the devil!

Mission Safari Newsletter, August 2004

Dear Friends,

Exhausted! That is how I would describe our family after this tremendously challenging month of Pre-Field Training in Belgium. We arrived back in the U.S. on Saturday evening around 4 p.m. We "landed" in our hotel room in Atlanta worn out - it didn't take long to fall asleep. We are still trying to adjust to Eastern Time; Sam and Ben have started Sunday and Monday at around 5:00 am.

The month in Belgium was exhausting physically and emotionally. Dorm life with 20 other families, 10 p.m. sunsets, and jam-packed days added to the fatigue. Throw in a quick trip to Nairobi for Marti, and a second Trans-Atlantic round trip for me in the middle of the month and you can understand why we have circles under our eyes.

Emotionally, Belgium was no picnic either. The culture fatigue of a new European city after a year of support raising was difficult at times. Thrown right into the mix of this month was the pain of another miscarriage for Marti. At times it really seemed too much.

But please don't feel "sorry" for us.