first things first

yesterday started by getting my bum kicked in a pilates class.

before it started as we were sitting on our mats, one of my friends asked how i was doing- you know in that casual way that expects the typical 'fine' response. but instead she got a real answer.  that i was overwhelmed, that all this confusion and up-in-the-air-ness of our situation with rose occupies a large part of my mental energy, that zoe is having way more sticky thoughts since the departing of her best friend - and instead of being able to sympathize and help her cope - she's driving me crazy- bringing up all sorts of old bad memories and scaring me about the future.  that since we've had rose, i haven't been working clinically, and i like working with patients, that i need to make a schedule so i have some control- that i need to build in breaks- like this impossible pilates class or yoga or tea fields.  i rambled on about a few other things too.  i think she was sorry she'd asked.

but i tend to believe in transparency. in being vulnerable with each other.

after class i felt good and ready to tackle my planned 'retreat to move forward'. i wanted to figure things out- to try to get a grip on all the stuff going on in this life. i wanted to be able to answer 'how are you?' with 'fabulous!' again. of course it would involve the creation of a giant todo list, followed by time on the computer sending emails, researching options, moving ahead and 'finally getting things done.' 

but.

thankfully it turned out differently.  thankfully i didn't go on the computer or make a todo list.  thankfully i came across a little workbook in between the car seats called  'first things' (by the guy who wrote 'the seven habits of highly effective people.) 

it asked me to look at the things that are most important to me in life, and then to look at my time, at where i'm spending it and how i'm spending it. to take a raw look at my life, and really evaluate if my my goals, if what's important, match up with the how i live my life.  it asked me to look at patterns, and barriers that get in the way of the match up, and then to think of concrete ways that can help me live into the things i want to live into. 

a few things came to the surface- and they all surprised me. 


i assumed that because i felt a disconnect between my values and my time, that there was a disconnect, but when i put it down on paper that's not true.  i am spending a lot of time investing in the things that are most important to me- aka my kids, my family, and seeking God.  it's not that i'm spending my time in the wrong places, it's how i'm spending my time there.  it's my attitude in those places.
instead of trying to write while they're jumping around me, i can give them focused attention, and then set aside time to write later.  i need to put the computer down and pick them up.  i need to be present- available- showing them how much i adore them. 

there are also certain activities that are necessary priorities- we have to eat- this means someone has to cook dinner every night.  so why does this seem to always surprise me? and annoy me? since it's not going away- i might as well enjoy my time making dinner.  same with our one hour ride to and from school each day. instead of dreading it- loathing the possible smacking and fidgeting and aurguing- i should value it, make it the best it can be- because it's not going away- and how i spend those hours with those sweet, little nutballs, matters in how they interpret their world. 

what i saw is that i waste time and energy and decrease joy by having my head in tomorrow, by my scheming and my todo lists and my need to do everything, all the time, and get there an hour early to do it.

i have always burned the candle at both ends  i bite off more than i can chew.  i create scenarios of stress to function better- because that is what i've always done. but i can learn to say 'no', i can tell myself to wait, i can slow down, it doesn't all need to happen right away.  i'm allowed to enjoy not having too much on my plate.

i found a priority that i would never had listed as a priority.  being everywhere in life on time or early at the cost of  creating anxiety that isn't good for me or my relationships with my family.  i actually waste time- mental and physical time- in my need to be somewhere. this seems funny and kind of bizarre but again it came as a welcome relief! it brings hope.  acknowledging this helps me change it. now that i see it, i can let go of it. ahhhhh. 

it asked me to write a missions statement for my life and to recall it in the decisions that i make through out the day- so that i stay where i want to be, striving to be who i want to be.

i want to practice seeking more than knowing,
and patience over hurrying,
enjoying over annoyance,
loving over being angry,
forgiving over judging,
being present over just being,
affirming and adoring my family.
i want to practice vulnerability,
and availability,
and transparency,
and deep thankfulness.

i want to search for God in everything, to be greater than my thoughts and greater than my moods.

so yesterday i put away the computer and enjoyed the afternoon- playing football with jude, and sitting on the porch while my life happened all around me.

last night i was inspired making dinner- i stayed long and sung many songs with each of the boys and rose at bedtime, i was able to be calm when zoe wasn't put together.  and i was happy. 

slowly by slowly it starts. each day a new beginning, each moment really. 
i will again, try to be still and know....

dependence

the other night there was a 'super moon'.  that is actually what it's called when the moon is closer to the earth and appears bigger and brighter than usual. it doesn't happen very often and it deserves its name.
it was gigantic and full and magnificent.

photo of oregon coast by rockaway beach chamber of commerce

i was driving home as it climbed from just above the trees to the top of the sky. i was driving home from a day doing clinic in a village in luweero as the sun set on one end and this awesome moon rose on the other and i felt full of sky and life and thanks.

sometimes writing is like cooking. it can take a long time to simmer, it can be left on the back burner when other things take priority while it stews- it can grow in strength and flavor as it sits doing its own thing, waiting to be stirred. writing also feels like eating- it needs to be done. thinking about my day in luweero has taken some time but now i'm hungry.

i spent the day as the doctor for a mobile clinic caring for HIV+ people in a village 25 km down a dirt road from a town that was 70km outside of kampala.  the day started early- i left at 7am to pick up the members of the community based organization 'action for the needy' which began this endeavor to bring health care to a poor village of subsistence farming families about four years ago.  it started because one woman, jane, from the village, moved to kampala, tested positive for HIV, got on meds, and wanted to identify and support others in her village with HIV. she wanted to send a message of hope that you can live well with HIV.  she wanted to de-stigmatize the disease, she wanted to improve the health and livelihood of her people, to educate them and do for them, what 'reach out' clinic had done for her- so she did.

jane and henry

we stopped at her brothers house to have tea when we arrived in the village.

jane with her family

it was african tea- sweet, spice and milk- delicious.
then we went to see the land they've procured for a school and clinic.  a beautiful five acres in a farming community.  they need to turn the mobile clinic into a permanent clinic- if they want the government to provide antiretroviral drugs.

the local children came out to welcome us with a song.

and then in perfect uganda style there was a ceremony of sorts.  the chairman of the village gave a speech, there were introductions and i was the special guest of honor.  he spoke luganda, he said they were so thankful i was there and that anything i could do to help them was most welcome. i was most welcome.  it was unexpected and honoring and wonderful.

the clinic was held in a small church in the center of the village.  we arrived to a room full of people- some waiting to be tested, most with HIV waiting to see the doctor, all decked out in their best dresses.

the clinic was busy and we did the best we could with the few medicines we had with us.  i was able to see both the great need and the incredible success of this small organization.  the high point was being a part of something so very real and compassionate.  this clinic was started and maintained with out a funding base, with out a doctor, without any payment to anyone- pure desire to care for those in need.  wow.  the low point was having a woman initially refuse a gyn exam because she thought i was a man.  yes.  a man.  that is what the translator said.  so i promptly unleashed my hair from it's functional bun, and pointed to my chest and said, "i am a woman!"  the woman said,  "well you're a doctor and you're wearing pants, and you walk too fast to be a woman."  oh.  i see.  that is how we distinguish! (note to self- next time where a skirt, slow down and catwalk.)

but it was like being in a time machine, even more than i already feel in my life near kampala.  i was back to before Reach out clinic had a building, or computers, before we had antiretrovirals- because we didn't. this clinic has no building, no lab, no way to even measure CD4 counts to see if clients should be on ARVs.  

on the way home i had a lot of time to think as the conversations in the car were in lugandan.  i felt inspired, somewhat overwhelmed and also sad that this is where uganda is- people in rural areas with out access to testing and treatment.  i began to think about all the things to do, to help, to reach out to them, to connect with this village, to get the clinic going- but going well.  to make it self sustaining, to assist with development and some economic growth- because poverty, again, is the problem.

there is a clinic 25 kms down the dirt road- but there is almost no transportation, and what there is, is prohibitively expensive for a community with no income,  to walk would take about 5 hours each way.  i thought about roads and infrastructure- mike said it would cost about 5 million dollars to pave that road. i thought about what the chairman had said to me in his speech- about need and the tremendous gratitude for help.  i thought about the continued dependence i see here- that has come to be so abundant and ingrained and well, depended on.  and i thought about our being here as missionaries- and something clicked.  i realized something foundational.

there are many ways to land in uganda as western professionals.  there are many hospitals here where i could get a job- perhaps mike could open an architecture firm.  we could make enough money to live- so why on earth did we come here as missionaries?  why did we come here on other peoples dimes?  why did we raise support to be here?

the most obvious reason is that we came here to serve God by working with people and places that couldn't afford to pay us- we wanted to work with the poor.

i've never been poor- i mean poor, poor.  i've had seasons of having "no money"- of watching what we we spend- of not eating out, not buying meat, not doing the extras, but i've never been with out food, i've never not brought my kids to the doctor, or pulled them out of school because of school fees- i've never been with out a home.  so i don't know what poor feels like.  but i do understand dependence.

and that is something we share with those in need.  we have dependence in common. by coming here as missionaries, as volunteers, we are completely dependent on our senders, really ultimately we are dependent on God.  there is no- 'oh i'll just moonlight." or "pick up some extra shifts" - we depend on others for everything. if our funds run out- we have to come home.  we are also accountable to other people for how we spend our money- our resources.  this is incredibly humbling and teaches us much about life for most of the world.

as western professionals, we aren't used to "needing" other people.  we aren't accustomed to depending on anyone but ourselves.  this experience gives us a small window of insight into how the people that we are serving, spend life and for that i'm incredibly thankful to God and to those who support us, who enable us to be here in a way that helps us to both do our work and understand those in a way that we couldn't without this level of dependence.

of course it also helps us remember the truth about life for everyone.  ultimately, like it or not, much of it is out of our control- here we feel that more acutely.  but it's true and scary and we all fight it most of the time and then act surprised when life feels out of control.  faith helps- actually, faith cures the fear of being out of control in an ultimate way- i still struggle with the minutes.

we do what we can.  for each other, for the world, for ourselves.

as that moon rose- i was thankful that i am supported but such amazing, generous, loving people who believe that the world isn't so big.  who believe that we can make a difference - that we can make things better and bring hope and care and medicines and empowerment and love and connection and joy to parts of the world that live the reality of dependence- at least for now.

thank you!!

great expectations

it's the perfect day.  i mean the weather.

but it's also just perfect in it's plainness. its everyday-ness.  the kids, no school, no real structure.  random play, scrapped knees, lots of snacks and juice, neighbor kids, laughing, some fighting, but mostly happy sounds.

legos with robs

"see the lizard? it's right there!"

this year i've decided to lower my expectations.  globally.  that is my resolution.  i want to be more easily satisfied, i want to spend more time being pleasantly surprised and less time annoyed or disappointed. i want to roll with it, not fight it.  i want to enjoy this crazy season of life with little kids because soon it will be gone.  i want to remember that zoe will get there, someday, and that it doesn't need to be today. i want to keep life in perspective and not let some random idea of what i think it should be, ruin it.  i want to accept it more and judge it less.

expectation- that which is looked for; prospects especially of success; anticipation

expectation implies a hope or assumption, but even more. something sought, desired, but also with the idea that it should be, that it ought to happen.

where do we get our expectations?  really.  why do we think our kids should be quiet when they play inside? that they shouldn't spill there juice or get poop on the floor on the way to the bathroom?  if we ask ourselves out loud, we'd all say, 'of course they're noisy and messy and have spills and accidents- they're kids!' but then i hear myself, 'why can't you guys just be quiet inside!'  'be more careful when you pour!' and 'hold it until your sitting on the potty!' obviously there is a disconnect between what i know i should expect realistically, and what i secretly expect. 

or we expect health, and wealth, and success.  we expect that life won't be hard, that if we do the right thing, we'll be cosmically rewarded.  really?  it must be hardwired into some core gene in our bodies next to the one that makes sure we remember to breath.  but world history and personal history have shown us that we'll all get sick, that many people will be poor, that we will all experience failure, and sorrow and people will let us down. 

so i'm going to try to flip it around.  i'm going to expect fighting and bloody knees and illness and rain.  i'm going to plan on sticky thoughts and people eating with their fingers and leaving the door open.  i'm even going to expect boredom, and lonely and discouraged.  but.  i will then rejoice in peaceful play time and in sunshine.  i will appreciate health and table manners and the sound of the door shutting.  i will be so thankful for the life in all of it.

goodness

in a few weeks i will turn 41.  yikes. 
i've been thinking back over this past year- the first in my 5th decade. yikes.
but.  here i am in east africa. 

exactly where i want to be.
where cows cross the highway.

and for that i'm so very thankful.
not everyone can say that.

and i have babies that i love, even if they are no longer babies.

and i have a husband that i love, even after 22 years.

and i have friends and family that i love, ones near and ones far, that help me to be happy. to be thankful.  to remember all these things.

and i have a God that i love and who loves me, even though i'm far from perfect.

i've also got a bathtub. 
and some kickin' rain boots.

what more is there?

gratitude

next week is thanksgiving.  a day that in america is filled with a lot of turkey and college football and family and pumpkin pie.  it's also a day of thanks.  a day set aside to be thankful for the good harvest in our lives. 

this is good timing because while i might not be able to be with my extended family or watch any football- i am living in a season of gratitude.  i can usually find something to be thankful for- even when things are bad- but it happens that these days- i am extra grateful. 

here are the top five reasons why:

1.  zoe these days (fingers and toes crossed and dare i utter it out loud), is doing really well.  we moved this girl who doesn't like change, across the great ocean to a place with out her ama, with out her social group, with out her math tutor, with out her therapists, and she's doing great.  she has found and embraced her community here and i'm most thankful that they have embraced her.  she is learning so much socially- and organically socially.  she is learning to know herself, to know when she needs more time alone, when she needs to go and find a friend, and which friend would be good.  she is learning to send herself to the trampoline, or to play with the neighbors dog, or even to be away from home near another adult who is not me.  she has independence here that she would never have in atlanta.  for all this, i'm so, so thankful!  it's also another example of God's provision- above and beyond.  i was hoping she wouldn't fall to bits - He allows her to bloom. 

2. my boys have replanted here like bamboo.  they have grown roots and sprouts with very little work - just some water.  i've been able to see how adaptable we all are- but perhaps especially kids.  in a few months- this has become 'home home' (in uganda when you want to emphasize something you say it twice).

3.  our house sold, our cars sold, my medical school loans are being paid by MedSend- a missions agency that helps medical missionaries get overseas by paying back their medical school debt.  these were the last pieces of our getting here- and we left with the corners untucked.  we left with things in the works but not settled- trusting they would settle- and they have.  provision.

4.  we appear (fingers and toes crossed again- and dare i utter it...) to have been added to the university generator.  in other words, we seem to have power most evenings.  this is incredible.  this feels like we have stepped back into a time machine and returned to 2011.  i'm not sure how long it will last, but for now, i'm grateful (although i did buy some candles today- just in case).

5. a multitude of daily little blessings- from finding a yoga class to meaningful work to christmas lights to good friends here to this cyber world that keeps home close- i leave with a poem by Rumi about gratitude

What was Told, That
What was said to the rose that made it open was said to me here in my chest. What was told the cypress that made it strong and straight, what was whispered the jasmine so it is what it is, whatever made sugarcane sweet, whatever was said to the inhabitants of the town of Chigil in Turkestan that makes them so handsome, whatever lets the pomegranate flower blush like a human face, that is being said to me now. I blush. Whatever put eloquence in language, that's happening here. The great warehouse doors open; I fill with gratitude, chewing a piece of sugarcane, in love with the one to whom every that belongs!

silenced by it

silenced by it.

i was very conscious about my decision to not do pediatrics.  sick children break me.  but at Reach Out clinic, we see kids sometimes.  today i saw a boy who is 12 with AIDS and TB, coming for fever, cough, diarrhea, and vomiting.  he was diagnosed last year with HIV, his cd4 count was 11.  he's now on ARV (anti-retroviral meds), he's on TB treatment, but he has difficulty with adherence.  he is neglected at home.  his mother is also sick, and they are poor.  he walked 3km to clinic alone. sick and alone. 

as i talked with him i kept my hand on his back- his thin and wraspy back that rattled when he breathed or spoke.  i lifted his shirt to listen to his chest.  he was covered in the same rash that covered his face.  he also had shingles lesions crusted over all along the lower right side of his back, his body was old- old and sick. i moved the stethascope around to all the regions of his lungs, and his heart, my hair was loose and hung long over my face- thankfully- because i cried.  i stayed there hidden in my hair listening to his distended abdomen, holding his clubbed fingers.  somehow he symbolized everything that is wrong with the world- everything broken- a sick child born sick.  a sick child with a sick mother, a father who'd abandoned them, two dead grandmothers, two dead uncles and no one to just pick him up and hold him.

i so wanted to.  i wanted to take him on my lap and tell him he is loved.  that he is valuable.  i wanted to feed him a big meal and put his many pills in a neat pill box and make sure he took them.  i wanted to give him hot chocolate and tuck him in a bed at night under a mosquito net and help him to feel safe- to have hope- to see a future other than what he lives.


was that all i cried about under that shield of my hair? or was it for the woman who lives at someones house and does work for them so they will pay her sons school fee's- who has no income for herself- except the beans she is fed twice a day.  she hates beans- but is thankful that her son is learning- thankful that she is still here and able to work after 8 years on ARVs- after coming back from nearly dead.


or was it the woman with high-grade cervical dysplasia who didn't have enough money to get to the hospital for further evaluation and treatment.  i explained the importance, the necessity of going and she understood- but it would cost about a day's wage and she doesn't work.  i have a car, i drive by her neighborhood three times a week going into town- she has a need- she needs a ride.  we tried to figure out a time, a place, a way for me to pick her up and take her- but her english wasn't good and my luganda even worse.  she had a need, she didn't ask, but i could give her bus money, which i did- the price of a latte.
'thank you', she kept saying, 'thank you for helping me to live.'


or was it the skin and bones baby who tried to smile in the arms of his weeping mother.   the 4 months old boy- who is starving before her eyes- who eats and eats but is unable to gain weight.  this child who has been to two 'health centers' and turned away with out a diagnosis or treatment.  this broken child brought in by his broken mother- begging for an HIV test- because why else would her baby be dying?


i didn't mean to cry.  i didn't want to, i really didn't want anyone to know that under my curtain of hair- i broke.  but i did. 


i'm the only muzungu at Reach Out- well except for a kid from germany who volunteers in the lab. no one understands what i'm doing here.  they keep asking why we left the USA- why we moved to uganda.  they ask with concern about our children- are they in a good school?
i explain yes- they are. i explain that we came because we feel we are supposed to be here- because there is a need and we happen to have a desire and the ability to help meet the need- like a puzzle piece.  it's not a huge sacrifice because we fit- because this is where we want to be.  our great gladness, the worlds great need- they meet- for us, they meet here.


it's not that i think i can fix any of it really.  and it's not so much that i will run away.  but the need can scream so loud sometimes that it hurts.  the disparity, the discrepancy, the random injustice of who is born where.  someone born with a silver spoon, someone born with a sexually transmitted disease. someone working all day for food and her sons school fees, someone else able to send her kids to private international school and never have to eat beans because she doesn't like them either.  someone with an infant unable to thrive and no good access to care, someone else able to fly back to the US if we were sick in an instant.  someone unable to pay the bus fare to get treated for her possible cancer, someone else with 4 wheel drive complaining about an outdated tape deck.   i see my excess everywhere.  but i will try, and i will give, and i will remember, and i will impress upon my children as best i can- how fortunate we are- and to whom much is given, much is required. 

i drove quietly to the boys school biting my lip- so i wouldn't cry again.  it was pretty and each parent around me inquired genuinely about their little persons day.  such focus on each detail of the story, a kiss for each little bump, an ooh and ahhh over each letter formed or picture drawn.  i didn't just hug the boys when i got them- i clung to them. 



and i was silenced by it. 

short and sweet

it's beautiful tonight.  off in the distance i can here the sweet lugandan songs and druming.  it's cool and fresh and the moon like a lopsided shell is rising in the sky. it was a morning of crazy thunderstorms, followed by afternoon sunshine and that crystal clarity that can only follow the washing of rain.  beautiful.

i've been feeling so blessed again today- by being here.  i just drove down to the little town for milk and juice and as i bumped along the road and watched the women heading home in their wraps, with babies strapped to their backs and children hanging on to their arms like strings, i had this moment of full appreciation for life- for where i've ended up at 40.  africa.  a place i'd dreamed about.  thankful for the desire to be here, for the people who've helped us get here, for the people who've welcomed us so warmly and continue to live life with us, and for the internet which keeps the distances around the world shorter than they've ever been.

view from porch

porch

view from porch

jude just inside the front door

turning the corner

i think i've turned the corner. 
i'm sure it's one of many corners, one of many turns that i will make, as we wiggle around getting adjusted, and getting comfortable here.  but yesterday i woke up and felt better.  i also felt like it was time to own up- to embrace- to make this experience real.  it was time to get over the getting over it, to be done with the transition state, to jump in.  so i got excited again and about everything. 

i decided that if we were going to be with out electricity this much than i need to embrace it and buy some beautiful candles and candle sticks.  that it's time to get good at playing cards and boardgames and scrabble.  that it's time to pull out 'the joy of cooking' and learn how to do it. 
so today i made pineapple rice and chicken legs and i made it early because i could see when i cut things up and measured.

i also decided that we need to maintain and recreate our routines.  and that means date night, which we hadn't had until last night when a lovely girl volunteered to watch the kids.  it was fantastic.  we drove into the city and sat on this veranda overlooking a grassy yard and ate crocodile and wildebeest tandoori style.  and it didn't matter that we spent 2 of the 4 hours driving on unlit streets with headlight-less cars,  it was still delicious.  all of it.  the food, the night out together, uninterrupted grown-up time.  and we talked about this first month and we talked about sustainability and arranging our lives to keep it that way.  and we talked about forgiving our selves for needing things- like a night out- and for getting frustrated with the inconveniences of our life here- because sometimes you need to say it out loud- to acknowledge- before you can move on. 

and then, you can turn that first corner.

what if we were thankful

i've been thinking again, about the importance of ritual in our lives.  those things that ground us.  that we depend on. things that are reliable and stand when other things fall.  this morning mike and i sat on our front porch together in stillness, with our coffee and our celtic book of prayer and our bible.  this time is sacred.  it's needed.  it reminds us of what's really important.  it is a practice that we began about a year and a half ago, when we were beginning to think about this uganda move, and we have come to treasure it.  when you nurture your spiritual self, God shows up. when you open yourself you grow.

after this time of stillness- i rushed to the dentist.  it's a cool, hip office with a hip, cool dentist. seriously, he's a guy that i would want to hang around with.  and they have tvs for while you're actually having the cleaning- so the today show was on.  there was a segment on hearing loss and hearing aides and the options and how much they cost- which was quite a lot by the way.  then they had a segment on moms.  they discussed the results of thousands of moms from 'parenthood' magazine and shared that basically everyone feels overwhelmed and alone.  they focused on how more moms than not would rather be thinner than have their kids be smarter, and how they felt that they judged other moms parenting styles and in turn, felt judged.  i know it was just a short snippet- because that's what news is- but it really bugged me.  and it made me sad.

i felt like asking 'where is the thankfulness?' 

yes, raising kids is overwhelming- anyone who's read this blog before knows i feel that.  yes, we are tired, yes we have moments of questioning how we'll get through a day. but i wondered how many of those mothers surveyed, how many of us, are on welfare- how many have kids who are severely handicapped, how many have spent nights crying about not being able to get pregnant, worrying if they'll ever have children, how many have to worry if their child will survive to age 5 as most of the world does.  have we lost our perspective?  have we forgotten to be thankful for the blessing of these little lives?

my friend erin has a friend who has three beautiful children.  two of them have a rare genetic disease called batten disease.  a disease that causes progressive neurologic deterioration.  first they have seizures, then they lose the ability to walk, then to eat, then they can't communicate. it's a disease that is fatal.  this mom will lose two of her three children, probably before they turn 10.  this mom wakes up everyday thankful that she still has three kids.  thankful that while one needs to be carried- she can still eat and talk.  thankful that her child who can't do those things, can still breath.  this mom should be exhausted and overwhelmed.  this mom probably feels alone.  there is a video about them, www.noahshope.com.  beware. you will cry.  but we can help support them in finding a cure. and we can remember to be more thankful.

i think we get out what we put in. 

if we fill ourselves with only 'people' magazine, and if we spend our time comparing ourselves to the stuff we see on tv, and if our lenses are so focused on our needs, and what we don't have, or don't look like- we won't get much out of life. 
we need to put goodness in. 
we need to choose to be thankful. 
and we need to reach out to each other - so we won't feel so alone. 
and if we want people to be vulnerable- we need to be vulnerable too. 
we need to think on these things. at least i do.