frustration

How do you spell it?
Recklace
Recless
Wrecless
Holy crap! I really can’t picture the word in my mind to save my life? What is wrong with me? And I can’t figure out how to use the dictionary on Windows Vista. How can I write this blog post is I can’t figure out how to spell the word? It’s so far off, the spell check doesn’t even recognize what I’m trying to spell.
Forget it. I’m picking a new word.
Y’all I dun got dummer heyer in Afrikka.

Thinking outside of the par-a- dig-m.

Africa does funny things to your mind. It changes your perspective on what is “proper”, what is
acceptable. We had a game night on Wed, and the hostess served Easter shaped sweet tarts that someone sent from the states a while back. Isn’t that funny? Would you ever serve Easter candy at Halloween? Of course not. It would be “old” and therefore gross, and your guests wouldn’t want to eat it.
But we were very excited to have sweet tarts. No one cared.
I’ve seen partially used bottles of Bath and Body given as a gift, and the recipient being thrilled to have it! Ha Ha.
Last night, I invited a friend Jacci, to dinner. Since she lives in Manzini, we pre-planned that she would just stay with me last night and go home in the morning. (The Swazi don’t even drive in Manzini at night, so there is no way a white woman will.) Since I don’t have a guest room here, but I do have a proper double bed, she had to sleep with me. The funny thing is, neither of us even thought it was strange. It was just practical. It was kinda fun, talking until 1 am after the other guests had left and then just falling asleep. This morning I thought to myself, “I’m 30 years old, and I just had a slumber party.”
What a riot! You just wouldn’t do those kind of things in the states, but here, it’s second nature. No one thinks twice about it.
I love it. I love the freedom of doing what’s enjoyable, fun, realistic, and rational, instead of what is “proper”.
So I give you permission to abandon all sense of “how you should do thing.”
If it tastes good, eat it, no matter what shape it is. Give a gift you know someone will love, even if you used a bit. Sleep with whoever you want…err. No wait, that didn’t sound right. But you know what I mean.
Live Life! Love Life! (I saw that on a t-shirt here. I’m adopting it as my new motto)

Written Sunday

Did you ever watch that show Sliders? You know the one where you discovered an older, slimmer, much cuter Jerry O’Conner? Or O’Connell, or whatever his name is. You know the chubby kid, Vern, from Stand By Me? Anyway in each episode they were in a parallel universe. And that’s how I feel lately. I feel like I’m existing in a world that’s operating day to day, and once in a while I can look through the window back into the life that I experienced for so many year.
On my homepage, yahoo, they listed the top scary movies.
So? I thought, why would they do that?
Duh, Halloween is in 3 days. This entire month has slipped by and I didn’t even realize it. Without a Wal-Mart full of costumes, and grocery stores with isle after isle of candy, I didn’t even realize it was Halloween. I started thinking about my former students, the fun activities we did in the fall, and how I would decorate the classroom and my home.
But not this year.
Somewhere on the other side of the world, my mom has a giant pot of mums blooming, children are carving pumpkins, friends are having movie night with scary film, and my dad has bought 6 bags of candy using the excuse of trick-or-treaters, although we never have one at the house.
And one more I discovered just this instant. My microwave clock says 7pm. My parallel universe computer clock says 6pm.
Y’all had daylight savings time today, didn’t you?
Nope. Not here.
It’s such a strange feeling. Life is going on without me, while living a life here.

One for my dad...

Don't know why I was surprised, after all, orchids come from Africa. But when I saw these lining my drive way I was so excited! It's like the way you have daffodils in the states. With teh rain and warm weather they just appeared out of no where.
So I shot this for my dad. He loves flowers and growing them. When we went to hawaii a friend had told him, "Don't just shoot a flower. You have to put a person in the picture too." So everytime he saw a flower/tree/bush/plant he liked, he made me stand by it.
We have a lot of pictures of me, and hawaiian flowers.
Unfortunately, there was no one around when I shot this, so my appologies. It's just a picture of a flower, no person. :0(

"everything will be fine"

I got my microwave back! Fixed for Free! I took it to the repair shop and they told me it would be $450E for the Part and another $100E for the labor.
Ech
But they saw how new it was they asked if it was under warenty.
Of course it is, but I couldn't find the slip or the box (which is required here.) The manager sent me to the shop I bought it at (across the street) and in a book, they keep all of their registars, and I was listed on the first page.
Now I must repent. I complain about the lack of technology in Swaziland, but in this case, hand written recipts make a difference. The manager gave me a copy, and then filed the paperwork himself.
I got the call today, and took it home right away! While life was not that bad without it, I'm happy to have it back.
Not sure the lesson in all of this....but I had peace about it all. I guess I'm just suppose to learn that lightning stikes here, I should always keep my boxes, and modern technology isnt' always what it's cracked up to be. We can live well without it.

Okay, a week late but I can update you on the camp. It was a wonderful experience. Yes I slept horribly, and was dirty and tired, but I think it made such a difference to the teens that were there. They were so tickled that I came and slept over.
And you know watching them pray, sing, and dance I was so blessed. I thought to myself "this is so cool." It almost brought tears to my eyes. I love them so much!

Here it is!

Okay, this is my baby,- the Chippie cottage! Not 100% finished, but it's coming along. My kitchen was too dirty to shoot, I don't have one of the living room yet, but here is the outside view, the dining room (I have to hang the mirror)and my bedroom. Yes that's a misquito net, but it's more for decoration than necessity, at least at this point. It's still not hot enough to sleep with the windows open. But to me, when it's down, it looks very "Africany"

So it will make sense to you too...

I love my friend Lauren for many reasons.
She’s taught me that African pancakes (crepes) really are amazing with avocado and bacon, or that sweet bananas, onions and spicy curry really do go together.
She’s sweetly quirky.
“When I was a little girl, I use to love thunderstorms. I’d lie in bed listening, and get all warm and tingling inside. I’d think, ‘Yes! My God is that powerful!’”
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------


I’m struggling.
How do you go on day after day on blind faith.
When you don’t see His hand working. When you don’t see an end in sight.
How do you continue on for one more day, when, honestly you don’t believe it will be just one more day.
That day will lead to the next, to the next, to the next.
“Behold! I do a new thing…”
But month after month, the test results are negative.
Months have turned to years and he still won’t speak to her.
Countless prayers for her, and she’s farther away from God than ever.
What do you do, when you realize that you're no longer surprised by the disappointment.
Your heart is right before the Lord, “But it’s been the same for so long...”
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The thunderclap shook my house this morning… “I am that powerful!”

A scary story with a happy ending

The other day we left our teacher's meeting at St. Paul. One of our teachers, Lungile couldn't find her son. She went throughout the carepoint, and then took other teachers throughout the community. They visited homesteads, and his little friends thinking perhaps he'd left with one of them. Finally a teenager came forward and told her he'd been picked up by the police and taken home.
so the next day I'd asked her about it.
She said he'd wandered out of the carepoint because he wanted her. He was trying to walk to St. Paul's to find her when the police picked him up. He said, "I want my mom" but had neglected to tell them she was just around the corner at the church. So the police took him to the store, bought him some food items and then took him all the way to his homestead, about 15 KM away. She said she walked into their house frantic, and he stood there all smiles.
"Look momma I have food for us!" He was the little man of the house.
So sweet. It's also nice to hear a good story about the police here.

One for Miss Jean!

This is a jacaranda tree near our Makholweni carepoint. Isn't it beautiful? Most of the blossoms are gone now, but it was soo cool to drive around Manzini and see purple trees throughout the landscape.

Say cheese!

Hey I finally got it to load!
So many of you commented that it was good to see a picture of me. So here is one of me, Lauren and Julia. You can see I'm healthy, and happy here in Africa

coming soon...

okay, I know I promised an update on camp. But I've been really busy. Please wait patiently. I'll get an update soon, possibly with picture ofChippie cottage as well

Camp

I’m going to youth camp today. You know, I wasn’t a Christian when I was a teenager, so I never went to youth camp. And I’ve certainly, never been to African youth camp, - so I think I’m in for a surprise. In my mind I’ve been thinking of bunks and cabins, but I know for a fact it’s nothing like that. I’ve heard “horror” stories from some of our other Americans who’ve attended in the past.
“It’s hot! You can’t shower. You have to sleep on the ground…” They usually just go home to sleep, bathe and return the next day.
At first I thought this sounded like a great idea, but as it’s approached, I’ve been feeling in my heart that I need to go and stay. How can I expect my teachers to do something I’m not willing to do? I’ve been to their houses, - they sleep in beds too. I’ve given them a good sniff, - they bathe everyday too.
In addition, many have husbands, and kids and extended families at home that they are leaving behind for a whole weekend, to love on these teens, serve them, teach them, etc.
In my “lead by example” approach, I feel it’s important for me to be there too. I’ve been fighting it, but this week I finally submitted to what the Lord is asking me to do. It won’t kill me to get skuzzy for a day or too. I will not melt in the heat, nor will I literally be eaten alive by mosquitoes. I’m just viewing it as camping. After all, I’ve already been asked to bring my own sponge (foam mattress) sleeping bag and dish to eat from. I’ve packed my sunscreen, bug repellant, and wet wipes to bathe with.
And do you know what? The past few days I’ve been getting a bit excited to go! I’ve never been to youth camp or even tried real “roughing it” camping before. Yea! I get to get dirty, and nasty, and eat food cooked on a fire. Not only that, I get to spend a night with the teenage girls from Moneni, who I have grown to love so much!
It’s funny how when you have a submissive attitude, God will bless you and change your heart. So, please pray for me this weekend at my first ever youth camp. I guess it’s never too late to start. But more importantly, pray for the 130 teenagers who will be there. Pray that they have “eyes to see and ears to hear”, that something will strike a chord in them. Pray they will have an “a-ha” moment or an “I get it now.” Pray that their hearts are changed and that their lives will be changed as a result.

It's worth repeating...

A few years ago I read Blue Like Jazz, by Donald Miller, and there is an amazing chapter about loving others. I posted an excerpt on my blog a year or so ago, but so many of you weren't reading yet. So it's worth repeating...

…The problem with Christian culture is we think of love as a commodity. We use it like money...If somebody is doing something for us, offering us something, be it gifts, time, popularity, or what have you, we feel they have value, we feel they are worth something to us, and I and, perhaps, we feel they are priceless. I could see it so clearly, and I could feel it in the pages of my life. This was the thing that had smelled so rotten all these years. I used love like money. The church used love like money. With love, we withheld affirmation from the people who did not agree with us, but we lavishly financed the ones who did.
The next few days unfolded like a thick line of melancholy thought and introspection. I used love like money, but love doesn't work like money. It is not a commodity. When we barter with it, we all lose. When they church does not love its enemies, it fuels their rage. It makes them hate us more.
Here's how it worked out on a personal level:
There was this guy in my life at the time, a guy I went to church with whom I honestly didn't like. I thought he was sarcastic and lazy and manipulative, and he ate with his mouth open so that food almost fell from his chin when he talked. He began and ended every sentence with the word dude.
"Dude, did you see Springer yesterday?" he would say. "They had this fat lady on there who was doing it with a midget. It was crazy, dude. I want to get me a midget, dude."
That's the sort of thing he would talk about. It was very interesting to him…regardless; I had to spend a good amount of time with him as we were working on a temporary project together. He began to get under my skin. I wanted him to change. I wanted him to read a book, memorize a poem, or explore morality, at least as an intellectual concept. I didn't know how to communicate to him that he needed to change, so I displayed it on my face. I rolled my eyes, I gave him dirty looks. I would mouth the word loser when he wasn't looking. I thought somehow he would sense my disapproval and change his life in order to gain my favor. In short, I withheld love.
…I knew what I was doing was wrong. It was selfish, and what's more, it would never work. By withholding love from my friend, he became defensive, he didn't like me. He thought I was judgmental, snobbish, proud, and mean. Rather that being drawn to me, wanting to change, he was repulsed. I was guilty of using love like money, withholding it to get someone to be who I wanted them to be. I was making a mess of everything. And I was disobeying God. I became convicted about these things, so much so that I had some trouble getting to sleep. It was clear that I was to love everybody, be delighted at everybody's existence, and I had fallen miles short of God's aim. The power of Christian spirituality has always rested in repentance, so that's what I did. I repented. I told God I was sorry. I replaced economic metaphor, in my mind, with something different, a free gift metaphor or a magnet metaphor. That is, instead of withholding love to change somebody, I poured it on, lavishly. I hoped that love would work like a magnet, pulling people from the mire and toward healing. I knew this was the way God loved me. God had never withheld love to teach me a lesson.
Here is something very simple about relationships that Spencer helped me discover: Nobody will listen to you unless they sense that you like them.
If a person senses that you do not like them, that you do not approve of their existence, then your religions and your political ideas will all seem wrong to them. If they sense that you like them, then they are open to what you have to say.
After I repented, things were different, but the difference wasn't with my friend, the difference was with me. I was happy. Before, I had all this negative tension flipping around in my gut, all this judgmentalism and pride and loathing of other people. I hated it, and now I was set free. I was free to love. I didn't have to discipline anybody, I didn't have to judge anybody, I could treat everybody as though they were my best friend, as though they were rock stars or famous poets, as though they were amazing, and to me they became amazing, especially my new friend. I loved him. After I decided to let go of judging him, I discovered he was very funny. I mean really hilarious. I kept telling him how funny he was. And he was smart, quite brilliant; really, I couldn't believe that I had never seen it before. I felt as though I had lost an enemy and gained a brother. And then he began to change... It didn't matter to me whether he did or not, but he did. He began to get a little more serious about God. He gave up television for a period of time as a sort of fast. He started praying and got regular about going to church. He was a great human being getting even better. I could feel God's love for him. I loved the fact that it wasn't my responsibility to change somebody, that it was God's; my part was just to communicate love and approval…

Love

God’s re-accuring theme since I’ve arrived in Africa has been love. I’ve been on this journey of learning all over again. How do I love others? Many days I feel, not very well.
Our focus of the recent retreat was Loving Well. (It’s a Beth Moore study that I highly recommend)
It made me question many things. Do I love from an outflow of the love I receive from God, or do I love out of my own strength? Do I look for opportunities to love, or do I love because of a sense of duty? Is it a chore to love, or is it a joy to love?
This is not a one day fix-up, but a continuous journey of seeking a better understanding of Christ’s love. While I might never in this life understand the fullness of His love for me, there’s one thing I’m realizing about it:
It’s not a just- enough love.
It’s not a filled- to- the- brim love.
It’s an overflowing love.
There is a beautiful song on a CD that a friend gave me.
Your love is deep, Your love is high
Your love is long, Your love is wide
It’s deeper than my view of grace,
Higher than this worldly place
Longer than this road I travel,
Wider than this gap you fill...
Pauls writes, “And may you have the power to understand, as all God’s people should, how wide, how long, how high, and how deep the love of Christ is”. Ephesians 3:18
I don’t know if I’ll ever fully understand his love for me. But his love is an abundant love.
It’s not limited to my understanding of it.
It’s not just enough to get me through the day.
It’s not equal to what I need to go through the tough times.
It is more than I could ever imagine.

African Funnies

Africa makes me smile.
The other day I rode to work behind a pick-up truck. In the bed was a man, a woman, her baby, a granny, and a goat.
Only in Africa.

Nomty is a sassy 20 year old who works in our office. One day, frustratedly teasing Queeneth, she said, “Oh I see. You think you are better than cheese on toast.”
To an African that would be pretty good. :0)

We had dinner with a group of Zimbabweans who were visiting. For desert, Felicity had a big bowl of ice cream and brownies. Since I’d been eating cookies as an appetizer, I only had a tiny scoop of ice cream and a tiny little brownie.
She was appalled! “How come I have this huge bowl, and you only have a lick and a promise?”
I like that one. I’ll use it. You can use it too.
Smile!

It's christmas!!!

In the states, October is for Halloween.
November is for Thanksgiving.
December is for Christmas.
But here in Swaziland, we don't celebrate Halloween or American Thanksgiving.
So Christmas can start in October!
Yeah! I'm so happy.
I went grocery shopping at Spar yesterday. There were giant gingerbread cut outs hun from the ceiling, Santas, wreaths with bows and bulbs, pine garland, and Christmas candy!
I'm so happy!

words of wisdom

"When you love someone, you do what's best for them."
Pastor Ron said this in our last Marriage and Family class lecture. It makes sense to me.
God always does what's best for us.
Parents do what's best for their children, even if they don't like spinach. :0)
It's not always easy, but it's important.
This week our chapters covered divorce and remarriage. "...Because those involved in marital conflict often do not receive support to keep their vows, their hearts become hard and divorce becomes a consideration. Jesus makes clear the concept that divorce is always perpetrated because of hardness of heart. Many other situations usually exsist but this is the root cause (Matt 19:8) The devastation left by divorce leaves deep wounds and scars. God wants to bring resptration. Pointing the finger at a mate and passing the blame to them will never bring restoration, but coming to God and repenting will begin the restoration process." R Tucker 2000.
I see this in the divorces I've seen. A friend of mine one confided in me that things were rough in her marriage. She said, "I don't want to be a statistic, but things are bad. I can't stay like this anymore."
When I asked her what was so wrong, she began to list all of the things her husband didn't do for her, and how he wasn't making her happy in this way and that way.
Knowing her husband is a good, decent, caring, supportive man, I couldn't beleive why she was so unhappy. I remembered when they first met and she was falling all over herself to be a loving caring supportive wife to him.
Sometime during the marriage she'd stopped doing what was best for him, and started looking out for what was best for her. As a result, her heart became hardened.
A few months later she told me things had been getting better. "I realized the problem was with me. It was my attitude towards things." As her heart was softened, her live for him returned, and now things are much better between them.
Guard your heart readers.

Nkosatana Sihle

This means "princess Sihle" She is a spunky outgoing little girl at Moneni, who needs your prayers.
She was the first friend I made at Moneni.
She was trying to tell me her name and I just couldn't get it. she got so frustrated with me. Finally she did a big sigh at me, rolling her eyes. With her huffy voice she said,"Say 'see'"
I repeated obediently, affraid not to.
"Say, 'shlay'"
"Shlay"
"yes! see-shlay"
Plucky little girl. I love her, please pray.

Book Distribution

A few weeks ago I went about distributing books to the carepoints. I'd always been told that the swazi aren't really into books and reading. But children have a love for stories reguardless of where they are raised. They met me at the truck and wanted to carry in the books themselves. And even the tiny ones were grasping at them, with wide eyes! They were facinated with the colorful pictures, knowing that the black marks meant something. They would point to the pictures and chatter excitedly to one another. And sometimes they would point and tell me the english words as well. I sat a read with a few tiny ones about going to school and every page they would point excitedly shouting "Peeen-sul!" Well at least they know what a pencil looks like!