When to celebrate

Advent

I'm an incarnation-celebration fan.  But in trying to think of how to prepare our kids for Christmas I re-remembered that Advent is really meant to be a season of more penitence than celebration.   And Advent is a reminder of two comings; the first incarnation and Christ's second coming.  Our sin led God to send and sacrifice his only Son and when Christ comes again, he expects to find us ready and righteous.  This is the major point of Advent.  And I don't think that has much to do with all the things I love most about Christmas.  

So, I'm trying to get my head around that.  For myself, but also for what we want to teach the kids.  

Here are some my "now I know in part" issues with the whole pre-Christmas celebrate mode/pre-Christmas somber mode: 

1. Just related to calendar:  I think the complicating factor is that the worldly/culturally normal thing is to "celebrate" Christmas from Thanksgiving-Christmas.  I.e. it would be hard to pull off the celebration aspect of Christmas from Dec 25-Jan 6th.  And hard to pull of a real mode of "penitence" for the month preceeding Christmas-- especially if you are not surrounded by a faith community and general community following those believes and practices. 

2. We're in Uganda, and for good and ill, much of our expat community is here in different patches of the six weeks surrounding Christmas so you do feel that some special events should happen regardless of the exact timing within the liturgical calendar.

3.  We're in Uganda and there is generally less fanfare in any of these "material" seasons... so it feels justifiable to make the most out of the one season that is available to us (Mark has time off, kids have time off of school, life seems to slow down and allow for "celebratory" events.)

4. Generally speaking, we seem to lack the weather seasons so it feels nice to be able to mark a season of the year so specifically--with decorations, music, certain foods, parties and events. 

I will have lots of thoughts this month on Advent and Christmas and life here and life as a parent and life as a Christian and life as a sensory-liver...  

I think the part of Advent and the whole Christian message is that we're always in a mode of "already and not yet"--- And acknowledging the two "comings" of Christ are in that theme.  Mary Bartels bounded over to me one day recently and had a "whisper" for me-- "We're like God because Jesus was a baby". I felt I was supposed to be correcting her, "No, God became like us."  Somewhere in all this mystery is the reality that our human nature is divine and that our human nature is wretched.  And both those truths resonate with me in my personal experience of my selfishness and limitations and my moments of full delight in the human experience.   And all of this is wrapped up in my ambivalence about what mood to strike with Christmas --and when. :)

Arrangements

I was trying to think of how to capture the various elements of the last week and I hit upon "arrangements"--- Mary and Rachel (in copying her sister) have this thing where they like to make arrangements... often they are "gifts" for people... they usually are made up of wooden blocks, puzzles, a random assortment of things in a ziploc bag, a drawing one of those sketchy boards, etc.  And sometimes these "surprises" have to be stowed away until someone's birthday; and there can be drama if the surprise is put away, or not noticed by the right person at the right time, etc.   Basically, there is joy in making the surprise, but there is also high expectation about the reception of the arrangement as well.

So, I appreciate this game of theirs.  And I also thought, my life is sort of full of "arranging" people's lives--- especially little people, but also socially, with work (Mark's students), with people far away (summer schedules), etc.  And I laughed when I read one time about "infp" (myers-briggs) as mothers, it said something like, "will spend a lot of energy arranging spaces and quality of time for their children".... Now, will they actually be patient and mellow enough to enjoy that quality of time, i don't know.  But the arranging of it is highly gratifying.

Here is a bit of a photo documentary of some things, i've arranged:


Here is our yard... Robbie and Precious are at the far table (mom, we melted an old jerry can to fix the hole in that table!).  They are playing with a wooden house that our gardener/friend had helped us make--modeled after the one that my grandfather had made me.  Oh, i remember the Christmas that Grandpa Claude brought me that doll house... Nana had helped with furniture, and little pictures in pictures frames, my cousin Anna had made little rugs, etc, etc.  It was awesome (I hope it is still on our storage somewhere).  Anyway, Mary Jane had some furnishings from her childhood so she's contributed that to this house and it translates to hours of play.
In the foreground is Mary and Carol drawing and painting.  Again, I've tried to make arty things very available so kids are always free to paint or create, etc.  In the distance, you can see a sand box and a little high house---my dad will attest to the years of my complaining about not having a tree house, a space of my own at our house.  So, I can make it come true this time around. It definitely also translates into hours of play.

Arranging Thanksgiving:  So, this is thanksgiving in our yard... these are USP students, I think Mark is trying to run out of the picture!  We also adopted the expatriate families when Thanksgiving got to be too much at my mom's house--- Mom, we officially decided that it was just too much to do 40 USP and 25+ Expatriate of various ages!  USP students are use to us bossing them around and telling them what the drill will be and it is hard to add a whole different social/interpersonal dynamic with our families and friends also attending, etc.  So, I think we all felt it was a bit simpler and of course, due to the months of Ugandan food and way of life, students are always very grateful for whatever manifestation appears before them.  And students have the job of making desserts, which is a win-win for all of us also.  

This year, a students had made a bean bag toss game (has a name with corn it?), and that was a nice addition to the thanksgiving tradition... they also had played a football game down on campus.  Rumor has it that our daniel caught a game-tying touchdown pass.  

Gathered here is a collection of our kids and alumni children--- they were at the "kids" table on the porch and it definitely brought back some memories of hosting kids in our house growing up.  My mom  would host some bigger parties related to the seminary where my dad worked, and I remember those evenings of many kids around and trying not to be my introverted self. :)

Because the week had been a bit full, i told the girls we would do an outing. So, on "Black Friday" we went ten minutes down (a very muddy road because it had rained for two days here--stopped just enough for the thanksgiving festivities).  There is a place that recycles glass and makes various vases, cups, goblets, etc.  And while those items were pretty, I was more struck by the sort of mix pretty arty mosaics somewhat haphazardly displayed around the cinderblock walled compound.  One of those sort of grace in ashes pictures.... I think I'm coming to a season where I, like Mary, need to also be making with my hands some arrangements--as an outlet and means of processing some of the layers of my life that can get to be beyond verbal explanations.  I don't know what this means and I'm working up to that by being more intentional in observing, exploring other artist's works first.  

Dying Dogs

In Memoriam: Rusty, died November 19th

So, where to begin... First, I did not grow up with dogs so I can't say I know exactly what to make of them.   And this fact is not helped by being a dog owner in Uganda.  First, Ugandans are typically scared of dogs and mostly use them as guard dogs.  And my husband this year executed the expat campus campaign to get pre-exposure rabies shots because indeed dogs are worthy of fear--many of them are wild dogs that run in packs, aren't cared for, are inbred, are lacking food and love.... i.e. the typical dog is not living a great life in Uganda.  And for that matter the typical person is suffering in Uganda.  So, how exactly does one translate that reality into our pro-pets, pro-love of animals, pro-man and nature are on the same team vs. a more man vs. nature reality that many people experience in Uganda? 

Well, I can't say we intended to be dog owners.  Our first dog chose us.  He was the dog of a Ugandan colleague of ours and quickly took to Mark.  So, though he was owned by the Opols, he actually followed Mark to and from work every day.  He then proceeded to take up residence on our porch and if i recall correctly, the Opols resigned themselves to their dogless fate.  And so began our first "American" style relationship with our pet dog, Caleb (called Calebu because you often don't ended a word on a consonant).  And he was an awesome dog.  And he and Daniel were fast friends.  Mark, being the good left brained husband/dad that he was did not respond well to this reply when he asked what he could do to help me with a toddler, "Just look around and help me some".  So, we figured out that the defined task he could do was take Daniel on an hour walk every morning-- I could get some coffee and get myself ready for the day.  Well, the walk became a walk with Daniel and Calebu... a trio who quickly was known by early morning campus folks. 

I think the photos say it all in terms of his gentleness with Daniel and Daniel's fondness for Calebu.  So it was a sad day when we discovered that Calebu had eatened poisoned food.  Unfortunately due to the packs of wild dogs that roam campus, the security guards have to regular poison some of the garbage pits to try and keep the pack down.  I'm now forgetting the details but Calebu got off his chain and found some poison and we all genuinely mourned his passing.  But due to the context and due to the reality that many people suffer in Uganda (and many suffer from wild dogs), we came to terms with the fact that though we might have pets, we could not presume the level of control or life expectancy that one might one owned pets in the Western world.  And that was sad and humbling, but also natural and somehow part of a whole acceptance of what is out of our control and how the world isn't fair in very personal ways to very systemic ways.  And it's good to teach the children to grieve.  And its okay to be guarded about future pet relations. 


So, after Calebu, came Rusty and Spotty--- supposedly from the same litter which might beg the breeding question:

Not a great shot of Rusty, but Spotty was the black dog with a little white on his chest.  Mary looked at the pictures today and said, "but I don't see spots".... true, we inherited the names with the brothers--Rusty having more spots than Spotty.  But they were a good pair--Spotty was alert and sweet, Rusty was mellow and sweet.  We're not sure we ever heard Rusty bark.  Anyway, Spotty, the favored one in Daniel's eyes, also fell to the fate of poisoned meat.  We had chained him up for four days but when we released him, he managed to find some poisoned meat.  At this point, even Daniel wised up to how much attachment one should have to one's pets.  

We realized that we would never really release the dogs again and built a pretty substantial fence behind the house.  Rusty soon gained a companion when our friends who adopted a stray puppy needed to find a home for her as they were moving to the U.S.   Athena is sharp and a perfect guard dog.  She barks at new people (seemingly a bit more at Ugandan new people which always makes me a bit self-conscious, but i suppose barking at new people is her job).  And she likes to run and play and she and Rusty got along fine as Athena despite some attempted mating moments early on that seemed to subside in the last year as perhaps Rusty's health officially declined.  

Rusty has been getting progressively weak over the last couple weeks and we knew last night that she was dying.  However, the Uganda factor still weighed on us.  We've always kept the dogs outside... mark tried to set up a tarp for her to lie on as opposed to the mud and large drainage issue puddle off our back stoop.  But despite her little mobility, she scooted off the tarp and appeared to want to be on the stone patio near the puddle to breath her last.  I am praying she died around 8pm because we had literally the largest rain storm we've ever had.  I was sure that our house was struck by lightening (Mark not so sure) and it rained so hard for hours.  I couldn't sleep at all, just restless at the thought of Rusty outside being pounded on by the rain, unable to find dry shelter (we did build in a dry place by our water pump), and just surrending to his death.  Theological questions aside, we hope that she died quickly and without too much pain.  And we may build a memorial shelter closer to our house for her future dog followers--Athena being the most immediate beneficiary.

As with all things, you have all these emotions about what is personal to you.  So i had a sense of loss and the marking of time and family life that each dog represents.  And the sadness that in a way, you can't afford to let yourself love them and pet them and take them in.  I'm always struck that when USP students come to our house, they sort of gravitate towards our dogs as though they were American pets, and they just aren't.  Then there's the fact, that while you are mourning a dog, there are probably thousands of humans suffering badly in a storm like that with flooding, poor roofing, all the disease that gathers around lots of standing waters, violent lightening/thunderstorms... 

You can't quite let yourself feel that the world is over because your pet died.  But you are sad, and life isn't fair.  And will we see our pets in heaven?  And can God bring them back? (Mary's tearful question). 

Yes, we're sad and yes we're reconciled to our pet reality here.  And yes, we feel that God would want peace and security and provision for all his creation, but also live in the reality that we're part of bringing that peaceable kingdom.  We pondered what we're supposed to say at the doggie burial---mostly that we're thankful that we had a good dog, that God wants us to be in right relationship with animals and that in his time God will give and take away.  And so we commend Rusty to the earth. 

Driving dilemmas

Photo by Rosie Button or her school commuters

Driving in Uganda is a bit like frogger of former Atari fame.  There is a lot of "dodging",  a lot of jostling, a lot of actually driving into the pothole and back up the other side... Today  I had a couple reflections on my drive into Kampala.  

One prelude comment is addressing the sheer privilege we have to drive... it definitely tends to be part of an American identity, to assume the right to drive and assume the need to drive and to assume the independence that one has by being able to drive.  And with this privilege comes an aspect of cross-cultural life which can cause me stress--the conspicuous nature of being wealthy and privileged in poor country.   At this point in time (as compared with even 5 years ago) and at our location (basically a suburb of the capital), it is less of a novelty that we can and do drive, but I am regularly self-consciousness of this and wonder if I'm supposed to be sharing this privilege more. 

One time in the last month, we were heading to town with our staff for a birthday celebration.  On the way, we picked up a young Ugandan friend/colleague.  I shared that I often feel I should be picking up people on my way to town but assumed it best to only pick up people I know.  This friend agreed and shared that just that week, she had picked up a lady with a baby and in the process of trying to drop that lady to her destination hit another lady with a baby who was riding on a boda-boda (motorbike).   I think she was trying to say that we all feel we should help but certain forms of help actually are complicated for all of us.  It's not a wealth thing, a race thing, a privilege thing, it's just that helping people you know is always a bit more straightforward.  


This morning I had another moment of driving "angst"... It has been rainy of late and therefore mud, slippery roads, traffic, etc, leads to more "decision-making" on the roads.  I was on a road that was pretty narrow, with potholes, lots of pediastrians; I got to one pothole and dipped in and out of it but in the process splashed muddy water up onto pedestrians who were waiting for a taxi.  I saw in my mirror the disgusted look of one fellow and I was so mad at myself for not paying attention.  I looked in my rearview mirror and realized that there were two cars coming the other way which is why I had not avoided the pothole; i couldn't have avoided it without hitting an oncoming car.  So, ultimately, it was the quality of the road that led to my moment of ruining a few folks day, or at least their outfits. 

The size of things

The size of things:

I promised i would write more about our tree so here is one thought that has struck me the last few days.

The scale of something makes it note-worthy.  Mary said to me yesterday, "I think I find anything cute that is small or a baby version of something."  I totally agree.  Mark or my mom (sorry, can't recall), once said, even a baby warthog is cute.  Evidence that size is a part of cuteness.

And likewise, the massiveness of something inspires awe.  I will address this in relation to our tree but thought i'd remark on a cause of traffic this morning.  I was heading to town to meet a friend and pick up kids from school and I had to pull over because the largest items I've ever seen were passing carried by a flatbed truck.  I don't know what the thing was (I think either parts of a power plant or a water plant).... I was in awe of the items and had that humbling awareness that I have no idea what kind of large pieces of equipment are all about me, providing power and water daily (Uganda residents this is not an ironic comment though it could be).

Which brings me to our tree... I think I feel that the magnificence of the tree is the combination of its size/grandeur/strength and its supreme gracefulness.  That somehow ultimate beauty is a combination of grace and strength... one or the other of these attributes is great, but the combination is truly beautiful and enduring.

So, one more photo just to remind you (and me in years to come if I ever go back and read these!!!)

another mother's humor

Someone else's self-description of her blog: 


I chose “Momastery” because a monastery is a sacred place, apart from the world, where a seeker retreats to figure out what matters and catch glimpses of God. That’s exactly what motherhood is like to me. It's also exactly like being slowly pecked to death by merciless chickens. After sunrise each day I’m a mother to three and a wife to one. But in the early morning hours...while savoring my silent house and mug of hot coffee, I’m a writer. I hope you like me. If so, please comment or email. I love hearing from people who aren’t begging for snacks. Love, Glennon 


too funny not to pass on.... sorry for copyright issues but i'm trusting my audience not to sue me or pass me along to be sued. :)

Something about Mary

There's something about Mary...

Of course, I love each of my children "equally" but really "differently" is a better adverb.  Because they are different, because the interaction of me with each of them is different, because I'm not sure describing love without understanding the fact that the love is ultimately an interaction between two people... 

But I digress... here are some things I love about Mary Mirembe Louise Bartels.  Most of you who know her well at all will not think I'm boasting to say that Mary is by her very nature loving and sweet.  Whether it is a middle child phenomena or just the very fiber of her being, she very much wants to please and to help other people be happy.  She can burst into tears if she thinks someone she loves is sad or worse yet that she made them sad.  For a concrete example, she persuaded me to draw in some figures (her and Rachel) to our Ugly Duckling book... after a string of characters who tell the duckling that she is ugly, "mary" and "rachel" are sitting in the snow banks saying "you are beautiful".   And then one night recently, Mary said, "we should change it so they say 'you will be beautiful' because on the next page he grows up and meets the other grown swans who are beautiful.

This sensitivity about other people's emotions seems a bit related to her environmental "sensitivity"... from a young age she's exhibited keen sensory observation about her environment--sounds, smells, sights, changes, textures, etc.  I'm sure it is partly her age, but I love when she notices things in a picture book that don't make sense.  And now she'll even notice some part of the story that doesn't fit with or isn't resolved enough, etc.  I'm sure we'll have some interesting years ahead as she tries to reconcile racial/cultural issues because she is more sensitive and in tune than Daniel and I think certain things might not be fine with her regarding the discrepancy of wealth and resources and roles and
opportunities, etc.

Recently very into puzzles, a perfect "observation" game for her

No problem that Rachel leans over to blow the candle out with her

Mary is awesome older sister to her very close follower, Rachel.  You never know if you are biased but I've watched a fair amount of children in my day and I think for the amount of possible conflict the two could have, they are very harmonious... and much of that is due to Mary's kind and patient interactions with Rachel.  I've often attributed that also to the amount of care they've had from Dorothy who would definitely prioritize harmony/community over "fairness" or "individuality".

Mary is artistic... yeah... i can't wait to do art with her over the years.  And she has all the natural signs of it... loves to spend long periods of time painting/drawing.  She is very particular and notices what colors and where, etc.  Sadly, she's starting to show the tell-tale perfectionism/frustration when something doesn't quite meet the visual ideal she has in her mind.  She loves nature and noticing "artistic" elements of life (patterns, colors, shapes, uniquenesses, etc).  

Mary is affectionate.  Over to you Mark! :)  I laugh because Rachel copies Mary on many things but there is no doubt about the naturalness of physical affection... mary is genuinely more affectionate--she enjoys giving and receiving affection (as opposed to rachel who copies but basically gives very sidewards, stiff "embraces")  That said, if there is anyone who receives Rachel's heartfelt affection, it is her older sister Mary.

Well, these are just some tidbits, but on her fourth birthday, I wanted to pause and commemorate this special child of ours. 

Some small celebrations

First some words... if you are lucky, i'll post some photos later...

but i'm in town, and aware that I've gotten "behind" and i can't get bogged down or perfectionism will get the better of me.

tomorrow is Mary's birthday, so i hope to write about her tomorrow! But today there is some coordinating about parties and celebration.

We live on campus at Uganda Christian University and it houses probably two dozen family units, about 8 of those families are ex-patriate families... so due to the nature of birthday celebrations (many Ugandans wouldn't know their own birthday, Ugandan school kids celebrate birthdays by getting the birthday child wet "bathday", and generally speaking there is less pomp and circumstance for Ugandan birthdays). In the days when I  could convince Mary and Rachel that UCU day care was fun, we would send a cake with them to daycare and share in that context.  But Mary, like Daniel, has decided that she's grown out of daycare and her birthday party will likely involve inviting the handful of ex-patriate family kids around.  And I suspect we'll make crepe paper flowers (thanks Grandma Kay) and eat cake (thanks grandma for napkins) and call it a "happy birthday".   And she'll think its awesome.  And I'll remember that such low key birthday celebrations are a gift of living here...

As for other gifts, UCU has put the residences on the generator... I think I've gathered through my off-campus connections that power has been mostly off for the last three days.  wow, great timing on that generator thing---while on an environmental side, you kind of wonder if generators are the cure we want to be celebrating, this circumstance is a little lower guilt.  As explained to me, when you run a certain capacity generator, it is putting out a certain amount of power no matter what.  And UCU's generator was producing more power than the campus was using and as of now it seems the excess power can be used by residences without a "cost"/just using the balance of generated power.

I am also celebrating being done with teaching-- I'm not so sure that I feel I'm a big classroom teacher.  Small groups, one on one discussion, written analysis, you can give me all day. I've decide that I could be an awesome online teacher!!! :)  But the 20+ faces staring at you is enough to unnerve me.  and I have this feeling that my actual skill set (visual, verbal) excludes presentation/oral/on the spot skills.  Mark claims teaching is a skill you develop and that because something is hard or feels unnatural does not mean that one lacks the skill set.  But I think i beg to differ. :)

Anyway, these are some of the small celebrations going on in my world.

Even a child is known by his actions

Sometime, somewhere, in my near or distant history of motherhood is the chorus "even a child is known by his actions, by whether his conduct is pure and right." I just used handy dandy google as my guide and found out that this song is based on proverbs 20:11.   And I thought i'd spend a little time on two implications of this--one for me/mark as adults and one for us as parents, and the role we have in raising our children.

This photo is not a photo of our neighbor's son, but it could be.  They were recently recounting that they are known as the parents of their third born child because he's such a character--not typical as you'd often be known as the parents of the first born.  And their son does wear his superman outfit everyday, in the equatorial heat, in any and all contexts and prefers to be referred to as superman.  He is definitely a child who is known by his actions.

So, how does all this relate to me?
i think the first thing i notice about the proverb is that basically the writer must be trying to correct adults who are trying to justify their actions.  The beauty of language, "even" seems to set the tone for this.  even="c'mon fool"...  and I think the basic point of this is true.  Actions are serious.

Here are some thoughts as related to my life:
1. A cross-cultural reality is that actions do not mean the same thing in every culture.  I think every ex-pat/foreigner deals with the self-consciousness, stress, energy of trying to translate certain actions (either actions to take on for the new culture or actions to cease or hide due to their meaning).  This can be a hard pill to swallow.  For example, dress code... I find it very tiring to be aware of my dress; I'm not good at that in my own culture.  Or eating/drinking while working... I love having a "drink to go" and also grocery shopping-- pretty sure that's defaming the sacramental quality of food/drink as a social communal experience.  That's a bummer.  And I can't claim that I follow all local rules/actions... I'm not really touching the iceberg on what these "actions" but i know that by my actions, i'm often conveying different/opposing/inappropriate things about myself than I would in my own culture.

2. Then there is the issue of actions vs. words... Mark is a real pragmatist; my mom appreciates (and finds curious) Mark's very pragmatic side by giving him various gifts including a local motto (slogan made of shells and seeds) that says "Talking doesn't grow pumpkins" or a magnet that says,  "Preach the gospel at all times; when necessary use words".... Generally speaking, Mark is a man of doing the right thing, more than talking about the right thing.   And I do find this attractive and sometimes maddening... can we do the right thing after we talk about what the right thing is????

Some parenting applications:

And this brings me to reflecting on our role as parents... obviously as you grow into parenthood you are faced with the somewhat humbling(read: daunting) project of raising and teaching these little people to also take responsibility for their actions and to learn how to choose the "right" way.  I'm grateful to have married Mark and his German Lutheran roots.  My mom used to sort of chuckle because Mark would be talking to Daniel (around 2years old) and giving him choices--in a very rational, calm voice he'd present Daniel with his choices and outline some of the consequences of them.   And sure enough, Daniel at age 7 is developing into a very logical sort of fellow, not without the impulsiveness of childhood (think he ate his 10 pieces of halloween candy within the hour) What's interesting is that Mark has adapted that end game to meet Mary's need who tends to be much more emotional.  When I'm impatient with her drama, he's usually able to scoop her up, give her lots of affirmation and affection and then shift into her choices without her feeling "accused" and "sensitive" regarding whatever "choices" she has in front of her.

A funny anecdote on this issue (are there gender differences in this realm?): The girls had these two little pink pillows that had a brand name on them "Bad Girl" with a halo over the "B".  One night Rachel said, "mom, what does my pillow say".... I, not aware that anything could ensue, said, "Bad girl".  This brought on a torrent of tears that no measure of explanation/trickery/humor could assuage.  "You said I'm a bad girl"; "my pillow says i'm a bad girl", "i'm not a bad girl", "i don't want to be a bad girl" and so on.   And I have found this is a different angle that has come up with the girls; they seem more prone to internalize any discipline as an accusation that they are "bad girls".   So, the "choices" conversation has shifted a bit.  I find I'm much more conscious to talk about their "actions" as they seem to take any other disciplinary language/tone as an outright attack on their very soul/character.  Again, I would say at this point that Mary is the very sensitive soul and Rachel is copying Mary's patterns.  Time will tell if Rachel is actually as sensitive as Mary.  But perhaps that ambiguity also adds to the humor of her "bad girl" pillow break-down.

I think Mark would say that we're a good complement... that on his own he might have come up with a few too many "right ways" and rules.  My strengths lies more in the big picture, what really matters in terms of a conflict of wills.  Is coloring with washable markers on one's entire body the time to bring up the "right" way?   Now, I'm not writing a parenting manual and many parents might have a no-marker-right-way-rule but I think Mark and I are seeking to try and boil down the "right" ways to keep them few and focused and consistent.  And this has by no means come without some serious "discussions" about what "majoring in the majors" means-- with lessons learned by both of us.

While I think I sound more conclusive than I feel, I've just been reminded recently that we will be known by our actions--- as adults and as children (and as rearers of the children!:)

Gratitude

Ah, Van Gogh.... the fullness of life.  I wanted to write a little about gratitude and I was trying to think of what art work equalled gratitude to me and I think it is all mixed up with "fullness of life."  Van Gogh's paintings definitely inspire me to see the fullness of life--colors, textures, whole compositions, movement, contrasts, all the fullness of life...

So, I've finished the lecturing part of Compassion and feel like one of the take-aways this time around in teaching it is that the right kind of Christian life, service, compassion, etc, is marked by gratitude.  "This is the deepest meaning of compassionate action.  It is the grateful, free and joyful expression of the great encounter with a compassionate God.  And it will be fruitful even when we can see neither how nor why.  In and through such action, we realize that indeed all is grace and that our only possible response is gratitude."  

As one who can be prone to "angst" about my roles/actions in life, I feel this is a timely reminder that Christians should be testifying to a loving, compassionate God with faith that he will bring a new heaven and a new earth and we are grateful participants--receiving his compassion and fullness of life and sharing that same compassion and fullness of life.   

Right now, I'm enjoying the "fullness" of blogging--catching my people up on my life and my thoughts  via a medium that helps me process but also allows me to reflect a little more intentionally.  I'm enjoying some other writing projects on my list (a couple more art articles, a guest blog on "stuff expat aid workers like). I also enjoy teaching USP students, managing our house and all the people therein, thinking of some summer plans and what that means, thinking through some of my artistic possibilities, enjoying our kids as they get older and grow into their own persons, appreciating various cultural/communal aspects of our life, enjoying more time for reading...  Generally speaking I feel grateful for the chance to seek and receive the fullness of life and to share that grace in the areas that best match my talents/contexts/abilities/relationships, etc. 

Someone once told me that instead of wearing WWJD bracelets (What Would Jesus Do), we could wear WWVGD (What would Van Gogh Do) and i found this to hit on something.  Obviously, if we could all become like Jesus that would be fantastic, but due to the various interpretations and legalism that gets wrapped up in these attempts, its refreshing to think outside the box a little.  What would it be like to live into the fullness of this life as depicted by Van Gogh--to celebrate the intensity of our humanity and our environment and the common things of this life.   "Love calls us to the things of this world" (line from Richard Wilbur poem).   

Seasons and a slant of light

The USP duplex (not our house, but our colleagues; we look down at their place from our house--hence the photo)... a couple points to make... 

I don't know that this photograph quite captures it but "there is a certain slant of light".... while we don't have the seasons that mark many North American's calendar, we do have some slight variations.  The big categories are dry and wet season.  But for me, someone who has always loved late afternoon light, there are "light" seasons in Uganda.  Basically, we live on the equator which means 12 hours of light, 12 hours of dark. However, I find that it does shift... it can get light by 6:15 am and then beginning to get dark by 6:30 pm....and it can shift and get light closer to 6:45 and stay light until 7:00ish... I haven't figured out which months this happens or what it means exactly, but i know we're now in the season for lovely orange light in the late afternoon. 

So, this is our lovely tree in our yard which has magnificent colors in the bark in rain or shine... but Mary and I always try to find the pink, purple and orange in it-- a concept that I'm glad she understands and enjoys!

As November comes, and I hear and read about fall colors and holidays and snow, I have to say that I, like my mom, do struggle with missing the seasons--especially the cozy ones.  I know this is anathema to all my sunshine loving friends and family, but deep down i'm a melancholy-weather girl.  What's been interesting to me is that my kids who have only grown up in the equatorial sun seem to, at least sentimentally, identify with cozy weather.  I've always assumed that what you grow up with feels "homey", but I'm thinking that like other parts of personality, we do have a connection to our environment that somehow suits us.  

But this topic of seasons and this shot of the duplex, also reminds me of seasons of life.  We have been blessed with many staff members who are also our friends and our community.  This year one good friend/colleague is leaving and we are entering the season of letting her go and preparing for a new person/s.  Other friends/colleagues are also going through big personal seasons of life and you can't help but give deference to the seasons--they will come and go and we will enjoy some more than others.  A favorite Zora Neale Hurston quotation of mine is from Their Eyes Were Watching God; "There are years that ask questions and years that answer them."

For those in North America, I'll get back for a fall one day, but until then soak it up for me. :) And I promise I try to soak up my certain slant of light on a tree that marks this season of life for me!

  

Already but not yet

I feel a bit of a ramble coming on but I'll try to tie together the "journey" of my mind at present. 

I am preparing for teaching on Friday, and teaching Henri Nouwen no less, and so my thoughts are definitely a bit more in the abstract and more serious claims of a Christian life.  

I was reading my friend's blog (our new neighbor who I share the school commute with has begun her work as a medical doctor at an AIDs clinic).  She has just begun work and was sharing about the intensity/tension of having so much and of helping those who have so little, many of whom are literally dying.  And then I got online today and saw the art article I had written for a local online art journal (startjournal.org--Vision for Africa article).   And part of me knows that as Christians we are all called to live out this embodied humanity of our gifts, our strengths, our loves, our personalities and our limitations.  But part of me doesn't trust that at the end of the day, I am not ultimately creating a life about my own self-preservation, fulfillment, "carving out for myself niches in life where I can maintain a safe distance from others"(Nouwen).  

I'm teaching our students about Henri Nouwen's book Compassion in which he claims that as humans (even most Christians), we're wired for competition and defining ourselves by our distinctions and self-preservation.  He quotes Senator Hubert Humphrey who said, "Gentlemen, look at this pencil.  Just as the eraser is only a very small part of this pencil and is used only when you make a mistake, so compassion is only called upon when things get out of hand.  The main part of life is competition: only the eraser is compassion.  It is sad to say, gentlemen, but in politics compassion is just part of the competition."  

As I'm teaching the students, and telling them that if they just do this more radical life of compassion and discipleship together with other Christians they'll be fine; I'm thinking "I'm with other Christians trying to figure out my compassionate life and I don't know that I'm hitting the mark." In thinking about all this on a more personal level, I found this picture of Rembrandt's which is comforting--- here's Mary, carrying the saviour of the world, letting it "be done unto me according to thy will", and still looking a bit bewildered and lost and tired and alone.   I think there is some theological word for "already but not yet" and in my preparations for teaching I'm feeling that this is part of where I am--- an advent acceptance of life, that we are preparing, that Christ has come but we're also waiting for his coming, that we are called to be "interruptions" (Katongle, Mirror to the Church) or "displaced people" (Nouwen-- "We do not got after crosses, but we have to take up the crosses that have been ours all along.  To follow Jesus, therefore means first and foremost to discover in our daily live's God's unique vocation for us).  

And I think these calls are best done in a community of fellow "interrrupters", fellow displaced people, fellow symbols of God's presence/solidarity with suffering and our fallen state.   And I can always pray more, seek more, ask others to pray, watch and learn from others (in person, in books, in community, in prayer).  And I may be a little tired, lost, unsure, heading down a dusty path hoping that I am being obedient, hoping that God's miracle is casting light in the midst of the darkness.  

Many a truth is said in jest

Many a truth is said in jest: this is a more secular version and I could add in some Christian language to up the sarcasm but I think I'll let it stand alone.  I think a reality that is different in home life overseas is the house help factor which everyone navigates a bit differently.  And I hope to share some of my experience over the years on this subject, but this is a humorous introduction to the issue.  

From a blog called "whatexpataidworkerslike.com"

EAWs like (or at least often end up) feeling ambivalent about “the help.”   They think of themselves as scrappy and self-reliant – certainly more than capable of cooking, cleaning and washing clothes on their own.  They also see all humanity as their brethren, nobody inherently more noble or deserving than the next.  So, they are constitutionally predisposed to be uncomfortable with the subservient dynamic of house help.

But they need help, don’t they?  Whether they are community-based or working from a swank office in a capital city, EAWs at least need the laundry done.  And washing clothes by hand alone is a full time job.  Part time at least.  And they have that other full time job making the world right, so they feel justified in paying someone “the fair market rate” (which inconveniently hovers around the global poverty line) to get some things done around the house.   And they’re doing their part to take a dent out of the always enormous national unemployment rate.  Who can argue with that?

Who needs to argue with that?  The EAW is in a constant state of arguing with herself over the whole endeavor.

Given her tidy salary and dank perks, she could pay more, but that’s really distorting the local economy, and she’s here to tread lightly so she can’t go around doing that, can she?  Or can she?

Anyway, she treats her 46-year-old “house girl” well.  Much better than the locals.  She pays her kids school fees, lets her leave for funerals and weddings and gives her the left-over… just about anything.  She always thanks her profusely and insists on being called by her first name.  She take a certain pride in her munificence.  But there’s that gnawing question: Am I a saint or a sucker?

Most EAWs accept paying a small farang/mzungu/whatever premium, but there’s nothing an EAW loathes more than being taken for a ride.   Paying a chump’s rate for anything is a sure sign that you don’t know the culture well enough to negotiate a local rate — a mistake an EAW cannot afford to make if he is to boast of any measure of field cred.  Plus, EAWs are well versed in evils of dependency and paternalism, so there are limits to their largesse on principle.

But then there it is.  Staring them right in the face and every day.  The inequalities of the world personified in their hire.

A newbie who doesn’t quite understand the delicate psychological equilibrium EAWs have constructed will, over a $5 glass of wine, rudely compare the price of any of his petty indulgences with the monthly salary of the help. “You know, the costs of last night’s stay at the Addis Sheraton would pay Muna’s salary for 3 months.”  This is often followed by uncomfortable silence, far away looks or occasionally eye rolling.  Then another gulp of wine.