MB's Adventures

To talk or not to talk, which is the victory?

2011-03-26T00:23:00.000-07:00

I just spent five days at a women's retreat in Kenya, held annually for East African missionaries. Before we left for the retreat, Mona Lee, the woman who would lead the teaching/discussion time, asked me to be part of a discussion she would facilitate on the topic of suffering. No problem, I replied. Except...there was a problem. As I counted down each day of the retreat, I realized that the discussion was going to take place on March 24th. Oh.

[For those of you who don't know me, the "suffering" I would be talking about was the loss of my son, Tai, fourteen years before, and some pretty difficult associated fallout, involving my grieving husband turning to cocaine, and my daughter and I eventually having to literally sneak out the back door one day to get away while he was sleeping.]

March 24th happens to be Tai's birthday. It's one of two days of the year during which I consciously avoid any stressor that might make me dwell on that time in my life. (The other being March 7th, the day he died.) And when I say "avoid any stressor," I mean it. Just visualize me like a little kid, closing my eyes and putting my hands over my ears, saying "lalalalalalala" nonstop for, oh, say, about twenty-four hours. Or maybe an ostrich, sticking my head in imaginary sand for a day. I used to take those days off work and spend the day in a hidden location. Well, perhaps not so much hidden as unfindable. It usually involved, if possible, my daughter and shopping and chocolate and the avoidance of looking at anything with the date on it.

Take my word for it, it's a wise decision on my part. For instance, at the women's retreat last year, I was blindsided by not one but TWO rather sad songs sung during the worship time, and I broke down so completely I had to leave the chapel. What day was it? March 24, of course. Talk about embarrassing. By the way, I neatly took care of that situation this year by asking the worship organizers to avoid singing those two songs. Of course, then I spent the whole worship session worrying if there was another song that might set me off. Oh, well. I was so busy brooding over that, at least I didn't cry. Whatever works, right?

Obviously, the thing to do here was swallow my pride, go to Mona Lee, and explain that not only would I not participate in the discussion, but I would not even be with the group during that session, and would instead be hiding out in my room listening to music with headphones so as to make sure NOTHING of that particular powwow wafted its way to my ears. (This, even though the dialogue would be held in a separate building a hundred meters away from my bedroom.) After all, what good would I be during a discussion on suffering if all I did was sob uncontrollably? Which would no doubt make all the other poor women suffer, but I don't think that's what Mona Lee had in mind.

Good, sensible decision. Whew. Glad that's settled. No problem. Except...there was a problem. It was the wrong decision.

Why? Because the one thing I have learned is that sometimes God has a reason for me to share a little about the plain old awfulness of that period. God is amazing and awesome, and he worked for his glory during the most heartbreaking, sad, even scary time of my life. And he worked for victory. Not all victories involve jaw-dropping healings or visions or amazing stories of wicked people becoming incredible Christians. Some victories involve just getting up every day and continuing to breathe in and out when you really don't want to even wake up. Some victories involve thinking you've lost almost everything and thinking that your ten years of prayer and fasting for your family have come to nothing, but deciding still to trust God. Some victories involve the quiet realization many years later that God answered your heartfelt prayers, and that someday your family will be completely reunited in heaven. And some victories involve being willing fourteen years later to sit in a room with thirty women on March 24 and risk making a fool of yourself so that you can tell them this.

To talk or not to talk. Guess which I did.

[But don't you all dare give me any special credit. Nope. Linda Tyler and Carol Maples, you were incredible in your openness and willingness to also talk about what had happened in your life and in your giving all glory to God. You are amazing women, and I was so blessed to hear you.]

Sometimes it's hard to guess the ending

2010-09-07T22:00:00.001-07:00

As we go forward with the work on the university, Satan is NOT sitting still. The team has been very aware for the past year that we are under attack. Sickness, lawsuits, attempts to break the unity of the team (both on the African side and on the missionary side), behavior issues that resulted in the loss of important members of the African leadership and staff -- the list just goes on and on.

Last Wednesday night, the missionary team went out to the land to have a pre-dedication dedication. We worshipped the living God ON the land itself, we spent some time in prayer, and then Phillip anointed the land with oil. As he poured the oil on the land, a gentle rain began to fall. To the Ugandan people, rain is a physical sign of blessing. It was as if God were taking the oil Phillip was pouring in one particular spot and multiplying it over the whole land.

The next day, the team (African and American) divided up to finish preparations for the official land dedication and also to work on the Churches of Christ National Meeting which was to start Friday in Mbale. As we were all busy with our tasks, we suddenly received tragic news: Simon, Jennipher Ndegemo's father (Jennipher is an African member of the team), was struck and killed while crossing the road out at the LIU land site. A young man with him was critically injured. In Uganda, there is no 911. It was up to members of the team to go out to the site, take the boy to the hospital (and make sure he got treatment), pick up the body of Jennipher's father, and take care of Jennipher and her mother as they now began to get ready for the funeral. All this while going forward with the other preparations. People were doing their work as they cried. No one doubted that this was an attempt by an angry Satan to stop the dedication.

Yes, the dedication went forward as planned. We stood on the land and again praised the living God -- this time with 350 people participating. Pastors preached. People sang and danced. There was much worship and praise. Phillip again anointed the land with oil. He then invited people to come forward to be anointed with oil and proclaim themselves ready to be set apart for God. So many people came forward that I began to wonder if the oil would hold out. It did.

The land dedication lasted until early Friday morning, and we all knew that God had had the victory that night.

But the story isn't over yet. No, indeed. Today, Shadrack, the guard who works out at the land, came to meet with Phillip at the office.

Shadrack had been plagued by a large snake -- "Oh, very large, very, very large!" -- out at the land. No matter how hard he tried, he could not kill that snake. Snakes, by the way, represent evil to most Ugandans (and I must say that I totally agree with them on that). On Friday, a few hours after the dedication ceremony ended, guess what happened. Shadrack finally killed the snake? No. The snake decided to leave the just-dedicated land. It began to cross the road.

The snake was struck and killed -- on the very spot that Jennipher's father had been hit.

Do I believe that was God's hand at work? Yes, I do. But that is not as important as the fact that every single Ugandan who hears the story will understand the symbolism. They will fear and reverence the living God who continues to make known that He is in control of the land and of the construction of LivingStone International University.

Sometimes it IS hard to guess the ending. But sometimes it's easy.

God wins.

Of Ceremonies and Celemonies

2010-02-10T22:18:00.000-08:00

Part One: In Which I Ponder What I've Lost

There was an important ceremony held in Austin, Texas, a couple weeks ago: The baby dedication of Magnolia Jane Carroll, daughter of Jennifer and Jonathan Carroll, sister to Noah David Carroll, and granddaughter of Ron and Mary Carroll...and of Mary Beth Bodiford. So far I haven't seen a photo of the affair (probably because all the photo-takers were part of the ceremony), but I'm sure it was wonderful. I'm also certain the family celebration after the dedication was full of joy and laughter.

And I wasn't there.

Part Two: In Which I Ponder What I've Gained

There was an important celemony held in Kamonkoli, Uganda, a few weeks ago: The baby dedication of Tricia and Tracy, twin daughters of Benard and Juliet. ("Celemony" is how many Ugandans pronounce -- and spell -- the word "ceremony.")

I will tell you the whole story of the dedication some other time, but for now it is enough to tell you that I, along with Jennifer Ashlock and Emily Daw, was privileged to be a part of this important family celebration. I had the incredible blessing of being allowed to pray for Tricia and Tracy.

It was a wonderful day. A day of rejoicing with the Kamutono family as they committed their daughters to the Lord. A day of joy and laughter.

And I was there.

How Did I Get so Lucky?

2009-10-18T08:33:00.000-07:00

- or -

In Praise of Sons-in-Law

Named Jonathan

Who have a wife named Jenni

And a son named Noah

[For all of you who faithfully follow my blog (modest cough here), you may remember that last year about this time I wrote a shamelessly sentimental tribute to my daughter, Jenni, on the occasion of her birthday. I just reread it, and you know what? I can't improve on it. And it's all still true. So scroll down this blog until you get to October 2008 (if you're reading this on fb, you'll have to click on the link to my blog on my profile), get out your kleenex, read about wonderful Jenni, and then quick hop back here.

Are you back? Good. Okay, here we go.]

Like most parents, from the time my daughter was tiny I prayed about the man she would someday marry. Now I have talked to moms who had a shopping list of requirements they laid before God in regards to their future son-in-law. Intelligence, education, vocation, family background, hometown, sense of humor, favorite football team...

I don't remember getting that specific in my prayers. I prayed that Jenni would marry the man the Lord had prepared to be her husband. I prayed that she would marry the man for whom the Lord was preparing her to be a wife. I longed with all my heart that Jenni marry someone who really, really loved the Lord and really, really loved Jenni.

Have you ever noticed that sometimes when you ask God for something, he graciously gives you exceedingly more, pressed down, shaken together, and running over?

Let me introduce you to Jonathan David Carroll. He really, really loves the Lord and really, really loves Jenni. He works hard to take care of his family. In my book, that makes him a great son-in-law right there. But Jonathan has done so much more than that. Not only has he shown wisdom and sensitivity in accepting me into his life, he has often gone out of his way to make sure that I feel loved and welcomed into their family. Jonathan seemed to understand from the moment he married Jenni that there would be times that I would need -- well, a son, and he willingly stepped into that role, whether it was to offer a helpful male point of view when I needed advice, or to change that 12-foot-off-the-ground, burned-out light bulb in my townhome. Even now, sometimes I find myself sending a frantic e-mail or iChat message to Jonathan from Africa, asking for help with my Macbook or Jenni's birthday present. And he's always there for me.

But see, if that's all I say, I'm not really giving you a true picture of Jonathan, because in addition to all that, Jonathan just happens to be the coolest, funnest, best-sense-of-humor-est son-in-law in the whole world. He's talented, funny, and much too witty for his own good. Spend a day with Jonathan, and you'll never be bored.

Jonathan's birthday comes on October 22, exactly one week before Jenni's. So this year, when you give Jenni that hug and tell her that her mom loves her more than life itself, please give Jonathan a hug as well, okay? Tell him that Jenni's mom loves him and is exceedingly grateful that he is her son-in-law.

So I guess Dr. Don's to blame?

2009-10-04T04:20:00.000-07:00

It is 2006. I am office manager at Brown Pruitt Peterson & Wambsganss, and I am in Don Ferrill's office, waiting to ask a question. He ignores me to finish reading something on his computer, so I shamelessly peek over his shoulder to see what is so engrossing. Ah! It's a newsletter from Phillip Shero, giving the highlights of the recent University Advisors' Summit held in Mbale, Uganda. I sigh. "Oh, how exciting! I would sure love to be a part of the work God is doing to build a university there."

It is 2009. Joy, Diana, and I are standing in a small booth (eventually to be a sound booth) at the back of Mbale of Church of Christ. In front of us are neat stacks of 50,000-shilling notes counted into one-million and five-million shilling bundles. We look out the sound booth window at the group of about forty landowners, mostly couples, who will be coming back to us in a moment to collect their money. But right now each person is waiting their turn to meet with Phillip and the solicitor to sign a contract selling their land -- land on which someday, as the Lord provides, LivingStone International University is to be built. I think of my wish three years earlier, and I think of where I am now. I sigh...

God is good.

Cleanliness ISN'T close to godliness?

2009-09-11T05:44:00.000-07:00

(I'm sure it's in there somewhere. Try Proverbs 32.)

The longer I live in Uganda, the more I am humbled and awed by -- what? Western technology? I do appreciate cars and computers and the Risograph at MTI (and the technician who fixes it), but no. Electricity? I mean, where would civilization be without electricity? Yes, I love the sound of the refrigerator humming along and I do love that green Internet light glowing on the modem and I get really tickled by the fact that I'm communicating to you back in the States almost instantaneously from AFRICA, for goodness' sakes, but no, I don't spend a lot of time contemplating the wonder of it all. And I don't believe civilization is dependent on technology or electricity. Both Greece and Rome seemed to get along just fine without either satellite communications or Hummers.

Water.

I am becoming more and more entranced with water.

Just stop and ponder for a moment: How long would any person/family/town/state/country last if its water supply were cut off? Would people begin to die of thirst first? Or disease?

Or let's put it another way. Let's say you live one kilometer away from a water supply. Only one kilometer. About six-tenths of a mile. And you can have all the water you want from that water supply, but you must walk there yourself and take the water home in whatever kind of container you can make or can afford to buy. One gallon of water weighs eight pounds, which means that the five-gallon bucket you managed to buy and that you're proudly using to carry the water in weighs forty pounds. Every drop of water that you drink, cook with, wash clothes in, and clean house with has been carried by you in five-gallon, forty-pound increments from that water supply six-tenths of a mile away.

I'm sure you see where I'm headed with this. After you have saved out enough water to drink -- because you must have water to survive -- exactly how much water would you use to wash your rice and beans before you cook them? (And both rice and beans are quite dirty until they're washed.) How often would you feel it necessary to wash clothes? dishes? yourself?

And how good would you feel those rare times when you were able to be completely clean and still have a cup of water in your hand to drink? And how much easier would it be to think of spiritual things when you didn't feel, well, filthy? Okay, okay, so I know that "Cleanliness is next to godliness" isn't really in the Bible. But I think I understand the reasoning behind the equation a little better now.

Praise God, even though I live in a third-world country, I still have the marvelous gift of running water. But I watch people every day who do not. The mission team, as part of their efforts to serve the people of Mbale, offers a well for public use. The well sits just inside the grounds of Messiah Theological Institute, and it is very rare that you come to MTI that there is not a group gathered there, waiting their turn to get free, clean water. Today it was a group of children, pumping water to take home to their families.

(As always, click on the photo to get a high-res version.)

I tried to get an unposed shot, but the moment they saw the camera,

they all turned into little hams.

The writing on the ramp says,

"Let anyone who is Thirsty come to me. John 7:37"

Water is precious. Water is life. So is it any wonder that Jesus talked about water so much? And that he referred to himself as the Living Water? And is it any wonder that the people listening to him found that statement overwhelmingly attractive? To never have to go to the well again...

"Whoever drinks this water will thirst again,

but whoever drinks the water I give him will never thirst.

Indeed, the water I give him will become in him

a spring of water welling up to eternal life."

John 4:13-14

Thank you, Jesus, for being our source of Living Water.

The Joys of Drudgery

2009-09-10T01:29:00.000-07:00

This morning as I was drinking my morning tea and reading my Psalm of the day, appreciating the fact that I did not have to jump up and go anywhere for a few hours, it suddenly hit me: Power had stayed ON since I had gotten up, instead of the seemingly constant on/off/on/off of the past week or so. I turned on the kitchen faucet and - yes! - city water was on. Staying home + stable electricity + city water = LAUNDRY DAY!

I managed to get three and half loads done before Umeme (Uganda power company) decided that I'd had enough excitement and turned off the power. (My yellow load is condemned to sit in the dryer until power returns or until I hang it up in the bathroom to dry.) But still, three and half loads!

Thank you, Lord, for the gift of plenty of clothes. And thank you for the gift of a working washer and dryer. And finally, thanks for the gift of electricity and water.

Funny, it doesn't seem like drudgery anymore...

Get Smart

2009-08-21T09:57:00.000-07:00

- or -

I do not think it means what you think it means

Last week I shared a few of my favorite cultural run-ins involving language. However, I don't want to leave you all with the impression that Ugandans are the only ones who get tripped up while doing their best to communicate in a different language than the one they're accustomed to. Those of us from the other side of the pond sometimes have the same problem. You see, we tend to think that if we're speaking English and they're speaking English, then we're all on the same page, right?

Right?

Uh...no.

We might not even be reading the same book. Almost any Englishman will happily tell you that Americans do not speak English. After living here for a year, I sometimes think they're right.

Case in point: A few weeks ago I was having an earnest conversation with Benard, one of the guards at the school compound. "Benard," I said, "I really wish you would take courses at MTI."

Big smile from Benard. "Maybe someday, Mama."

"No, really, Benard. I want you to go. You are so smart."

Quizzical look.

"Yes, Benard. You are very smart, and you should go to school."

Extremely puzzled look.

"Don't you believe you are smart? I do. I hope you will decide to go to school."

Downright confused look.

(Perhaps he's not as smart as I think he is?)

At this point, a friend standing nearby quietly said, "Mary Beth, I hope you realize you're saying he should go to school because he's a snappy dresser." Benard smiled and nodded, and everyone laughed while I turned a couple different shades of red and wished that one of the "hot dogs" (see previous post) would come drag me away. Score: British English 1; American English 0.

BEWARE OF HOT DOGS!

2009-08-14T21:22:00.000-07:00

Okay, I have to say this up front: I believe that any honest Westerner living in Uganda, no matter how much they love, respect, and admire the people here, will admit that sometimes when Western culture crashes headlong into Ugandan culture, the results can be, well, funny. (The results can also be frustrating and infuriating, but that's another blog.) I have resisted talking about these clashes -- most of which involve language -- because I have wanted to avoid any appearance of disrespect. After all, this is their country. I am the visitor here. Also, when it comes to language, however much they struggle with English, they speak it much better than I speak Luganda, Lugisu, Swahili, or any of the four or five other languages spoken in this area. So I have decided to share some of my favorite "culture moments" with you, but don't you all be taking that as license to dis my favorite people, okay?

"Beware of Hot Dogs"

This ominous warning is scrawled on the wall just outside the compound that houses the MK (missionary kids) school and the teacher house. I saw it for the first time just after I arrived last year. I spent quite a while pondering just how scary a wiener can be before someone enlightened me to the fact that over here a hot dog is an angry pooch. Since many Ugandans are terrified of dogs, the night guards at the teacher house consider this sign their first line of defense in protecting the premises. And so it is, even though the main thing you're in danger of with these dogs is being licked to death.

"Jesus is a --" what did they just say?

Along the same lines, at church a favorite praise and worship song has the line, "Jesus is a winner." Except Ugandans pronounce "i" with the long "e" sound. Mull that over for minute or two. Jesus is a wiener? I'm sure the Ugandan choir was wondering why all the white folk began to giggle every time we sang that song. Finally we explained to the worship leader that what we're hearing, basically, is "Jesus is a sausage." Not sure why, but we don't sing that particular song much anymore.

"You are gradually invited"

On salary day yesterday, I was given a notice to hand to each worker as they were paid. I am reproducing the note as faithfully as possible below:

Messiah Theological Institute

P.O. Box 1790

14th august 2009

Re: Workers meeting

You are gradually invited to attend workers meeting due 14th August 2009 Mbale church of Christ at exactly 4:00pm.

Note you are invited to attend in person without fail.

Yours pastor MCC

William Mbulakyalo

I've discussed this with a couple Mzungu friends, and our guess is that William was aiming at graciously inviting the workers, but we're not totally certain of that. Feel free to come up with an alternate hypothesis. Also, do you notice that the meeting starts at exactly 4:00 pm? NOTHING in Africa starts at exactly anything. I am willing to wager that the meeting started at exactly approximately 4:48 pm. But they still added the word "exactly," probably because they've seen it written that way somewhere else. No doubt on a Mzungu notice. To me, though, the most interesting cultural marker here is the "You are invited to attend in person without fail." Ugandans do not like to phrase things in the imperative. William is telling the workers as clearly as possible that this is a mandatory meeting, and they had better be sitting on a church bench at exactly -- well, exactly whenever it starts. This is his effort to phrase that polite command in English, and when you think about it, he got his point across quite well.

Wow, look at the time! I guess this blog entry just turned into Part One, because I need to get back to work. I'll share a few more stories in exactly one week.

Greetings from Mama Mzungu in Mbale, Uganda, where God continues to bless her with an incredible (and sometimes an incredibly funny) adventure!

APRIL 18??

2009-08-03T11:31:00.000-07:00

What do you mean, I haven't posted a blog since April 18? I must have. You don't think I'd miss writing about the absolutely incredible University Advisor's Summit held at the end of April, where I -- little Mary Beth Bodiford from Fort Worth, Texas -- not only had the privilege of meeting wonderful men and women from all over Africa who share the vision of LivingStone International University, but also got to have dinner with Dr. Sarah Ntiro, the first female college graduate in Uganda? Weren't you paying attention when I told you about getting goosebumps when Dr. Ntiro matter-of-factly explained how she had escaped from Uganda during the Idi Amin era by crossing the border on a Sunday morning, counting on the fact that the guards would still be drunk enough from Saturday night not to realize who she was, but knowing if they did recognize her, she would be arrested and killed? And you couldn't have missed my hilarious account of getting up and dancing with the African Teso band during the Summit or my not-so-hilarious account of thinking that I'd lost $200 that belonged to one of the elders at my church who was attending the Summit. Of course not.

And then the Metroplex team visit in May. You must have read my highly entertaining but also quite serious account of the group of pastors and church leaders who came from the Dallas-Fort Worth area to visit Mbale specifically to learn more about the university and to prayerfully consider how God would have their church be involved in the building of LivingStone.

Oh, and don't even try to tell me that you missed reading about my flying back to the States at the end of May and of that intensely moving moment when I walked through the doors at DFW Airport and got to hug my daughter for the first time in over a year. Or when I took the Africa pendant necklace from around my neck and placed it around hers and thanked her for allowing me to go to Uganda.

Right, and I'll bet you totally skipped over my ongoing "Vacation Food Journal" in which I regaled you with a day-by-day account of the Italian, Mexican, Japanese, and Chinese food that loving friends and family insisted on feeding me while I was in the States, of the FOUR different times I had ribs while I was home (and would have happily had more!) and of sitting down at my favorite hole-in-the-wall restaurant, ordering catfish, and KNOWING that I was back in Fort Worth, Texas. Oh, and I'm absolutely certain that I told you about my best friend bringing me fried chicken livers from that same restaurant for my last meal on American soil before coming back to Uganda.

And after all that, now you're going to mumble something about how you didn't read my most recent essay where I talked of tearfully saying good-bye to Jenni, Jonathan, Noah, and, yes, Baby Carroll (who will be born around Christmas), and of resolutely turning my face southeast to return to serving the Lord in Mbale, Uganda.

And of the joy I felt when I saw the face of my Ugandan friend Peace light up as she said, "Welcome back, Mary Beth. We are so happy to see you. How is your home?"

Well, I'm certain I wouldn't have forgotten to write about such important things. So all I can say is, how did you miss reading about them?

TRASH TALK

2009-04-18T02:28:00.000-07:00

FORTY DAYS!

Yes, forty days from today, Lord allowing, I will step off a plane at DFW International Airport onto American soil -- or in this case, most likely, American carpet. I will have been away from the United States of America for 390 days. So is there anything I'm really looking forward to experiencing again? Any people that I can't wait to see? Well, naturally.

I am really looking forward to:

Seeing Jenni, Jonathan, & Noah the moment I get off the plane. (Okay, the moment I get off the plane, go through customs, and ride down the escalator. But you know what I mean.)
Seeing everybody else from home. (Forgive me for not naming you individually, because I love you all so dearly and can't wait to see you, but I need to keep this list to a semi-manageable length.)
Going to my first RHCC worship service. And my second. And my third...you get the idea. Worshipping with family and friends.
Sonic. Everything.
Driving a car with the steering wheel on the correct side of the car. Driving on the RIGHT side of the road.
Wal-Mart! Woohoo!
DVDs for sale that are NOT pirated copies. Ditto for CDs, although, now that I think about it, I've hardly seen any CDs here.
Squirt. (It's a soda. You should try it.)
Going out in public and not once hearing myself referred to as Mzungu. Now I don't really mind being called Mzungu -- after all, I am Mama Mzungu -- but not everyone here says it politely. And I find it odd that when I'm shopping in the market, often the people trying to get me to buy from them will say it quite rudely.
Roads with no potholes. Roads with stop signs and traffic signals. (Well, technically, what I need to say here is "Stop signs and traffic signals that drivers actually obey." You will occasionally see a stop sign or traffic light in Kampala, the capital city. But no one pays any attention to them.)
Salads. Right now, even iceberg lettuce sounds good.
A store that has new clothes available in assorted sizes.
How could I forget? TARGET! If you've never been to Africa, it's hard to explain how different the stores are here. The stores in Mbale tend to be small, dark, and, well, dirty. Here's a story that might help you understand: Shawn and Linda Tyler, senior members on the team, once took James and Noeli Luchivya (Africans from Kenya who serve with us here in Uganda) to the States. During their visit, the Tylers and the Luchivyas happened to go to Target. Noeli walked in the door, took one look around the beautiful store with its good lighting, big aisles, and spotless, gleaming floors, and asked nervously, "Should I take my shoes off?"
Not experiencing culture stress every time I walk out my front door. Okay, everyone tells me I'm going to go through reverse culture stress, but I'll believe it when I see it. I don't think I'm going to cry the first time I walk into Ross Dress for Less...unless it's tears of joy.
Stable electricity/water/Internet. And water pressure. (Washers that fill in less than an hour, showers with more than six pitiful streams of water -- wow!)
A Pizza Hut Meat Lovers pizza, extra cheese, delivered right to my door.
The spice/seasonings aisle at the grocery store. Ditto for the packaged meals aisle.
Microwave popcorn. (You can get it here sometimes, but it's EXPENSIVE.)
Watching a DVD on any screen larger than a computer screen.
Store-bought grated cheddar cheese. Pitted olives. Raisins with no seeds.
Chili's, Applebee's, Chinese buffets, Mexican restaurants, Italian restaurants.
Dollar stores (Boy, am I going to hit them before I come back to Uganda.)
Not having to answer my door if I don't want to. (Just take my word for it. It's almost impossible to hide out, at least here in Welldone Cottage.)
An oven that heats to the temperature you set it at.
Homemade Chex Mix.

I could go on for quite a while, but this is probably a nice representative list. Look over the list again for a second, especially items 4 through 30. Do you see anything noteworthy?

Me neither.

Everything on that list after No. 3 is completely and totally unimportant. It's trash. It's rubbish. I mean, getting to serve the Lord here with the Mbale Mission Team is so cool, so exciting, how can microwave popcorn or Target compete with that?

Now you ask, what about Items 1, 2, and 3? All of you, my family, friends, and church? Ah, you are incredibly important. You sent me out with your blessing. I'm so excited to come back to see you all. I get to spend forty days with you. And then? Well, as the Lord allows, I will leave you once more (hopefully again with your blessing), and we will all praise God that he has allowed me to give you up -- those whom I love dearly in the US -- so that I may serve Him for one more year with those whom I love dearly in Uganda.

I know I've quoted it before, but it still says it all: Philippians 3:7-10 "But whatever was to my profit I now consider loss for the sake of Christ. What is more, I consider everything a loss compared to the surpassing greatness of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord, for whose sake I have lost all things. I consider them rubbish, that I may gain Christ and be found in him, not having a righteousness of my own that comes from the law, but that which is through faith in Christ -- the righteousness that comes from God and is by faith. I want to know Christ and the power of his resurrection and the fellowship of sharing in his sufferings, becoming like him in his death, and so, somehow, to attain to the resurrection from the dead."

"Pretty sure" is the answer

2009-03-14T03:08:00.000-07:00

Now what was the question?

Before I tell you, please take a look at some photos taken a few Sundays ago.

Phillip and James praying for a new brother and sister in Christ

Gathering at the river

First the brother...

...now the sister are buried in baptism

A final prayer of thanksgiving and blessing

(Not given by me; I was just privileged to be standing near the sister.)

(But I did get to hug her right after the prayer!)

Yesterday I was trading e-mails with a friend back home. I happened to mention that I was feeling kind of homesick. Her loving, subtle, understated, and entirely valid response was exactly as follows: "So, if you are homesick, why are you staying another year???? Are you sure that you are up for it???"

With God's help, yeah, pretty sure.

Whilst I work on Chapter Two, Part Two...

2009-03-10T08:29:00.000-07:00

DID SOMEONE MENTION BRAVE AND ADVENTUROUS?

- or -

Group Hug Time!

Yes, opening a team account with Barclays Bank was a hard-won victory. By the way, in the interests of honesty -- and because he might read this blog someday -- I must admit that said victory was due almost entirely to Phillip Shero's valiant efforts, not mine. In any case, like most victories, there was a price to pay. The price of this particular victory? Oh, right around $4,200.

You see, the team money now lives in a beautiful blue and white building several kilometers away from my office. This is a much safer situation than when it resided in a small gray safe two meters away from my desk; however, since Uganda still remains a cash-only society, I will need to visit the money every now and then, partly to make deposits and withdrawals, and partly to make sure Barclays hasn't given the money away to some random stranger. (See postscript on previous post.) Unfortunately, as a white female in Uganda, walking to and from a bank on a regular basis will almost certainly begin to invite attention of a sort that I would rather do without, as in attracting would-be African Robin Hoods trying to equalize the wealth at my expense.

On a happier note, in addition to needing to make frequent bank visits, my job here has grown in other ways to include additional responsibilities besides merely "keeping books." It will hopefully continue to grow over the next year, especially as the team goes forward with work on LivingStone International University.

Frequent bank visits + added responsibilities = need to be able to travel around Mbale without hitching rides everywhere. The answer?

Meet the Mzungumamamobile!

Yes, thank you very much, God has blessed me with a car! And I do mean THANK YOU! So many of you have supported me over the past year with your encouragement, prayers, and with your hard-earned dollars. I cannot say this strongly enough: I would not be here if not for you. And now that support has allowed me to buy a car. When the exact car I needed came up for sale, the funds were already available, thanks to you all. So everyone gather around. Are you ready? Good. Group hug time! [Insert big group hug here.] When I come home for a visit, I'll do my best to give each one of you an individual hug.

And now, if you'll excuse me, brave and adventurous Mzungu Mama is going to take the Mzungumamamobile out for a spin!

Okay, what side of the road am I supposed to drive on?

And why is the steering wheel on the wrong side of the car????

(Yes, I promise to get back to work on Safari Chapter Two now.)

A random post whilst I work on Chapter Two

2009-03-09T10:21:00.000-07:00

- OR -

And you thought being a number-cruncher was easy!

As mentioned in a previous post, I don't often write about what I actually do for the team, not so much because I am a diffident, self-effacing, modest person -- although, of course, I am proud to say that I am all that -- but because I have not yet figured out a way to make the trials and tribulations of being the team bookkeeper even mildly interesting. Because of this literary failing, you have been spared the six blogs I would have loved to write chronicling Phillip Shero's and Mzungu Mama's determined efforts to open a bank account for the team. Six blogs: One blog for each visit to Barclays Bank wherein we heroically fought to convince the less-than-enthusiastic manager that he should allow the Mbale Mission Team to deposit thirty-five million shillings with his bank. Oh, it was an epic struggle. Somewhere around the fourth visit, exhausted and weary from completing yet another set of forms, and compiling yet another list of documents, I was ready to admit defeat and agree with Barclays that certainly the last thing they would want to do is actually allow people to give them money. But Phillip, who is made of sterner stuff, refused to contemplate surrender. And so we battled on. Finally, on visit number six, Barclays grudgingly allowed us to deposit the first ten million shillings. (Yes, we have since deposited the other twenty-five million.)

I now know what Winston Churchill must have felt like on VE Day...well, no, not really. But I do have that "I'm ready for anything now!" feeling. Mzungu Mama has tracked rhinos in the bush, AND she has successfully opened a bank account at Barclays Bank in Mbale, Uganda. What brave adventurous thing should she attempt next?

Postscript: I know what you're thinking: Man, I hope she never has to make a withdrawal. If Barclays made her jump through all those hoops before they allowed her put the money in the bank, what in the world will she have to do to get the money back out again? Blood test? DNA sample? (Don't be silly. This is a third-world country.) Complete another six-inch stack of Ugandan-style paperwork? (Please, please, anything but that!) Well, strangely enough, two weeks after we opened the account, a wire transfer came through from the States and I needed to withdraw eight million shillings. When I walked up to the window, I had neither cheque book nor proper identification. To make matters worse, the teller did not show me as an authorized signatory. And Barclays still allowed me withdraw the 8,000,000 shillings.

Another lesson in learning how things work in Africa.

Safari Adventure: Chapter One

2009-03-05T04:00:00.000-08:00

- or -

I believe I can see that rhino just fine from inside the bus, thank you.

I had been here for eight months, and whenever Noah (otherwise known as the cutest grandson on the face of the planet) asked me what animals I had seen so far, he heard the same tired litany: cows, goats, and chickens. I don't think that was the list he was hoping to hear from a grandmother living in Uganda. In fact, I was beginning to suspect that he was perhaps a tad unimpressed, so I was overjoyed when Julie Reagan, a teacher at the MK mission school, invited me to go with her parents and her on a three-day safari at Murchison Falls Game Park. Safari! That means animals, right? Specifically, African animals that wouldn't look anything like cows, goats, and chickens, right? I was so overjoyed, in fact, that I didn't bother to get the less important details, such as exactly what we would be doing for three days. I just packed my bags and hopped in the car. Murchison Falls and all you gorgeous animals that AREN'T cows, goats, or chickens, here comes Mzungu Mama!

Day one of the safari began as most adventures do in Africa: with a long drive that starts way too early. So early, in fact, that Abus, our driver and travel guide for the safari, arrived at exactly 5:55 am, just as Julie and I, the seasoned Ugandan residents, were in the middle of explaining to her parents that nothing ever starts on time in Africa so there was no need to rush to get ready by 6:00 am. (By the way, Abus evidently did not know any of the rules involving punctuality in Africa, because he not only arrived five minutes early that first day, he spent the next three days trying to make us Mzungu hurry up.)

It was only after we'd gotten everything loaded and were well on our way -- as in, past the point of no return -- that it occurred to me to request a safari itinerary. Julie happily laid out all the fun and exciting things in store over the next three days: Rhino tracking in the wild, game park tours in a pop-top van, riverboat excursions on the Nile, a visit to Murchison Falls, visiting chimps at the Jane Goodall Institute, a beautiful rainforest lodge to retire to -- it all sounded enchantingly exotic...unfortunately, I didn't quite take it all in. My mind kept getting stuck on the first enchantingly exotic item on the list: rhino tracking in the wild. Rhino tracking? In the wild? I mean, wasn't there some way to do it in the tame? ("Yes, there is. It's called the zoo.")

I spent the next two hours mentally composing brief, but intensely moving, final words to say as they carried me out of the bush on a stretcher. I had just come up with something guaranteed to make me posthumously famous for a week at least -- perhaps more if Reader's Digest picked it up -- when I realized Abus was slowing down the bus. (Yes, we had a lot of fun with his name.) There by the side of the road were several monkeys. Really cute, photogenic monkeys, and they didn't look anything like cows, goats or chickens! I forgot my impending doom long enough to snap a photo or two for Noah.

(As always, click on the image to get a high-res version.)

Is it just me, or do monkeys tend to look faintly disdainful?

Of course, this meant that we were getting close to the game park. Sure enough, soon we were pulling into Ziwa Rhino Sanctuary. Abus introduced us to Ogencan and Richard, our guides for the rhino tracking, then he solemnly shook everyone's hands and climbed back in the van, declining an invitation to go along. Hmm. The guides requested that we sign a "guest book." Right. If this is a guest book, why is there a space to write down "next of kin"?

Before we began the actual trek, the guides explained that rhinos had been hunted to near-extinction in Uganda, not just by mzungu but, sadly, by Africans as well, especially during the Idi Amin era. Rhinos are still a severely endangered species, so much so that countries such as the US are sending rhinos back here to help with repopulation, which currently stands at a mere six rhinos. I discovered that Disney has contributed two rhinos to the re-introduction program, a bit of information that seemed vaguely comforting. I mean, it's rather difficult to imagine being attacked by a Disney rhino. I decided to try to relax and enjoy the experience.

Disney's everywhere!

After making sure their walkie-talkies were in working order, the exciting moment had arrived: Richard and Ogencan led us out into the African bush to track rhinos. Of course, Richard and Ogencan did all the tracking. We mzungu mostly just tried to keep up while avoiding natural hazards.

In case you've always wondered, here is what the African bush looks like.

I know. Bit of a letdown, isn't it?

After about a twenty-minute hike, our tracking efforts led us into a wooded area. Richard slowed his pace and began softly calling, "Nande, Hasani...Nande, Hasani." He explained that rhinos don't like to be surprised, so it's best to announce your presence by calling their names. We were tracking white rhinos, which are relatively good-natured (unlike the decidedly cranky black rhino), but they can get provoked enough to charge. Some of my original trepidation returning, I asked what should we do on the, ahem, off chance that a rhino charged. Richard replied, "Don't worry. You can call their name to try to calm them down, or you can climb a tree. Rhinos don't climb trees." I did not find this information particularly reassuring. One, I hadn't yet been formally introduced to any of the rhinos; two, I couldn't climb a tree unless my life depended on it -- oh, wait. Counting on the fact that terror would give me hitherto undeveloped skills, I spent the rest of the jaunt loitering around whatever tree was closest, trying to look nonchalant.

By now we were definitely in rhino territory. After warning us to stay quiet (a totally unnecessary admonition), Richard and Ogencan led us to first one rhinoceros, then another, until finally we were within a few feet of all six rhinos -- excuse me, I mean a few hundred feet. But take my word for it, it seemed like a few feet.

I was casually leaning against a tree, trying to decide if these rhinos really looked white, when suddenly it hit me: I, Mary Beth Bodiford, a grandmother from Fort Worth, Texas, was standing in the middle of Ugandan bush country, staring at a rhinoceros. Was this cool or what? Why was I wasting one minute being scared? I would have burst into tears of joy, but since I didn't know where crying fell on the "Rhino Provocation Scale," I decided that perhaps I should content myself with taking a few photographs.

Click to get high-res, then try to count the rhinos.

A closeup -- at least, as close as I'm going to get.

Hello from Ziwa Rhino Sanctuary!

(Please note the rhino directly behind me.)

After we had had adequate time to bond with the rhinos and had taken about a zillion photos, Richard and Ogencan shepherded us back to Abus, patiently waiting for us in the van. Was it just me, or did he seem faintly surprised to have the same number of people return as had left? In any case, we gave our heartfelt (in more ways than one) thanks to Richard and Ogencan, climbed in the van, and set off on the next stage of our safari adventure!

Richard and Ogencan

Chapter Two: "Watch out for those rocks, Mzungu Mama! They're very slipp -- never mind."

Better than a Safari!

2009-02-14T08:20:00.001-08:00

(Honest, I'm going to write about the safari, but you've really got to read this first!)

Okay, I've been here nine months -- yes, really, NINE months! Hard to believe isn't it? -- and this is definitely the most exciting news I have gotten to write about.

But wait, you say. More exciting than your very first blog written from Heathrow International Airport on your way to fulfill your heart's desire of serving the Lord overseas? Yep.

More exciting than reporting that you had crossed the equator and had stood on the shores of Lake Victoria? Easily.

More exciting than writing about the joy of worshipping with believers from all over the world? That's a bit of a toughie, but yes, I really think so.

Well, don't keep us in suspense, Mzungu Mama! Give us the scoop!

Here it is: On Friday, 13 February 2009, Phillip Shero had the honor of holding in his hands for all to see the Letter of Interim Authority granted by the Uganda National Council of Higher Education to LivingStone International University. What does that mean? That means -- well, here you go. Read it for yourself. (Hint: Click on the image to bring up a high-resolution version.)

Letter of Interim Authority (Front)

Letter of Interim Authority (back)

It's true. The flame of the vision of a Christ-centered, Ugandan university, first kindled in the hearts of missionaries here in Mbale, but now spread to Christians across Africa and to the uttermost ends of earth -- yes, even to the far-off land of America -- God has blessed that flame and ignited it into a fire. The NCHE has granted LivingStone International University authority to build a campus, hire faculty and staff, buy computers, desks, pens and pencils, and basically do whatever else is necessary to "further the development of the proposed University to maturity."

Praise God that He has given so many people the vision of what is most assuredly a humanly impossible task. Only God can make LivingStone International University a reality. However, by giving the flame of this vision to his people, God is graciously allowing us, Christ's body, to join him in what he is doing to bring about that reality.

As a final note, I'd like you to close your eyes and mentally fast-forward about ten years. Imagine the day that, dotted all over Africa, are graduates of LIU: Graduates who have the flame of the original vision; graduates who go to work in businesses and banks and schools; graduates who shun corruption, who seek to serve the Lord in their work, who encourage those who work with them to do the same; graduates who "shine like stars in the universe." Think: How blessed would you feel if the Lord allowed you to have even the tiniest part in making that day happen? Exactly. So now you know why I believe this is the most exciting news ever.

Postscript: Those of you with good memories may recall the university originally being referred to as Messiah International University. The first time the university proposal (a twenty-page document that covered every aspect of the university) went before the NCHE, it was turned down, partly on the grounds that the council did not want the name of a deity to be part of the university name. After much prayer and discussion by Phillip Shero and others, the university name was changed to Livingstone International University. This honors David Livingstone, a missionary whose name is still much-revered in Africa and who symbolizes the love western missionaries have for the people of Africa. In addition, check out 1 Peter 2:4-5. "As you come to him, the living Stone--rejected by men but chosen by God and precious to him--you also, like living stones, are being built into a spiritual house to be a holy priesthood, offering spiritual sacrifices acceptable to God through Jesus Christ."

Please pray for God's mighty hand to be on LivingStone International University!

Mbale Sundays with Mzungu Mama -- Part Two

2009-02-01T10:58:00.000-08:00

One More Random Thought

3. ...on the collection plate. (Yes, really. I said it was random.)

We do the offering a little differently at MCC than back at home. When it is time to take up the collection, someone sets the plates on the table up in front of the church, then the choir sings while people file up to the front to deposit their offering. As the person in charge of counting the Sunday collection, I will tell you that Mbale offerings can be quite a bit more interesting than what you'd find in Fort Worth. For instance, it is common to find two or three different types of currency among the donations. Also, people here frequently give of their first fruits, so it is not at all unusual to have a bag of beans or a stalk of bananas presented on Sunday. By the way, let me pass on a rather important discovery I've made: A bag of beans will usually fit in the collection plate; a stalk of bananas usually won't.

Sadly, a few weeks ago I made another important discovery: Someone was defining the term "collection" a bit too loosely and was collecting shillings from the plate. Evidently, we were making it simple for him because everyone here tends to fold their money into a small, discreet, extremely stealable packet before placing it in the plate. What to do? Most of the stores in Mbale have armed guards stationed at the doorway to discourage thieves, but somehow I didn't think a uniformed man standing on the platform with a rifle trained on the church members was going to set quite the tone we wanted. In fact, you could make the argument that it might discourage giving. I opted for having offering boxes made as our theft deterrent. The boxes are quite handsome and appear to be working out perfectly, although I am a little worried about how someone is going to fit a bag of beans through the slot. And definitely, let's hope no one brings a stalk of bananas any time soon.

Offering time

And for those of you who are wondering -- as the MCC leadership committee did -- how I could be so certain that someone was stealing from the offering plate, well, it's quite simple, really. The burglar made one rather unfortunate blunder: He stole my offering.

(Coming next: SAFARI!)

Mbale Sundays with Mzungu Mama -- Part One

2009-01-23T14:20:00.000-08:00

Random Sunday thoughts...

1. ...on being punctual

After eight months here, I have a fairly good idea of the difference between African time and Westerner time. It's simple: To maintain your Mzungu sanity, just plan on arriving everywhere at least a half hour after the stated start time. (Please note, however: In the case of a local wedding, better make it two hours.) Although Heidi and I are well aware of this rule, we suffered a momentary lapse of reason a couple Sundays ago and actually arrived for Bible study on time. So while we were waiting for other people to show up -- specifically the Bible study teacher -- we got out my camera and took a couple photographs of ourselves in our Sunday best.

Aren't we cute?

Wait, maybe we look better from this angle.

2. ...on translating

I've mentioned before that the sermons at Mbale Church of Christ are interpreted from English to Luganda in order to reach the widest audience possible. For some reason it really tickles me that often the person preaching in English (we have six people who take turns preaching) also knows Luganda. This can result in some interesting (read: trying) moments for Timothy, our interpreter. If he appears to be struggling for the correct word while translating, the minister may break off preaching for a moment to supply it. This in turn can lead to a quick discussion between the preacher and Timothy as to the appropriateness of a particular English/Luganda word. Add in the fact that a good quarter of the congregation also has a working knowledge of both languages, and you now have a situation where it's not uncommon to have words being helpfully shouted out to the interpreter from several different people at once, which I'm sure makes his job even more difficult. I think my favorite "interpreting moment," however, came the day Shawn Tyler decided it would be a nice switch to begin the service speaking in Luganda instead of English. Timothy was left trying to decide whether to translate into English, or just throw up his hands and leave Shawn to do his own translating. Being an extremely kind gentleman, he remained at his post.

Timothy translating as James Luchivya preaches

Timothy keeping a close eye on Shawn Tyler

Everyone who's going back home to Fort Worth, Texas, take one step forward...Not so fast there, Mzungu Mama!

2009-01-14T07:35:00.000-08:00

Yes, it's true. The Missions Committee has graciously approved my request to stay in Uganda to continue serving the Mbale Mission Team. So if the Lord allows, I'll be mzungu-ing my way through Africa for at least one more year!

Please pray that God is honored in my decision to stay, and that all plans work out for his glory.

Love you all!

ps. Yes, I am coming home for a visit! Not sure when, but I will be there. So get ready!

Welcome to Kotolut!

2008-12-24T15:30:00.000-08:00

Yay! I finally got to go a village church service! Ian Shelburne, a missionary on the team, and Herbert Wakamoli, a Ugandan who works with the team in Bukedea, the district the town is in, graciously allowed me to go with them as they went to minister at Kotolut village.

The village is not very far from Mbale, perhaps 50 kilometers (oh, all right, say about 30 miles, but it would be helpful if you would learn metric), but I discovered anew there's a reason they call them "villages." I am quite used to the roads in Uganda -- or so I thought. This trip began conventionally enough on a blacktop road, but after leaving the blacktop for a semi-decent dirt road, and then exchanging that for a narrow dirt road with bushes and trees brushing the side of the truck on either side, we literally ended up driving down a footpath with a gentleman walking in front of the truck to lead the way. I asked Ian what would happen if we met a vehicle coming the other way. He and Herbert just laughed, which I took to mean, chances of that were quite slim. Evidently my assumption was correct, because as we parked and got out, already gathering around were a group of small children with big round eyes, staring at the truck, then the Mzungu (Ian and me), then the truck, then the Mzungu...you get the idea. I realized that neither vehicles nor white people were common occurrences here.

Our guide leading us as we enter the village

Once in the village, the church leaders introduced themselves, and then proudly led us to places of honor in the church. The Ugandan people are extremely polite, and I was aware that it is natural for them to show respect to visitors, so I tried not to be embarrassed as they ushered me to one of the few wooden chairs, while elderly Ugandan mamas seated themselves on mats on the dirt floor.

The church building, like all the buildings in the village, is basically a mud hut, but it differs slightly in that, one, it is square (most of the huts were round), and two, the church proudly boasts a roof made of sheet metal, rather than the usual thatched banana leaves. The Mbale Mission Team, as part of its rural ministry, provided the church with its sheet-metal roof once it met certain accreditation requirements. By the way, the roof sits over the building, not on the building. There's a good six-inch gap between the top of the walls and the metal roof. This allows light and air to pass through, not to mention a few lizards. (Which is a good thing because lizards eat bugs, and if there's one thing that Uganda has in abundance, it's bugs, and however much you may not care for lizards, I think you'd not care for the bugs even more. In fact, lizards and geckos are probably my favorite creatures here. I've even named a couple that live over the front door at Welldone Cottage. But I digress.)

Gathering for the service

While Ian, Herbert, and the church leaders stood outside and discussed the order of worship, I enjoyed watching the villagers arrive. I was a little distracted by the fact that Ian had casually mentioned that I would probably be expected to participate in the service. (Why oh why don't they warn us about these things before we climb in the truck?) I knew already that this was going to be a special service. The church was trying to raise funds to finish buying its property, and several village churches were coming the service. There would be a Bible study, worship service, baby dedication and, last of all, an auction. I had a feeling that, being a mzungu mama ("Mama" is a respectful way to address a not-too-young woman in Uganda), I would be asked to do the baby dedication, so I tried not to worry.

Church services proceed a little differently in the village than they do in town. There didn't seem to be a set time to begin. Once enough people were there, we began to worship in song, with lots of great clapping. The singing gives time for people to arrive who have had to walk a long distance. And yes, I was rather chastened to realize that women older than myself were walking for over an hour in the African sun to come to the worship service. But it helped me understand why church in the village can last several hours. As Ian explained, once you've walked for an hour or two to get to there, you'd like something a little more substantial than just an hourlong service.

Singing as we wait for people to arrive

After some great singing by the church, Herbert Wakamoli taught the Bible study. I was amazed! Before this day, I had seen Herbert only at Messiah Theological Institute, and my impression was of an unassuming, extremely soft-spoken gentleman. Now he was speaking out to the people in a loud, clear voice with wisdom and authority. On the way home I asked him why the big difference. He smiled and said quietly, "There is a time to be loud, and a time to be quiet." Evidently Herbert is one of those rare people who knows which time is which.

Ian preaching (with interpreter)

We had some more wonderful singing by the church and also by a choir, and then Ian preached the sermon. The whole village service probably lasted a little more than two hours. This service was not as long as usual because we were about to have an auction. But just before that came my favorite part of the whole day: Baby dedication!

My previous assumption turned out to be correct, that as the mzungu mama, my part of the service would be to pray for the new mamas and their babies. I was thrilled. So many African babies are "dedicated" by having charms tied around their waist or by being chanted over by a witch doctor. Praise God that these women chose to bring their babies to other Christians to be prayed over. I was incredibly honored to be allowed to pray for them, and when I found out one of the babies was named Jennifer, well, my cup was running over! (For those of you who know me and are wondering, yes, I managed to pray without crying. It's amazing what you can do when you have to.)

Baby Dedication

Now it was time for the auction. People disappeared briefly, only to reappear at the church door with a bag of maize, or a stalk of bananas, or a chicken, or some firewood. Again, it was humbling to realize that these people were giving a part of their precious harvest to be sold to raise money for the church.

Getting ready for the auction

(Note the big bag of g-nuts)

Herbert stepped up and showed his leadership ability again. He turned out to be as good an auctioneer as he had been a teacher. He knew exactly what everything was worth, and he was very good at extending the bidding just a teensy bit longer to get that next 500-shilling raise in the bids. Ian had warned me not to bid too early because as the "rich missionaries," once we began to bid, people might have a tendency to sit back and wait for us to buy everything. I managed to restrain myself until a BIG bag of g-nuts came up for auction. G-nuts is short for ground nuts, which, in American parlance, is good old-fashioned peanuts. Now please don't ask me why I felt it necessary to bid on -- and win! -- a forty-pound bag of peanuts. I guess I got carried away. But, hey, g-nuts is a staple food here, so I knew it wouldn't go to waste. (Note: I'm not sure, but I believe the nuts ended up in the food supply at MTI.) I also bought a pumpkin, which in Uganda, is a large, green, oval squash-type vegetable. I kept asking people, "Are you sure this is a pumpkin?" They would reply, "Of course it is a pumpkin. It is large, it is oval, it is green! What else would it be?" Then they would laugh and say something to each other, probably along the lines of, "Silly mzungu. Doesn't even know a pumpkin when she sees one." And they were right: It was a pumpkin. It made great pumpkin bread.

Herbert showing his auction and poultry-handling skills

After Herbert had auctioned off everything, and I do mean EVERYTHING -- I think a couple moms were keeping a pretty tight grip on their children by the end -- the service was over. The village continued their hospitality by giving us a wonderful lunch of chicken and rice (no, not the chicken in the photo), and finally we headed home. I was exhausted, but it was a great day. I'm excited at the thought of going again.

One last photo: Meet Baby Jennifer!

Baby Jennifer, mama, and friends

...or I could tell you about the Hairy Lemon

2008-11-23T14:44:00.000-08:00

Okay, I admit it. I'm falling behind. There's so much to talk about, but what with electricity outages, Internet down time, plain old being busy -- not to mention a touch of procrastination -- I'm just not getting the stories posted. Here are a few adventures I keep meaning to tell you about.

1. A Ugandan wedding at which Phillip Shero officiated. Do you know how long it takes the bride to walk down the aisle in a Ugandan wedding ceremony?

2. A team retreat at the Hairy Lemon, a resort on an island in the middle of the Nile River. By the way, in Africa, the term "resort" does not necessarily mean luxuries like electricity or running water. It can, however, mean that monkeys come to your Sunday morning worship service, which is really neat.

3. A Sunday church village visit with Ian Shelburne and Herbert Wakamoli. To be precise, a church service AND baby dedication AND fund-raising auction. Guess who got to do the baby dedication prayer! Also, guess who got carried away at the auction and bought a 20-kilo bag of g-nuts (otherwise known as peanuts). And who discovered anew the joy of worshipping with fellow believers, no matter what language is being spoken.

4. The Messiah Theological Institute graduation ceremony. Unfortunately, I missed part of this because I was responsible for some tasks that had to be accomplished during the ceremony. But I did get there in time to see the MTI wall banner fall on Phillip Shero's head, which was pretty cool. And I was privileged -- and humbled -- to hear the valedictory addresses given by men who had worked hard and sacrificed much to get their diplomas.

I'm open to suggestions. Any preferences as to what I should talk about next, power and Internet allowing?

Are you sure this is how you do celebrations in Africa?

2008-11-05T12:51:00.000-08:00

I Think Someone Is Trying to Tell Me Something

Internet down? Check.

Power off for two days? Check.

Water off? Check.

Both computer batteries dead? Check.

Phone almost dead? Check.

Ah, yes, it must be my six-month anniversary!

That's right, I have officially been in Uganda for six months. We celebrated by having our Internet go down for a while, and then losing power for two days. Well, you know how it is. You hate to do the same old thing. Besides, I've always wanted to learn the meaning of "cascade failure." It goes something like this:

Power goes off Monday evening. Make dinner in the dark.
Wake up Tuesday. Power is still off. That's okay. Face the day with cheerful determination.
Take lukewarm shower to conserve hot water. Contemplate Revelation 3:16.
Try to use computer as little as possible, but use up one computer battery for office day.
Keep refrigerator door closed as much as possible.
Talk yourself into using second computer battery so you can get some more work done. The power won't stay off THAT long.
Use half of second battery. Feel guilty, even though your job requires using a computer.
Realize cell phone is less than half charged. No worries. Power will probably come on after 24 hours off.
Make dinner in the dark again. Eat a candlelight dinner with Heidi. You don't mind, but you get the feeling she kind of wishes you were someone else. Preferably male.
Try to read by the light of two candles. Wonder how Abraham Lincoln did it.
Go to bed early because, quite frankly, you can't think of anything else to do.
Wake up Wednesday morning. Still no power. Work on the cheerful determination thing. Settle for getting out of bed instead of pulling the covers over your head and going back to sleep.
Take a cold sponge bath because you can't face a cold shower. Discover there's very little difference.
Check cell phone battery. Only one bar left. Power must be about to come back on.
Do Bible study. Look through Psalms for prayers for power.
Water pressure drops. Now there's no water in the kitchen.
Try to open refrigerator door as little as possible.
On impulse, check refrigerator. Discover that inside the fridge is warmer than outside.
Use most of second computer battery for work. Wonder what you're going to do when the second battery goes dead. Contemplate a nice vacation. Somewhere with electricity. And hot showers. Ahhh...
Heidi sweetly offers use of her spare battery. oh.
Go to MCC leaders meeting with white computer battery on your black computer.
Come home. Still no power.
Check your phone. Almost no charge left.
Check computer. Almost no charge left.
Take stock: Water off in kitchen, no power, no internet, computer and phone almost dead, refrigerator now a steam bath. Start to laugh. What better way to commemorate being in Africa for six months!

But I'm still trying to figure out what Someone is trying to tell me...

We Interrupt Your Regularly Scheduled Program to Bring You This:

2008-10-25T01:13:00.000-07:00

In Praise of Jenni

Jenni is the most beautiful young woman in the whole world. She is beautiful first and foremost because she loves the Lord. Have you ever noticed that people who really love the Lord have a beauty about them? They have a sweetness and a gentleness and, well, a glow about them. Jenni has that.

Jenni is also beautiful because she loves people. When she was little (and not so little), she was the peacemaker in her family. She would give hugs and tell people she loved them. As an adult, Jenni has a kind, caring nature. If you ever read her blog, she often uses that forum to say something nice about someone.

Jenni is beautiful because she is intelligent and fun and interesting and has a wonderful sense of humor. She's fun just to get to hang around with.

Most of all, Jenni is beautiful because she endeavors to work out the concept of agape in her life and in the lives of the people she loves. Agape: Not just love, but unselfish love that desires God's greatest good for the person loved. You see, Jenni has gone through the pain of losing both her brother and her father. So when Jenni's mommi said she wanted to go to Uganda for a year to serve the Lord, Jenni would have had every reason to say no, please stay at home. But Jenni did not hesitate. She knew that it was a deep desire of her mommi's heart to get to serve the Lord overseas. So Jenni gave, not just her blessing, but her wholehearted support - support that has never wavered in the past year. That's agape love.

Jenni will turn 29 on Wednesday, October 29, 2008. If you happen to see her, will you give her a big hug and tell her that her mommi loves her more than life itself?

NUMB3RS TO FACES

2008-10-18T01:53:00.000-07:00

I just read the Harvest Weekend brochure online. I cried for joy -- naturally! -- as I realized anew what an incredible vision God has given us and how He is inviting us to join him in his work worldwide. I was humbled to see my name there. I don't deserve to be named alongside such heroes of the faith as the Crowsons and Charles of Rwanda and Sara Holland and, of course, Phillip Shero and Dennis Okoth, whom I am so blessed to work with.

And yet, my name on that little piece of paper sends a clear message to everyone:

God wants to use you.

God wants to grant the deep desire of your heart to live a life that matters. For years, God granted that desire in my life by allowing me to faithfully take my children to church. For years he quietly granted that desire by allowing me to work at a steady job and give financially. Right now, He is amazingly granting that desire by allowing me to serve Him here in Uganda. Who knows how He is going to grant that desire in the future?

It doesn't matter who you are, what your education level is, what YOU think your skills are. God knows you. God loves you. God wants you to have the joy of participating in His work. And what greater work is there than that which the Creator of the Universe is doing?

And how is your work going? ...what is it you do, anyway?

2008-10-11T01:06:00.000-07:00

Some of you have actually asked me about my work here. Thanks! To be honest, I haven't talked much about it because, um, well, I'm basically a bookkeeper, and how fascinating is that? I mean, at the end of the day, my roomie, Heidi, talks about her trip to the village, and how her teaching went, and how one of the women actually named her new baby girl Heidi. (She also talks about driving past the remains of the goat that the village just fed her for lunch, but that's another story.) I talk about the cool new spreadsheet I'm working on that tracks every budget category for the team. Okay, now, show of hands. Who has the more interesting story? Heidi? or MB? I rest my case.

Now, don't get me wrong - I enjoy what I do, and I am quite happy to serve the Lord by serving the team as their bookkeeper. I just don't have any illusions as to how engrossing the topic is to most other people. But for those of you who asked, here goes. For those of you who didn't ask, you have my permission to skip this blog. If you hang on to the end of the blog, though, I'll throw in a freebie photo.

The concept is fairly simple: I handle the money for most of the various projects of the team. I won't bore you with a list, but so far I have taken over tracking for ten different projects. Quite a lot for the team to have been keeping up with on their own, you say? You're absolutely right, and thank you very much for sending me over here to help them. Here's what I've done so far: I have set up Quickbooks accounts to track the funds in a way that I can run accounting reports, if necessary, for any of the ministries. I have also set up tracking spreadsheets in Excel, because that seems to present the information in a way that is more helpful to the missionaries. So basically I do two things: take the money-handling burden off the missionaries to free them to do their work, AND track the money under accepted accounting principles. (Kind of got my fingers crossed on that second item!)

However, there is one little wrinkle: When I say I handle the money, I mean I HANDLE the money. You see, everything here is done on a cash basis - EVERYTHING. There's no way to tell you how that complicates life. For starters, every bill, every payroll (of which I handle five), must be paid in cash, so I must get receipts and have people sign for their cash. Two, when I'm trying to reconcile the accounts, I'm actually counting piles of shillings, which takes ten times as long as just adding columns of numbers. (And you would not believe how yucky and stinky Ugandan money is. Since Uganda is a cash society, money changes hands constantly. If you want to get an idea, take the oldest, dirtiest dollar bill you can find, throw it in a mud puddle, and then rub it in the dirt. Okay, Ugandan money is worse than that. Really.) Last but not least, there are 1,580 shillings to the dollar - today, at least - which means, if I'm counting $3,000, I'm counting 4,740,000 Ugandan shillings, and that's a lot of shillings. Thank goodness, Uganda's lowest paper currency is a 1,000 shilling note. But still, Ugandan money takes up quite a bit of space. Sometimes when I'm counting out money for something and there's twenty piles of shilling notes and coins sitting in front of me, I feel remarkably like Scrooge before his reformation.

So that's what I do for the team. Don't you think it is quite cool that the Lord found a way for me to get to serve Him overseas with what we shall loosely call my skill set? Me too.

Okay, for those of you who hung on this long, here is the photo I promised you. Remember, I mentioned that one of the village women actually named her baby girl after Heidi? Here is a photo of Heidi, Heidi, and (little) Heidi's mom.

Heidi with her namesake, Heidi, and Mom

So, mb, what have you been doing lately?

2008-09-30T07:13:00.000-07:00

I have actually been quite busy, thank you for asking. Here's a little peek at a few fun things I've gotten to do in the past six weeks.

First of all:

I HAVE CROSSED THE NILE!

Okay, I've actually crossed the Nile several times now, because you have to cross the Nile to get to Kampala (or back). But still, it's an adventure I hadn't had until I came to Uganda, so it definitely counts as a fun thing. By the way, please admire the photo. I didn't know it at the time, but it's illegal to take photos on the bridge across the Nile, so I was unwittingly breaking the law when I snapped this. oops.

Second fun thing:

I HAVE CROSSED THE EQUATOR!

IS THAT NOT THE COOLEST THING IN THE WHOLE WORLD?

(That's my roommate, Heidi, with me.)

I have officially spent time on the south side of the Equator. The water swirled the wrong way down the sink! I was chattering on about how excited I was to be in the southern hemisphere, and the missionary I was talking to (who grew up an MK in Africa) mentioned that he had had trouble getting used to the fact that he now lived permanently in the northern hemisphere. oh.

On to the third fun thing I've done in the past few weeks:

I HAVE STOOD BAREFOOT ON THE SHORE

OF LAKE VICTORIA!

This one is my personal favorite. Why? Well, look at a map of Africa. What jumps out at you? That big, beautiful blue spot in the middle of the continent. I have thought of Africa and Lake Victoria as truly on the other side of the world since I was a little girl in missions class, spinning a globe and watching the countries go by under my fingers. To stand on the shore of that big beautiful blue spot and realize - again! - that I am getting to have such fun serving the Lord in Africa -- well, it just doesn't get any better than that.

THANKS, EVERYONE! If you're reading this, you have had a part in making this trip possible, and there's no way to tell you how much I love and appreciate you all.

Where's the Beef? There's the Beef! Ewww...

2008-08-17T06:25:00.000-07:00

I was reading over past blogs, and realized that I had promised to show you pictures of how you buy beef here. So I will!

Let me set the stage for my first beef-shopping trip. It's May 6, 2008, my first full day in Mbale, Uganda. I've just spent several hours at Messiah Theological Institute. Well, probably just one or two, but it feels like several hours. I'm suffering from exhaustion, jet lag, missing-luggage worries, rumpled-clothing-and-no-makeup embarrassment, plus, of the two hundred or so people I've just met, only ten speak English in a way that this Mzungu girl from Fort Worth, Texas, can understand. To make matters worse, I'm pretty sure I'm not shaking hands the right way and I'm wondering if that's like a fatal cultural faux pas here. So when Heidi finally asks if I'd like to do some grocery shopping and then go back to Welldone Cottage, I gratefully head for the car.

Heidi shops at "Happy Supermarket," which is considered to be, if not the Cadillac, at least the Plymouth of grocery stores here. It's about the size of a small 7-Eleven, only a lot dustier and no ATM machine. It has exactly four aisles: two are for food, and two are for everything else. I must admit, though, I'm quite impressed with how much inventory they can squeeze onto the shelves in those four aisles. Heidi picks out most of the groceries since I'm having trouble reading the labels (I discover that my French, Italian, Hindi, and Arabic are a bit rusty), but I do comment on the fact that there's hardly any perishables sold there. Heidi smiles and says, "Oh, you buy most of your meat at the market." This isn't the market? Oh.

So now we head a couple blocks away to the market. As we walk down the sidewalk, we go past all these little stalls with goods laid out on their counter, pavement sellers with various foodstuffs spread out on a tarp, and even people wandering around holding wooden rods with hundreds of items attached somehow. Now we're at the market? But no. Heidi suddenly turns in to this dark doorway that really makes me think Black Hole of Calcutta, and voila!, now we're at the market. The market covers a large area of ground (and I do mean ground), but I feel a little claustrophobic because the market is so packed with stalls and people, there's not much room to maneuver, and there's some sort of tin roof just a foot or so overhead. I walk up and down between rows of tables and stalls (being careful not to trip because it's rocky ground) filled with every possible kind of food: carrots and beans and cucumbers and tomatoes and onions and maize and eggs and huge bags of flour and huger bags of rice (who knew there were so many different kinds of rice?) and several unidentifiable root-type substances. I think it all looks very interesting, and evidently the flies agree with me. Heidi winds her way to the what is apparently the meat aisle. She stops at a stall, behind which stands a local butcher surrounded by hanging sides of beef. A turkey is proudly on display at the very front of the stall, where you have a great view of the flies munching down. I make a mental note: tuna fish for Thanksgiving this year. Heidi dickers with the man on the price of a kilo or two of beef, then he grabs a side of beef with one hand and a machete with the other, and whacks off a piece -- after first shaking off the flies, naturally. I watch fascinatedly as he skillfully and securely wraps it in a banana leaf (probably suffocating the last fly or two), and hands us the beef in its eco-friendly packaging. Heidi smiles and thanks the man, we turn to leave, and I wonder where I go to join the local vegetarian group.

When we get home, Heidi opens the banana parcel, after first allowing me to take a photo:

Now really, could YOU do as good a job wrapping a squashy hunk of beef in a banana leaf? I doubt it.

And here's the beef!

Note: Heidi -- after washing the beef in everything but bleach -- made some scrumptious Chinese-style sesame beef, and, yes, I ate it. Yes, I have continued to eat local beef and chicken ever since. I'm trying to get up my courage to eat goat. But no, don't expect to see a photo of a turkey being unwrapped in our kitchen sink on Thanksgiving Day. I mean, you have to draw the line somewhere.

Good-bye from Mbale, Uganda, where I'm blessed to be having the grandest of grand adventures!

Reality Sets In

2008-08-14T01:06:00.000-07:00

"Delight yourself in the Lord, and he will give you the desires of your heart." (Ps. 37:4)

Being allowed to serve the Lord overseas has long been a desire of my heart, and I began rejoicing the moment I found out that I was going to have the privilege of going to Mbale, Uganda, to serve the Mbale Mission Team. That sense of joy never really left me, even as I began packing up -- and even giving away -- my life back in the States. I smiled as I gave my favorite dishes to a good friend. I laughed when I handed over the guest room bed and some household stuff to a halfway house. I laughed -- okay, and cried a little -- when I left the law firm I had worked at for eight and a half years.

Yes, there were moments that I clutched a little, and wondered if I were doing the right thing. Did I really want to wake up on Saturday morning and NOT go shopping with my best friend before I went to church and then babysat Noah? Could I bear being away from my daughter for a year? But the answer was always the same: The joy of the Lord will be my strength. God had given me a great gift. I am going to rejoice in it. I cried at the airport and held Jenni and Jonathan and Noah as close as I could as we said good-bye, but two hours later I was smiling through my tears and almost laughing for joy as I boarded the plane to head off to Uganda.

That sense of wonder and joy stayed with me during my first few months in Uganda. I knew I was in the "honeymoon stage," but to be honest, that was okay with me. If I was in the honeymoon stage, great! I fell in love with the country, which is easy to do, as eastern Uganda is incredibly beautiful. I fell in love with people, who are so gracious and polite. (mostly). I laughed every time we drove somewhere and had to stop for a herd of cows meandering along the road. I chuckled as I carried buckets of water to our washing machine so that it would take less than an hour to fill. I did my best to begin to get to know the local people I work with and worship with and was very excited when they would respond with overtures of friendship.

Last Sunday, I was greeting people after church, and turned to greet Margaret, a new friend of mine whom I see only at church. Sometimes I sit with her, and she helps translate the songs for me, which is wonderful indeed. For the past couple weeks she had been asking me to pray for her daughter, but I wasn't sure why because, quite honestly, I can't always understand everything she says. This Sunday when she saw me, she immediately grabbed my arm and led me to the front of the church, saying, "My daughter is here today. Please come pray for her." Her daughter Catherine was sitting there, a young girl of about eight years old, very quiet, and obviously not in good health. I was quite touched that Margaret wanted me to pray for Catherine. I asked Phillip to come pray as well, mostly because he understands the local people much better than I do. He talked to Margaret for a minute or two, with me still not understanding more than every third word, and then both Phillip and I prayed for Catherine. Margaret and Catherine left, and it was then, as I talked to the other members of the team, that they explained to me that Catherine has sickle cell anemia. She will probably not live to adulthood. The little girl I had just so happily prayed over is almost certainly going to die in the next few years. Reality Setting In Lesson No. 1: Uganda is a real place with real people. It is a third-world country. This is where I live and work and make friends, and people I care about are going to have very hard things happen to them that I can do nothing about.

Two days later I was still trying to come to terms with this reality, when I opened an e-mail from my best friend (Yes, the one I went shopping with every Saturday), whom I had not heard from in a while. As I read the e-mail, I gradually realized that she was telling me that her husband had been rushed to the hospital with bacterial spinal meningitis about two weeks earlier, and he had almost died. He had been put on life support, and his condition worsened to the point that they finally made the decision to take him off. Praise God, when they took him off life support, he began to breathe on his own, and by the time my friend wrote me, her husband was definitely on the road to recovery. But she had had to go through the experience of almost losing her husband, and I was not there for her. She needed me, and I wasn't there. Reality Setting In Lesson No. 2: The US is a real place with real people, and life is not holding still for a year while I am here. Bad things are going to happen to people that I love and care about, and I can do nothing about it.

What is the answer? Or perhaps, more properly, if these are "reality lessons," what did I learn? Did I expect anything different?

The answer: No, I didn't expect anything different. And what I learned is a continuation of the lesson God has been teaching me since I was eleven years old, that He is sovereign, and I am not. I am heartbroken that bad things are happening to people I love, whether here or in the US. I pray fervently that God works his perfect will in their lives. I am glad, quite honestly, to be out of the honeymoon stage, so that I can get on with learning to love and rejoice in the reality in which God has placed me - the good parts and the bad parts.

As you read over this blog, you will notice the word "I" happens way too often. You can see that I had way selfish reactions to what should have been just care and concern for other people. Please pray that I become a better servant, that there will be less of me and more of what God wants in my life. I want to care more about Margaret and Catherine. And please pray for Margaret and Catherine, that God will work a miracle in their lives. Thanks.

REFLECTIONS ON THE AVAILABILITY OF TECHNOLOGY IN A THIRD-WORLD COUNTRY, OR --

2008-07-19T07:15:00.000-07:00

WHEN ARE THE UMEME AND UTL TECHS GOING TO SHOW UP?

Umeme = the electricity provider in Uganda

UTL = Uganda Telecom, the Internet provider in Mbale

Heidi and I are rejoicing -- and when I say rejoicing, think jumping up and down and dancing for joy -- over the fact that at this moment we have both electricity AND Internet. Our Internet has effectively been down since last month sometime, and multiple phone calls, pleas, and, yes, even threats to UTL, did not produce any demonstrable results. Okay, well, we did get three UTL techs to actually come out once, and they did agree that, yes, our Internet did not work. But I'm not sure I considered that a step forward. The Internet's repair was further complicated by the fact that power kept going off. And for some odd reason, the UTL tech doesn't want to come out at all when there's no power on in the house. To add insult to injury, the power line that delivers electricity to our house broke, so last night when the whole neighborhood finally got to turn their lights back on, our house remained dark. (Big sigh here.) The Umeme truck showed up this morning, worked for a while, then disappeared having made no apparent repairs. But the electricity suddenly came on a couple hours ago, and the Internet came up with it -- no idea why, but we're not complaining! -- so we are excitedly reading e-mails, updating blogs, and seeing who posted comments on our wall in Facebook.

Heidi and I have truly tried to maintain our composure and sense of humor through this, but we were beginning to get a bit frustrated. We pay 180,000 shillings a month for Internet, and to our Western minds, this means that (when power is on) we should have Internet. But in Uganda, it just doesn't always work out that way. "Why not?" you ask. "And for that matter, why is the power off so much, anyway?" Well, those are fair questions.

One answer is that although First World technology exists here, the technology infrastructure is not particularly stable. So when technology breaks down -- be it Internet, power lines, printers, computers, whatever -- the ability, expertise, and resources are not always available to effect competent repairs. So repairs take longer, and, in fact, can be impossible, which is why we have a lot of nonworking or semiworking machines here. For instance, our washer, dryer, and microwave are all in the "They sort of work" category.

Another answer is -- well, it's a little harder to put into words, but it's basically that the African mindset is different than the Westerners. They don't feel a need to hold to schedules or to come out just because they said they would. We have electricity power-outs because Umeme sells a lot of its electricity to Kenya, so they keep Uganda on a "loadshed" schedule. But Umeme changes the schedule without notice. Or they decide to do line maintenance on "power on" days, so they turn off the electricity so they can trim branches. This drives us Westerners crazy. But it's life here.

But for now, we're still in the rejoicing mode because right now, right this minute, we have electricity AND Internet. A fairly African outlook!

So thanks to all of you who wrote me e-mails, a little worried because you hadn't heard from me for a while. There is no way to tell you all how much I appreciate your love and concern and, most of all, your prayers.

love you all!

"Lord, I stand in the midst of a multitude..."

2008-06-16T02:02:00.000-07:00

As many of you know, I get emotional at the drop of a hat. And in the months preceding leaving for Uganda, the song at church that was sure to bring tears to my eyes was "Hallelujah to the Lamb" by Don Moen and Debbye Graafsma. As I listened to an auditorium full of people singing, "Lord, I stand in the midst of a multitude of those from every tribe and tongue," and I would think of where the Lord was graciously sending me, how could I not cry for joy at the thought of getting to worship with believers from a different tribe, a different tongue? So now I live in Mbale, and you may wonder, did the reality

meet my expectations? Well, honey, let me tell you!

Bible study here is at 9:00 am, and the worship service begins at 10:00 am and lasts until about noon. It's divided fairly evenly between music and preaching. The worship service is led by a praise team (which unfortunately I do not have a photo of yet). Movement is a big part of worship here - I love it! We praise the Lord with clapping -- lots of clapping, sometimes with members of the church doing different clap patterns at the same time, which is way cool, but a little embarrassing to this Mzungu (white person) who doesn't keep the beat well. We clap, wave, sway, bend over, turn in circles, and of course, raise our hands.

Besides the missionaries, there are people representing several different native languages, so the praise team leads songs in

English, Swahili, Lugandan, and, I think, Lugisu. (I try to stand by one of the missionaries who will graciously translate the words for me, so I know what I'm singing.) But even if I don't

understand all the words, I KNOW I'm worshipping among "those from every tribe and tongue."

We pray for the children just before they leave for their Bible study time, and this Sunday

the children sang for us before they left -- quite beautifully, and with clapping of course. By

the way, the group had been a little more international, but Asher, the blond boy at lower left of the photo of the children, decided he no longer wanted to sing, so his big brother took him out just before the photo was snapped.

We also sometimes get a youth group and/or an adult group that sings for us. Last week we had two groups sing! In the photo, the singers are walking around the church as they sing, which is way cool. As you can tell, worshipping the Lord

in song is a big part of African culture!

Finally, we have someone preach. And this part is international as well. So far, I've heard two Americans and a Kenyan. They preach in English (no matter what their native language) with an interpreter translating into Lugandan so as to reach the maximum number of people. Once I got used to it, I enjoyed the rhythm of an interpreted sermon. You get a few seconds to digest what is being said. This is Ian Shelburne, a member of Mbale Mission Team, preaching with David interpreting for him.

After church - this MUST be an international tradition -- we all wander around and talk. I managed to grab Hannah, our summer intern, so you could get a look at the beautiful braid job a local lady did with her hair.

It is a wonderful time of worship, but wait -- that's not the end of the day! I saved the almost best for last!

Sunday evenings we attend a Bible study for all the expatriates living in Mbale. Believers attend who come from the U.S., England, Australia, Holland, Lebanon, and, yes, Uganda. We study together, pray together, and worship together, AND eat together. (got to get some good fellowship time in there!)

Here's my final photo of the day. It's the group singing -- you guessed it --

Lord, I stand in the midst of a multitude

Of those from every tribe and tongue

We are your people, redeemed by your blood

Purchased from death by your love

There are no words good enough to thank you

There are no words to express my praise

But I will lift up my voice and sing from my heart

With all of my strength

Hallelujah to the Lamb!

SETTLING IN

2008-05-21T07:01:00.000-07:00

Greetings! I again have those three ingredients necessary to blog: Electricity, a computer, and an Internet connection. Yay!

I am settling in here, in both home life and work life. The ease of the settling-in process is entirely due to the goodness of the Lord in giving me a wonderful roomie and a wonderful mission team.

My home here is "Welldone Cottage," which belongs to my roommate, Heidi Davison. Here is the front yard of the cottage, as seen from the porch. Isn't it beautiful? If it weren't for Ugandan bugs (who LOVE me), I would probably set up my workstation outside. The cottage itself is a pleasant, western-style, four-bedroom house. We have lots of windows, which stay open 24/7 to catch the breezes. By the way, one way you know you're not in the States is that ALL the windows have screens and iron bars, but not all of them bother to have glass. Here's a nice view of the house, courtesy of Heidi. If you look closely at the photo, you will see what looks like some sort of lattice work on the windows. Those are really iron bars.

I have a comfortable bedroom, which came already nicely painted, thanks to the person who had it before me. Even the bed sheets are carefully color-coordinated to the walls. Thanks, Laura Beth Chapman!

Is the house "western-style" on the inside? Well, that depends on how picky you are. What are some differences? The city water shuts off every day between about 6:00 pm and 6:00 am. As with most houses in this neighborhood, Welldone Cottage has a water tower in the back yard which fills up with water every day while the water is on. The tower feeds water to the bathrooms -- although don't expect high water pressure! -- but does not send water to the kitchen, which means yes to showers (and going potty!), but no to doing dishes after dinner. Darn the bad luck! Also, the hot water heater feeds only the baths, not the kitchen. And, of course, the electricity goes on and off. There's supposed to be a schedule, but Umeme, the power company, feels no need to hold to the schedule. The first week here, power was off more than it was on. This last week, power has been been mostly on. You just don't know. The good side of living here, though, is that you don't miss electricity as much as you would in the States. You don't need air conditioning (honest!), and plenty of light comes into the house during the day. We worry mostly about keeping our laptops charged up for work and keeping the food good in the refrigerator. And I worry about blow-drying my hair. (Heidi is blessed with beautiful naturally curly hair.) Oh, and if the electricity is off long enough, we will lose hot water to the showers, but that happens very rarely.

One more small difference: you don't really watch television here. At least Heidi and I don't. We have a small TV to watch DVDs on, but we usually end up watching those on our computers. But no TV shows. Again, darn the bad luck!

There are other differences, such as the esthetics of the workmanship in the houses (workmen here go on the theory of "If it works, it's good enough"), but my Internet connection is getting shaky, so we'll leave that topic for another day, along with talking about how my work is coming along - very well, thank you, now that my printer is working! Oh, and I have photos of the beef wrapped in the banana leaves! I know you're all waiting for that.

But just in case you're wondering, have I really given up much material stuff to come here? No, I haven't, especially when you consider what people have given up through the years to get to serve the Lord. But what very little I may have given up, I am overjoyed to get to do so. Check out Philippians 3:7-11. I couldn't say it better than Paul, who gave up so, so much more than I ever will.

Again, please pray for me that I serve the team well. Thanks!

Greetings from Uganda!

2008-05-12T11:43:00.001-07:00

I am sitting in the living room of "Welldone Cottage" writing this blog, hoping that the Internet connection stays on for just a few more minutes! (Doesn't look good, but we'll try.) To use the Internet in Uganda, you need three things: a computer, electricity, and a working internet connection. Today is the first day since I arrived that I have had all three!

I have been in Uganda a week now. The jet lag is gone, and the culture shock seems to be going okay. Today I walked into town ALL BY MYSELF to buy some needed supplies. I estimate that I was overcharged no more than about 5,000 Ugandan shillings - or about a dollar - so I think I'm doing good! I didn't have to walk - I could have ridden on the back of a boda, which is a bicycle with a seat on the back, for about 500 shillings, but I decided that I'm not brave enough for that yet. The boda drivers weave in and out of traffic, and, well, it makes me nervous just to watch them.

Let me tell you a little about the country: Uganda is an unbelievably beautiful country. (I would show you a photo or two, but one of my bags is still MIA, and naturally it is the bag with the software and computer cable for my camera.) Mountains, tropical bushes, palm trees of course, gorgeous flowers - my front yard looks like a park. Ugandans are also beautiful and very polite and friendly, which is amazing, as life here is very hard for most Ugandans. Sadly, that makes labor here very cheap. It also make labor necessary, as we comparatively affluent Westerners must use guards to protect our property. Even missionaries are considered rich. And we are, by Ugandan standards. More about this later.

The mission team has been wonderful. They have helped me settle in and have already begun working with me on what my responsibilities will be. Tomorrow I will walk to work and hopefully begin being a productive member of the team! I have a really great roommate. Heidi has been in Uganda before, and she is the one teaching me all the ins and outs of the culture here. She took me to market and we bought two kilos of beef from a man in a stall with sides of beef hanging all around him. I was okay with that, but when the man took our money and wrapped the beef up in banana leaves, I decided on the spot to become a vegetarian.

Hey, my Internet connection is getting shaky. Better go for now. By the way, I have changed my settings so that you can leave comments without joining anything, so please comment!

Love you all, and thank you so much for your prayers!

MARY BETH HAS LEFT THE COUNTRY - FINALLY!

2008-05-04T01:59:00.000-07:00

Yes, I'm sitting in a quiet corner at Heathrow Airport, feeling quite chipper, actually (note the smile on my face and not too much of that "deer in the headlights" look), and I thought it would be a good time to post my first official blog. It's not as if I don't have some spare time - my flight to Entebbe leaves at 9:10 pm, and it's 4:15 am now. Well, okay, it's 4:15 am Fort Worth time, and it's 10:15 am London time. But that still gives me ten hours to play with.

So I am branching out, technology-wise, taking little baby steps. I bought 24 hours of internet time from Boingo Hotspot - Heathrow does not have free wifi - and I have felt quite proud of myself for figuring out how to do that AND how to upload a photo of myself from my phone. I would be even more proud had I remembered to pack the digital camera cable in my overnight bag instead of somewhere in my 200 pounds of checked luggage so that I could have uploaded a good photo from the beautiful digital camera my family bought me just for that reason, but, hey - baby steps, remember! Well, I gave the man sitting across from me something to laugh about as he watched me try to get a decent photo from a razr phone.

The flight from DFW to Heathrow went well and actually seemed shorter than it was, probably because I spent much of the time trying to sleep ("trying" being the operative word.) btw, I knew I was on British Airways when I asked for tea and they gave me a cup of freshly brewed hot tea instead of a cup of hot water and a tea bag. Also btw, perhaps it's the accent, but the British flight attendants all seemed so polite!

When I did my Bible reading this morning, the first words of the Psalm I was on (I try to read one Psalm a day) were these: "Sing to the Lord a new song; sing to the Lord, all the earth. Sing to the Lord, praise his name; proclaim his salvation day after day. Declare his glory among the nations, his marvelous deeds among all peoples." (Psalm 96:1-3) Wow! I feel as if the Psalmist wrote it just for me. The Lord is giving me a new song and He is sending out to the nations. Thank you, Lord! Please pray that I am faithful and that I am a good servant.

I'm not going to talk about my actual leave-taking on this blog. It's still too recent, and I don't want to cry anymore right now. I'll talk about that later, but thanks to everyone who participated in that leave-taking. Thanks for your love and your well-wishes and your prayers. A special thanks for my darling daughter Jenni for getting us all together on fairly short notice.

I think I'll go wander around and see what cool stuff the shops at Heathrow have to offer. Talk to you again soon!