An African Journey: Post Six - The Gift of Sight

A continuing series of reflections built around newly-scanned photos from long ago. From 1966-1968, we lived in Choma, Zambia, teaching school, running a 'book-room' (a small book store with a surprising reach, providing educational resources to the entire southern province), living in close quarters with missionaries and other volunteer workers and enjoying wonderful opportunities to travel and explore the great continent of Africa.

We were so young and our eyes were not as finely tuned as they are now. Too often, we didn't know what we were seeing, we didn't value what came to us as gift and treasure because of the remarkable place in which we were living and the truly gifted and committed friends who shared that living space with us. 

But when we took the time to move out from the schedules and the commitments, to travel and see the sights -- that's when our eyes finally began to open and we enjoyed brief moments of insight, clarity and wonder.

Driving through a wide variety of 'game parks' was a visual delight, a smorgasbord of color, imaginative creative detail and environmental adaptability.

From long-necked giraffes to graceful gazelles,

to the realities of 'nature, red in tooth and claw,'

a beautiful impala, recently killed by a mama cheetah who had three hungry cubs to feed

we developed a deeper appreciation for God's created order

and for the realities of wildlife conservation and its importance.

Almost our first weekend there, we traveled out into the bush for a baptism ceremony, staying overnight in this grass hut.

One night.

My husband was sick the entire night

and I was pretty much terrified.

Yet people around the world live in spaces like this all the time. How blessed we are to live with the creature comforts we do -- and how valuable it is to experience even a little bit of what everyday life is like 

for so many people in this world. 

Watching a crew of strong African men create the building blocks for homes and hospitals brought the sober realization that our friends could not take a trip to the nearby home improvement center and purchase everything they needed for a DIY project. These adobe bricks required hard work, several days in the sun to harden up, and then the actual building could commence.

We were newlyweds while we lived in Zambia and it was important for us to remember that from time to time.

When our friends lived nearby, we took a couple of short trips together, just for fun and exploration.

This one was to the capital of Lusaka, enjoying the closest thing to a department store within a couple of hundred miles, admiring 'curios' being sold by the side of the road and making a stop at a beautiful roadside garden.

This is the president's mansion just outside of Lusaka. Kenneth Kaunda was the first president of this new land and he remained in office for nearly 30 years.

After Lisa was born, we took that corrugated dirt road a lot further into the bush for a weekend with a sports-master friend who lived and worked 100 miles into the back country, near the Kafue River.

Dick was the sports-master at Choma Secondary School.

He also taught civics and a beginning business class called 'commerce.'

This kind gentleman (whose name we have forgotten) came from Ceylon (now Sri Lanka) to work and support his family.

His family, however, did not make the move.

We enjoyed a great soccer match and a wonderful curry dinner, which he made for us in his small kitchen.

This bridge crosses the Kafue River, either just south of Lusaka or out further into the bush. Since the road is paved, I'm guessing we're nearer to city life in this picture.

But this is a river shot from further in the back country

and this cheerful young man played us a tune somewhere off the paved road.

Early in our time there, we went with our friends to see Kafue Dam, one of the more modern wonders of this new country.

We were too naive to realize that swimming in a reservoir is not a great idea AND that the waters in this place contain really harmful parasites. Fortunately, we did not become infected.

While he worked in the bookroom, before he began teaching, my husband took a trip to the mining towns of Ndola, Broken Hill and Kitwe.

Copper mining was hugely important and the rise and fall of copper prices has wreaked havoc with Zambian economy for decades.

When he did begin to work at the secondary school, it turned out that my husband was an excellent teacher, investing heavily in his students. He found a series of exams published in Britain, designed for commerce and business students, and he helped his small class of about a dozen students prepare for and pass them. This provided them with some important certification of excellence as they prepared to move out into living in the 20th century, finding a job and supporting a family.

He also took his students on some excellent field trips.

A larger group went in the back of a big truck to see Victoria Falls, almost all of them for the first time in their lives.

And he took his civics class to the capital city to tour the governmental buildings and see first-hand how their new democracy was working.

It was his job as the sports-master, however, that brought him the greatest joy and enabled him to travel to a variety of different secondary school settings in our district. We had two champion distance runners, pictured below -- and their names were Hercules and Samson. No kidding. 

And they were great runners.

We have tried several times to discover what became of these young men and others of those we loved while we lived among them. We kept track pretty well for about five years. And then the AIDS epidemic began in southern Africa and many of the students we knew were lost to that dreadful disease, most of them in the earliest years of its scourge-like impact on the continent, before we even knew what it was.

To this day, we are grateful for the experiences of 45 years ago, and we have been marked in deep and significant ways by our time living 

and working in a cross-cultural setting. 

At some point, I hope to write more reflectively about the missionary sub-culture and its impact on our thinking 

about how we did church in the mid-20th century.

There is much to criticize and regret.

But there is also much to celebrate and treasure,

chiefly the faithfulness of previous generations who came and built schools and hospitals as well as churches and chapels. Workers who believed that to be true to the gospel meant living it out in a holistic way, taking the good news to people who needed to experience it as well as hear it, 

who deserved education and health care 

as well as gospel tracts and evangelistic sermons,

servants who took Jesus' own stated commission from the pages of Isaiah, who brought sight to the blind, health to the sick, hope to the downhearted.

The good work that continues in that place is built on that sturdy foundation and we thank God for it, and for them.

Time Out... Archive-Diving, 2008

Written originally in the fall of 2008, right after the death of our son-in-law, I am once again diving into the draft archives as I prepare to move my blog after Christmas. This is a travel post and I'm saving it primarily for us, as a record of a fun getaway we put together during a particularly difficult time.

Both Dick and I have realized an ever-increasing sense of urgency about taking time out for a few days. A need to leave all things familiar and nest somewhere else together. It's been quite a year. Enough trauma for a few lifetimes, it sometimes seems.

So after Sunday's sermon (which was a sermon I needed to hear, and apparently a few others did as well), we went online and found a great deal at a Pismo motel we had never visited before. An ocean-front, two room, 2 bath suite for a great price.

Yes, it's foggy in Pismo this time of year.

Yes, we already live in a beach community.

But we don't live on the water and this place isn't home, with its telephones, messes needing attention, and other assorted distractions - and that, for a little while at least, makes a huge difference.

So we drove up Sunday afternoon, had dinner at a quaint place where, if you like, they'll throw an entire pot of 3 different kinds of shellfish, corn on the cob and roasted red potatoes all over your table for dinner. That was a little too much for us our first night away, so we settled for some fabulous homemade soups and seafood louie salads. Perfect.

The next day, after sleeping in a bit and enjoying what is euphemistically called a 'continental' breakfast at this lovely resort (it actually consists of a great deal more than that, including two waffle makers into which you pour a cup of batter, set the timer and enjoy), we got in the car for a little exploration.

I love to explore new places! Get in the car and drive, then get out of the car and walk. First we drove to the Pismo Pier, which we walked. (The top photo was taken from the pier, looking back toward our motel.)

Next, we went to Arroyo Grande - a charming member of the Five Cities here on the northern central coast. This is their 'famous' swinging bridge, which like everything else in the downtown area and environs, is exquisitely well-maintained and fun to see. After you cross the bridge, there is a small historical building site - with a schoolhouse, a Victorian home and a barn (all, only open on weekends, so no tours) plus a lovely town park with a regular River City bandstand in the middle.

They are currently tidying up their town for this weekend's 'world famous' strawberry festival and we had a wonderful conversation with a woman, about my age, who was very happily painting pictures of strawberries on the store windows of the downtown area.

"How'd you get into this business?" I asked. "Well, 35 years ago, I was working for a bank and they knew I had an art degree. So they asked me to do some windows at the bank. I hadn't a clue, but began to make friends in the sign industry and gradually, just built up my own little business. I've been doing it ever sense. It's a great job - allowed me flexibility to raise my kids, takes me to all the surrounding little towns and I love being in the outdoors!"

Cool!
The flowers in this small berg are beautiful, as you can see from these floribunda roses which were screaming out at us in front of the one-room schoolhouse. And soon, there will be new trees all down Branch Street, which is the main drag.

All in all, a very fun outing. We had a flyer for something called "Doc Bernstein's Ice Cream Laboratory" which we found and entered with enthusiasm. They invent their own flavors and we each enjoyed two scoops as a finishing treat to our walkabout. As you can see, Dick LOVES ice cream.

Next, we decided to follow the road out to Lopez Lake, a spot we had often wondered about, but never visited. Lovely drive, but probably no return trip planned anytime soon. It's another of California's large reservoirs that are labeled lakes and allow boating and fishing but no swimming. A few nice campsites out there and this small deer, chomping away.


We ended the afternoon at the 10-plex movie theater, watching "The Soloist." I had read such mixed reviews on this film that I was hesitant, at first. It is a bit too long and sometimes confusing to listen to - but I think in many ways, that was intentional. I love the director - Joe Wright (of "Pride and Prejudice" and "Atonement" fame) and I enjoy both Robert Downey Jr. and Jamie Foxx, so it was absolutely worthwhile just to see some of the interesting directorial choices and the acting chops of these two fine performers.

And it was deeply troubling, too. The condition of the homeless mentally ill in the city of Los Angeles, indeed, in all cities in our country, is simply devastating.

And there was a voice-over line at the end that just tore at my heart, especially in light of the sermon I had worked on last week. It went something like this. "Nathaniel is still sleeping indoors and he is still mentally ill. Some experts have told me that the simple act of having a friend for a year may actually change his brain chemistry enough to help him stabilize a little."

Having a friend can change brain chemistry??? Who knew? I think perhaps Jesus understood this powerful truth when he told his disciples, "I have called you friends."

I'm so glad I am enjoying the gift of a few days alone with my very best friend.

31 Days in which I Am Saved by Beauty - Day 13

When I spend time in my daughters' homes,

I am reminded of many things.

First and foremost,

of how very well they mother their sons.

And secondly,

how they have taken some of my

patterns and traditions and

greatly improved upon them.

I was - once upon a time - a great

seasonal decorator.

I saved art work for years and put

up my children's creations

for every holiday.

I shopped the sales at Michael's

and gathered a lot of 

decorative detritus

that we used for a long time.

Joy is doing the same thing.

And she is doing it so much better.

Her sons love this tradition

and beg her to pull out the bins

and put up the cute stuff.

Take a little look.

The manzanita branch

is used with a different set

of hanging ornaments for Halloween,

Thanksgiving, Christmas,

Valentine's Day,

St. Patrick's Day,

Easter.

And every one of her Mission style door frames

has a decorative object or arrangement

that fits the season.

These photos only capture a little of the fun,

and in about 3 weeks,

they'll be switched out for 

Thanksgiving decor.

This is the beautiful family room they added

about 10 years ago.

A lot of good memories have been made here.

Their home is always open for 

friends,

family, 

church youth groups,

neighbors.

They are superb hosts,

unfazed by groups sized anywhere

from 3 to 50.

I stand in awe.

And pictured below is our home-away-from-home

whenever we come down to see my mom,

who lives about 30 minutes from them.

This is where Dick stayed from Tuesday through Thursday

every week for ten years while he worked

in southern California before he retired in 2010.

Here is one of the really great things about retirement:

our schedule is flexible.

Packed and ready to return home last night,

we discovered that two of our grandsons

would be playing basketball games

as part of the YMCA fall season

this morning.

So, we unpacked,

enjoyed dinner & some good conversation,

and woke up just in time

to go to Griffin's game at 9:00 a.m.

Griff plays with the 5-6 year old team -

half court, no score,

frequent substitutes.

He is one of the older members

of his 4-person team

and for the first time in his life,

one of the tallest.

He is a dedicated b-ball player and

it shows.

Good game, Griffin!

 This is his team.

 Holding his team treats after the game.

Colby is 11 and one of the younger and 
smaller members of his 11-12-year-old team, 
but he is scrappy and quick
and played well today.

Big brother Wesley and little brother Griff on the sidelines,

otherwise occupied.

Colby had a bigger team, they played the full court,
they kept score.
And they trounced the opposition.

 Colby played most of three quarters,
and in between
sat on the sidelines
sucking down water.

 And a picture of Colby with his after-game snacks,
but apparently,
an 11-year-old is a little too sophisticated to smile.

The trip home was spectacularly clear after that volatile
thunderstorm blew threw the area on Thursday.
These are the foothills in Ventura,

and a quick shot of a small slice of Halloween on the highway,

This is our favorite 20 acres on the side of the road north,
where we've watched strawberries,
lettuce,
tomatoes,
beans,
and now berries-under-plastic
thrive for sixteen years now.

 And then, around the next bend, we begin to see the coast,
and we know we're almost home.

Every single time I make this trip,
I am grateful 
to live where I do.
Close proximity to the ocean
is nourishing to me in ways
I cannot put into words
and I am still amazed
that God brought us to this place.

I have loved every place we have lived - 

six months in a 1-bedroom apartment 

in Santa Monica as a newly-wed college student;

six weeks in a single room at a

Christian camping center

right after graduation;

a concrete block 3-bedroom house

on the savannah of central Africa

for two years;

an apartment in West Los Angeles

and a rented house in Eagle Rock

when we returned to California;

three homes in Altadena,

each with memories and beauties

all their own.

But this one?

This ranch house we've pushed and pulled

and added onto and made to fit us,

this space that God led us to

just as we were ready to

purchase another,

far less desirable place -

this place is a gift of grace

and beauty

that God has used

to save me day, by day, by day.