One month! Please pray for:
1. Health and safety. We had a bit of a scare with Ruth a few nights ago. She is better now, but we don't know if it was a bug or something more. Please pray that we remain healthy and safe throughout the rest of our time here and the journey home.
2. Team dynamics. God has blessed us with a great team and we have had a wonderful time together so far. Please pray that God continues to grow us closer together during our last few weeks here, making us into the type of community he originally intended amongst believers.
3. Sustainability. Always a good one. Always.
Monday, February 16, 2009
Something Extraordinary
I seem to have a knack for putting myself in situations where I am the only one. My stronger self would like to call this "independence," while my weaker self would admit that these situations usually make me feel like I just don't belong. In college I was a class ahead, putting me in a different place than my friends as well as my classmates. It didn't help when I achieved more than my older classmates--it made me apologetic. Then there was studying abroad in London, where I was more interested in "living" in London than the others studying abroad--getting involved in a church and making local friends--but amongst my church and local friends, I was the one leaving; I was temporary. The summer brought two trips across Europe where not only did I not know anyone going in, I was also the only American (it's just the right thing to make you patriotic). It's situations like this that bring a lot of excitement, but also a lot of loneliness. In many situations, the feeling was common, but I couldn't depend on the denominator--myself. It was during these times that I now realize God was teaching me to depend on Him--the only constant in my life. It's also obvious that he was preparing me for my biggest challenge yet.
I knew that in coming to Uganda with a British organization I would most likely be the only American, but I didn't expect to be the only one who's left home--the only one within three years of my age (it's easy to forget that seeing as I am smaller than all of them). But here I am in Uganda, about to turn 22, surrounded by teenagers, and the lesson God has chosen to teach me here, as I continue to depend on Him, is humility. Who knew humility came in so many different colors? It has been challenging and wonderful to realize how much I can learn from each person here with me. When you throw people together from different backgrounds you get different experiences, and those can mature you in so many different ways, no matter what your age. A great respect and love has grown for my teammates, for their insight and their faith. In the same way, I've realized how much experiences that come with age do make a difference, and how humility is appropriate in those situations as well. I had the chance to work through these things on my own, and they should too. In that, I can love them by being patient and encouraging.
The truth is, I'm on the same journey they are. As I look back on where this journey has taken me so far, I see many mountains and many valleys, lots of storms and sunshine days, times of loneliness and times where I feel like I belong. And here in Africa, where time seems to stand still, I realize that I am at the point where God has been taking me all along--a place of humility and a place of dependency. It's not only a point that marks part of my journey, it marks the beginning of something that's not about me--it marks the beginning of something so much more--something extraordinary.
I knew that in coming to Uganda with a British organization I would most likely be the only American, but I didn't expect to be the only one who's left home--the only one within three years of my age (it's easy to forget that seeing as I am smaller than all of them). But here I am in Uganda, about to turn 22, surrounded by teenagers, and the lesson God has chosen to teach me here, as I continue to depend on Him, is humility. Who knew humility came in so many different colors? It has been challenging and wonderful to realize how much I can learn from each person here with me. When you throw people together from different backgrounds you get different experiences, and those can mature you in so many different ways, no matter what your age. A great respect and love has grown for my teammates, for their insight and their faith. In the same way, I've realized how much experiences that come with age do make a difference, and how humility is appropriate in those situations as well. I had the chance to work through these things on my own, and they should too. In that, I can love them by being patient and encouraging.
The truth is, I'm on the same journey they are. As I look back on where this journey has taken me so far, I see many mountains and many valleys, lots of storms and sunshine days, times of loneliness and times where I feel like I belong. And here in Africa, where time seems to stand still, I realize that I am at the point where God has been taking me all along--a place of humility and a place of dependency. It's not only a point that marks part of my journey, it marks the beginning of something that's not about me--it marks the beginning of something so much more--something extraordinary.
Monday, February 9, 2009
Thank you so much for everyone who has sent me mail over the last five months. I really have been overwhelmingly blessed by all of your support. This upcoming Saturday marks one month until I leave Uganda, so if anyone else was wanting to send something I would suggest sending it by then, as mail has been really slow lately, and I'd hate for it to arrive after I left!
Thanks again. I have really been encouraged by you all.
Thanks again. I have really been encouraged by you all.
Prayer Requests
Please pray for:
1. Motivation. Pray that we will really be intentional and inspired our last four weeks in the schools.
2. Sustainability. Emotionally, physically, spiritually--always a good thing to pray for.
3. Patience and insight. The boys on our team were robbed while we were away by someone they had trusted. The situation is making our final weeks here look grim. Pray that everything will get sorted in time, but most of all that they will remain faithful, and recall how "God works all things together for the good of those who love Him."
1. Motivation. Pray that we will really be intentional and inspired our last four weeks in the schools.
2. Sustainability. Emotionally, physically, spiritually--always a good thing to pray for.
3. Patience and insight. The boys on our team were robbed while we were away by someone they had trusted. The situation is making our final weeks here look grim. Pray that everything will get sorted in time, but most of all that they will remain faithful, and recall how "God works all things together for the good of those who love Him."
The Truth I Have Here, the Truth I Hold Near
It has been a quiet first week back in Namaliri. We were surprised upon our return to find the twins in the family, Joshua and Caleb, still at home, along with our beloved neighbors Isaiah and Jonathan (the latter being the one whose two front teeth haven't grown in yet--a situation I took full advantage of during the Christmas season, when I taught him how to sing "All I Want for Christmas is My Two Front Teeth".) School was starting back while we were away, and these boys would be boarding this year, meaning our time with them was coming to a close.
Joshua, Caleb, Isaiah, and Jonathan are all between the ages of seven and ten, putting them at risk of abduction, particularly as they take the 3 mile long walk home from school each day. In the same way that AIDS is everywhere, yet not spoken of, as if its name were Voldemort, child sacrifice is prevalent but only mentioned in hushed tones, as if recognizing its threat would increase its chances. Child sacrifices are performed by order of the local witch doctors, a superstition that battles the Christian religion all over Africa and a superstition that, unfortunately, is often incorporated. Though it is quite obviously illegal, it is a common occurrence, reported daily in the news. Even in more civilized areas, such as Kampala, the capitol of Uganda, sacrifices are happening before important buildings are being built.
I asked Rachel, Joshua and Caleb's mother, on a walk to visit the boys' school yesterday, about what made child sacrifices so sacred in this world of pagan practices that I had only heard about. She said its value was found in the purity of the children. The best children for the sacrifices are those unblemished, in particular boys. Some of the younger boys near us have pierced their ears because of this--a practice no longer common in this culture, but one that will most likely save their lives.
I wanted to know more, because coming from a conservative Western background, it still seemed far too outlandish to be true, but it was difficult to bring Rachel to speak candidly about the little information she had given. Even though she believes in the power of Jesus' blood far more than any other, the threat to the lives of her children holds a haunting power over her, a case that I gather is true all over this continent. The spiritual world is most definitely alive here, but it is not necessarily well. I discovered this upon my arrival in the church here and have been battling with the realities of it ever since. To this question, I don't have the answer; for this issue I don't have a resolution. It's a world that I had never come in contact with in my Western upbringing--a world that it sometimes seems would be better to ignore. But I remain for five more weeks in Africa, and after I return to my world of comfort and security, Africa will remain in me. Thus, this strange power will haunt me as well, but I am confident that it cannot have power over me. My time here has brought me has humbled me to realize that this confidence is all I have, but this confidence also means the world.
Joshua, Caleb, Isaiah, and Jonathan are all between the ages of seven and ten, putting them at risk of abduction, particularly as they take the 3 mile long walk home from school each day. In the same way that AIDS is everywhere, yet not spoken of, as if its name were Voldemort, child sacrifice is prevalent but only mentioned in hushed tones, as if recognizing its threat would increase its chances. Child sacrifices are performed by order of the local witch doctors, a superstition that battles the Christian religion all over Africa and a superstition that, unfortunately, is often incorporated. Though it is quite obviously illegal, it is a common occurrence, reported daily in the news. Even in more civilized areas, such as Kampala, the capitol of Uganda, sacrifices are happening before important buildings are being built.
I asked Rachel, Joshua and Caleb's mother, on a walk to visit the boys' school yesterday, about what made child sacrifices so sacred in this world of pagan practices that I had only heard about. She said its value was found in the purity of the children. The best children for the sacrifices are those unblemished, in particular boys. Some of the younger boys near us have pierced their ears because of this--a practice no longer common in this culture, but one that will most likely save their lives.
I wanted to know more, because coming from a conservative Western background, it still seemed far too outlandish to be true, but it was difficult to bring Rachel to speak candidly about the little information she had given. Even though she believes in the power of Jesus' blood far more than any other, the threat to the lives of her children holds a haunting power over her, a case that I gather is true all over this continent. The spiritual world is most definitely alive here, but it is not necessarily well. I discovered this upon my arrival in the church here and have been battling with the realities of it ever since. To this question, I don't have the answer; for this issue I don't have a resolution. It's a world that I had never come in contact with in my Western upbringing--a world that it sometimes seems would be better to ignore. But I remain for five more weeks in Africa, and after I return to my world of comfort and security, Africa will remain in me. Thus, this strange power will haunt me as well, but I am confident that it cannot have power over me. My time here has brought me has humbled me to realize that this confidence is all I have, but this confidence also means the world.
Monday, February 2, 2009
Prayer Requests
Six more weeks! And only five at my placement since we spend the last week in Kampala debriefing.
Please pray for:
1. Continued sustainability. I have no doubt that God has carried me this far, with the time going quickly yet me enjoying it and learning all the while. Please pray that he will continue to carry me throughout the remainder of my time here and beyond. Also pray that I will learn to let him.
2. Odds and ends. There are always a few issues here and there to keep my mind anxious. Please pray that they will be resolved, but more importantly, that I won't be anxious about things that are out of my control.
3. My return. Please start to pray for my return home and my readjustment. I don't know what the combination of my new experiences and my old home will look like, but I am excited to find out. Please pray that God prepares a clear path for me that is far better than one I could lay out for myself.
Please pray for:
1. Continued sustainability. I have no doubt that God has carried me this far, with the time going quickly yet me enjoying it and learning all the while. Please pray that he will continue to carry me throughout the remainder of my time here and beyond. Also pray that I will learn to let him.
2. Odds and ends. There are always a few issues here and there to keep my mind anxious. Please pray that they will be resolved, but more importantly, that I won't be anxious about things that are out of my control.
3. My return. Please start to pray for my return home and my readjustment. I don't know what the combination of my new experiences and my old home will look like, but I am excited to find out. Please pray that God prepares a clear path for me that is far better than one I could lay out for myself.
The Misadventures of Lacy Clark
I have returned from Kenya more traveled, tan, and patient and than when I left. We began our journey early Monday, January 19th, and the thought that the next time I would be waking up at 3am, bags in hand, would be when I fly back to the states brought me great comfort for two reasons--one, because it meant that soon, after a year of traveling I would be coming home for good and two, that I wouldn't have to get up that early again until that fateful day. We were headed to Kenya for two weeks, the first week spent on Safari and the second along the coast of the Indian Ocean in a city called Mombasa. We decided to travel to Nairobi by bus to save money, though I'm not sure it was the option that would save lives--the first few hours on the bus were strangely akin to a wooden roller coaster that had a knack for getting off track.
We were granted a break from the ride at the Uganda-Kenya border, or so we thought, until, while waiting for our visas to be processed, we realized we had left behind the golden ticket that gets you into any African nation--our Yellow Fever vaccination records. With our new visas being stamped and the clocks ticking (it seems Africans are laid back about everything but transport), we had one option: avoid the Yellow Fever-checker man at all costs. I would like to term this stunt "sneaking into the country" for theatrical purposes, though I do wish to clarify to all with legal authority that we entered Kenya that day in a "glass half full" sort of way and that's all you can ask for, really. With the yellow-Fever checker man continuously peering around the corner for new prospects, we had to quickly devise a plan. The answer lied in the restrooms across from the visa office that were blocked by trucks parked on the path that led to freedom--a path that could not be seen by the enemy.
Abby and Ruth were the first to go, followed by Lizzie, and I was left behind for a solo mission because my visa was not yet finished. I knew this was the work of God because He likes to do these sort of things to me, for testing-of-faith reasons, but also I think to make life more of an adventure. And when He does these sort of things, He always delivers with a bang, for as my name was called to come and collect my passport, the propane petroleum truck meant to block my exit (or rather, entry) began pulling forward, blocking the clear path to the restrooms that I had been memorizing for the past ten minutes. In a moment of sheer determination accompanied by an ounce of recklessness inspired only by Jason Bourne, I briskly walked (which I'm sure was looking rather suspicious by this point)around the front of the moving truck, arriving at the restrooms.
It was there that I was stopped, not by the Yellow-Fever checker man but by the ever-present toilet cashier, who charges you to use the toilets even though he never gets around to cleaning them, this being the same ever-present toilet cashier who was now in plain sight of the Yellow-Fever checker man, leaning back in his chair scanning the area for his next victim (or more appropriately, missing one). At this point my wallet was in the bottom of my bag containing no small amount of Kenyan change, and after what seemed like the longest two seconds of my life in a sweating panic searching the contents of my backpack, the gracious toilet cashier allowed me to go on, and I hurried in praising God for those latrines they pass on as toilets and the salvation that they brought at that moment.
After a few moments of regrouping in the safety of my new-found sanctuary, I slowly peeked around the door to see if the coast was clear, as any clever sleuth or criminal would do. I then briskly made my way down the original path leading to freedom, so elated with my adventure that I forgot that I would now need to figure out how I was planning to get back into Uganda without my Yellow Fever vaccination record.
This was only the beginning--not only of our journey but of our tests of patience as well. With our safari vehicle breaking down in the middle of the Masai desert along with a 12 hour turned 24 hour train ride from Nairobi to Mombasa due to a slight issue of derailing, our patience was tested at every level in every degree (and it became quite obvious that we each had different degrees of this virtue). I knew I had to be patient, because God was only dishing out the challenges I had asked for. And in that knowledge, though anxiety was slowly brewing inside, I enjoyed every minute of these misadventures, because I knew that in the end it would make for a great story, and what is life without a few of those? God has given me plenty, that is for sure.
We were granted a break from the ride at the Uganda-Kenya border, or so we thought, until, while waiting for our visas to be processed, we realized we had left behind the golden ticket that gets you into any African nation--our Yellow Fever vaccination records. With our new visas being stamped and the clocks ticking (it seems Africans are laid back about everything but transport), we had one option: avoid the Yellow Fever-checker man at all costs. I would like to term this stunt "sneaking into the country" for theatrical purposes, though I do wish to clarify to all with legal authority that we entered Kenya that day in a "glass half full" sort of way and that's all you can ask for, really. With the yellow-Fever checker man continuously peering around the corner for new prospects, we had to quickly devise a plan. The answer lied in the restrooms across from the visa office that were blocked by trucks parked on the path that led to freedom--a path that could not be seen by the enemy.
Abby and Ruth were the first to go, followed by Lizzie, and I was left behind for a solo mission because my visa was not yet finished. I knew this was the work of God because He likes to do these sort of things to me, for testing-of-faith reasons, but also I think to make life more of an adventure. And when He does these sort of things, He always delivers with a bang, for as my name was called to come and collect my passport, the propane petroleum truck meant to block my exit (or rather, entry) began pulling forward, blocking the clear path to the restrooms that I had been memorizing for the past ten minutes. In a moment of sheer determination accompanied by an ounce of recklessness inspired only by Jason Bourne, I briskly walked (which I'm sure was looking rather suspicious by this point)around the front of the moving truck, arriving at the restrooms.
It was there that I was stopped, not by the Yellow-Fever checker man but by the ever-present toilet cashier, who charges you to use the toilets even though he never gets around to cleaning them, this being the same ever-present toilet cashier who was now in plain sight of the Yellow-Fever checker man, leaning back in his chair scanning the area for his next victim (or more appropriately, missing one). At this point my wallet was in the bottom of my bag containing no small amount of Kenyan change, and after what seemed like the longest two seconds of my life in a sweating panic searching the contents of my backpack, the gracious toilet cashier allowed me to go on, and I hurried in praising God for those latrines they pass on as toilets and the salvation that they brought at that moment.
After a few moments of regrouping in the safety of my new-found sanctuary, I slowly peeked around the door to see if the coast was clear, as any clever sleuth or criminal would do. I then briskly made my way down the original path leading to freedom, so elated with my adventure that I forgot that I would now need to figure out how I was planning to get back into Uganda without my Yellow Fever vaccination record.
This was only the beginning--not only of our journey but of our tests of patience as well. With our safari vehicle breaking down in the middle of the Masai desert along with a 12 hour turned 24 hour train ride from Nairobi to Mombasa due to a slight issue of derailing, our patience was tested at every level in every degree (and it became quite obvious that we each had different degrees of this virtue). I knew I had to be patient, because God was only dishing out the challenges I had asked for. And in that knowledge, though anxiety was slowly brewing inside, I enjoyed every minute of these misadventures, because I knew that in the end it would make for a great story, and what is life without a few of those? God has given me plenty, that is for sure.
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