The Big Game

So, get this.

Today, we played soccer against Scott College’s team.

And I was good!

Here’s the thing, whenever I’ve played in the last few years, I’d get all self-conscious because I’d be with fellas who were all hardcore. But tonight I was just like, eh, whatever, and it went swimmingly.

(I feel like there should be at least one boy in Chambana who is proud of me. Eh, McCabe?)

In short, God gave me the grace to play soccer, and it was awesome.

A ton of Scott students and almost all of our ABO folks came out to watch. It was quite the crowd. They really dig soccer here.

We even had school boys stopping by to watch.














Naza (a TIMO team member from Brazil who is serving on the Horn of Africa) led all the kids in these obnoxious cheers. For a while, they were my personal cheering section—I was the only girl playing—which almost made me laugh too hard to play.













(TOP: The ladies of ABO, cheering it up. BOTTOM: Later, they organized the kids. You can get a good luck here, too, at what the soccer field looked like. Full of tall grass and not flat at all. Naza is at the far right there in the second picture.)

The ladies from Scott made fun of the boys when I would (by the grace of God) dribble by them or take the ball. “Watch out for the white girl!” Once, I got through these three Kenyans and they girls just went nuts. They made fun of them the rest of the game. It was hilarious. I was voted player of the game. Haha.

I won’t talk anymore about it, ‘cause it sounds a lot like I’m tooting my own horn, but it was probably one of the coolest experiences I’ve had so far here in Africa.

Doctor Paul manned my camera, so he got some great pictures. I'll share some more with you here.













This is Jairo (on the left) shaking hands with the Scott captain. See how they have fancy uniforms and everything? They actually play against other schools... and are really good.














See that giant hill he's sitting on? That was in the middle of the field. I totally biffed on one, full speed, and fell on my face. The Kenyan players were very concerned. I laughed.














This is my teammate Cath on the sidelines playing with a couple of the boys who came out to watch. I think she had a lot of fun, too.

Alright, that's all. :)

Shalom

Today I really liked our sessions.

We talked about dealing with stress and grief.

It was awesome because Carla asked us what we were grieving, what losses have we experienced in coming over here?

We talked over some of the general things—losing familiarity, relationships, family, security—but it was great because I began to understand there are other things I’m grieving, and that’s OK.

(Now, you may be thinking, Andi, you’ve been there for two stupid weeks. What the heck are you grieving? But you try it and let me know how it goes.)

I’m grieving the loss of information and communication. I’m in a place I know nothing about and there’s no handbook; there’s no googling for telephone numbers or information; heck, there’s no telephone. Things that were so simple at home involve much orchestrating here. It’s tied a lot to independence—I’m grieving that some, too.

I’m grieving having a place to call my own—my home—and being settled.

I’m grieving baseball. Watching the Cubs play on Sunday afternoons after church. Having friends who know the game, know my team, know the status of our All-Rehab Team pitchers. Playing catch barefoot on the quad. I know that sounds silly, but it’s familiar, it’s comfortable for me and it’s tied to all sorts of memories and feelings. And no one knows or cares anything about it here.

Carla had us write down on stick-it notes all those things we were grieving and stick the notes up on the wall, sort of symbolizing giving them over to God.

What she didn’t plan for was that they were Kenyan stick-its, so they were a little ghetto and, as she continued to talk, we watched them fall from the wall, one by one.

It was the perfect thing, watching those things fall. They fell like leaves in the fall, which did a lot to remind me that this is a season—grief has a season—and it will eventually change.

(Not so) Alone In Missions

These past two weeks, I’ve taken on the responsibility of figuring out a lot of logistical things about getting to Sudan, all things we sort of thought would be taken care of before we got here. It’s been super stressful (but at the same time a joy—I really enjoy organizing/administration) and at times, I’ve gotten really frustrated with AIM. But the last few days I’ve been reminded why God brought me to AIM and just how great a fit it is for me.

We stayed at Mayfield, the AIM guesthouse, while we were in Nairobi, which is an awesome place because there are missionaries from all over Africa constantly coming through it. We were fortunate enough to meet a guy who built the original mission station. He told us all sorts of great stories about the Lopit people and his time there. We also hung out with the international director of AIM, Lanny Arensen, and his wife, Carla. Before missionaries were forced out the last time (over a dozen years ago, I think) Lanny and his first wife, Janice, actually lived in the mission house the first guy built—the same house my team leaders are living in now. And, we caught the Probsts heading back home. They work with TIMO and were just up at our place not long ago, working on our houses in the hills. And, we met a really awesome couple who served on a TIMO team in Lesotho. They’re back now, serving in Tanzania, but had a ton of great TIMO stories and were just super encouraging and helpful.

(I’m so eager to actually on the field.)

All this to say… AIM, though you sometimes feel it’s Alone In Missions, is a really tight-knit family of people who love Africa, some of whom who are second- and even third-generation missionaries.

Lanny and Carla are actually here in Machakos now, talking with us about dealing with stress and grief. Lanny actually lost his first wife, Janice, in am ambush while they were traveling from their mission station into town. (I won’t say where, because my mom reads this thing. And it was a very long time ago with a very different atmosphere.) But to sit here and eat lunch with the guy and hear him talk about Janice, it makes him a very real person. And I think that’s really awesome, knowing the international director in that way.

I really need that.

Wall of Jericho

This weekend, instead of just going to church, our group split up and went all over the place to contribute to area churches. Jen, Kim, Craig and I ended up at Africa Inland Church-Jericho in Nairobi, which turned out to be a good deal.

Can I first tell you, though—it was a very African day. Get this. Craig is supposed to preach at the young adult service, which begins at 7:30 a.m. What time does our rep from the church tell us to meet him? 7:45. At the Bomb Blast Site (what they call the memorial for the U.S. Embassy that was blown up in ’98), which is about 5 or 10 minutes from the church, he says. Weird, right? It gets better. What time does he actually show up? 8 o’clock. What time do we get to the church? 8:30. That’s right, an hour after the service began, and half an hour before the next one is scheduled to start. Remember, Craig is the sermon here. But Africans don’t rush. They played a few more songs, read a few more announcements (last week, announcements went on for 45 minutes) and then introduced all of us before Craig got the mic for the message. This was at 20 ‘til. He had to be done by 8:55.

No one was upset. Not even a little.

And, for the English service next, they were supposed to have a guest preacher… who never showed up. Our rep guy got the nod five minutes before he went up (this is after an hour or so of singing/announcements/scripture reading.) Was anyone mad? Nary a one. Just like for the Swahili service after that, when no one raised an eyebrow as, probably 45 minutes into the thing, a crowd of like-clothed folks shuffle in through the doors at the front of the church. It was the no-show preacher. He brought his own choir. HILARIOUS.

I just sit back and think of these things in the context of the American church and how people are up in arms if you have more than a sprinkling of announcements or infringe on their Sunday football game. I can’t even imagine what we would’ve done had we been faced with the more than 10 minutes of nothingness as Choir Part Two noisily yet unhurriedly set up its microphones. Mutiny the pastor?

Anyway, going back… Craig was preachin’ it up! Oh man it was great stuff. He’d prepared a half hour sermon, and he had about 13 minutes, but the guy was like a master up there. He talked about the power of praise—first, in a story from the OT (which I have… forgotten…), then in the story about Paul and Silas breakin’ free from jail, then, in the story of Jericho. (Duh, we’re at Jericho church.) At the end, he asked everyone to stand up ‘cause we were going to give a shout of praise to the Lord, sort of like Joshua & Co. did outside Jericho, praising the Lord for giving them the city. So we were shouting for the Lord’s victory in our lives, not only in the blood of Jesus, but over the sins that bind us (breaking free from chains, as Paul and Silas did). Anyway, it was awesome. I wish this little paragraph could do it justice. Just know there was some powerful praising going on.

I spent the English service over at children’s church, which was great because I got to work with the little 3-year-olds. The only problem was, said 3-year-olds didn’t speak English. At all. But the teacher lady had me introduce myself a few times, which eased the kids’ days a little bit, because they no longer had to crane their necks around to look at me in the back of the room. They didn’t really understand the Andrea/Andi thing, calling me “Handy.” Which is totally fine. Our whiny “aye” sound is hard for them. And they were far too cute to hold a grudge against. It was great times.

The only bad thing was that we called the pastor “Joseph” all day. His name was Joshua.

Whoops.

The Great Gorge

Saturday, I ate ice cream for breakfast. It was awesome.

We had the day off and Jen, Kim, Matt, Craig and I got on the road ridiculously early so we could spend as much time as possible in Nairobi. And in this case, time was translated in meals. Just how much could we EAT in Nairobi?

Hence my vanilla milkshake for breakfast. And intense omelet. (That was darn near good, not just “African good”—my term for things that are bad relative to the States, but good relative to rice and beans.) Pizza for lunch. Some awesome… egg thingie for dinner. And lots of chocolate.

Here’s my new mentality. The scales here are all metric. This is important, because I have no concept of the metric system. Saturday, I weighed 50 kilos. I don’t even know what that means. It’s probably up from my normal weight, so I’m going to ignore it. Fifty kilos sounds way better than any number of pounds, any day. It’s so much more manageable.

And so I’ll continue to eat.

Our weekend wasn’t all about eating, though, I swear. We were involved in some ministry Sunday morning; I’ll tell you about it later.

My address (try two)

I'm an idiot and gave you the wrong address. The other one will probably get to me, but this one is better. For now, anyway.

Andi
c/o AIM Serve
PO Box 21171
Nairobi, Kenya 00505

Sorry!

Prayer request.

Hey everybody... Just a quick prayer request for you.

My teammate Craig basically empty his bank accounts to get here and then was nailed with $600 in excess-baggage fees on the way over (and he was even spared said fees on one leg of his flight by a sweet airport lady!), so we'd really appreciate your prayers for financial provision, as he's down to about... 1000 Kenyan shillings.

Which is approximately... $13.

And we need $50 very soon so we can get our Sudan visas, plus a bunch more for transportation and other expenses.

So, yeah, please be lifting him up. We'd really like him to be able to stay with us and not have to worry about money stuff!

Also, just pray for God to work in the details with luggage and visas and all sorts of missing information. And for our teammate Cath; she's been sick.

Thanks!

Ain't no mountain high enough...

Today we climbed Mount Machakos -- actually, that's not what it's called. It's something else. I just have no idea what the real name is. (My friend is here and he's saying something about Mount Eveti. Perhaps that's what it is. Perhaps not. Does it matter?)

As we went along, we gathered more and more of a crowd. The little African children just came flowing out of the schoolyards and huts to see us strange white people. The first time someone showed them they could see their pictures on the backs of our strange camera things, they just went CRAZY. (This is Janna, showing them. This is actually a small throng of African children compared to what we had later.)















This is what I mean by CRAZY. They would do this whenever you'd take a picture or even have your camera out.















Later it was more like a little sea flowing along the mountain with us. They all wanted to hold our hands. All wanted to have their pictures taken. John and I had a disagreement about which picture I'd use here, so I put up both. I hope you're not sore about that.
















This lady was also pretty amazed by the camera thing, so we gave her a look, too. She was really pleased.














Juliana (MK, 5-years-old) was a trooper and came all the way to the top with us. She demanded not to be carried for as long as possible, but it ended up we had to take shifts at the end. I had the last mile. It was great. (I feel so sore.)















This is my favorite picture. You see tons of the little kids with these knit caps on, as if it's below zero outside. I suppose 60 or 70 degrees is cold to them.















I really can't get over how many kids there were up there, tucked away on that mountainside. You would never guess it from looking up at it from campus. As I was reflecting on it in a letter to a friend today, I can see how God used the experience to make me see the bigger picture. There are so many people out there that don't know Jesus--people we can't even see. And I'm just so thankful God brought me here, if for nothing else than to further realize the reality of the lost. There are so many. It's hard not to get overwhelmed.

My new pet.

Alright, so, today I got to play with a chameleon. Yeah, go ahead, be jealous. (I would be.) The little MKs found them and brought them over so we could see. (Did I mention I love missionary kids? I do.)


I wasn't really all that scared of it, but I hope you're enjoying my face here as much as I am. (Also, all you Faith Assembly people... that's definitely my Superchurch shirt I'm wearing.)

He was really cool.

It really liked my video camera.

That was probably the highlight of my day. That or seeing my teammates gorge themselves at this quasi-Western food place in town. They were so hungry for anything that wasn’t beans and rice—we’re all sort of on the brink of breakdowns here—that I think they were able to convince themselves they were at a regular Applebees or something. It was pretty great.

Otherwise, today has been hard, hard, hard. We’re doing this training right now, which boils down to hours upon hours of lecture time every day. I was looking at a picture today of me and my parents from graduation. Of course, I was missing them a bit, but I couldn’t get over how ridiculously happy I was to be done with school, done with going to class, done with hours upon hours of lectures. But here I am. UGH.

I had sort of a meltdown today. I was just done. Done listening to this guy go on and on. Done being patient with African time—that is, nothing running on time ever, always starting late, going even later (MUCH LATER). Done sitting in uncomfortable chairs, wearing uncomfortable skirts. Done eating beans and rice for every stinkin’ meal…

So I went on a run for lunch, just tore off out of campus and into the villages. Of course, running as a stress reliever is always a tricky thing for me, as God really took running away from me awhile ago as a way to break me, and my legs still kill from old stress fractures and injuries. But it turned out to be a nice escape, even though I'm limping around and sore.

Well, I guess it wasn’t much of an escape from Africa, though. School had just let out of something, so the dirt back roads I’ve been taking were full of school children in their adorable little sweaters. Kim and I went for a run the other morning and we were quite a sight for the people, but seeing this white girl running all alone with strange white cords running from her ears to a box (iPod) attached to her arm… that was just way too much for them to handle. Seriously, whole groups of teenagers (or even adults) would stop and stare at me as I went by. The little kids would chirp, “How are you?” – that’s about the only English they know. I did my best to throw out waves and “Harbari zenu!”s between gasping breaths (in some areas, if you don’t greet people, they think you’re a witch).

Anyway, it was nice. I’m still struggling to be positive, but most people here are in the same boat. I was able to go to town with my team later, like I said, and we had a good time together. And we ended the night with a hardcore prayer session, so that was even better. But, yeah, we need your prayers for team unity and working out some details of getting our things and ourselves into Sudan. And please pray against frustration during our training—this is only day two and we’re all ready to be done. (We have more than two weeks left!)

You’re prayers are coveted.

Sudan TIMO

I thought it might be nice to introduce you to my team. That's Jen (Massachusetts) on the back left, then Craig (Adelaide, Australia) and Cath (South Africa). Kim (Minnesota) is with me (new hair do') on the swings.

Calling home.

I just had to post these. Hilarious.
















This is me, trying to call my parents from a Safaricom phone on the streets of Machakos. They sure were getting a kick out of my inability to communicate with them.
















Craig took a photo, which freaked these ladies out. They kept asking if they could have a copy of the "snap."

In other news, I think I have little patches of ringworm all over my body. In fact, a lady I'm sharing the computer room with right now keeps reading off great facts about ringworm. Yay!

Planes, trains and (African) automobiles...

Today we went into town, which might be one of my best adventures yet. It’s about 2 kilos away*, so I really wanted to ride a boda-boda. (I’m guessing on that spelling.) A boda-boda (“bow-duh bow-duh”) is a bicycle with a glorified bookrack on the back—that is, there’s a sort of padded seat above the wheel.

So, yeah, I was all about the boda-bodas, but as we got walking, we didn’t see any of them milling about. We did happen upon a poor guy driving a three-wheeled taxi… thing. I really can’t describe it adequately. No words can do it justice. I think it’s probably a scooter-type thing with a seat built on the back and covered in a rickety frame with canvas strapped over it. Whatever, just know it was an incredible experience. We were bouncing all around in the thing, sticking our heads out of the canvas window cover things and howling as our poor bottoms were jolted with every bump. I’ll send the video home sometime soon, if I can. It’s great. Perhaps then you can appreciate more fully the greatness of this ride into town. I think the driver got annoyed with us, but I’m sure that was neither the first nor last time that will happen. (Whoops.)
















I did get my boda-boda experience on the way back from town. It was so cool, just riding along and looking at the countryside. Sure, there was some squealing as the guys nonchalantly took us through the busiest roundabout in town or as giant buses full of African’s screaming “wzungu!!!!!!” roared past, just inches from my elbows. But, still… so great.


















You can probably tell I’m still in the very “romantic” stage of my cultural transition here, so I look at everything with eyes of wonder and am still very open to trying (and yea even eating) new things.

I’m sure I’ll soon hit the next stage of adjustment, as I’ll probably cocoon back into any little Western thing I can find. We did some of that today, actually, as we raided the Naivasha (grocery/stuff store) for chocolate and biscuits (aka: cookies). I got so excited at seeing a KitKat, I bought three. And that was on top of four Cadbury bars. Yeah, I won’t lie: It was a bit of a buying frenzy. It was Craig, Kim and I—there was no calming force, just two hungry Americans and an impressionable (and equally famished) Aussie.

It’s a little strange, being a minority. It’s more of an issue here in Machakos, as it’s very rare to see one of us wzungus on the street. There are times when I’m more aware of my skin color than I’ve ever been! I wish I could say I understand some of the discrimination people go through here in the States, but, really, being white in Africa sets you apart in a different way. More than anything, it means you have money—money you can give them. (Apparently they didn’t get the memo on my being broke.)

Welcome to Machakos...

Just so you're all jealous, this is the view out my dorm room window at Scott Theological College in Machakos, Kenya.

We started our training today. Pray for me, as I hate, hate, hate long days of meetings. I have a hard time sitting still that long. :) But praise God, I'm sure he'll give me the grace to live through this. I know everything I'll learn here is super valuable.

Ok, I don't really have much time. I'll try to update this later in the week -- I won't have much access here.

Greetings again from Nairobi! This might be my last post before we take off to Machakos, but I wanted to tell you about a really sweet place we went to today called The Carnivore.

A disclaimer: It's totally a touristy, nzungu place. Totally. But that doesn't mean it's not great.

True to the name, it's all about meat. You just sit there as these men with giant sword things come by and offer you the strange meat they have on the swords. (Hopefully you'll get an idea of what I'm talking about from these pictures.)



It was so incredibly awesome. I ate ostrich and camel and crocodile and lamb and beef and chicken and... chicken gizzard. Oh my goodness, that's SO DISGUSTING. But I was going all out. Reason didn't kick in. Anyway, the camel and ostrich were incredible. And the crocodile wasn't half bad when you added some of the many wonderful sauces they offered.





This is Craig (the Aussie) and I, eating like it's our job. We took some really sweet video. I wish I could share it with you.

This is all the meat cooking on the coals. It was a meat-eaters dream. YUM.

Alright, I don't have much time. Have to run.

The luggage arrives!

We got a lot more of our luggage today!

It was all torn open and gone through, haha. Our box had a gaping hole in it; sort of like it'd be chewed up by some giant rat.

They stole all the conditioner we'd just bought in New York. (Conditioner and other white people things here are VERY EXPENSIVE and often watered down and bad. I just paid more than $10 for hair gel.)

We just have to laugh because we're left to wonder what some bald African man will do with a handful of bottles of conditioner... Haha.

Take me out to the ballgame...

Today all my baseball dreams came true. I taught my first African to play catch. (!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!)

I finally rustled up Craig (the Aussie) to play toss with me outside. I've been going through withdrawal. Mark and I played all the time back at home.

It was all dark and stuff, but we caught the attention of the security guards. (This may leave you to wonder who was doing the security. Good question.) They eventually crowded around a passed ball and were studying it quite intently when I came up.

They looked at me and my mitt and asked how I caught the ball in my “hat.” (Hehehe.) So I tried to show them how the glove worked.

They were super entertained. I finally got one of them, Sumbi, to give it a go himself. He didn’t really understand the right-handed person putting the glove on the left hand thing. He kept trying to switch it.

It was amazing to see how foreign the idea was to him. He looked pretty goofy and awkward. Haha. Anyway, they were pleased with themselves and I promised I’d teach them more tomorrow, when the sun is out. (Teaching someone baseball in the dark seems like a horrible idea.)

Naturally, I’m pretty giddy. First, Sumbi. Next… the whole of Africa. :)

Camels and caves and matatus... oh my!

So, wow, I think this has been the longest week of my life! I can’t believe it’s only been seven days since I left Illinois—and only five since I left the States.

Yesterday was a very long, full day…

My Sudan TIMO teammate Kim and I decided Monday that we wanted to ride an ostrich. This may sound a little weird to you, but Kim’s friend did it while she was here, and riding atop a very strange bird seemed like an experience too random to pass up. So we set out to do just that.

We ended up outside of Nairobi in a little town called Kiambu. The ride there was terrifying. I’ll probably hit on that some other time, as transportation in Africa deserves a post of its own! Anyway, we went to a place called Paradise Lost, rumored to have said ostrich riding available.

Sadly, you could only FEED the ostriches—a far cry from saddling up on one, I must say!—but we happened upon a lot of other fun stuff to keep us entertained.

We hiked back to a beautiful water fall and explored some caves the Kenyan Freedom Fighters used during the war. We went back as far as a big cavern, from which there were shoot-offs that would take you all the way to Mount Kenya. That’s about a month-long journey! I can’t even imagine that. Anyway, here’s Kim in the caves.

And that’s Matt and I under the really sweet waterfall. Matt is here with this parents, Dave and Mary, who are going on from training to be dorm parents at Rift Valley Academy, AIM’s super-awesome school in northern Kenya. He’ll be a junior there. He, Kim and I have adopted each other as stand-in siblings. He’s a pretty cool little brother.

This is all of us, looking too cool for words at the bottom of the waterfall. This was Kim’s idea. I blame her for me looking so ridiculous.

Then we rode horses… and a camel. It’s an interesting thing, being on the back of a camel when it gets up from being on its knees. (That’s what’s going on in that picture, hence the weird looks on our faces.)

We did hang out with the ostrich for a while. I’ve decided ostriches are really scary animals. I was holding this leaf thing and it just went nuts on me. They get pretty good range with those crazy-looking necks of theirs, let me tell you. Anyway, it was strange. But don’t think for a second we’re going to stop in our quest to find a place to take one on, bareback style.

I can’t confirm that camels spit, but I can confirm that they make really weird noses and have a lot of saliva action going on inside their mouths. Disgusting.

Pray for our team...

Another one of our teammates, Craig, got here yesterday. He’s from Australia—the first Aussie to be on a TIMO team, no less. He’s a pretty cool guy. We’ll meet Cath—another teammate, from South Africa—on Friday or Saturday, but it will be nearly a month before we are united with the rest of our team.

We might not know each other, but the devil certainly has each one of us marked. From the very onset, he’s been working to gain a foothold among the three (and now four) of us who are here. I can feel myself being unusually easily annoyed or frustrated, focusing on the differences between us, especially with one of our teammates in particular. Kim and I talked about this today, because she really had a rough go of things with a teammate before.

Did you know that the number one reason missionaries leave the mission field is other missionaries? Yeah. Crazy, isn’t it? But it’s a very easy way for the devil to work. He’s not a dumb guy. (I hate when Christians—especially me—forget that the devil is very real, just as real as Christ, and we share this world with him. He lurks; let us not be ready!)

And so we’re not going to take this thing lightly. God has really but a heavy burden on my heart to pray for all of our teammates and for our time together. I’d appreciate your prayers to, as team unity is so critical to having an effective ministry. And bad relationships are not God-honoring!

The long and short of it.

Well, gang, I did it. The hair has been chopped. It's really, REALLY short.




Kim supervised the whole thing, keeping careful watch over the African hairdresser as she chopped away. Even Matt and Joe were there for moral support. It was quite the sight, this crazy foursome of wzungus (white people) making a ruckus about one of them getting a haircut. I’m sure we confused them even more by wanting to keep the hair. (I’m sending it home to Locks of Love.)

There was a lot of pointing, laughing and talking in Swahili. I’m sure they’re still talking about it today.

I'm in Kenya...

Hey gang! My gang and I finally arrived in Nairobi, Kenya, this morning, after a long two days of traveling and a lot of funny happenings. (Did I tell you I almost got hit by a car in London? Yeah, they drive on the other side of the road there. Duh Andi.)

Unfortunately, not all of our luggage got here. I'm missing one of my two bags, which is sad, but I got away lucky -- an AIM family with two little kids only found one of their 11 bags at baggage claim! It seems that half of the plane's stuff was left at London. Or at least that's what we're thinking. Everyone is missing *at least* one bag. So be praying for all that to come through -- we're hoping they will get here either tonight or tomorrow. Luckily, I have my essentials (toothbrush, Bible, baseball glove), so I could survive at least another week without my luggage.

I'm writing now from an internet cafe at a Nakumatt -- basically, the Kenyan version of Walmart. It's definitely a strange feeling, being a minority. Luckily, many people here speak English and they seem to be used to foreigners, as I haven't gotten many stares yet. (I remember being in China and being treated like a celebrity for my white skin and blonde hair.)

We haven't got to see much of the city yet -- just the area between the airport and our guest house -- but I can't wait to get out there and see what life is like. I haven't dared to experiment with food yet -- my first meal in Africa was... pizza... so pathetic, I know-- but, in my defense, there isn't much African eatin' here at Nakumatt.

I'm praying for some time to just relax and reload. It seems I've been going nonstop since -- gosh -- October, first with moving home, then support raising and, finally, making all the last-minute preparations for Africa. I keep saying things to myself like, "I'm in Africa" or "Here I am, moving to Africa," but nothing has really sunk in yet. It seems fatigue is clouding my sense of reality! Or maybe this is normal...

I hope to spend a lot of time with the Lord tonight and another good chunk of time sleeping. (Praise God for sleep. And beds parallel to the ground.) I'm sure I'll also try to enjoy some time with the other people who are here preparing for ABO (Africa-based orientation). It's awesome to talk and share with people who have the same heart you do, not only for the Lord, but for Africa.

London bridges falling down...

So, today I got to watch the England and Portugal's World Cup game in London!


Unfortunately, England lost on penalty kicks, which really made me sad.

My teammate Kim pretended to be sad with me. Actually, she and Jen (my other TIMO teammate) were super gracious to me in sitting beside me (and a large contingency of Brits) while I hung on every kick. It was great fun. Smashing, even.

Earlier, we had the chance to go into the city -- we have a 14-hour layover! -- and we saw Big Ben, Westminster Abbey, the London Eye, Buckingham Palace and a whole spattering of adorable English telephone booths. (That's Kim on the left and Jen on the right -- both Sudan TIMO teammates.)

We decided that everything in London looks like it came straight out of a toy village -- from the bobbys on horseback to the giant brick buildings, guards with huge fuzzy black hats to those silly telephone booths.

While this all might have the appearance of a vaction, trust me, it's far from that. I feel like 16 hours on a plane, coupled with a couple dozen more in various airports, has earned us a bit of touristy time. We've had a lot of funny hangups, too. When we were trying to check our luggage into storage in London, the fire alarm went off. So we had to stand there forever waiting for them to put out a fire. And then in the city, while I was buying my mad-style, 70%-off England soccer jersey, this GINORMOUS gay pride parade went by. It was definitely a nice reminder of the depravity of man and how much work there is to be done -- Romans 1, right here in London.

Alright, I've got two adorable MK toddlers wanting my attention, so I'm off. Pray for our travel into Kenya -- we leave tonight (London time) and get to Kenya early in the morning (Kenya time). Then we'll be there for a few days before taking off to Kenya. Pray especially for team unity and for sleep on the plane!

my last few days in the states...

Thought I'd throw up a few pictures on here -- a picture story of my last few days in the states... I tried to cram in as much as possible... as you can probably tell.

My old brother (Kevin) and sister-in-law (Larissa) came in from Kansas for my going away party. that was cool. mom made us all pose for pictures. Clearly my favorite part of family gatherings. (Gag.)















You might be able to tell Kev was not so happy I took a picture of him eating... especially a picture in which it looked like he and Riss have two kids. They're definitely not theirs. Trust me.














My dad is kind of goofy. But I love him anyway.














Anthony and I went on a fake date. Best date I've had in years. They're so few and far between, it wasn't hard. Plus, it was fake. And we got to dress up. So that just made it great. Because the date was fake, I figured I didn't need to put a real picture up here. I hope you enjoy it as much as I do.
















My good friend Angie (in the middle there) just got home from a year in East Asia the other day. We had just a half day to spend with each other before I took off to two years. So, quite naturally, we spent it at Wrigley. Lauren (aka: my pledge kid, The Cubs Fan), also quite naturally, came with us. Joy, the fourth in the Logo Glass quadrivium, couldn't make it. Something about having to work. Pfft.





After my commissioning service at Oglesby Union on Sunday -- it was really, really awesome -- I was able to spend some time with folks from another church close to my heart, Faith Assembly of God, at their church picnic. It was good times. I'm not in this picture. I'm pretty happy about that.








This is Holly and I. We spent Tuesday afternoon ringing a huge bell. You might think this is strange, but it has significance, I swear. Here, I'm ringing a huge bell... on her head. For some reason, this makes me laugh uncontrollably.
















It was pretty hard to say goodbye to Mark, since he became one of my best friends at home. I'm hoping to find some equally great person to play toss with in Sudan. (I doubt this will be easy.)
















The Antrims -- folks who I met in Decatur and who let me ride their horses -- drove all the way up to Oglesby (two hours!) on Tuesday just to eat lunch with me for 45 minutes or so. I felt really special. For some reason, the picture of us won't post, so you're getting me and Shadow, the dog. They brought him with them to see me. Unfortunately, they couldn't fit the horses in their car.




Well, that certainly isn't all-inclusive. But you get the idea. :)

Pearl River

Hey gang. It's been a while since I've posted on here. I can use only a lack of time as my excuse—I certainly have had a lot to share.

I'm finally in Pearl River, NY, at the Africa Inland Mission U.S. headquarters. I had a funny time getting here--I had a two-hour delay in Chicago, my luggage popped open on the plane and I had one of those horrible seats that doesn't recline!--but I'm so happy to finally be on my way.

A few things of note...
- My roommate and teammate Jen packed WAY more than me, so I'm feeling pretty darn good about my bags that are 10 pounds under weight and not bulging open. (Happy dance.)
- I finally got to meet another one of my teammates, Kim, and she seems ultra cool. Couple that with my recent fun conversations with The Aussie (aka: Craig), and any fears I had about being with all stodgy Christians have been squelched.
- Leaving hasn’t really sunk in yet, but tonight at lunch I had a “Wow, I’m really a missionary” thought, so perhaps reality will eventually come upon me. I can’t tell if this is God is keeping me calm or me just being too tired to think/feel/function properly. (I haven’t had much sleep at all in the last few days… or weeks.)

Perhaps I’ll update more later. Thanks for your prayers!

Itching to leave.

Today I got mildly uncomfortable in my house, so I cranked up the air conditioning.

Uh huh… and I’m moving to Africa.

Proof once again that God doesn’t bother staying within the bounds of our comfort zones.

Speaking of comfort, I’m feeling a lot better this week. And since I quit working fulltime, it’s kind of a strange situation, not having to live nocturnally and read silly amounts of sporting news.

Since I’ve been itching less, I’ve had to find other things to do with my hands—one of those being opening all the packages for the silly gadgets I bought for Africa. Can we talk about all that plastic packaging? I had to break out my sweet Leatherman do-it-all… thing (another Africa purchase) and cut and saw away at things. It’s ridiculous. You’d think the packaging people were afraid my CompactFlash drive was going to spoil. Or grow legs and escape. I contemplated buying some dynamite and blowing the suckers open. It was that bad.

Clearly, it’s a conspiracy.

But, whatever, I got to use my sweet Leatherman do-it-all… thing (yes, that’s the technical name for it), which makes me happy. It’s funny how these Africa purchases keep coming in handy. Like my headlamp… thing (also technical name)? I’ve totally used that to read in bed.

Go ahead, get that great mental picture of me with an awkward light source on my head, pouring over my latest John Piper book or my Bible. You laughing? I hope so.

Good news from my stateside teammates -- they're all fully supported, too! Wow. I can't even fathom it. A few weeks ago, Kim was sitting at like 15% or so. That's just nuts. Nuts. God's really good. Just as good as he'd be if he didn't bring all the support. But, still, really, really good.

I started a DVD today called Amazing Grace. It's a four-hour film about the history and theology of Calvinism. Are you drooling yet? It's pretty sweet. Mark and I only got through a little bit of it, but I'm anxious to watch the rest. I want to see what these crazy Calvinists are all about. ;)

"O God, command what you wouldst, and grant what thou dost command." -- Augustine

The Shingles Shuffle.

I really need to pound out a post here. So much has been going on.

This week has been hard, hard, hard. I knew I was going too fast, doing too much. I even knew I had to slow down or I'd go nuts/get sick. As it turns out, I just didn't act on that knowledge fast enough.

So, I've got shingles. As in, an unwelcome, miserable encore to the chickenpox. I guess the deal is that the chickenpox... thing... holes up in a nerve in your body and sometimes -- in general, when your immune system is compromised -- rears its ugly head in the form of itchy welts/blisters. It's really an old person thing. Or its also common in cancer and AIDS patients. But, no, I got it. On my face, eyes and scalp, no less! I think I compromised my immune system by letting myself get ridiculously stressed out. So, yeah, I've pretty much been in misery this last week, scratching and listening to not just one, not just two, but THREE doctors tell me I had shingles. (I was in denial for some time.) And naturally my first question was, "What does this mean for Africa?"

(Are you getting the feeling I should have posted about this before and sent out a mass prayer request? Yeah, me, too. Anyway...)

My fear was that I'd be contagious still when I was in Africa -- they say shingles lasts four to five weeks -- and that if I were to go, I'd start some horrible chickenpox epidemic, so AIM would keep me home. After a five days of fretting and itching and moping and all that, I think I got the answer to that tonight. And it's the answer I wanted!

Dr. Schuler (Mark's cool dad) tells me I shouldn't be contagious. That I'm likely already past that stage. At worst, I'll be uncomfortable. Yaaaaay!

(Don't worry, for those of you who have seen me in the last week -- if you've had chickenpox already, you're fine. For all the wee children who haven't had it... I'm sorry. But, take heart, shingles is no where near as contagious as chickenpox. I'm praying I didn't pass it on.)

God has been teaching me through all of this. First, he showed me that, though I once held this trip with an open hand, I had, as my departure grew closer, tightened that grip. I did not want God to "take this away from me." So praise Him for divine humbling and a right view of what I will do -- if the Lord wills, I will live and do this (go to Africa) or that (minister to Sudanese women). And, second, I need to slow down. That's pretty straight forward.

So, that was The Drama. Sorry I didn't let anyone in sooner; things were really uncertain. But it was awesome to see the Lord answer the prayers of the people who were by my side.

That's all I've got time for. I have a church appointment far, far away tomorrow morning and I'll already be skimping on sleep. My last presentation -- praise the Lord!

Dog days.

Ever get the feeling dogs know when you're going on vacation?

You know, when they do that cute/depressing thing where they sit and stare at your suitcases while you're trying to pack. Or that uber-cute/depressing thing where they go ahead and just get in the suitcases.

Right. So. I think my dog has got that going on, just it's not vacation, it's two years in Africa. And it's not just an afternoon he's looking pathetic by my suitcases; it's more of his identity right now. The poor guy trails my every move, waits up until I come from work, snuggles in bed with me. And he's always giving me these really sad, sad eyes. He's downright sullen. Talk about cute/depressing.

I haven't posted in a while -- and with good reason. I've been busy. Busy going to weddings, rafting down rivers, enjoying lovely picnics, watching subpar movies, playing Uno in kiddie pools, eating waaaaay too much at cookouts ... and, of course, doing all things Africa.

I looked at my planner today and realized I'm quickly filling up every minute of every day until I leave, with stuff. Doing stuff, seeing stuff, getting stuff. Stuffing my schedule full, you might say. I'm not at all surprised, really. That's how I work. But be prepared to see me frazzled quite a bit, especially on the weekends. (I only have four left!) It seems I'm going two or three places each weekend. For example, this weekend: Chicago and Champaign. The next weekend: Decatur, Springfield and Albany. Please pray for safe travels. And pray even harder for discernment. I seem to be doing the trying-to-be-everything-to-everyone thing again. Such a weakness.

Africa is still Africa and I long to be there more than here. I'm a little anxious because the support deadline has come and gone. No word yet on who made the cut and who didn't. I know my teammates weren't really to a place, support-wise, where they could be cleared financially. So keep them in your prayers, too.

Lots of prayin' I'm asking of you. Geesh.

25 days until I leave and it doesn't seem real yet. I'm not sure when it will. Or even if it will.

I find myself trying in every way to be "ready" -- buying the right things, getting the right paperwork, arranging for the right things. But I'm not preparing as much as I should emotionally and -- moreover -- spiritually. This is a dangerous, dangerous road to travel.

I really don't have much to say. Just a quick post before I hit the hay and start my whirlwind weekend.

"God is most glorified in us when we are most satisfied in Him."
:)

Details!

Today I consumed an outrageous amount of calories.

And if I was forced to pick, I’d have to say the funniest part of my day was after said over-consumption, when Anthony (who was in cohorts with me on the eating business) and I were walking down the main street in Ottawa, comparing stomachs and fighting over whose had become more misshapen and large from the grotesque amount of Mexican food we’d just packed down.

I lead such an interesting life.

I got an email this week from Rob in Tanzania (the TIMO coordinator). It left me stunned, nearly unable to move. Why? Because it had details in it. That’s right, folks, details. My body/mind/spirit didn’t even know how to handle the details, having never been confronted with something of this sort before. And, while the details weren’t really about anything I’m most worried about, they did let me know the gameplan of getting from Nairobi to Lopit. And now I know the mission is capable of giving me details. ;) Kidding, kidding.

Oh, Lord, that I would cast off the idol of knowing what lies ahead!

(Still holding off on that spiritual post.)

Things to EAT.

My dog ate a whole loaf of bread today.

I'm talking like THE WHOLE THING.

Yikes.

I really need to get going on my list of things I need to do before I leave. I started one tonight—in my mind—but I realized it was more of a “Things I need to EAT Before I Leave” list than anything else. Not that that’s necessarily a bad things.

Here goes nothing…
▪ My grandma’s spaghetti
▪ My mom’s cinnamon rolls (the best in the WORLD)
▪ Rip’s chicken
▪ Lots and lots of BBQ
▪ Elmer’s wings in Decatur
▪ Pizza Hut with Lees

Enough with the food…
▪ Spend a day on the horses with Kay and Charles.
▪ Go camping/canoeing.
▪ Do a little rock climbing.
▪ Get really dressed up and go on a date. (A girl can dream, right?)
▪ Get flowers on said date. (OK, OK, I’m pushing it… I know…)
▪ Spend a few days with my kiddos, taking lots of pictures.
▪ Another day at Wrigley with the girls.
▪ Play catch with Angiepants. She gets home from East Asia (she’s been there for a year) three days before I leave – woohoo!
▪ Catch a rodeo.
▪ Ride rides at a county fair.
▪ Take pictures. Lots and lots of pictures.

Alright, that's all I can think of for now. Thoughts? Suggestions? Takers?

Just over a month now.

(I promise to post something more spiritual/worthwhile in the next few days. For now, I must sleep.)

sing me a sweet song

God moves in a mysterious way
His wonders to preform;
He plants his footsteps in the sea,
And rides upon the storm.

Ye fearful saints, fresh courage take;
The clouds you so much dread,
Are big with mercy and will break
In blessings on your head.

Judge not the Lord by feeble sense,
But trust him for his grace;
Behind a frowning providence
He hides a smiling face.

His purposes will ripen fast
Unfolding every hour;
The bud may have a bitter taste,
But sweet will be the flower.

Deep in unfathomable mines
Of never-failing skill,
He treasures up his bright designs
And works his sovereign will.

Blind unbelief is sure to err
And scan his work in vain;
God is his own interpreter,
Ane he will make it plain.

-- William Cowper

Point for pleading from Gilligan's Island

Hey gang. Here's a note from my friends on Gilligan's Island. Please lift them up!

Hello dear friends!!
I’d like to take a minute to share with you a need for pleading. As you are aware, this island is not open to the “Good News.” The few local “followers” of our Captain have been the target of some persecution recently. A group of them have been meeting in a home once a week, and this past Saturday, the meeting was met by police. The leader who does much of the teaching and a young man were taken in for questioning and have been held there since Saturday. The police seem to have a problem with the young man associating with this group. The amazing thing is, this bold 15 year old has professed the Son of our Captain without shame! He repeatedly has told them “I believe in J!” Praise to the Captain!!
I ask that you plead for growth and strength during this time. Persecution is not a bad thing and was often used in the NT to grow the “body” and spread the “Good News.” Lift up the leader of the “followers” as well as his wife and children. Thank the Captain for this young “follower” and his courage! Plead also that this issue will be settled quickly, preferably before the new government takes power Friday. Plead for all the “followers” on this island, as the police apparently have a list of all their names. Plead they will be strengthened by the power of the “H.S.” and know true peace. Some of them have been visited and also taken in by the police.
Our Captain is great and worthy of praise! Nothing is beyond His grasp or control! He already has a plan for this situation and this island! Continue to plead for His will to be done! Thank you and may you be blessed this week!

One nugget short of a load.

Tonight the McDonalds drive-thru guy hit on me.

I’m sure in some weird way that could be construed as affirming or flattering, but -- really -- it wasn’t.

I did, however, hope in my heart of hearts that I'd get seven nuggets in my 6-piece meal because of it.

No such luck.

But that’s probably a good thing, as I had a mighty struggle with just those six pieces as I drove home.

It’s not that I don’t like BBQ sauce on my nuggets – because, friends, let me tell you, I do – it’s just that I don’t like BBQ sauce on my clothes.

But such is life.

And life lately has been such.

Last week was so long. And terrible. And great.

God brought me comfort in the strangest ways and rocked me from my comfort zone in others. I was really tired and really stressed and even doubting my call (which is laughable now), but God gave me little breaths of fresh air along the way to remind me of His goodness and—moreover—His sovereignty in all things.

And while those blurred days truly did suck, God brought me through them. Perhaps just to face another string of sucky days, but He brought me through, nonetheless.

What’s new in life? Well, the role of the elusive ActionPackers (the Rubbermaid containers all international airlines approve that, for about six months of me looking at different stores for them, seemed mythical) has been taken over by the elusive Africa-appropriate skirts. If you see any affordable, ankle-length, relatively plain skirts out there in a size 2 or 4 (or 6 in a pinch), let me know. Seriously. Call me with any sightings.

Otherwise, the constant questions about what I need to buy and pack continue, and I struggle through each day trying to trust God with the details (and the lack thereof). I find myself grumbling sometimes – “I’ve waiting MORE THAN A YEAR without details, surely you could tell me if I’ll be able to buy contact solution in Loki or get mail.”

In an unrelated story, I find myself rather consumed right now by a doctrinal disagreement with a good friend of mine—one of my very few friends around the Illinois Valley. It was one of those elephant-in-the-room kind of issues until a few days ago, when the darned animal—complete with marching band, fireworks and other pitiful pomp and circumstance—paraded right between the two of us. It’s not a matter of lost friendship. It’s more one of awkwardness and seeking to understand while holding strong to our own convictions. And it has wider implications.

The really sweet thing about it—and, yes, there is a sweet thing—is that it’s brought me back to the Word a lot, to a deeper study and to a better awareness of what kind of doctrine is out there. And it’s forced me to challenge my own convictions with God’s word, which is never a bad thing.
And, yeah, I disagree with him—I’m not sure we’ll ever come to terms on it; I joke that we’ll always just be praying the other person “comes around”—but it’s not an issue that necessarily compromises the cross.

And, as my friend J.P. wrote once, “God mercifully uses his erring children. He has no other kind. As J. I. Packer says, God often honors the needle of truth in a haystack of error. All of us see through a glass darkly for now. Perfection is not required of us for God's favor either in life or in doctrine. Wrong teaching hurts the church. Some wrong teaching can destroy the church. But there is no perfect church. And therefore the only Christian movement in the world is an imperfect one. And if we are going to celebrate at all, we are going to celebrate the work of God in imperfect people with imperfect ideas.”

Well put, Mr. Piper. Well put.

So that’s where I’m at right now. Learning, growing, being stretched, pressed, challenged, enlightened. All sorts of things. Gotta love being a child of God.

The Great AC Debacle

Remember that one time when I was all upset when my team manual said we'd have air conditioning in our cement-block houses?

Yeah, apparently, that was wrong. I sent an email to Stephan and Iris (team leaders) asking if I needed solar panels after all, since we'd clearly have some power source for the AC and fridge, like a generator.

Stephan sent me back a rather confused message, saying there must be some kind of misprint, as we definitely do not have such luxuries. The best we can gather, the TIMO powers that be (ie: the aforementioned Rob) left that in there from the Djibuti manual on accident.

HiLARious.

Hmm.

I just realized all my posts have been timestamped for the time in L.A., not Illinois. So they're all three hours behind. Funny.

I guess now people will be more aware of how truly noctural I am.

Cubs win, Cubs win.

I realized this afternoon that I hadn’t fed my mom’s fish in a few days. My immediate conclusion was that this was a bad thing, especially seeing as how I already had one altercation with the swimming beasts and ended up outside in my pajamas at 6 a.m., going on no sleep and becoming very wet. (Long story.)

Luckily, this new situation didn’t involve the outside pond, just the mammoth fish tank downstairs and the many pretty fish I know nothing about. My remedy for the whole situation was taking all the bottles of food I found—and there were probably half a dozen—and dumping a little bit of each kind into the tank.

Whether that was right or wrong, the fish seemed to like it.

And so I’m chalking it up as a victory.

I really don’t like fish. Why can’t we just stick with the dogs? They’ll protect you, snuggle up with you, take care of you when you’re sick and—though they’re a little smelly a lot of the time—make you laugh with their personality and attempts to charm you. From what I gather, in the scheme of life, these dogs and their roles are eventually replaced by husbands. But they, too, grow tiresome, so you go back to the old standby of a dog. It’s the circle of life, people. The circle---- of life----.

In the words of my former coworker Amie, "I'm still convinced men are completely trainable."

Amen, sister. Aaaaaamen.

In other news, I haven’t blogged about my weekend yet, which is unfortunate. Even though I ended up not going to the Cubs game (and losing the $130 I spent a while back on tickets—OUCH), I did get down to Champaign and got to play with my kids and a few of my friends. And it was awesome, too, to get to go to Stratford Park and see the chapel folk. They’re so encouraging and great. Some old Cru folk and I watched a movie Sunday night, too—one involving cowboys and Robert Redford kicking the junk out of some guy. That was a wonderful combination. And I surely had my fill of ice cream.

Africa is definitely getting closer, but it still seems surreal. I leave in… 41 days. And, while my support is so close it almost seems like a nonfactor anymore, I’m not really able to wrap my head around the idea that I’m moving to Sudan. (Yeah, not even the italics made it more real for me. Curious.) There’s so much to do before I leave, so many excuses to worry. That whole anxiety/stress thing is creeping up—pray against that. And I, for whatever reason, have been thinking a lot about that guy I mentioned in my prayer letters. (If you have no idea what I’m talking about, ask me.) Pray against anything bad happening there. I have an uneasy feeling about it. That’s probably just the Devil working, though. Or paranoia.

Details are just killing me.

So is my schedule.

My coworker actually came in today and did that thing where he grimaced as he said I wasn’t looking so great and asked if I was sleeping at all. My favorite part was when he stumbled through, “There are just… lines… under your… eyes. You look… (long pause) exhausted.” So pray for peaceful, useful, uninterrupted sleep. That hasn’t been happening much lately. I’m not entirely sure it’s possible.

(I blame the fish.)

Speaking of that, I should hit the hay. I’ve got a radio interview in four hours, an appointment in seven, lunch with some cool ladies in eight and a ton of things to get done in the meantime. (Ugh.)

My favorite kids.

If you don't think this is the most adorable child ever,
something is clearly very wrong with you.
And the rest.

Equally adorable.

:)

Locusts in the ivy.

Honestly, what's next for the Cubs? Locusts ravaging the ivy?

As Mike Nadel said this week, we need little less than a high-powered telescope to see the top of the NL Central right now. And even though Wood's coming back this week (insert obligatory, counterfeit excitement here), his fellow All-Rehab team member Prior is still a long way from taking the mound at the Friendly Confines. And how much longer is DLee out? *whimper*

“Baker has been under fire for a multitude of managerial sins, including (but not limited to): using bad lineups, making poor pitching decisions, having a defeatist attitude, being too optimistic, refusing to use young players, saying silly things, not arguing enough with umpires, not having his team prepared, not trashing the clubhouse as any manly man would, and, I believe, raising gas prices above $3.25 a gallon.” Haha. I concur!

I'm not sure I can endure another picture of my friend KT and her dad and brother, in Padres shirts, grinning mischievously as they wield brooms. And not just one broom. Lots of brooms. Lots and lots of brooms. But I suppose we deserve that, dropping seven stinkin' games to a team like San Diego.

Clearly, the Cubs are poisoning my last month and a half here in the States. And, clearly, I’m taking it personally. Then there’s Barry Bonds. Most of my job right now is waiting for this steroid-enhanced man to hit a home run. Do you know how hard it was for me not to write some evil headline in tonight’s paper? The man was playing at hitter-friendly Minute Maid Park. Nicknamed — ever-so-appropriately, since he’ll probably hit 714 and 715 there — the Juice Box.

Asterisk, asterisk, asterisk.

End baseball rant.

My Sudanese husband.

So today I went to lunch at HyVee with Rhonda and her sister Donna. It was good times. Always is.

But I had to laugh because we get there and see Pastor Jack (not of the McConaghie variety; rather, of Faith Assembly) and his wife, and next thing I know, everyone is trying to marry me off. ("You should introduce her to John. She'd really like John. John's a good guy.")

I think I’ve talked before about the whole being a single woman in the church community thing. It’s treated more like a… disease than anything else. And churchfolks are bound and determined to cure these poor women of their illness. Especially old ladies. They’re all about hooking you up with some fine young man.

(Note: I’m being lighthearted. And I’m definitely exaggerating the HyVee conversation.)

I’m always looking for new ways to be an active part of this conversation. It’s funny ‘cause people go at it with varying amounts of fervor — everyone searching their mental rolodexes for that young man who’d be just perfect for me. Some are thinking dangerously hard.

Anyway, my most recent approach has been to start to highlight some of the qualities that would surely be on my wife résumé. I make a mean steak (or… atleast… I could… learn…). I’d never, ever question skipping important life events (ie: family holidays, friends’ weddings, my own wedding, birth of our first child, etc.) for equally important sporting events. I’m getting really good at that mom seatbelt thing. (Lots of practice with all the deer on the road home from work. I strong-arm my laptop in my passenger seat like it’s my job.) And the list goes on.

I tried “I make quilts” the other day (which is true), but this backfired because the woman I was talking to must’ve thought I was seriously pining for a husband. As it turns out, she already had someone in mind. And all her kids agreed. Now that conversation left me slackjawed. (But, bless her heart, she's GREAT.)

So now I’m trying a new approach of just saying I’m going to marry a Sudanese man. Then I can divert the conversation from the real “problem” to secondary and tertiary problems, such as, how can said Sudanese man meet my “loves the Cubs” requirement when he clearly won’t even know much about baseball? Next thing you know, the mental rolodexes are stilled and I’m still happily single.

Works… like… a… charm.

Super-spiritual Friday.

Recent life updates:

• The Cubs still stink. More and more each day.
• I got to talk with the Grace missions committee Thursday night, but I had just gotten these weird teeth things from the dentist that morning, so I ended up telling them about my miss(hhhhh)ions trip to S(ssssssssss)udan. I hope they took pity on the missionary with a lis(sssssssss)p.
• Speaking of teeth, three people in the last week have told me mine are really white. And I’m talking mid-conversation, out-of-no-where style. What is that about?
• Just now, I banged my forehead off the sink while I was washing my face. That, my friends, takes talent.
• Directly after that, my slightly-inebriated younger brother came by and was That Creepy Face in the Window at 2:30 a.m. Don’t worry, I gave him sass.
• I ate a silly amount of cookie dough today. For shame, Andrea.

I hope no one was looking for a super-spiritual post this morning.

But here’s an update from the Sudan. I got my team manual the other day, which was uber-exciting. Or, rather, it was… until I read the thing (68 pages) cover-to-cover and found it answered very few of my pressing questions. (ie: Mouth wash?!?!?) However, I did find out some really interesting stuff. For example, I won’t be living in a grass hut like I thought. They’re building us cement-block houses. I’m actually really bummed because they told us we’re going to have a refrigerator and air conditioning window unit (?!?!?!?!?!) in our houses, as well, which sort of bumps up against the whole “living simply” idea of TIMO. As our contact from En Gedi put it: “Such a decision means that you will not be living as ‘simply’ as many of your neighbors, but the upside is, you will still be living.” Well played, Rob.

I’m confused because I also thought we didn’t have electricity. Maybe they’ve got some pretty sweet generators? These details will probably go on being mysterious until I get there.

But — if you’re worried I’m going to be pampered, don’t — we don’t have running water and I’m going to have to endure a “long-drop” toilet. Whatever that means.

(I’m choosing to not think about it.)

Money is evil.

I just talked with Terri, my contact from AIM's office, and we figured out that my support figures are very, very different from the mission's figures. They have me sitting at only 60% or so, with $4000 left to go for my outgoing funds. Meeeeh. It's probably some kind of miscommunication or a lost piece of mail with a stack of checks it in or a bookkeeping error (most likely on my side), but I can't help but be discouraged.

I guess there's nothing worrying about it will fix! A lot of my teammates are struggling to get their support -- I think I might be better off than them right now -- so God's really going to wow us in these last three weeks, I guess. Whatever the case, we're going to fight this battle right down to the last day.

Pray for us!

The Checklist.

Five in the morning and I'm still at work, whittling away at what's left of my Africa preparations.

I'm looking at my checklist on AIMOutbound -- a Web site for departing missionaries -- and there sure are a lot of green checks, meaning I've got that certain thing done, but there are still quite a few left unchecked. Things on tap for this week: Getting police background clearance (gee, I hope that goes OK), meeting with a lawyer to figure up my will (weird) and applying for an international drivers' license. Then it's just going over baggage regulations and commissioning service stuff... and I'm done with my checklist.

I only wish that were the extent of what I have to do. I'm realizing there's a lot to shutting down my life in America -- or at least putting it in a nice holding patern -- and starting things up in the bush of Africa. There's a bunch to do with medical stuff (eyes, ears, teeth, everything), bank accounts and communication. And then there's this tiny thing of packing up all my belongings at my parents' house. They've informed me they'll have built a new house by the time I get back, so I have to have everything packed for the move. I'm trying desperately not to get overwhelmed, but it's hard, all things considered (especially the hour at which I'm writing this post).

My mom pulled a nice one at work this week. When I agreed to move home and help her out at work, one of the stipulations was that I'd be able to quit work well before I left for Africa. We've been talking for a while about how I'd be off the sports desk by the end of May. I kept talking about it, kept asking her if she was moving forward on getting a replacement. Well, this week I was talking with her and Lonny, the managing editor, and it turns out Lonny knows nothing of this and my mom has told him I can work right on through July. (I leave June 28th, which makes this idea very curious.) I'm really not keen on the idea of working right up to the day I get on the plane for Africa, but that's the way she'll have it. It's that, or I'm forced out of the house. A lovely ultimatum. She's doing this -- admittedly -- because she doesn't want me to go to Africa. She refuses to acknowledge it's going to happen, no matter what day I stop working at The Times. It's so hard to "leave well" in the face of her absolute denial. Oh, that she would just understand...

I don't know why I'm so surprised by all this. Jesus was very plain in his promise of trials and being forced to leave our own mothers and fathers to follow after him. Blah.

Oh, geez, the morning people are coming into the office. I need to get out of here.

Prayer request

God taught me long ago that I need to read truth before I go to bed, to make me ready for the fight that sometimes comes when I'm struggling to sleep and/or anxious about things. So I've made a habit of curling up with my Bible at the end of the day, making that the last thing that is on my mind.

Lately I've noticed I'm pulling my planner into my bed with me at night along with my Bible. That probably reflects more of my heart than I want it to. Please pray I'd not get caught up in the details of leaving and instead turn to prayer for my teammates and the people in Sudan.

I'll write more later; for now, there's a book of truth waiting for me on my pillow.

Important numbers.

Lopit is at least 1,000 miles away from Darfur.

Just an FYI. (I've been wondering for a while.)

Cosmic significance.

I had a great weekend. I am so blessed because the Lord has finally given me people in my life around here who love Jesus and are around my age. Not going to lie -- I was previously convinced they didn't exist. But, seriously... so blessed. And so enjoying that blessing. :)

I find I'm also meeting quite a few little folk who love Jesus. And while they're not my age or even around my age, sometimes they teach me things I couldn't have gleaned from a thousand conversations from their elders.

Take Jillian. She's eight or something. (Stress the "or something.") Tonight, she taught me that when you walk through the tall grass of her abandoned pasture long enough, when you're done, you get special powers that make you turn into animals. Like cheetahs. (Who knew?) I decided I wanted to turn into a horse. She wasn't sure if that was possible, but definitely didn't reject the notion entirely.

And this is even better. When we were done, we spent some time looking at the moon. After a while, she thoughtfully said, "Every night the moon comes up and shines."

A pause.

"That just gets me."

Ahh, to have the faith of a child and wonder so purely at God's creation.

May we all be so blessed.

24 days. 86.5%.

Greetings team. :)

So, wow, this week -- crazy. Just nuts. And I think it's only going to get more busy from here on out. I've got appointments at churches every Sunday save for one before I leave and two such appointments just this week, if that's any sort of gauge. Pray for sanity!

Here's some exciting news. I sent out my email prayer letter on May 3rd, saying I was sitting at 70% for support. Well, by the time I was (finally) dropping my hardcopy letters in the mail on the 5th, my support had jumped to 86%. How's THAT for nuts?

So now my support goals really seem to be coming into focus. That's so close! I feel like I'm breathing sort of easier, though that last chunk will probably still take a while in the coming. One thing I've noticed is that it frees up a lot of energy that I was spending worrying about financially stuff. Unfortunately, some of that energy has started to funnel into freaking out about the idea that I'm actually moving to Sudan or feeling inadequate as a messenger of the gospel. Of course, both are rather sinful ways to spend my energy, so pray that I'd turn, instead, to praising God and pleading for the hearts of the people in Lopit.

Thought of the moment. I think sometimes we Christian folk don't want to grasp the real truth behind the gospel of Christ. We're pretty stinkin' happy about the idea that we get to spend an eternity in heaven, but will rarely say flat out that people without Christ will spend an eternity in hell. I think we really need to understand that truth, that need, before we'll ever understand the precious gift of the cure and the obligation that we have therein to share it with other people. It's real and it's urgent and it matters for eternity.

In other news, my mom is planning a going-away party for me with my family members... which she doesn't plan to attend herself, my dad says. Ugh. I pray she does. While I was at candidate training in New York, AIM taught us that we need to "leave well." That is, we need to consider not only what we're feeling and need to do so we can have a healthy departure, but also keep in mind how we can help our family and friends through the process. I've got about eight weeks 'til I leave, so I'm praying I figure out exactly what that means before then.

Cut it out.

The other day, Dr. Gallagher told me that missionaries to Africa used to have their appendixes removed before they left for the field.

What I’m saying is, things could totally be worse.

I could be running myself ragged trying to raise support... and recovering from an appendectomy.

First fear.

A lot of folks have encouraged me to watch this film, The Constant Gardner, so tonight I did.

It was the first time I've really felt fear about moving to Lopit.

If you've seen it, you know it's not at all about Sudan. It's a fictional piece about drug companies and corruption in Kenya and all of Africa.

But there's one scene in it where the main character is in South Sudan and a whole pack of Arabs on horseback attack a village on the heels of a UN supply drop. (This was common practice. Either the Sudanese army -- the bad, Muslim/Arab, doers of the genocide people -- would swoop in and get everything that was dropped or the SPLA -- the southern tribes people, rebels, object of the genocide people -- would do the same, raiding their own people because they knew if they didn't, the Sudanese army soon would.)

The movie does well to portray the sheer terror of the whole thing and the defenselessness of the people, their running legs put up against the powerful guns of the Arabs. It showed how they would chase down the women, beat, rape and kill them. How they'd gun down men, women and children alike. How children were left orphaned. How huts were burned with people still in them.

Normally, I'd be wary of Hollywood exaggerating things, but I was surprised to see they didn't. (At least, when I put up what was shown against what I'd learned of the war.) It was also nice to see it without a political motive attached. Both attributes can probably be linked to the fact that it was really a minor part of the movie. It wasn't even very long. But it was powerful for me, nonetheless.

I guess it just made it more real to me. But it was nice to be afraid. It's not the kind of fear that will make me stay home -- certainly not! My love for God and His glory in the gospel is far greater than my fear of man. But the twinge of fear is good because, first, I now can understand a bit more what ya'll are thinking/feeling when you look at me like I'm crazy. And, second, because a little fear is often just the right motivator to make you appreciate the danger and be more conscious of it.

Anyway, that's that.

Pleading.

I read this just now and it spoke to my heart, so I figured I'd share it with you.

"The strong sense I have now as I woke early and could not go back to sleep was that the Lord wants [me] to trust him. He seemed to admonish me that my pleadings were not faith-filled. I was starting to nag. It is not good to nag God. I was not surrendering and handing the burden over to him. I was treating him the way I have sometimes treated [others] in pleading for something with the tone that if I don't get it I will be perpetually unhappy. That is unbelief, since it elevates God's gift above God. So I was encouraged by these thoughts to "Cast [my] burden on the Lord," and trust the promise that "he will sustain [me]; he will never permit the righteous to be moved." And for [my] guidance I take Psalm 25:8, "Good and upright is the LORD; therefore he instructs sinners in the way." That is one of the qualifications I confidently bring to my prayers: I am a sinner."

As I pray that God brings me to Africa, I'm trying to remember that merciful answers to prayer are blood-bought gifts of the gospel -- that I can draw near to him, the great high priest, with confidence (Heb 4:16) at all is a gift. And, again, I'm trying to remember that getting to Africa isn't an end; it's a means. And not just a means to the end of evangelism. Or even to seeing people come to Christ. It's a means to his glory in the gospel, just like everything he gives is intended to bring him glory -- some we'll see now in part and later, completely (1 Cor 13:12).

I probably didn't articulate this well. *sigh*

"Leave for Africa."

Today I was looking through my planner -- this is what I spend 73% of my day doing, trying to figure out how I can puzzle together productive days -- and I scanned through June and came to the day marked "Leave for Africa."

And I just kind of stared at it for a while, dumbfounded, thinking, "Hmm... Am I for serious here?" I mean, honestly, how many people in the world have such an outrageous thing marked in their planner? And, what's more, marked as if it's just another little appointment in a series of busy days. Like, "Oh, yeah, that day... I move to Sudan. Nothin' doin'."

I guess what's all the more curious is that I found myself so amazed by it. It has been marked that way since last June, has it not? Come on, Andi. Get with the program. I guess it's just not real yet. I imagine it won't be. Not for a long time. All told, probably not any time before I leave.

I dunno, the whole thing just seems nuts sometimes.

I talked with my AIM rep Mike today, catching up on all that's been going down. These last two days, I've just kept telling myself... only four weeks and this part is over. It is, right? Either way -- whether my money comes in or not -- May 30th will be the day it's decided. Well, support raising will never be completely over, but the worst will be passed, right? I sure hope so.

I've been checking my email all day, looking for the TIMO manual we were told we'd get this week. Rob from En Gedi (TIMO's headquarters, in Tanzania) emailed earlier in the week with a few things -- I'll share them with you in a second -- and said the fatty book of All Things Sudan TIMO would be on its way. (OK, he didn't call it "the fatty book of All Things Sudan TIMO." That was all me.) Hopefully that will give me a few more details to tell my supporters.

Everyone, at this point, wants to know practical stuff. You'd be amazed at the interesting ways people find to ask me how I'm going to get tampons. Almost as interesting as the ways they beat around the question of if I'm single or not. (This may be the most painful, yet hilarious part of raising support as a single woman. Haha.) What am I going to be eating? Do I have an address? Can people send stuff to that address? On and on.

And, yes, for those keeping score at home, I just said "tampons" on my blog. Unbelievable.

Oh, and everyone relax: I am single.

So, anyway, some things I found out...

- Sat fones (or "satellite phones," for all ya'll not up on the missionary vernacular) are a tricky thing to have in South Sudan. They create suspicion among folks and draw attention from the government -- the unmonitored/uncontrolled dissemination of information can bring the heavy hand of the government crashing down on the team and AIM. I guess the gov't actually can get the transcripts from your sat calls, and it's been known to use that information against missionaries.

In Rob's words, "Two of Stephan's (our team leader) highest priorities as your team leader are (1) to help keep you alive and (2) keep you available for ministry. Truly, the stakes are very high in Southern Sudan -- we are 'playing for keeps' as they say."

So, in light of all that, we're going to go with Stephan's recommendation and not have personal sat fones -- just one for the team as a whole. I'll be able to get on once a week for a limited amount of time to send a limited size of emails. But they'll also be monitored by Stephan to make sure we're not being stupid. At least until we better understand where we are and what we're dealing with.

- Here's something interesting, though. Cell phones work in Kenya, and we'll be in Loki once a month to do our shopping. Stephan suggested we could get cell phones to call home while we're there. So that was a pleasant surprise -- I wasn't expected to hear my parents' voice very often, if at all. We'll see how they look cost-wise.

- None of that will matter for the first three months. Part of the TIMO program is a three-month techno fast. The idea is to make us focus on the culture we're in, not communicating with and hanging on to the cultures we've left. So be thinking letters for the first bit. :) Of course, that said, I still don't know how easy it is to get letters or what my address is or what kind of packages folks can send.

- Other than that, they just gave me this list of (heavy!) books I have to bring and directions on getting a voice recorder -- an important tool for our language learning. I'm good to go in that area. It's funny how fast things add up -- with the books, the recorder, stamps and my yellow fever vaccination, I've probably dropped $350 this week alone. Zoinks.

Wheeeew, this got long fast. Good thing no one is reading this!