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.