Tag Archives: community

Without Guile

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P1270401 compressedThere have been many precious moments as I’ve been in Uganda.

With only two days until I leave for home they are beginning to replay through my mind. And a few are standing out as the very best moments.

Being my second trip to some of the same areas I’ve been re-meeting many. And while the women whom I didn’t meet on the first trip warmly greet me, those women I met before literally throw themselves into my arms.

Forget the handshake, forget any social protocol of greeting, enthusiastic arms-around-my-waist, head on my chest, hugs have been the standard of many.

And I’ll never forget the woman whom I danced with one day, and the next saw me at a distance and ran full on and into my arms in welcome.

I cannot quite describe the feelings produced in me at such unrestrained shows of affection, other than profound humility and a wondering at the impact I am bringing.

I really only get it in part.

The men too are not shy to hug and to welcome, and as they jostle for pictures and conversation we simply enjoy each others company.

And I’ll never forget the frail elderly man whose eyes begged a dance, and so hand in hand he and I dance a jig, a slow jig to be sure, but a jig nonetheless. And with beauty and joy pouring out of his eyes, loving adoration pouring over me I simply blessed him back with the honor of a dance.

It is the least I could do, and the most I could do.

Complete satisfaction.

At one school I visited, with the choir singing for me, a few of the boys one by one made their way to the front to express their delight with the movements of traditional Ugandan dance.

I so wish I had caught it on film. The strength and risk of men shining through these small ones as they took courage to strut-their-stuff as a gift of welcome for the visitor.

Quite simply brought me to tears, if I could have stopped right there and wept I would have.

The songs composed and made just for “our dear Cyndy” caught my heart just as strongly. And I wonder at how profoundly easy it is to bless others…

Simply get on a plane and visit some people.

But I know it is more of that. I trust the real impact is that I am bringing a touch of God with me. And more than me I trust it is God in me to which others are responding.

A few of the smallest children responded in unreserved and uncharacteristic abandon.

Most of the kids shyly yet confidently (they’ve been taught well how to greet a visitor) came forward extending their hands for a shake, greeting me with a ‘Welcome’. Others hung back, eyes wide and wondering, not quite sure about this visitor and certainly not interested in risking to touch.

And then there were a few set apart, whose actions caught my breath in my chest.

One little boy seeing I was near as I sat on a neighboring bench, all of a sudden came as a bee-line to my side and pressed in against my leg.

He couldn’t get close enough.

I wrapped my free arm around him (the other had a baby) and there he stayed for a good while, some twenty minutes easily. Leaning in, drawing something to himself, blessing me with his unreserved and abandoned company. My heart caught with the wonder of it.

And just the other day the same.

While visiting a community, listening to the song of a gentleman as he played for us, out of the corner of my eye I saw a Mom with her little girl in her arms. This little one was struggling to get down and I wondered what it was about.

I soon found out, for once she succeeded in being placed on the ground, she immediately came to me and in one fluid motion as if we had known each other since her birth and visited every day, she was on my lap.

And there she settled in. Leaning back her head on my chest, snuggling in without a care in the world.

I held her for some time, as we enjoyed the music together.

While I am blown away by the love and hugs and dances with the men and the women, these validations of the children are what catch me off guard.

Without masks and without guile they are the truest gauge in all the world. Children see what we as adults can no longer see. Their perceptions are the truest, their candor the most free.

“For such is the kingdom of heaven”

Something we can all hope to be one day.

When It All Goes Wrong

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P1230385 compressedI’ve been thinking about when it all goes wrong. Except ‘wrong’ needs to be put in quotation marks.

Much of what we don’t like about life, much of what ruffles our feathers and steals our satisfactions are simply the anomalies that we haven’t counted on and have no control over.

The food doesn’t taste to our liking, its either too sweet or to sour, too rich or too bland. The pillow doesn’t squish just right, too much or too little. The bed is too soft or too hard, too narrow or too big. Bedding, too light or not light enough.

That person looked at me the wrong way, or didn’t look at me at all. The driver is too crazy or too slow or too rude or too quiet.

The day is too busy or too boring, too long or too short. Shopping was a nightmare, that gal got my drink wrong, that fellow cut me off. It was too expensive, they didn’t have it to my liking.

The sun is too hot, the clouds are too many, the rain is too much. The day is too gloomy, the room too cold, the fireplace too hot…

The unspoken expectations and standards that mark how well our days go, how well our month has been, and whether we will be happy within the next 30 minutes or not…

“Wrong” has so much power to change our moods and affect our experiences,

But what if there is not a thing wrong?

… What if nothing is wrong?

I took a trip to Uganda in November of 2011, and am preparing to head there once more in less than a weeks time.

Over the course of my months between these trips I’ve been thinking about how really, when we travel to another country, another continent and another culture, that in essence everything goes wrong.

And yet, nothing is wrong.

Yet to some, it would surely feel wrong.

We are used to our specific food, the way we eat our food, the time of day we eat.

We have routines around washing and bathing and personal hygiene and care.

Standards of personal space, travel needs, of interactions with strangers and general expectations of safety.

And so much more

What if all that is tossed to the wind. What if all that you expect is not to be. What if everything you are used to is simply a figment of your particular culture? What if everything was flipped upside down. How might we manage?

Well? or not so well?

When all of the ‘normal’ that we are so accustomed to is stripped away, what would you really have, and what would you really need?

I tell you, very little.

After 22 hours of travel, simply having a bed to sleep in is heavenly. No matter that the roof is leaking onto a corner of the bed. No matter that you are sharing the room with a stranger. A bed is all one really needs!

Nothing is wrong

Awakened to a new day, washing means a 3X4′ outside concrete ‘closet’, with a wooden slat door, an old car door for a roof, with a basin of hot water (that someone has just worked over a stove to produce for you), two small nails to hang your clothes on (the ones you have taken off and the clean you are going to put on, not to mention your towel)….  Hot water and that bit of space is all that is really needed.

Nothing is wrong

And what about going to the bathroom. First we find out ‘bathroom’ means nothing. Neither does ‘restroom’ or ‘washroom’. Each of these greeted with a blank stare, and with ones mind scrambling to express the need, ‘toilet’ comes to mind.

“Toilet?”

Directed to a hole in the ground, the communal neighborhood toilet, thankful to have brought my own toilet paper…

Nothing is wrong

Is it different? For sure

Do I need to fix it? No

Nothing is wrong

A few years back now I separated from my husband, but did not leave the family home for some time (far longer than I would have ever imagined!). I simply moved a single mattress to the Den floor and made that my abode for what turned into nine long months.

Squashed between the piano and the desk, with a foot of space on one side and about three feet at the bottom, that 9’X4′ space became the little bit I could completely call my own and the only part of ‘home’ where I felt safe.

It was quite wrong. Friends of mine upon entering that space would well up in tears, appalled at my living conditions. Bless their hearts.

Today, I am SO glad for those months in that little space.

Those months stripped me forever of having to have anything a certain way ever again.

All the things I thought once mattered, don’t matter whatsoever.

Whatsoever!

Nothing is wrong

During my month in Uganda I’ll be visiting ten communities. Moving to a new location about every three or four days, staying with the people, refusing ‘nice’ only needing safe, I’ve no idea what my accommodations will be,

But I know it’ll be good and fine

And nothing will be wrong

And when  nothing is wrong we have ample space for joy and delight and fellowship and community.

When nothing is wrong, our eyes are open to see all that is right

I can hardly wait

It’s Not Okay

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P1220657 compressedIt was Saturday evening in Madudu, Uganda. I’d been in the village since Tuesday simply basking in the beauty of the people and the land.

Sitting that evening on a bench at a wedding reception, a young girl came up to me to say hello and to shake my hand. Nothing out of the ordinary, I shook more hands and looked into more eyes that week than the previous months.

It is custom in Uganda to give respect and honour by kneeling before one to whom you want to show respect. And more than this, I suspect, one to whom deference is due.

I don’t know where this custom first took root. Whether it comes out of the colonization of the country or was there beforehand, I simply do not know. (And it should be noted that it is a sign of respect not only towards whites, but anyone of significance.)

Needless to say, there were a number of women who would kneel when they met me or shook my hand. I did not create any scenes, made no drama even when in my head I was screaming, “NO! do not kneel before me!”

Until the night of the wedding.

As the young girl and I shook hands a gentleman near me instructed, “Kneel down in front of the white woman.”

He spoke this in the local language, but I could pick out ‘white woman’, and I could tell by the tone that a command had just been given, and from the immediate kneeling of this little one before me I knew exactly what had been said.

I immediately countered, “Do NOT tell her that!”

And just as quickly my own and a few other hands to my side, reached out to lift her to her feet.

This all happened within seconds. I was horrified. To teach this to the next generation simply made me enraged.

The next morning was Sunday, and I was preaching at church. Now I preached quite a bit on this trip, averaged out it would have been at least once per day. But this day was a bit different.

I woke in the morning with the heaviness of that little girl being told to kneel before me simply because I was white, crushing my heart and mind with grief.

Colonization of countries is the same evil in the hearts of white folk that led to slavery in untold proportions around the world.

My heart has been breaking over this for some time already. Most recently, the movie The Help has me simply weeping, with no other adequate response, each time I see it.

And so to find myself in a country that had once been colonized. To be on the receiving end of this… idolatry of whites, was simply not okay.

That Sunday morning I could not stop crying. My heart broke further.

And so as part of my message that day, I apologized.

“On behalf of white folk the world over, I am so sorry”

Quite frankly, the many many things that have gone wrong in times gone by, from one people group to another, continue to have profound effect and carry on strongholds within the lives of people and communities and nations.

And it takes someone to stand in the gap and to say, “That was not okay!”

“I am so very sorry”

And then, in the authority that God gives, to declare that the poison of these tragedies and of this evil be removed from the people, from the communities and from the nations.

Amen and amen.

Something I am profoundly glad to do.

Moments

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P1140235 compressed“Grab hold of the moments”

We’ve all heard this. I’ve no idea where it was first coined, but nonetheless it gives wisdom to our days.

But… what are the moments anyway?

A few of my own week’s favourite moments:

  • lunch and scrabble with my oldest daughter and son-in-law
  • braiding my youngest daughters hair at Starbucks
  • laughing with my middle daughter at the exact same spots of Big Bang Theory

What are your week’s favourite moments?

The thing about moments is, they come but once. They present themselves and then pass, never to reappear in the same way twice. It is why we must grab hold of them.

It’s why we must make room for them, and why we must always have our eyes and hearts open to take advantage of them and to run with them.

…and why our hearts must be at ease. When I am angry for instance, I have no room for ‘moments’. I couldn’t care less.

When I am tired and lonely, or sad and flat, I barely have the energy for moments.

And yet, the most important thing about moments, is that we simply show up. When we don’t have the energy, when we don’t have the passion, when we are simply flat, even just showing up does its own work.

Showing up honours moments and the people in them, even if we are not all there.

And this applies to all moments, the big, small and in-between moments.

I was privileged yesterday to hear Dan Wooley speak. The man who was trapped in the Haiti earthquake of 2010, who treated his wounds from an app on his I-Phone, shared how he took the moments to write messages to his wife, and this one, that he left for his sons,

“Don’t just live – Change the world”

The thing about changing the world…  it’s simply about the moments.

World changers simply grab hold of moments that are presented.

I’ve realized, that my trips to Africa in the months to come, all add up to a moment.

A micro-dot on the time-line of world history, it is simply a moment to run with.

We are a global community after all, and taking hold of these global stage moments needs to become our new normal. We must zoom our camera lens out, take on bigger perspectives and see moments for what they are. We’ve got to shake off the ooh’s and ahh’s and simply get on with it, whatever ‘it’ might be.

The thing is, whatever our own ‘changing the world’ might be, it is easier than ever before, it’s just a matter of grabbing hold of the moments.

What moments are presenting themselves to you?

Because quite frankly, it is the same for all of us, in every area of our lives, and it’s critical to remember that for specific blessings and times in history, be it the story of family, community, nation or world, moments…

…are all we have.