Sonora in Boomtown

The kids, Sonora, agent B and I visited a museum of my hometown through it's history. It goes back to the days of the aboriginal people on the plains, through the early 1900s and a few exhibits of more modern times. Most of it is in the early 1900s and is of the main buildings at that time: a typical home, church, school, store, train station, newspaper office, stable, blacksmith, RCMP barracks, farm machinery...

I was going around explaining to the kids the different tools and implements (that I know of) and was humbled by the fact that in many instances, Sonora knew of the old techniques and tools better than I. She didn't have to visit the museum to know how they dried fish, what it was like to live in a mud house, use an outhouse or sharpen knives on a stone- this was her life in the refugee camp of Ghana.

I feel for her and so many others who experience this season of togetherness and family separated- whether it be due to war, finances, politics or social reasons. We are meant to live in community and one of the most heart wrenching realities is that so many of us are separated from loved ones or are alone at some level.

Sonora's mom is in the US, her only sister is in Africa, her father and older brothers live here in the city, but due to the rules of CPS, she can't spend this special day with them. Her father came to give her a gift and spend some time with her, but they were not allowed to really be together. They are in a foreign country and home, each with so many levels of pain- painting on a smile today to make it through. There is some delight and joy today for them, but not far under that is very real heartache.

Lover- you came from perfection: perfect love, perfect home, perfect community into a world of chaos, pain and strife. You came offering your perfection, love, a home with you and perfect community. Come again. Go to those who are hurting and in pain that they may know You and the joy, love and peace that transcends this world and comes from you. May Sonora, her family and so many others be comforted in their losses and know that there really is reason to be merry today. You make all the difference. Bring your gifts of love and life once again.

a home for misfits

This trip has been a real blessing so far. I didn't have any of my regular going home frustration dreams. In them, I am defending/arguing about church issues with one of my parents. I had none of those feelings of inadequacy or of religious judgement this time. I've also been seeing how my desires to help those in need and reach out to misfits has been birthed by my family.

The day of our arrival, my mom discovered that she would be a foster mom of sorts. Their church has also been reaching out to African refugees and one family has gotten into a situation with CPS. Sonora was taken from her dad and put in a foster home that was not taking care of her well. The mother in the States, whose sister my mom had helped, asked my parents to intervene. So, they are currently the caregivers of a pre-teen. As I reflected on this, I remember how my parents were always asking people to come to diner after church- not the regulars or close friends, but every visitor, any foreigners and otherwise unfamilied travellers were welcomed in. This is a normal part of their lives and has a added a lot of flavor and appreciation to our lives and home.

not a baby

Mbamie, Pieter, their kids and sister stopped by last night to say goodbye and wish me a good trip. It was an exciting time since they had good news and I had good news. Pieter's face was filled with delight and he told me to guess what good news they had. My first thought was that they were pregnant. I mean he was wearing the same big smile people have when they are expecting. But if they weren't I would totally embarrass him by suggesting it and they wouldn't likely announce it like that. So I thought- what other news would give them smiles that big? Then it came to me...

"Did your suitcases come in?"
"Yes!" He shouted, all smiles and bubbling with excitement.

They arrived at his door last Friday and he thought of calling to tell me, but wanted to tell me in person, since they had already planned to stop by. Then Mbamie hands me a plastic bag with two dresses from Africa in them for me! I was stunned. This man was told to condense anything he wants to take for him and his family in two suitcases- all his possessions. And he still found room for gifts for others. I was very honored, not that I have a clue where I would wear these dresses- I can't stand dresses and one of them is very African and the other very flamboyant- both reminders of their great love.

My good news was that Jessie gave me her computer for them. I went next door asking if they have a computer to sell, since Frieda is always picking them up at garage sales for $5. Then Jessie says Pieter could have hers, that she never uses it.

Pieter was so excited! I hope it works well for him.

I'm at the feet of good teachers

A conversation between me and my son (age 3).

Son- "We need lots of money"
"We do?"
Son- "Yeah, Jesus needs money. He fell off his donkey. We have to go to the paper store (the bank) and make money to give for Jesus".

One of my son's favorite stories is that of the good samaritan. In a children's version of it that we have, the man beaten had been on a donkey. If you tell the story like my son did, by morphing it with Matt. 25, it makes a powerful message. To love our neighbor is to take care of the one who is beaten down, robbed, left desperate and alone. To love God is also to love this same neighbor- what we have done for the least of these, we have done for him. Mamma T tried to have this same perspective as she ministered to the poor, to see herself as touching, feeding, comforting, loving Jesus- the lover being loved.

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Jenny was over the other day. I was trying to make a collage/picture for Mbamie commemorating the arrival of her husband, so I just let Jenny in, threw some paper, glue, markers and stuff at her and let her get creative too. She came to look at what I was making and I gave her a synopsis of the reunion. I told her how Pieter arrived here and that his luggage is lost and he barely has clothes. She then exclaimed:

"I wish I still had my $5. I spent it yesterday on rings for my brother and I, but I could have given it to him. I'll get another $5 someday though and then I can give it to him."

She went home and had to come back since no one was there. We told her she could eat supper with us. She then told me how she missed her friends Jason and Sally, that they used to cook ramen noodles for her. This was the kids who often went without food, water, electricity- and yet they shared what they had with others in need.

aclimatized

Being from Canada, one of the things I find most hilarious is seeing adult's reactions to their first snow. My Jamaican uncle visited Canada once in winter and could not believe that people live in such cold. He kept saying that no one would believe him if he told them that his flesh could freeze.

Tonight, I saw Pieter, Mbamie's husband and asked him what he thought of the recent snow. He was amazed to say the least. The minute fall finally started to breeze through the Fair mother city during Mbamie's first year here, she kept telling me that they were going to die because of the cold. One time, I spotted a refugee outside of Walmart by their clothing alone. And no, they weren't wearing African attire. It was a fall day- no where near freezing, but a little cool and a lady waited for the bus with her daughter in parkas, shivering and acting cold. I told Mbamie she didn't want to visit Canada in the winter.

While the adults have a hard time adjusting, kids are so moldable! Persimons- Mbamie's daughter told me tonight "I want to go with YALL!" I told Pieter "that's not really English what she is speaking, but Texan". His eyes grew big and he looked at his daughter with pride. Here he is struggling to pick up passable English and she's already into localisms (with a cute accent).

He may be getting a job soon. He has a test to pass Monday. Please ask the lover to give him the answers/ability/whatever it is they are testing.

This n that

The holidays are not all cheery, warm, lovely feelings amongst family for everyone. Meshell was really bumbed out as thanksgiving approached. Her dad had gotten out of jail a couple of weeks earlier. She had so looked forward to that day. They had written each other regularly while he was locked up and her conversations were always sprinkled with her delight about writing him or getting a letter from him. Then he came "home" to his current wife (not Meshell's mom) and has not called or visited his daughter Meshell who lives in the same small city. She had wanted to see him for thanksgiving, but he wasn't coming because he wouldn't come if his wife didn't go and she wasn't going to go. The logical reason that it would just be weird for an ex-wife and current wife to dine together does not fly. There are much bigger issues. When Meshell's grandmother died, Meshell, her mom, brothers and son moved in with her dad's current wife (while he was still locked up). Yeah, I thought that would be totally weird. Meshell and her mom, Maria outstayed their welcome from what I can gather. But they don't see it that way. In their mind, they were helping her out by having half a dozen people move in with her and them sharing their measly disability checks.

Upon returning to the Fair Mother City, I tried to call Meshell and see if she'd heard from her dad, or how her thanksgiving went and their phone is disconnected. That sucks. NO car, no phone really bites!

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Frieda and Jessie constantly have a friendship/hateship going on. It was rocky right before thanksgiving, but now they are cool with each other again. It was fun to see them throwing snowballs at each other- in their t-shirts and no gloves- just being silly and enjoying each other and the snow.
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Apparently my medicaid for the kids is not all resolved yet. I realized I have a WIC appointment next week and need the medicaid as a proof of income. I still haven't gotten the promised cards in the mail, so I went in to get temporary cards, holding my breath and whispering prayers. It paid off, because I got them without a hitch and to beat all, some medicaid lady even gave me a pest control kit while I waited to be helped. She said they were handing them out as some program. I thought that was a cool program- especially since there was no red tape. I signed my name so they could do a head count. Ah- if only all the programs were like that. It felt like it was just a nice blessing, not an ordeal to battle through.
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A friend of mine and her husband were wanting to give a cooked turkey and gifts to a family in lieu of doing their own gifts. She asked if I knew of someone who needed some help and I told her about Mbamie. It's awesome, because with her husband (Peter's) arrival, there have been a lot of extra expenses, including moving and having all the utilities transfered. He still hasn't gotten his lost luggage back and doesn't have a job since they have met major snags with delays in getting his arrival ID card. Mbamie was issued hers the minute she stepped off the plane here, but apparently more red tape was added and it can take 3 weeks, or for him, many months to get his photo ID, which will allow him to get a regular Texas ID. I called them today to make a list of things they need/want and instead of focusing on all that has gone wrong- Peter said that it has been like a big celebration with his coming. First thanksgiving and now this gift of a xmas for them.

dark night of the soul

I just finished the book about mother Teresa, Come be my light. It was both challenging and disturbing. I have been challenged to love the Lover more, to seek Him more, to give Him all of me, or to at least try. I always thought that was just an impossibility- so why really try- but I was wrong. This woman really gave of herself and loved with all her heart, soul, mind and strength. I want that. I need that.

I was also unsettled by what she called her darkness. She lamented that for 50 years she felt nothing but spiritual dryness, darkness and the absence of the presence of the lover. She saw her suffering as delighting the lover in that she was joining him in the work of the cross, in his suffering, in his being broken and given out to others. I don't like that part. The pain part. The sacrifice part, the suffering and brokeness parts. And yet all of this is in scripture- take up your cross and follow me, he told us and Paul shared how his suffering was in a way completing the work of the cross, not that Jesus' suffering was lacking, but maybe that we are joining in that redemptive work when we too die to ourselves.

The part though that I don't get is how she felt rejected by God and abandoned by him. I know this has to be balanced out, because I don't think there were moments of nearness, but nothing like what she had known before she entered ministry with the poorest of the poor. Her spiritual counselors offered that she was learning what it meant to be poor of spirit too and without God so that she could identify with the lost.

I can't explain away what she felt, but I wonder if that is how it is and what we may come up against some day. Then I also wonder how all that lies in the face of scriptures that say he is with us always and that if we come to him rivers will flow up in us and we will not thirst anymore- or that those who thirst and hunger will be filled... So many scriptures saying how he avails himself to us so that we can feast on him- and yet here was this precious woman who gave him her all and he gave her back so little of himself- or so it seemed to her. What gives?

Anyone out there experienced this dark night of the soul, or years? What is it? What does it mean?
If you read it, was this what you understood? Does it bother you?

I have been feeling like God has been calling me to get off my butt, out of my cozy bed in the mornings, no matter how long I've been up and spend time with him- before the kids are up. So I'm confessing here that I have been horribly lazy in this, but need to put Him first in at least this one small way.

in the fair mother city

In the fair mother city, this somewhat small Texan city, I am often mistaken for being Hispanic. I'm not even sure if that is the kosher name to use. Jessie calls herself Mexican, although she is far from being from Mexico- to her it's a badge of honor. Being part of a minority group is cool here among the youth- or so I take it.

To people's credit, I am of mixed lineage and do have a permanent tan- but that's about where the similarities end. I still get cracked up over Hispanic names- of course the funniest of which is "Jesus" pronounced "Hey Zeus". Check out who my cashier was one night. I laugh and want to crack jokes every time my friend calls- her caller ID is her dad's name "Jesus". I always think- "wow, Jesus is calling". I'm sure they don't think it nearly as hilarious as I do.

Like how everyone here snickers if I mention the Canadian city Regina (pronounced like vagina with an R).

Anyways- my newest funny story...

I was visiting with some Hispanic friends and mentioned that I'm going to Canada for Christmas. Lady says- "that's right, you're from Canada- that's why you have an accent- you aren't Mexican are you? I could tell- your hair is different- but Canadians don't look like you do they?"

So I explain that my mom is Jamaican. Lady's cousin asks- "So, can you speak Jamaican?"
"They speak English", I explain.
"So can you speak it?", he asks again.
!!!!!

You gotta love it! Our 90 year old neighbor can not be convinced that Canada is another country. Jessie doesn't think Mexico is another country either. I don't think she has ever been, but her brothers have, many times. However, if you ask them if they've been out of the state or country, they will tell you no. I mean Mexico is just a half dozen hours away and it flavors the Fair Mother city with people, language, food and the gentle rhythm of another place, oh so subtly and seamlessly that sometimes it's hard to tell where it starts and where it ends.

And while our city has adapted fairly well to our large Hispanic population, it balks at the otherly diverse people immigrating here. ESL classes are geared for Hispanics, as one small example. They have had to start rethinking how to reach other people too- and that's not always a bad thing.

His mysterious ways

Secret Agent B's boss from the tree and pruning service is out of town- so no work. The supplier for him and Jack of all trades is also gone- so no work. Meanwhile, unexpected pay has come our way. A friend short changed me on some money last week when I babysat for her and I didn't want to call her on it. Agent B and I agreed I should just bring it up if she called me again to babysit. She called Sunday night. Her regular sitter was back from vacation, but was throwing up and she needed me another day. So I brought up the missing money. The next day, I got paid for that day, the missing money from the week before and she gave me flowers too. Then a friend wanted me to cut her hair and insisted on paying. I think it's fun to cut hair and I'm glad she likes how I cut it. (No I'm no hairdresser, by any means, although I got to be one with the Izzy group. That was totally fun- except the time when one of our regulars came in drunk with his head half shaved in splotches- that was funny and kind of sad).

So, today, I'm at the grocery store and run into a friend from our church and Izzy days. We visited and caught up on how her kids are. Later, she finds me again and starts telling me she wants me to buy a gift for AO#2- that she missed her birthday. (She's not at all close to us, so this is just super nice of her). I notice she has her hand out a little and is trying to slip me money. She asks about our common friend Jane, who was a "client" of Izzy. She is now in a nursing home, where GrammaYA, the kids and I visit her. Former church friend, with tears in her eyes explains that she just appreciates what we do- that not everyone can do it and she's glad we do.

My heart goes out to her. She loves the CEO and I believe wanted to serve a lot more and minister to the poor, but her husband is not a believer and already resisted her even attending church services with their kids yet alone branching out to do more. She was always generous to Jane, giving her gifts and sitting with her at club meetings. Her giving to us and loving us, was her way of reaching out to and loving Jane, who she can no longer go to see.

May the CEO set her family free to serve him wholeheartedly that this lovely woman may grace the lives of all those he sets on her path, husband included.

And thanks Lover of our souls for all this unexpected provision- another reminder that you are there for us through it all and that you do work in mysterious ways.

He was there, with us

The CEO came in big time for us today. Basically Mbamie and her husband and her brother Mpastor and his wife (who recently came to the US) have been under a dark bureaucratic cloud since the spouse's arrivals. The cloud was under the hospices of government subsidized housing. There was a bunch of red tape that the newly arrived spouses were supposed to have jumped through, but immigration is taking FOREVER and both households were facing violations of their housing contracts. The manager was furious- and I mean furious. She was saying how she could loose her job, how their program was in jeopardy, how they could be fined all because these legally arrived refugees do not have all their paperwork in (through no fault of their own, but due to more bureaucratic none sense).

After venting, and seeing that the refugees have not done anything "wrong", after putting the fear of homelessness into them, the manager finally got on her phone and talked with a superior and they came up with a very doable and easy solution, so that the households could stay together. (They had been saying that they would have to evict the newcomers at least until the proper paperwork could be processed).

Mbamie and her husband did not sleep well last night. Apparently, in her housing contract, it mentions a fine of $10 000.00 and jail time for keeping people in the home who are not under the rent agreement. I scoffed at her, but she swears it's true and that people have not only been evicted, but the cops were called in to get them out for similar circumstances.

What was lunacy in this is that it's all meaningless. I understand that the manager needs to have her ducks in a row, but what they are missing is an ID so that she can run a criminal background check and a renters check on them. What they will find is obviously nothing! DUH, they just got here in the country. But she has to have her little papers saying she ran the checks or face troubles of her own.

What was beautiful in all this was how the CEO totally dismantled the bomb before us and smiled favorably on the families and kept them together, with some easy solution (a letter saying they are going to bring in the ID card when immigration gets it to them). AND how the refugees were so totally respectful and even thankful to the hard slamming manager.

They told her that she had treated them like a mother, that words could not express their thanks and may God bless her abundantly. Most Americans in their situation would have gotten angry back and given her the finger, instead, these refugees who love the King send blessing amidst their strife and even speak blessing over the system. They said they could understand how it was good to have all these rules, how in Africa no one follows rules and chaos ensues.

Thank you CEO for bringing right order- your favorable order and favor on us today.

Thank you, thank you Lover

We got to go see princess this weekend and she is indeed a princess of the most royal of families. She is so different already. Even Agent B noticed that she is much more open, lively and happy. She didn't spend the entire visit griping about others or focusing on other's issues. She shared about some deep parts of her life and even admitted that it's hard for her to share, that she's bottled everything up all her life and is only now learning what it means to open up.

She is working on her GED while locked up and apparently has completed her biology and is now working on her history- which is amazing! She wants to keep working on it when she is "in the free" as she calls it.

Her release date is Jan.23rd if she completes her phases, which she is not doing very well on. She is still struggling to write her life story to share with her group. But she thinks they'll still send her home since her time will be up. I have no idea how it works, but the year is zipping by and it's hard for me to imagine that she will be out and an active part in our lives again after 2 years.

She has a lot of maturing to do- but she's 16. I had (and have) a lot of maturing to do too. She also seen and been through more in her life than anyone should have to face. And while she has a hard road to take, it seems a little brighter and a lot more positive with the Lover clearing her a path.

Tiers or Tears?

Apparently we've been put on a new system called TIERS that everyone with medicaid will eventually be in. We spent another 2 hours in phone trees and on hold music. At one point a lady asked AGAIN if she could put me on hold and I told her please NO, that I had already been on hold for 1.5 hours and an hour the day before and I'd had enough of it. To her credit, she sounded understanding and e-mailed some guy she said was working on our case.

The guy called right away, which surprised me. Then he said that his job was to help people having difficulties with their cases. He acted like he was the super liaison and not the problem in the first place. I hope that was what he was, because I like to think nicely of people. To his credit, he didn't put me on hold, but actually conversed with me while his computer slowed to a stand still. He talked sincerely and we ended up discussing Canada, living there (he had worked there), Green cards, the cases he'd worked on with medicaid issues that day (where people were at the doctor with sick kids when they found out their medicaid was having probs.)

I'm not too sure about this new system. I have the sneaking suspicion that they are going to do away with the office here in Abilene and switch everyone to the computerized mega phone system. You can tell that all the workers on the phone were trained like other companies, giving their name and worker number, asking numerous times if they could assist me in anything else and trying to act like they were going above and beyond. I think the hours I spent on the line was actually due to the fact that their system is slower than molasses. It took them 2.5 hours and numerous people to figure out our paperwork just hasn't been looked over yet (since Aug. 21st). Several times, they had trouble locating our file in their system and the last guy to help us said everything was backed up in the scanning department. I guess if they are trying to scan all documents into a computer system for the ENTIRE state it would take a lot of time and make it all run slow. So that was our problem and now it's fixed and the final guy even gave me his name and direct line!!! No more phone tree for me.

But what about Mbamie or Meshell? How will someone hearing impaired deal with all that none sense? Or someone with language difficulties? I was trying to be nice even though my temper was boiling over because my biggest fear was that they would hang up and I'd have to start all over again. I guess everything new must be given time, but it's a little disarming that everything will now be done through such an impersonal system. On the other hand, helps service workers can often be total uncaring grumps. I hope in the long run this will be a greater help to those in need- but I'm leary of it. It seems there is less and less personal contact. No smiles, no ones eyes to look into, no more touch- just a bigger system to cattle everyone through.

can I have a flippin' phone number?

Someone told us that maybe what we are going through is in a way getting our Phd in understanding people in poverty. This is by far the worst degree I've ever done. I've done a lot of school. Some people even think I'm kind of smart- have good people skills- can figure a lot of things out. But the hoops people in poverty have to go through are impossible I tell you- IMPOSSIBLE.

Our kids get Medicaid right now, which is a total blessing 'cause we don't have money. Medicaid can be awesome. They pay for everything- no worries- that is if you can get in and stay in. They make you renew every 6 months or so. But I'd figured we'd passed that unit- I mean we've probably filled out the same form at least a dozen times (I've helped the refugees fill them out too). We got a renewal form in Aug. So we filled it out and sent it in, as always- promptly (they give you 10 days to fill it in from the date they sent it- or something real regimented like that- you know another hoop for people with crazy lives and few resources to jump through). But for Secret Agent B and I, it's kind of a no brainer- we've got a copier/scanner computer even that we can zip our pay stubs through and we sent it off.

Then I got a letter in the mail, that made no sense. It didn't explain much of anything except it had my kids names, medicaid and denied on it along with other none sense, so being the smart person I am, I figured I should probably check into this unidentifiable paper. First problem- the phone number is some 2-1-1 number. I've been babysitting during office hours, so I have to make this call while watching 3 children under the age of 4 and after navigating their phone tree it tells me I have a wait no longer than 18 minutes (it was longer), but I eventually find a nice lady who looks up my info. and calmly tells me that my kids are no longer on medicaid- that they got our paperwork Aug. 21st, but it was never processed because their medicaid wasn't going to run out until the end of Oct. and now it's Nov.1st, so we automatically got a letter saying we are denied. (???) She didn't seem at all ruffled by this and said she'd transfer me to our local office, so that they could process our paperwork (RECEIVED AUG 21st). There was no nice recording saying how long the wait was- I think it was infinity. I hung up and decided to just make the call myself.

This is where I got really screwed up. While I know where their office is physically, I had 3 kids and no way to go there during office hours, so my only option was to call. I spent the next 30 minutes trying to find Medicaid's phone number. I am not joking. It's not on the kid's medicaid card, or in the phone book under governement like some phone tree told me. It's not under Taylor county, or Texas, or medicaid or Texas Human Resources and Services, not in the white pages or yellow pages. I finally went online and found a wrong number that at least told me to hang up and call *** (the right number).

There I reached Miss PMS herself. Apparently I am in a special system that only certain people in the office can look up and those people don't actually exist in person- they are just a name with voice mail that is never returned. So I call up Miss PMS again after leaving a message I'm not sure will ever be checked, to kindly ask if she can tell me the name of my case worker. She swears on a stack of Bibles that she can't look up anything, ANYTHING on my file.

So why do they have her answering the phones?- I wonder. And am I so dangerous that they have to put me under lock and key so that only some person with special credentials can locate my unprocessed file.

The good news is that my kids are extremely healthy, AO#1 is just getting over a double ear infection, so he's not due for another one in hopefully forever, they just got their yearly check-ups and aren't due for another year. Maybe by that time, we'll have this medicaid stuff figured out or perhaps the CEO will send provision for this and PLEASE graduate us out of this IMPOSSIBLE program. We get the message- being poor sucks- SUCKS! They have to be infinitely smarter than I have ever been.

They should make a new survivor show- survive as a homeless person, or a person with no car, phone, resources, or someone who has to be subject to the maniacal systems offered to people in poverty. The reward: homes, cars, phones, jobs, resources, for the best 100 friends they made on the streets and in poverty.
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While I was in the horrid system of repeating mundane music, that was not nearly varied enough for an hour long call, I checked prices for flights to Canada for Christmas. (My family is flying us up). They had skyrocketed and none of the flight itineraries were even doable (12 hour layovers in Minneapolis for example). I was really distraught over it and kept begging the Lover for a solution through this. I was fighting with what I was seeing online and what I was knowing as experience in this faith walk of ours, that He always sees us through in all that we need.

I didn't even want to tell anyone of blog about it. I needed peace so bad. Then a friend offered us a vehicle to drive up if we needed to. Then I called my mom and she was at peace and said not to fret and just wait it out until after Thanksgiving and we'd figure something out (this from the one who called each week to see if I'd looked into flights). As I'm on the phone with mom, Agent B goes online and the prices are back to what they were, the flights were reasonable again, even favorable and His peace has returned to my head and heart.

Thank you Lover, for more than anything else, more than a program, or a flight, or a schedule or even food to eat, all we need is You and Your peace.
-signing out.

YES!!!!!

I got a letter from Princess the other day. This in and of itself is monumental. She's been locked up 2 years and this is my second letter. The thing was, it didn't sound like her. She was opening up about her life, her desires to be married, the difficulties of dealing with her friend's death... I kept looking at how it was addressed to, thinking maybe she was writing a friend and accidentally sent it to me, but it was addressed to me (Big Sis). Then near the end she wrote something like "by the way, I got saved, love and kisses..."

My heart is doing cartwheels. My soul is doing a spirit jive. I am so filled with joy. This has been my #1 prayer for her since I met her, all these 9 years.

Yeah Lover! May she never let go or turn back. May she spiral and dive deeper and deeper into your greatness. May she KNOW that she is whole, and pure and lovely to you and desire you above all others all the days of her life. May she love others and be transformed, heart, mind, soul, body to your glory. May the great adventure begin.

In remembrance and in thanks

I came home today to a little terror. That little terror was my son and he was in a fowl mood. Looking back, I should have done something about it at night, when he'd come to me terrorized by dreams of a crocodile on him- I shouldn't just have rolled over in tired slumbered, but prayed and warred over him. Then maybe we wouldn't have had to battle that croc. all morning.

He didn't want to change out of pyjamas or obey or listen or obey after time out, spanks or the paddle (our newest addition, which I am not too keen on, but have found it quite helpful as a last resort- except today). Even the last resort brought us to a miserable, crying fit standstill. As I held my little 2 year old angry, crying boy, I said we should ask Jesus to come and give him peace. Angry said he didn't want Jesus to come. So then I said we could ask the Holy Spirit for help- NO! came the beligerant reply. Exasperated, I explained that mommy needed a snack and did he want some too (the sneaky food decoy).

Then my son- possessed with some kind of evil, comes out with this kingdom treasure.

He said: we need to break bread like Jesus did.

So I cooked up a tortilla (our favorite bread to break) and poured some heavily diluted wine, took out our picture book bible and sat with my two toddlers in the kitchen and we prayed and ate and drank and took in peace and joy and forgiveness and love.

The day shone a little brighter and cheerier. The Lover had saved the day once again and there was peace and friendship in our home once again.

A couple had shared with our former church how they often took communion together, especially in tense moments or after a fight or argument and also how they welcomed their children to participate. That very morning I had read how the kingdom belongs to the little children, not to hinder them and that we are to enter like they do.

May this become my first response to these episodes. Thanks son for the reminder.

Sweet Sixteen Princess

Princess celebrated her sixteenth birthday in jail Sunday. Nobody went to see her. I've had company and her family didn't find a way out there. This is her second consecutive birthday while locked up. I called her mom tonight to find out how their visit went assuming they had gone. She told me Princess asked her why they didn't ask for me to give them a ride out.

And why should I?

She doesn't write me. She doesn't reciprocate any kind of love, friendship or thanks. She puts on a total front of bravado and lack of emotions towards me. Maybe she really doesn't care if I'm in her life, unless it can get her something she wants, a visit from her family, a ride, diversion... I don't know.

All I know is that my Lover told me to give and give and give, to love even when it hurts, even when there is no reciprocation, especially when it's hard.

I've seen her from a little girl. I made a commitment to be in her life and to be there for her. The Lover gave me a dream that she would be among those rescued from deep darkness because of my involvement in her life.

I can not stop reaching out to her. I can not stop giving to her or loving her- no matter how she reacts or doesn't.

Why are some so offended?

I snagged this video that was posted by http://www.blogger.com/img/gl.link.gif who does a stellar job at sharing the dilemmas of homeless people.

Some people have such violently negative reactions to homeless people and I just don't get it.

Another new perspective

One of the refugees pointed out this enigma to me.

Americans get all upset over polygamy and say how it is very wrong, but they defend and promote homosexuality (as a generalization). He went on to say that there are even homosexual churches and pastors, but God never sent fire to destroy a city due to it's polygamy.

(The refugee is not pro-polygamy, but pointing out the dichotomy of American culture's thinking on sexuality). After he said it, I could think of many cases where people have been prosecuted for polygamy in the US.

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This other new perspective is from our son, who is undergoing the arduous exercises of potty training.

Last night as we read about baby Jesus, he wanted to know everyone's names, including all the shepherds. Then he said that the bed for the baby was no good, that the baby was sad and that he should come to our house. I told him he could come to live in our hearts and he said Jesus could come to his heart. Then he wanted to know if baby Jesus peed and pooed. When he found out he did, he wanted to know if Jesus got stickers and candy for peeing and pooing.

How could I answer that one?

I told him that maybe some day he could ask Mary.

Jenny, our 9 year old worship leader

Jenny and her friend were at our house hanging out as we made supper (which by the way was superb left over food from a friend/chef and some okra from Obiwan that Agent B fried up- so all provided from others). We invited the girls to stay. We crammed in around the kitchen table and Jenny insisted we all hold hands to pray. She said we were like a big family. We asked who wanted to pray, she started it thanking God for many things including the healing in her grandmother, then she told her friend to pray- the friend said "hi", agent B said "hi" too, agent offspring 1 mentioned some things and so did I, then Jenny said that on the count of 3, we all needed to say "I love you God" together.

Food has never tasted so good.
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Update on Meshell and Ricky- he got to see the optometrist today and his glasses will be ready tomorrow.
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Calling all prayer warriors- Princess' mom said she'll be part of a revival this coming weekend. Pray that the LOVER will do something mighty in her heart and tear down the walls she has so carefully imprisoned herself in so that she can be free indeed!!

another "fruitless" outing

I say fruitless in the American sense of the thought, not in the God sense. The American system is all about accomplishment, achievement, productivity, upward mobility. God's way is all about relationship, love, giving, humility, self-sacrifice, compassion, purity of heart...

Meshell called because she needed a ride to pawn her DVD player so that she could get some cash to buy some batteries for her hearing aid, so that she could hear during her food stamp phone interview the next day. While we were headed to the pawn shop, she told me she's putting her son Ricky in marial arts.

I don't think she's too good at math, or at planning, or at keeping her son from disappointment. Ricky is totally pumped about the class, but I can see that it won't last, although it would probably be really cool and socially beneficial for him. Meshell told me it costs $60/week, but you can pay something like $239 per month. I asked her how they were going to come up with some $230/month. She explained that they have a free tryout session the next night (if they can find a ride) and that they'll give him a free outfit and that you can make payments. I can tell that the mention of freebies, including free transportation from school and back home has totally blinded her from the fact that this venture will cost a veritable fortune for them. If Ricky even makes it to the next nights' meeting, they won't last past the first couple of payments and then they'll be in debt.

Then we get to the pharmacy for the batteries for her hearing aid and she comes back out empty handed. She explained that they don't have cheap batteries there, that she'd found some for $8.99, but that when she got to the cash register, they changed the price to $16. I'm thinking that if they'd thrown in some freebies, she'd have thought it was a steal and why $16 for the gift of hearing seems like a lot, but $230/month to teach her kid to kick is doable.

This is just another tactic of our capitalist economy- give them small free things, provide debt and drain them for every drop they have. They'll enter in gleefully and pay for the rest of their lives.

I don't like to make trips and not get what I went for. But I'm not sure that is what all of this was about. I don't think this is all about her spending or the ruses of our crocked capitalism (although that is just plain evil). The Lover said if they ask give and don't just go one mile, go two. If you serve the least of these, you've served Me. It doesn't all have to make sense, no matter that I would like it to. My place is just to be there and to love and be a friend (even when it makes no sense to me and drives me batty).

suspense to the last minute

I met Mbamie's husband tonight. His 4 1/2 year old daughter also met him, as well as his son (age 7 or 8) and wife who he hasn't seen in nearly 5 years. It was crazy, and dramatic and a wonder. I picked her up with her kids and tortured her with my camera and videos. They had a welcome home sign with them that some guy from an agency had made for them. It had 3 spelling errors in his name.

We were all excited, lined up, snapping pictures (me) as the plane unloaded. And he wasn't there. I am not kidding. He wasn't on the flight he was supposed to come on. Mbamie looked like she was about to pass out. She had already been jittery and filled with emotion thinking this may be it. Earlier someone had said- he's coming tonight and she had replied- "we'll see about that". When his flight arrived without him, well meaning people went scrambling to find out where he could be. One friend who had formerly worked with the organization that brings them assured Mbamie that 50% of the refugees don't make the last flight to the Fair Mother city, because it's such a small plane and hard to find and there is no one to help them find the plane at DFW.

He was on the next flight, for which we were all very grateful. His luggage was not. While they were trying to figure out the luggage, I played with the kids. A woman who had been wailing on a phone earlier looked at us strangely. When I sat next to her, she started talking French to Mbamie's daughter. After a while, I found out that she's originally from England, now from Washington and comes to visit her mom in Abilene once a year which in her words is very awkward. Her mom was not even there to get her. Her luggage hadn't shown up either. When I told her that the 5 year old on my lap had just met her dad for the first time, having been separated from him due to war, the distraught woman said that her problems palled in comparison.

At home, there was singing and prayer, then Mbamie started pulling out food. Another little five year old, her daughter's friend came up to me and said- my dad is not coming. He's dead.

When I think of the obstacles Mbamie and her family have been through it's heart wrenching and full of enigma's that are not easily understood, but at least there was finally some joy, some relief, some victory. Not all have fared as well.

One day he'll arrive

We were supposed to get Mbamie's husband today from the Fair Mother city's airport just before noon. Then they called and said it would be tonight. The next call said sometime tomorrow, but we don't know when. Mbamie is fine with it all and even expected it. She said it took them 3 days to come with all the immigration stuff and is just relieved he is in the US tonight.

May he get here safe and well and may they transition beautifully as they become a real family of 4 for the first time.

Frustrating to the max

I had a very bad afternoon. Actually, it was much worse for Meshell, but I had a small taste of the badness of what she probably goes through all the time. Want the gory details?

1-with no car, getting anywhere is a monumental task in and of itself. Meshell's aunt usually drives them, but this aunt has no phone. So if they want to go somewhere they either have to hope she drops by that day, or send a brother across town on a bike and hope she'll be coming.

2- having forgotten to give her mom her son's SS#, the mom was not able to get medicaid changed to their new address.

3- Meshell's son needs glasses. He broke them during the school year last year. Medicaid pays for one optometrist visit and pair of glasses a year, so she's trying to get him a new pair.

4- we go to medicaid to get a copy of his medicaid since it has not been delivered in 2 months.

5- we go to an appointment with his regular doctor so that he can get a referral for an optometrist (one of the hoops for medicaid).

6- I rearrange our life so that I can have the car. Although my son had a horrible night (and me- only 4 hours of sleep), I have to wake him up from his nap and get two cranky kids in a car to go get Meshell.

7- Meshell had arranged to pick up her son from school to take him to his eye appointment. He was supposed to be waiting in the office for us. We pull up as he's getting on the bus and thank the CEO that we arrived just then and were able to get him off the bus on time.

8- I get lost trying to find the doctor's appointment, since Meshell has no idea where it is and neither do I.

9- Got directions, arrived at DR's office 2 minutes before scheduled appointment.

10- My kids are cranky and pulling snacks out of the diaper bag as I read a gigantic sign that says absolutely no food or drink in waiting area.

11- Meshell is told that they can not accept a temporary medicaid card. I ask if we can call medicaid to verify payment (No), can we have them fax the card (No), can we sit in your office until you freaking serve us, do you have any idea all the hurtles, obstacles, tears, sacrifices, language problems, car issues, phone calls and close calls it took for us to get us to this place where you adamently refuse to help us.

12- take two cranky screaming toddlers back in car, after this totally wasted trip, we would have been much happier at home, Meshell wants me to stop at a convenience store, while the kids continue to scream in my car which is running, on what gas we have so we can stay cool- but I understand because I'm fantasizing about chocolate or something sweet at home to appease our totally frustrating outing- and I'm not even the one who needed help.

meanwhile a little boy in a new school can't see well all because of a totally messed up system. If they/we had money, cars, phones, a middle class life... none of this would have happened. You'd call up the eye doctor, make an appointment, go, buy glasses and leave a happy camper. Nothing is so easy to those without.

both? And?

One of my desires and prayers for many years was that we would be well established in ministry before I had kids. I knew I wanted kids, but also that I wanted to be in ministry, so I figured if we were already in a system, I could kind of just incorporate my kids in what I was already doing.

The ministry we were a part of went through major changes and came to a near standstill at the time that was right for us to start our family. So, now we have two children and ministry is not at all a system how I had thought it would be. We do what we see to do, but feel that there is "more out there for us" (whatever that means, whenever it may be). The other day, I was sighing because I thought we'd have to "start all over", or become part of something again only now I had kids and wouldn't be able to do as much, when I felt a gentle nudging that the Holy Spirit was trying to show me something.

Without consulting my plan or anything, I feel like He's orchestrated it this way so that my kids would be the underlying foundation and that other ministry would be the icing and not the other way around. I think it's a religious spirit in me that feels more gratified investing in "the lost" or others, when I have my own children who want and need love, opportunities to learn, experiences in worship and hearing the Lord and being read the same book a thousand times in a week.

At the same time I realized this, it seems like opportunities to serve and help others have multiplied, but I have also sensed profound gratefulness for being able to be with my kids, see them learn and grow and delighting in them.

judging

Yesterday was a little crazy, but worked out well. Agent B didn't have work and it seems that when that happens, it's a good thing, because I ended up with a bunch of errands for people and phone calling and he could keep the kids for me.

I happened by Meshell's house as I was out dropping off things all over town and found out she needed a ride to the medicaid office. I was also going to help Mbamie with medicaid stuff, so I had thought I'd do both at the same time, but never got a hold of Mbamie on time, so Meshell and I left. When we got there, there were 3 people in the room and one was Mbamie. It turned out great because she was going to walk home and instead we were able to get her a ride and help her find the rest of her son's school supplies.

On the way over, Meshell had told me that she was using the last of her sanitary napkins and I'd been wondering if I should buy her some, but money is tight right now, so I wasn't sure. She told me she had tried to get some from a church that morning and they didn't have any to give that day. As Mbamie is getting her son's supplies, Meshell picks out a soda to buy. Immediately I am in judgement mode. She did this the last time I was with her... telling me how she didn't have money for her son's school supplies, but wanting me to stop so that she can purchase sodas from the convenience store. I whispered to her, "do you want to get some more sanitary napkins while we're here?". She says "no, I'll wait 'til I get paid". I don't get it. You can get feminine products for a couple of bucks at the Dollar store, but instead she buys soda.

Then Mbamie once again teaches me about love. As she's paying for her son's supplies, she tells me to tell Meshell to add the soda to her stuff. Mbamie is struggling herself. A church had helped her with the rest of the school supplies at the beginning of the year and her she is being generous to my friend, who she had just met, while I judged her.

On the way home the Spirit also reminded me not to judge lest we be judged. Meshell could look at the way we spend money and be just as bewildered as I was with her. We have our splurges too that don't make sense. We make less money than her and her mom, but have high speed internet. We probably spend more on that each month than her sodas. I guess we all have our areas of questionable spending, but the issue is really my heart. Can I learn to just give even when it doesn't make sense, even if it's not necessities, even when the other person's life does not line up how I think it should?

Lord, forgive me.
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Pray that Mbamie's husband will arrive this time. A new date of Tues, Sept. 25th was given as his new arrival date!!

The kingdom of God is like...

cutting teeth.

There may be stuff going on for quite a while before anything is noticeable. It can be uncomfortable and irritating. It can be a time of testing, changing, growing, maturing. It brings beauty, maturity, loveliness, new abilities, strength. It is not always in the order we assume and can lead to surprising developments. It may not always look perfect, or "right", or "normal", but it is vital to life and health. As participants, we do surprisingly little to help it develop, just foster an environment of good nourishment, rest, peace, maybe a visit to a doctor here and there. Mostly, we just hang on and the fruit comes on its own. We try to help with the pain of the growing, but it mostly has to just happen and we stand back after in awe of the beauty and goodness of it.

Let the children come

Jenny and Sebastian have such sweet spirits. They have eaten with us on several occasions since they often show up as we are finishing up a meal or about to eat and they typically don't eat until really late. I've noticed that Jenny really enjoys it when we all pray for our meal. I don't think they have this tradition at her home, so when she comes over, if we haven't offered it, she demands that we all hold hands and pray together. Sometimes she wants to pray and other times, she just wants to agree with someone else's words.

AO1 learned a canned prayer from a video I was not all that crazy about, because it doesn't say much, but he loves to pray it and has gotten into the habit of adding his own personal thanks from things of the day. Today he added a thanks that we got to go on a walk and hear the high school band (as they rehearsed in the parking lot).

October is around the corner and the kids are already asking about costumes and if I'm going to put my "body" out. I had the idea one year to make a life sized Jesus risen from the dead as our Halloween front porch decoration. Jenny's friend remembered it and it lead to a sweet conversation about his death. Of course I tried to make Jesus look middle-Eastern and so kids mistook him for Osama bin Laden- oops!

this and that

Mbamie update: The embassy apologized to her husband for their mistake and told him to wait (again). The next group heading out will leave end of Sept. and the next in Oct. Hopefully he'll be in the first group. She has moved into her new apartment though, so they will be all ready for his arrival, whenever that will be!

Hot items: We have two hot items that brings a steady stream of contact from the neighbor kids. One is a bike pump. All throughout the summer we see our neighbor kids and their friends on a frequent basis to air up bike tires. I got this because I was tired of taking my and Princess' bike to the shop to be aired up. Ironically, we don't have any bikes, but we have a pump and it is used a lot. The second item cost me all of $20 over 10 years ago. It's hair clippers. I can't count the number of times it has chopped hair: mine, agent B's, AO1's, Obi-wan's, the Tiger's and his brother's. Around hair cutting time at the Sandfords, it will be used 2-3 times in a couple of days. It wouldn't take much for them to get one. I'm not sure why they don't, but I'm glad they come to borrow ours. It's fun to share and then we don't feel half bad when we borrow their lawn mowers.

They should be banned: Solicitors! I hate it. They prey on the ignorant, the uneducated, the impoverished. Mbro, Mbamie's brother, needs some foot surgery. They sent him to a private clinic where they wanted the several thousand dollars up front. They wouldn't even let him pay it out. So he refused to go there. He calls me for help filling out an application for some assistance. He couldn't understand the form, which is weird, because of all the group, he has been coping really well in English. He comes over and I couldn't figure out the form. It also came with this huge manual and CD-ROMs. I read the cover letter. It starts out: "We are so confident of our product and it's rewards for you" or some such nonsense and I get a bad feeling right away. As I read along, the feeling gets worse. They promise $25 000 to people who use their system and exclaim that the government just gives money out all the time and why not take advantage of it. I asked Mbro if he bought the book and materials (he did for $200!!!) There is a money back garanty (and a bunch of hoops to go through to get it). Considering the money he paid, I look through the entire book and nothing offers a bursary for the type of help he needs. Many people can sniff out these crooks right away, but for the person with limited language skills and big needs, these sound like an answer to prayers. Sounds more to me like our expression, being robbed blind.

Emergency prayers needed!

It was all set. After years of waiting, planning, applying and jumping through hoops, Mbamie's husband was supposed to leave Africa yesterday. But when he got to the airport, the other 7 people in the program were sent on without him. He's stuck in Africa. They said their was no visa in his passport.

Mbamie is not convinced. She thinks it is a twisted plot by a twisted individual to keep her husband in Africa. That sounds totally unreal, but I've been told this is an all too common malady and there is an individual who is mad as heck that he is leaving. This person could very well have given reasons to keep him from traveling. Jealousy is a vicious enemy. Her husband had not even told his family that he was leaving Africa until this past week for that very reason.

Pray for peace for Mbamie, faith and strength for her and her husband and that the enemy would not be able to keep them apart any longer. She is distressed to say the least.

At one point, he also lost his luggage containing all his documents, file, education certificates... but that was found. This process has been an agonizing one step at a time, a step forward and one back routine. NO MORE! May the doors open before him, the way be swift and the timing perfect.

The good in this is that she is trying to move to a bigger apartment and with many delays in that process only got the keys yesterday, so this gives her more time to prepare for his arrival.But I have the feeling that she would have much preferred the assurance of his safe arrival and their long awaited reunion (that was to be tonight) over another night of worry, frantic long distance calls and an apartment to move.

I'm free!

Jenny and I ended up at a pool Sunday. She'd been at our house, where we danced the morning away with the kids, then I said I was headed to the pool to do laps. She wanted to come. I explained that I was going to lap swim- not play with her. She still wanted to go and had the $5 to get in. Even when her brother couldn't go, she still insisted that she would enjoy being in the pool even if I didn't play with her.

I did my laps, feeling somewhat guilty, but decided I could still have my time and be considerate of her by playing with her after. We hung out in the shallow end with her new friend. (I love how kids make friends wherever they go- a good lesson for adults). Then she told me she wanted to jump into the deep end, but was afraid. I learned that she had never been off a diving board.

She is not an excellent swimmer. Lots of people from poorer families cannot swim well. There are no swimming lessons, camps, sports, organized activities, classes or music lessons when money is an issue. So we worked on her floating and her backstroke some. But she could make it far enough to jump in the deep end and make it to the side, so we moved on.

At first we jumped in holding hands at the 6 foot, then progressed 10 foot, 12 foot. I tried to convince her once she was jumping and didn't touch the bottom that it didn't matter how deep it was, it would be the exact same, but she could look and see that it was deep and that produced all kinds of terror.

Eventually I got her to jumping in by herself. I told her to count to three and yell "I'm free" while jumping. It was awesome to see her soaring through the air. While she was facing her fear, I thought I should face mine too- diving off the diving board. I've always had a good excuse not to, since you can't go off the diving board with goggles on and I wear contacts, which means I'd need the goggles in the water. But that day, I didn't have my contacts in and I was pretty much blind- which was both a problem and advantage on the board. It was hard to tell where the surface was to dive into, yet it looked less scary not seeing all the detail.

I got on the board and remembered being Jenny's age doing the same thing. It was very scary. She kept walking on, then off, on and off. I had to suck it up and just go if I was to show her how to do it courageously. I cast off fear and went for it. It was amazing. What a thrill! What freedom! (And a little pain where I'd slapped my forehead with the water's surface, I tucked it in better the next time!)

I got to watch Jenny go off the side of the board, which the kind lifeguard eventually put a stop to (kinda dangerous). We were trying to coax her off the end, time was running out as the pool was about to close and while we were looking for my lost earing, she just went for it and flew off the end of the diving board. You should have seen her smile! She jumped off a half dozen times before they closed up. It was incredible and such a privilege for me to be there for this momentous leap for her and me.

We will always share the memory of that special experience.

another room

I stopped by to see Mbamie and her kids the other day and drove up to a crowd of teenagers bubbling with tension and violence. At first I didn't know if I should take our kids out of the car, but then I saw apartment managers and employees and that the crowd was dissipating- the police shortly arrived. Apparently this happens all the time and it's not the kids living in the complex, which at this point has a very high percentage of refugees living there, but it is across from one of the local high schools and has a courtyard, so I guess the highschoolers figure it's a great place to fight. It's not fair for those who live there and what a sight for all our newly arrived guests trying to make this place their home. I love their perspective though. Here they are coming to America to flee real serious war and fighting and they witness the squabbles of a bunch of teenagers.

A congolese woman asked why the kids were fighting that day. One of Mbamie's nieces told her a hispanic kid called another kid a "niger". Congo lady says- "yeah AND?-- you mean that's why they were fighting? Who cares if someone calls me, us, him a niger? I am a niger! God made me black and if they have a problem with it, they need to take it up with God. Why get upset over them saying the truth, what I am, negre (black)" The nieces tried to explain what they have been told regarding the connotations of the term going back to slavery issues and Congo lady rolls her eyes and says "please!!!" (I have to admit that the French translation for niger does not hold all the venom that it seems to have in English- but it was humorous none the less and does put things in perspective).

This is one of the few places in Abilene where you can see a teen carrying a baby sibling slung on her back with an African "pagne" cloth. We have so much to learn from these people who have been through so much, if we would only get over our petty issues and listen.

Mbamie amazes me. Today the local rescue vehicle that got her here called her in to tell her the date her husband will arrive (the 11th or 12th of Sept!!!) Her housing, which is government subsidized told her to come with the date when she had it. She applied for a bigger apartment and already paid the transfer fee. We get there and they say they don't have anything there. She argued that there are 3 four bedroom apartments available and she would get one. They said they weren't available. I'm heading for the door- looks like there's no solution here and she is making herself comfortable in the chair- we'll stay until I get what I came for- she says. I'm asking her what should I say to them. She said the other people those apartments are for, have they paid the transfer money? They have? Well they haven't signed a lease, so you can still give one to me. We end up being ushered to the back where we are told again by some higher up that there is nothing available. Mbamie starts calling off apartment numbers- apt. 204 has 4 bedrooms and has been vacant forever, as well as the one next to it. The higher up tells us those are not in the system as they need extensive repairs. Mbamie keeps on... the apartment next to her brother's is free and she tells me the saga story about the women and kids who were moved to something smaller. Suddenly the higher up asks me if Mbamie's name is... She happens to remember that she had an apartment reserved for her and gets on the phone giving permission to her repair guy to work the next day. Mbamie's 4 bedroom should be ready tomorrow or Wed. at the latest giving her time to transfer utilities and move over the weekend so that her husband can come to America and a home with room for him. Then the higher up brings up another detail. Does he have paperwork? He has to have paperwork in order to get into the gov. system (which he can't possibly have immediately). Again, Mbamie digs in and argues laboriously until the higher up figures out a way to work the system to allow him to come and stay at her home and not at some hotel after years of not seeing each other. Apparently you have to give the government a permission slip so much as to have a sleep over in these places.

Why are the poor so beaten down? They don't have the stamina. They've been taught the doors will shut and not open, but that is not always the case. It's amazing what can be accomplished when someone just stays there until a way is found. Mbamie will move ahead and forward because she has learned to fight for what should be hers, for the important things. The teens were fighting over name calling while Mbamie fights for the reunion of her family after nearly four long years, war, incredible distances and what seemed like insurmountable odds.

An uphill battle

Mbamie got some good news a few days ago... her husband was told by immigration in Africa that he is leaving Sept. 7th for the USA. This has been many years in the making. Mbamie and her husband and 2 small kids will finally be reunited after war tore their family and home apart.

Then she got bad news... her husband's sister died suddenly. She is the only sibling who knew he was to leave, the one that was going to take over his home and the responsibility of his two grown children (ages 19 and 21, but in the African culture are still considered dependents while in school). He can't go to Togo where the funeral will be because he is already in immigration processes to come here. The family including his grown children don't know he is about to immigrate. He is the oldest and would be expected to take part. Mbamie is scared that he will try to help with funeral stuff and never make it here, ruining any work done with immigration to reunite them.

Pray for Mbamie, her husband, all his family and a 12 year old girl who has lost her mom. May they receive comfort through their intense grief. May Mbamie's husband find solutions to the problems that have arisen through this and maintain understanding and peace with his family through his departure.

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Meanwhile, I ran across a difficult situation with Mpasteur, Mbamie's brother. He is a pastor and the most manipulative and the least trustworthy of the 4 siblings that I have met. I have great relationships with the other 3 African refugees, but I don't trust Mpasteur due to the way he has demonstrated a total lack of communication with his daughters and due to his ways of manipulation. Case in point: when he wants me to do something for him, he starts to call me "sister", "aunt" or some such flattery. It totally irks me. I've told him and he got better about it. I told him if he wants to ask for something, just ask.

Well, he asked me to come to his grand opening worship service for his church group. I know for a fact that he has always had hopes that I would translate for their group. I do love the faith of African christians and love this family, but I am not so sure about Mpasteur or about joining any organized religious group. I wouldn't mind visiting sometime or even meeting to pray or share together, but I fear that they'd think we were joining or something if we just came once.

I said I'd pray about if I should attend and he said that I needed to come because he wanted his pastor friends to see how diverse their group was and they would want to meet his family and friends. That did it for me, I'm outta here! Why do groups need warm bodies to feel validated? He didn't really care if I was there, he just cared about how good it would look if we came and what we could offer them. What if I looked like Frieda next door or talked like Meshell? Would he still want me at his service and be introducing me to his friends? I told him we didn't want to be paraded around and that the Lord was calling us to not pray on the corner, but in the closet and to not display the works we do. I got a blank stare. I don't think I can even explain what's in my heart, but it's not another marketing filled show to display to those they want/need to impress in order to prove that they are doing something worthwhile.

Why? Why? Why?

Jessie has moved out again. Her friend (Elizabeth) and her friend's boyfriend moved back and the foursome (with Jessie's boyfriend) decided to get a place together (again). Ironically, they are moving back into the house they were last in, since it was vacant. Every few weeks it seems Jessie moves. The last time the foursome was in a place it was real bad. Elizabeth's boyfriend does drugs and the couple doesn't get along. Although Jessie can't seem to put her foot down about staying away from a cheating boyfriend, she does put her foot down about the drugs and won't participate or tolerate it in the house (so she says). I asked her today what makes her think it will be any different this time. She just shrugged.

Her mom Frieda is getting worn out with the coming and going, being left with Jessie's babysitting jobs, constantly changing her home to accommodate Jessie and at times her boyfriend, helping her move or getting her what she needs for a new home... She told her daughter she can't keep going back and forth.

I was asking the Lover why Jessie would stay with her boyfriend and keep welcoming him back when she has admitted on several occasions that he is no good for her.

Then a memory came to me. I was in the 7th grade and our class was at an end of the year skating party. A total loser from class asked if I wanted to skate with him. We held hands and skated around the rink. He would switch between me and my friend. He was also a total jerk. He made racial and sexual slurs. He had stabbed a kid at school with a horse needle, put some crap in the teacher's desk and thrown our class' "good samaritan box" at a kid's head, causing injury. But here my friend and I were holding hands with this creep and blissfully skating with him. As we got in the bus, the other boys in the class (who had more respect for ourselves than we did) asked why we would skate with the jerk. We shrugged our shoulders, much like Jessie did the other day.

I guess for those few laps, we could forget the truth that on the other end of the hand was someone who tore us down, who spewed venom and destroyed people and we just lived in the moment, enjoying being asked, of being "with" someone, of having some level of connection with another human being and nothing more.

Getting ready for school

Meshelle's son missed a lot of school last year. Why? Because they moved. They moved a lot. They moved so much the system refused to keep changing the bus route for him despite the fact that his mom had no car. He nearly missed registration for school. Meshelle's not real swift or organized or capable and she has a speech impediment. I think people get impatient with her a lot. After a huge run-around and lots of misinformation, the grace of the CEO for us to arrive in time, he got registered. They gave her a list of the supplies he needs. She had bought some supplies already. The middle class mind asks why she would buy stuff before she knows what he needs. Now she has no money to buy what the list actually says. The reason is that when there is not enough money to go around, you have to buy things when the money is there and not wait, or else it'll be all gone to other needs.

Meshelle's son has half his supplies, which is more than Jenny and Sebastian down the street. I asked if they were excited to start back to school. They said yes, except they don't have school supplies. Jenny defended herself saying she had supplies. Sebastian argued with her saying she didn't and she retorted that she'll just use what she had left over from last year.

I remember trying to help princess' cousin once with some homework that was sent home because he'd been sick for a week. It was infuriating. The work was fairly advanced (he was in middle school), but I quickly figured out he could barely read. He was supposed to find the river and color it blue. It took us 25 minutes to find something that he could write with and it wasn't blue. I was trying to have him do the work, but ended up making notes all over his work as to why he didn't have a blue marker here, or a green or red and explaining to the teacher that he did indeed show me the river.

School is just geared for middle class... from the supplies, to the methods (sitting and listening), to the tactics (tests writing, essays, three points...). Ruby Payne's book A Framework for Understanding Poverty exposes how the poverty class' culture does not prepare them for school at all.

I don't know what the solutions are, but it dawned on me that my school growing up didn't have any kids from poverty. We were all middle and upper class. There was no cafeteria, or a lunch program. Kids struggled with huge issues, but "what was for supper" was not one of them. I feel for these kids who have to go Monday without all the stuff others will have and at the same time wonder why is it like that at all? How did school starting up become a fashion show of new clothes, new binders and bookbags and supplies?

we don't have a choice

I facilitate a water aerobic class for pregnant women. Invariably, only middle and upper class women attend. I'm thinking it's a cultural thing (the class used to be free and is now at a decent price). I've only had about 4 women come who were from the poverty economic level and none of them lasted longer than a month. After having been mainly among the poor, it was weird at first to be back in a clearly middle class group.

A common conversation came up again last night at class. The majority of women in the class work and will continue to work after having their babies. About 10-20% of the women will stay at home. One of the working moms (a teacher) was lamenting over the fact that she had to go back to work and was racked with guilt as her daughter cries and says she wants to stay at home with her mom (like they have all summer). She told me they both start each day in tears. Her husband is a firefighter. I don't have any numbers with me here, but I'm thinking he makes pretty good money. Well, pretty good as in more than we've ever seen our entire 9 years of marriage.

So there is the supreme irony and the sad tale of our society. The irony being that they lament to me that they have no other option but to work and earn money, while the agent and I make so ridiculously little money that if the ladies knew, they would be shocked beyond belief- but I get to stay home with my kids and they "HAVE TO" work . (I am recognizing in this that the Lover has been very gracious to us in providing and in making up for what we have not being able to afford). The sad tale is that our materialism tells us we have to make huge sacrifices in order to maintain a certain lifestyle. All of the women who work, but would rather stay home say that they have no other choice but to work. Our riches tell us that it is not a choice to do without, to decrease, downsize...

There is a great expression in French that does not translate fully:

L'embarras des richesses. (The embarassement of wealth- but it means more than being embarassed, it carries with it the connotation of being burdened by our wealth).

The ones I have seen the most free are those with the least. We've had homeless people open their backpacks and give us 1 of their only 20 possessions on earth. So humbling. But if I think we may move- I'm already thinking I'll need a U-haul and the nightmare of moving and what about appliances or furniture? I like them. They are nice. We may not get such nice ones elsewhere. I don't want to be owned by what I have. I want to be free to give and be generous and be as light as a feather to go when I need to go, but the more I have, the harder it becomes.

(No, we aren't moving- but we contemplate it ever few months, coinciding with the habitual drainage of our account).

I am not saying all this in judgment of working moms and I realize that some people (single moms for example) really don't have a choice. I'm just saying that it doesn't have to be as black and white as some families think it is and that our wealth can be a deceitful trap locking us away from great riches.

the princess files

There is something terribly wrong. A singular event keeps coming up over and over in Princess' life. I thought she'd talked about it. I thought someone knew what has happened to her, I mean more than just her and the perpetrators. But I'm finding out, she doesn't talk about stuff to not only me, but neither to her mom or either of her sisters. I started digging a little the other day. No one knows what happened that day, the day she got a record, the day she was accused when she should have been defended. I'm not saying she's all innocent, but that something critical happened. She refuses to talk about it. I may have clues and the wherewithal to figure out a little. I realized that I have bits and pieces that were unknown to others in the family. Revelations are being made to add to the picture. CEO direct this search for the truth. There is a little girl lost inside princess who needs to find a way home.

I've never told Princess the pieces I know about, because I was hoping that she would open up. She hasn't, in 9 years she's locked off the world, friends, her family to what is hurting inside. I'm wondering if I should start laying down my cards and showing her that I'm not the idle ignoramus she thinks I am, that I know some of what has been going on. I'm afraid she'll shut down even more or feel threatened and back away... but then again, there's not much depth to our relationship anyways. Will she trust me with her heart? Her story? Will she have the courage to face it herself?

She's supposed to write her life story and present it. So far, she's mentioned all sorts of stuff around her (murders and such) that have occurred in her hood and was told by her case worker that she was lying. In essence, she's failed this portion of her progress and can't move on until she starts sharing about what has happened to her to make her who she is now. I'm realizing that she's never opened up that part of herself to anyone. She may have even shut herself off from it. Lord help us.