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Sunday, June 17, 2012
Saturday, June 16, 2012
Cooking
Not that everyone, or anyone, needs to be interested in what I ate for dinner tonight, but because a dear friend has been promised an overdue blog update, here goes...
For several years, I've wished to be among people who could list "cooking" among their hobbies, activities, interests, whatever, but I'd never had any justification to declare myself part of their club. I didn't cook much, and when I did it would be something like pasta or pancakes--and not to disparage these fine foods, but I always assumed "cooking" involved at least a little more creativity than boiling water or mixing batter. But I'm getting there! Starting tonight.
1) Scour the web to search for what one does with a large eggplant bought on impulse on an earlier shopping excursion.
It turns out, there are a lot of things to do, but a lot of them involve grilling (no grill!) or frying (really?). And with my very limited selection of ingredients, I get pretty particular; even on Princeton's dime, I'm on a budget. I made curried lentils with sauteed onions and spinach last week, so I have leftover curry power that I don't want to tote to Ghana, and I bought a lonely potato that looked like a sweet potato but which I deemed a normal potato after peeling back a little of its skin at the apartment. So I settle on something like this + this: aloo (potato) baingan (eggplant), a type of curry-ish Indian dish.
2) Go shopping!
I am almost out of food, so that is the first order of business. Among the many reasons I love being in the city in general and Manhattan in particular: corner groceries! I head down the street and return with the following:
3) Discover that the alleged non-sweet potato is, in fact, orange.
This is why even though I'm inching toward claiming cooking as an activity, I am far from assuming the title "cook." Thus the "aloo" part of my aloo baingan disappears, because I am planning to let that cunning sweet potato stand alone for another meal. (I really love orange foods.)
4) Wing it.
This means I use a little olive oil to fry/sautee/insert proper cooking term here the cubed eggplant, discover there's too much to fit into the pan, hastily transplant half of it into a nearby pot, try not to let it burn, add a little more oil to the original pan to sautee the sliced onions and figure I might as well throw in some tofu, cube the tofu, add it to the pan, madly switch spatula-ing between pan and pot so that things stick a little less than they already are sticking, dump a bunch of curry powder in, transfer the pan's contents into the pot, and add some diced canned tomatoes with garlic, turn down the flame; breathe a sigh of relief that I had already put the rice on so that everything would be ready sorta on time. Yeah. Me as a not-cook, cooking. In the end, since I didn't buy a bunch of different spices and herbs as the recipes request, it tasted a bit more like briami than something related to curry, but mostly I just love eggplant, whether it's Greek or Indian.
I think cooking is one of those things that's just sort of grown on me, the way doing laundry and cleaning the bathroom and washing dishes other domestic things have. Plus, there's just something about the smells and the freedom and the focus and the creation of cooking--and, as I friend once put so well, about looking at a pile of dirty dishes and seeing them clean after a lot of scrubbing; there's some shimmer of redemption there.
One of my roommates once teased me that it is a bit strange for me to be working so hard at Princeton if I want to end up married and doing these things day in and day out before too many years have gone by, but that's not a discussion to have tonight. Suffice it to say that I think it's a pretty amazing thing to be able to serve someone, whether a future husband or my gracious host for these weeks in New York or my family, by doing the small things that matter and make people comfortable. And whether or not I spend any of my life as a mostly-domestic-type (seeming less likely the deeper I get into this pre-med thing, but it's God, not me, who directs my footsteps, so how would I know?), I'll still need to cook and clean--even if I'm living alone. But here's to a life of more than domesticity--a life in service to God and His people, and a life that involves making dinner and washing clothes and dishes and sinks, and a whole lot more.
And on other fronts, perhaps to be expounded in future posts, or maybe just for me to ponder, I'll give you a few more mini-updates:
... Yesterday I had the incredible honor and privilege of watching a baby be born while shadowing on the labor and delivery floor of a local hospital! I had to wait from 8am til 9pm, but it was well worth it :) Congratulations on an adorable and healthy baby!
... I really, really enjoyed shadowing, and had a lot of freedom to ask questions and learn about a lot of procedures and patient care strategies; both shadowing days were a huge blessing.
... On Thursday, I leave for a day in Milwaukee, where I'll speak about the Bridge Year Program to the Princeton Club of Wisconsin--plus get to see my parents! I return to New York for Friday night, then take off for Ghana on Saturday evening, with a layover in Casablanca for all of Sunday and then an early morning arrival in Accra on Monday morning.
... Maybe parallel to this cooking thing, I'd like to become a runner. Again, the exact definition of a runner, like a cook, is elusive, but it doesn't fit me--yet. It will; I'm hoping to do a half-marathon this fall, and I started training last Thursday, from the ground up.
... I've been thinking about desperation, about how desperate someone would have to be to stand up in a subway pushing a stroller and announce that his ex had just dropped off their daughter with him, and he had no money to buy her formula or diapers, and would someone please help? Just thinking about when, if ever, I've been this desperate, and why. And why I'm not that desperate every day when I approach God.
... I still need clarity--on a lot of things. And discipline. Praying for that, most definitely.
Peace all!
For several years, I've wished to be among people who could list "cooking" among their hobbies, activities, interests, whatever, but I'd never had any justification to declare myself part of their club. I didn't cook much, and when I did it would be something like pasta or pancakes--and not to disparage these fine foods, but I always assumed "cooking" involved at least a little more creativity than boiling water or mixing batter. But I'm getting there! Starting tonight.
1) Scour the web to search for what one does with a large eggplant bought on impulse on an earlier shopping excursion.
It turns out, there are a lot of things to do, but a lot of them involve grilling (no grill!) or frying (really?). And with my very limited selection of ingredients, I get pretty particular; even on Princeton's dime, I'm on a budget. I made curried lentils with sauteed onions and spinach last week, so I have leftover curry power that I don't want to tote to Ghana, and I bought a lonely potato that looked like a sweet potato but which I deemed a normal potato after peeling back a little of its skin at the apartment. So I settle on something like this + this: aloo (potato) baingan (eggplant), a type of curry-ish Indian dish.
2) Go shopping!
I am almost out of food, so that is the first order of business. Among the many reasons I love being in the city in general and Manhattan in particular: corner groceries! I head down the street and return with the following:
Note the onion, canned tomatoes, tofu... Key for the evening's success! The rest (eggplant, brown rice, curry powder, Lawry's seasoned salt, olive oil) I already have at the apartment.
3) Discover that the alleged non-sweet potato is, in fact, orange.
This is why even though I'm inching toward claiming cooking as an activity, I am far from assuming the title "cook." Thus the "aloo" part of my aloo baingan disappears, because I am planning to let that cunning sweet potato stand alone for another meal. (I really love orange foods.)
4) Wing it.
This means I use a little olive oil to fry/sautee/insert proper cooking term here the cubed eggplant, discover there's too much to fit into the pan, hastily transplant half of it into a nearby pot, try not to let it burn, add a little more oil to the original pan to sautee the sliced onions and figure I might as well throw in some tofu, cube the tofu, add it to the pan, madly switch spatula-ing between pan and pot so that things stick a little less than they already are sticking, dump a bunch of curry powder in, transfer the pan's contents into the pot, and add some diced canned tomatoes with garlic, turn down the flame; breathe a sigh of relief that I had already put the rice on so that everything would be ready sorta on time. Yeah. Me as a not-cook, cooking. In the end, since I didn't buy a bunch of different spices and herbs as the recipes request, it tasted a bit more like briami than something related to curry, but mostly I just love eggplant, whether it's Greek or Indian.
Such a good dinner! Such a successful experiment! Such a surprising step toward being able to add cooking to my interests! Maybe when I eat the leftovers (best thing when you're cooking for one!), I'll try to spice it up with a little more curry and use the yogurt I bought as a side.
I think cooking is one of those things that's just sort of grown on me, the way doing laundry and cleaning the bathroom and washing dishes other domestic things have. Plus, there's just something about the smells and the freedom and the focus and the creation of cooking--and, as I friend once put so well, about looking at a pile of dirty dishes and seeing them clean after a lot of scrubbing; there's some shimmer of redemption there.
One of my roommates once teased me that it is a bit strange for me to be working so hard at Princeton if I want to end up married and doing these things day in and day out before too many years have gone by, but that's not a discussion to have tonight. Suffice it to say that I think it's a pretty amazing thing to be able to serve someone, whether a future husband or my gracious host for these weeks in New York or my family, by doing the small things that matter and make people comfortable. And whether or not I spend any of my life as a mostly-domestic-type (seeming less likely the deeper I get into this pre-med thing, but it's God, not me, who directs my footsteps, so how would I know?), I'll still need to cook and clean--even if I'm living alone. But here's to a life of more than domesticity--a life in service to God and His people, and a life that involves making dinner and washing clothes and dishes and sinks, and a whole lot more.
And on other fronts, perhaps to be expounded in future posts, or maybe just for me to ponder, I'll give you a few more mini-updates:
... Yesterday I had the incredible honor and privilege of watching a baby be born while shadowing on the labor and delivery floor of a local hospital! I had to wait from 8am til 9pm, but it was well worth it :) Congratulations on an adorable and healthy baby!
... I really, really enjoyed shadowing, and had a lot of freedom to ask questions and learn about a lot of procedures and patient care strategies; both shadowing days were a huge blessing.
... On Thursday, I leave for a day in Milwaukee, where I'll speak about the Bridge Year Program to the Princeton Club of Wisconsin--plus get to see my parents! I return to New York for Friday night, then take off for Ghana on Saturday evening, with a layover in Casablanca for all of Sunday and then an early morning arrival in Accra on Monday morning.
... Maybe parallel to this cooking thing, I'd like to become a runner. Again, the exact definition of a runner, like a cook, is elusive, but it doesn't fit me--yet. It will; I'm hoping to do a half-marathon this fall, and I started training last Thursday, from the ground up.
... I've been thinking about desperation, about how desperate someone would have to be to stand up in a subway pushing a stroller and announce that his ex had just dropped off their daughter with him, and he had no money to buy her formula or diapers, and would someone please help? Just thinking about when, if ever, I've been this desperate, and why. And why I'm not that desperate every day when I approach God.
... I still need clarity--on a lot of things. And discipline. Praying for that, most definitely.
Peace all!
Monday, June 4, 2012
New Hero: Catherine Hamlin
She's 88 years old and performs surgery every Thursday at the hospital she and her husband began, the Addis Ababa Fistula Hospital. From a series of interviews (well worth reading!) she gave in 2005 and 2006 with the co-producers of the wonderful and striking documentary "A Walk to Beautiful," which is all about the hospital and its patients, and can be found on Netflix:
This type of fistula is a hole, usually caused by obstructed childbirth, of varying size, depending on its severity, that causes continual urinary and, in some cases, fecal, incontinence: constant leaking. (Click "Obstetric Fistula" on the website for A Walk to Beautiful for more information and some figures.) Mrs. Hamlin estimates there may be 100,000 women in Ethiopia living with the condition--one that is often associated less with childbirth than with divine retribution, and that by destroying physical barriers made of tissue almost always erects stringent social barriers against women who have experienced a fistula. She doesn't judge, neither the community that separates the affected women from its daily practice of life nor the husbands who often exit the scene within days or weeks of discovering their wives' affliction. She and her team, in whose members she has such confidence that she reports she has no qualms about the hospital's continued service after she dies, just repair and stitch and love. Their surgical success rate for repairs is over 93%.
After my doula training the past several days, I've begun to entertain the idea of pursuing a career as a midwife--much less glorious than an obstetrician, see, and probably much less accepted in a biomedical paradigm, too, but so, so human. And not that obstetricians cannot be, or as a rule are not--there's just something different in the practice of midwifery versus the practice of obstetrics. I have a lot of respect for midwives. But to repair a fistula, you need the hands of a surgeon, and those are the hands of an obstetrician, not a midwife. So I'm excited for organic chemistry, and physics, and whatever else my next semester as a premed brings me--just more chances for God to prove He's awesome, since He'd have to be to use one like me for such a thing as to help repair the bruises and nicks His creatures suffer while we're clothed in our earthly dwelling.
P.S. A few more good resources, most of them from Nicholas Kristof of the NY Times:
http://www.nytimes.com/2005/06/12/opinion/12kristof.html
http://www.nytimes.com/2012/05/13/opinion/sunday/kristof-saving-the-lives-of-moms.html
http://www.engenderhealth.org/our-work/maternal/fistula.php
We had one sitting on the border with Kenya who arrived with a dirty envelope. Inside was a letter from her missionary doctor saying, "Would you please cure this girl's fistula?" The letter was dated six years before. My husband said, "Why did you wait so long?" She said, "I've been sitting at the bus stop for six years trying to get the money." It's $20.00 to get to Addis Ababa.Have you ever heard of an obstetric fistula? Perhaps not, particularly if you live in a place far from Ethiopia, a place where they have been almost completely eradicated for the past hundred years--a place like the United States. And no one would blame you, since even to most obstetricians they're more of an academic anomaly, something to hear of and mostly forget, since it would be a curious rarity if you ever came across one.
This type of fistula is a hole, usually caused by obstructed childbirth, of varying size, depending on its severity, that causes continual urinary and, in some cases, fecal, incontinence: constant leaking. (Click "Obstetric Fistula" on the website for A Walk to Beautiful for more information and some figures.) Mrs. Hamlin estimates there may be 100,000 women in Ethiopia living with the condition--one that is often associated less with childbirth than with divine retribution, and that by destroying physical barriers made of tissue almost always erects stringent social barriers against women who have experienced a fistula. She doesn't judge, neither the community that separates the affected women from its daily practice of life nor the husbands who often exit the scene within days or weeks of discovering their wives' affliction. She and her team, in whose members she has such confidence that she reports she has no qualms about the hospital's continued service after she dies, just repair and stitch and love. Their surgical success rate for repairs is over 93%.
After my doula training the past several days, I've begun to entertain the idea of pursuing a career as a midwife--much less glorious than an obstetrician, see, and probably much less accepted in a biomedical paradigm, too, but so, so human. And not that obstetricians cannot be, or as a rule are not--there's just something different in the practice of midwifery versus the practice of obstetrics. I have a lot of respect for midwives. But to repair a fistula, you need the hands of a surgeon, and those are the hands of an obstetrician, not a midwife. So I'm excited for organic chemistry, and physics, and whatever else my next semester as a premed brings me--just more chances for God to prove He's awesome, since He'd have to be to use one like me for such a thing as to help repair the bruises and nicks His creatures suffer while we're clothed in our earthly dwelling.
We know that God is behind this work. I want to say that specially, that He has helped us over the years. We believe in prayer, and we believe that He has answered our prayers for many individual patients. With the work in the hospital we've been blessed.If I had a record of heroes, Mrs. Hamlin would surely be near the top.
P.S. A few more good resources, most of them from Nicholas Kristof of the NY Times:
http://www.nytimes.com/2005/06/12/opinion/12kristof.html
http://www.nytimes.com/2012/05/13/opinion/sunday/kristof-saving-the-lives-of-moms.html
http://www.engenderhealth.org/our-work/maternal/fistula.php
Thursday, May 24, 2012
Where I am isn't where I'll be
Things are changing! Firstly, the obvious: I've finished all my coursework and exams for the year, so when I return to school for the fall I'll be a junior. I've declared my major (Anthropology) and have--in a move that surprised even me, but that now thrills me--decided to pursue a pre-med track in addition to a minor in Global Health and Health Policy. In the fall I'm taking on a new leadership role in the Gospel Ensemble with which I sing. And next year, I won't be living with roommates for the first time since I've been at school, and I'll really miss the three young women I've been blessed to live with for the past two years.
My summer adventure begins in earnest tomorrow, with a wedding weekend to celebrate my "best cousin," as we used to call each other, getting married. After that I'll be heading to New York, where I'll be training as a doula (a non-medical support person for women in labor) with a training seminar and lots of reading. After that, I make my way to Ghana, for about 5 weeks of working in maternal health--details still to be 100% finalized, but right now I'm looking to split my time between working with a childbirth education organization called Eve's Foundation and a clinic in central Ghana. Still praying about housing, and getting details figured out, but no reason to worry.
But mostly I'm praying for clarity, and clarification, this summer--for God to do some work on me that He needs to do, to completely obliterate my pride, to draw me away from all distractions, to renew and strengthen me. As Henri Nowen writes (nice little summary on this blog--also, as an aside, Henri Nouwen is the man!! Really.), there's a key shift that must happen in our spiritual walks that carries us from being profoundly lonely people to living as people who understand and rest in solitude. I'm a bit worried about being lonely this summer (I'm spending the first two months more or less all on my own, though I'm blessed to be staying with a friend's sister while I'm in New York), but I am really asking God to help me love His solitude. In general, I want God to let me see part of His heart for this part of my summer, so I keep my eyes open to where He's leading.
What are you praying for for this summer?
My summer adventure begins in earnest tomorrow, with a wedding weekend to celebrate my "best cousin," as we used to call each other, getting married. After that I'll be heading to New York, where I'll be training as a doula (a non-medical support person for women in labor) with a training seminar and lots of reading. After that, I make my way to Ghana, for about 5 weeks of working in maternal health--details still to be 100% finalized, but right now I'm looking to split my time between working with a childbirth education organization called Eve's Foundation and a clinic in central Ghana. Still praying about housing, and getting details figured out, but no reason to worry.
But mostly I'm praying for clarity, and clarification, this summer--for God to do some work on me that He needs to do, to completely obliterate my pride, to draw me away from all distractions, to renew and strengthen me. As Henri Nowen writes (nice little summary on this blog--also, as an aside, Henri Nouwen is the man!! Really.), there's a key shift that must happen in our spiritual walks that carries us from being profoundly lonely people to living as people who understand and rest in solitude. I'm a bit worried about being lonely this summer (I'm spending the first two months more or less all on my own, though I'm blessed to be staying with a friend's sister while I'm in New York), but I am really asking God to help me love His solitude. In general, I want God to let me see part of His heart for this part of my summer, so I keep my eyes open to where He's leading.
What are you praying for for this summer?
Wednesday, May 16, 2012
Saturday, January 28, 2012
Katie
http://www.desiringgod.org/blog/posts/since-christ-is-all-katies-story
http://kissesfromkatie.blogspot.com/
I would almost say that I want to be like my sister in Christ Katie when I grow up, but do I? Oh Lord, make me willing. Show me my desires and my fears and my indulgences. Make me unwilling to be anything but what You've called me to be. If Your presence does not go with me, do not bring me up from here--and yet if it does not stay here with me, make me go. Jesus, You are beautiful.
Thursday, December 22, 2011
Things I Have Going for Me
1) I have a home (and a dorm, and a home in Ghana).
2) I've never had to prostitute myself for money.
3) I can choose to fast but I've never been forced to.
4) I can wear a scarf and a sweatshirt and a down vest and huddle under a blanket in front of my fireplace.
5) If I don't shower, it's my own fault.
6) I own at least 5 Bibles.
7) I can choose which clothes to keep, which to donate, and which to return.
8) I've never had to turn to drugs, alcohol, or sex for affirmation or love.
Obviously, only the material things; the biggest of all is knowing that I have a Savior in Heaven, and His name is Jesus.
2) I've never had to prostitute myself for money.
3) I can choose to fast but I've never been forced to.
4) I can wear a scarf and a sweatshirt and a down vest and huddle under a blanket in front of my fireplace.
5) If I don't shower, it's my own fault.
6) I own at least 5 Bibles.
7) I can choose which clothes to keep, which to donate, and which to return.
8) I've never had to turn to drugs, alcohol, or sex for affirmation or love.
Obviously, only the material things; the biggest of all is knowing that I have a Savior in Heaven, and His name is Jesus.
Saturday, December 17, 2011
Pilgrims Travel Light
My phone vibrated at 6:15 this morning, and I, snuggled comfortably and contentedly in my bed--mine, at home!--but still curious, fumbled around on my nighstand to see who might be calling me at this hour. "P.P.OD," announced the glowing screen. It had been several months since we'd talked, so I picked up: "Hello?", but not the usual "hell-O?"--no, "HA-lo?" And a little confusion ensued, since the connection from Ghana wasn't great:
"Akua?" / Jessica?
"HA-lo, P.P.OD?" / Hello, P.P.OD?
"HA-lo, Akua?" / Hello, Jessica?
"Aane, HA-lo?" / Yes, hello?
"Akua, εtε sεn?" / Jessica, how are you?
"Nyame adom! Ei, m'ani agye sε woafrε me... Na wo nso wo ho tε sεn?" / By God's grace (I'm fine)! Hey, I'm glad you've called me... And you also, how are you?
By God's grace, P.P.OD responds, he's also fine. We chat, him asking my how my family is and both of us lamenting that it's been so long since we've talked; me asking how Nana, the chief of Oguaa, is, and learning that he's doing great and able to walk anywhere without trouble after a year-long battle with an infected leg wound in the hospital; and him asking, as usual, how long it will be until I'm able to return to Ghana. Somehow the time does tick away, and no longer is the answer "aka mfeε nan; mewie sukuu a, mεsa aba" / in four [eternal, unending] years after I graduate.
I ask him how everything is going at his new job teaching at the local international school since he and all his fellow teachers-in-training were fired from their post at Seniagya Methodist JHS, where they had worked without ever receiving their pay for the past 8 months. The pay is small, he replies, and he can't stay there forever; instead, he'll pay the entrance examination fees and purchase an application to university in the spring, and pray--really, bring before the throne of grace with desperate pleas and humble, persistent reliance--that God grants him admission. Surely God is a provider, but I ask how much the fees will be, and after a pause, a mental calculation, carry the one and do the sum: "Bεyε 100 Cedis." About 100 Cedis, $70. This for a man whose monthly rent for a cramped room with a single bare lightbulb about a 5 minute walk from the borehole is $3/month, who went into a debt of $15 that took months to repay so that he could give parting gifts to the five Princeton students on the Bridge Year Program who had come to live for some few months in Oguaa. Seventy dollars that could kill a dream before the real obstacle, the 700 Cedis, $500 in tuition that university will cost if he's accepted, even needs to rear its head. I burned through almost $20 on incidentals and food at various airports as I flew home yesterday.
We end our conversation; his phone credit has almost run out, and I know full well that our quarter-hour conversation has probably cost him the equivalent of half of that month's rent:
"Hwε wo ho so yie." / Take care of yourself.
"Wonim sε mεnyε basa-basa." / You know I don't get into trouble.
And I went back to sleep, woke up a couple hours later to another cell phone vibration, a text from my dad wondering if we could do some errands, and soon found myself wandering the aisles of WalMart and Festival Foods. Bounty upon bounty towered before me, and as I trundled around, I thought of my friend Danny. After he graduates in the spring, he'll spend 11 months trekking across the world, serving God and loving people and living the message of the Gospel in 11 different countries. And he'll do it with a backpack full of clothes, a Bible, and not much more than that.
Remember what Jesus, the Word and our Emmanuel, says to us about how we're to go out when He sends us into the world? Sometimes I forget that, too, what with my prideful, foolishly self-sufficient, and ultimately sinful desire to do everything myself and not disturb God with my requests for food or protection or shelter. So I'm glad that my friend Lizzie called me back to the words of Matthew on her blog: "Do not get any gold or silver of copper to take with you in your belts--no bag for the journey or extra shirts or a staff, for workers are worth their keep." No staff, no copper for my belt? Okay, this I think I can handle, but no extra shirts? No bag for the journey? Really?
Because the truth is this: I have lots of stuff. Too much stuff--way too much stuff. I was packing two nights ago in preparation for returning home, and I had to do some visual inventory:
(1) Closet of tops, dresses, and skirts
(2) Drawer of sweaters
(3) Drawer of t-shirts
(4) Drawer of socks, bras, underwear
(5) Drawer of shorts
(6) Drawer of jeans and dress pants
(7) Drawer of sweatpants and leggings
(8) Crate of shoes
And please, let's not go into the books piled everywhere, and the assortment of jewelry, and the two plastic totes of random things lurking under my bed, and the laptop I'm writing this blog post on. God, the things You've entrusted to me are really beyond my comprehension, and obviously well beyond anything I deserve. Thank you.
So let's keep this straight, this procession of thoughts in my head today, and add to it a few spices until we have a nice little mental soup simmering. Firstly, the broth: my conversation with P.P.OD. Secondly, a collection of vegetables: Danny's upcoming trip 'round the world with a backpack. Thirdly, the meat: this confounding passage in Matthew 10:9-10. Fourthly, some noodles: the excess of my life as divulged by my dorm room's contents. And then the spices: room cleaning, and Jesus' return, and contentment in all circumstances, and being a pilgrim.
When I came home yesterday I brought a suitcase full of clothes with me, justifying spending $25 (which, disregarding the disparity in cost of living between Ghana and the US, let's remember, equals 5% of the annual tuition for a university like the one P.P.OD is hoping to attend) to check stated suitcase. I reasoned that I need something to wear for the next three weeks and I thought really don't have many clothes at home. (Judging by how much clothing I have at school, I was hoping this would turn out to be the case when I arrived home, and it sort of did.) Upon arriving home, I did a visual inventory of my room here, too, and found, again, many things. I've been thinking about all these ingredients in my soup, and adding the spice of a quote by Randy Alcorn, author of The Treasure Principle, who makes this keen observation: "Pilgrims travel light."
Certainly, as my friend Trent has reminded me, to be ungrateful for the things that have been entrusted to me would be to refuse to be "content in every situation, whether well fed or hungry, whether living in plenty or in want," as Paul wrote to the Philippians; but are we not pilgrims living in tents? I want my life to reflect that. So I'm cleaning house. How many pairs of jeans and t-shirts and sweaters can I need anyway? There's a satisfyingly robust pile of clothes on my floor now, waiting in limbo to find a better home than my closet. And that makes me excited, because the fewer things I have, the less tethered I'll be to my earthly treasures when God calls me to follow Him anywhere, whether that means to my next class or back to Ghana or Uganda--traveling light!
Yet not only my closet, Lord, but my heart also: Clean me out!
Remember that Christmas is coming? Sometimes I forget. But it really is, and soon: that day when Emmanuel actually is given birth, when the Word takes on a garment of flesh and breathes among us as God breathed Him into creation. Please, beloved friends, can we prepare our hearts for the arrival of our Savior? Because He has already come, lived, and defeated death; but He's coming back. Revelation makes that clear: "[Jesus] who testifies to these things says, 'Yes, I am coming soon.' Amen. Come, Lord Jesus." And so, just as we sing "let every heart prepare Him room" at Christmas, let each of us prepare room in our hearts for Jesus to return, not clinging to things but learning to live light, to travel as pilgrims in this world, unencumbered by things that tether us. We must throw off everything that hinders--our pride, our reliance on ourselves, our self-focus, and maybe even our fascination with things and clothes and gadgets and stuff--to run with perseverance this race set before us. Amen!
Prayer Requests:
"Akua?" / Jessica?
"HA-lo, P.P.OD?" / Hello, P.P.OD?
"HA-lo, Akua?" / Hello, Jessica?
"Aane, HA-lo?" / Yes, hello?
"Akua, εtε sεn?" / Jessica, how are you?
"Nyame adom! Ei, m'ani agye sε woafrε me... Na wo nso wo ho tε sεn?" / By God's grace (I'm fine)! Hey, I'm glad you've called me... And you also, how are you?
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| Me and P.P.OD, aka Oduro, at Oguaa [April 2010] |
By God's grace, P.P.OD responds, he's also fine. We chat, him asking my how my family is and both of us lamenting that it's been so long since we've talked; me asking how Nana, the chief of Oguaa, is, and learning that he's doing great and able to walk anywhere without trouble after a year-long battle with an infected leg wound in the hospital; and him asking, as usual, how long it will be until I'm able to return to Ghana. Somehow the time does tick away, and no longer is the answer "aka mfeε nan; mewie sukuu a, mεsa aba" / in four [eternal, unending] years after I graduate.
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| My students assemble at the end of the day at Seniagya Methodist JHS [March 2010] |
I ask him how everything is going at his new job teaching at the local international school since he and all his fellow teachers-in-training were fired from their post at Seniagya Methodist JHS, where they had worked without ever receiving their pay for the past 8 months. The pay is small, he replies, and he can't stay there forever; instead, he'll pay the entrance examination fees and purchase an application to university in the spring, and pray--really, bring before the throne of grace with desperate pleas and humble, persistent reliance--that God grants him admission. Surely God is a provider, but I ask how much the fees will be, and after a pause, a mental calculation, carry the one and do the sum: "Bεyε 100 Cedis." About 100 Cedis, $70. This for a man whose monthly rent for a cramped room with a single bare lightbulb about a 5 minute walk from the borehole is $3/month, who went into a debt of $15 that took months to repay so that he could give parting gifts to the five Princeton students on the Bridge Year Program who had come to live for some few months in Oguaa. Seventy dollars that could kill a dream before the real obstacle, the 700 Cedis, $500 in tuition that university will cost if he's accepted, even needs to rear its head. I burned through almost $20 on incidentals and food at various airports as I flew home yesterday.
We end our conversation; his phone credit has almost run out, and I know full well that our quarter-hour conversation has probably cost him the equivalent of half of that month's rent:
"Hwε wo ho so yie." / Take care of yourself.
"Wonim sε mεnyε basa-basa." / You know I don't get into trouble.
And I went back to sleep, woke up a couple hours later to another cell phone vibration, a text from my dad wondering if we could do some errands, and soon found myself wandering the aisles of WalMart and Festival Foods. Bounty upon bounty towered before me, and as I trundled around, I thought of my friend Danny. After he graduates in the spring, he'll spend 11 months trekking across the world, serving God and loving people and living the message of the Gospel in 11 different countries. And he'll do it with a backpack full of clothes, a Bible, and not much more than that.
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| My room in Oguaa, surrounded by my possessions for those 9 months: clothes, books, gifts, toiletries [April 2010] |
Remember what Jesus, the Word and our Emmanuel, says to us about how we're to go out when He sends us into the world? Sometimes I forget that, too, what with my prideful, foolishly self-sufficient, and ultimately sinful desire to do everything myself and not disturb God with my requests for food or protection or shelter. So I'm glad that my friend Lizzie called me back to the words of Matthew on her blog: "Do not get any gold or silver of copper to take with you in your belts--no bag for the journey or extra shirts or a staff, for workers are worth their keep." No staff, no copper for my belt? Okay, this I think I can handle, but no extra shirts? No bag for the journey? Really?
Because the truth is this: I have lots of stuff. Too much stuff--way too much stuff. I was packing two nights ago in preparation for returning home, and I had to do some visual inventory:
(1) Closet of tops, dresses, and skirts
(2) Drawer of sweaters
(3) Drawer of t-shirts
(4) Drawer of socks, bras, underwear
(5) Drawer of shorts
(6) Drawer of jeans and dress pants
(7) Drawer of sweatpants and leggings
(8) Crate of shoes
And please, let's not go into the books piled everywhere, and the assortment of jewelry, and the two plastic totes of random things lurking under my bed, and the laptop I'm writing this blog post on. God, the things You've entrusted to me are really beyond my comprehension, and obviously well beyond anything I deserve. Thank you.
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| My bookshelf--before this year's books were added [February 2011] |
So let's keep this straight, this procession of thoughts in my head today, and add to it a few spices until we have a nice little mental soup simmering. Firstly, the broth: my conversation with P.P.OD. Secondly, a collection of vegetables: Danny's upcoming trip 'round the world with a backpack. Thirdly, the meat: this confounding passage in Matthew 10:9-10. Fourthly, some noodles: the excess of my life as divulged by my dorm room's contents. And then the spices: room cleaning, and Jesus' return, and contentment in all circumstances, and being a pilgrim.
When I came home yesterday I brought a suitcase full of clothes with me, justifying spending $25 (which, disregarding the disparity in cost of living between Ghana and the US, let's remember, equals 5% of the annual tuition for a university like the one P.P.OD is hoping to attend) to check stated suitcase. I reasoned that I need something to wear for the next three weeks and I thought really don't have many clothes at home. (Judging by how much clothing I have at school, I was hoping this would turn out to be the case when I arrived home, and it sort of did.) Upon arriving home, I did a visual inventory of my room here, too, and found, again, many things. I've been thinking about all these ingredients in my soup, and adding the spice of a quote by Randy Alcorn, author of The Treasure Principle, who makes this keen observation: "Pilgrims travel light."
Certainly, as my friend Trent has reminded me, to be ungrateful for the things that have been entrusted to me would be to refuse to be "content in every situation, whether well fed or hungry, whether living in plenty or in want," as Paul wrote to the Philippians; but are we not pilgrims living in tents? I want my life to reflect that. So I'm cleaning house. How many pairs of jeans and t-shirts and sweaters can I need anyway? There's a satisfyingly robust pile of clothes on my floor now, waiting in limbo to find a better home than my closet. And that makes me excited, because the fewer things I have, the less tethered I'll be to my earthly treasures when God calls me to follow Him anywhere, whether that means to my next class or back to Ghana or Uganda--traveling light!
Yet not only my closet, Lord, but my heart also: Clean me out!
Remember that Christmas is coming? Sometimes I forget. But it really is, and soon: that day when Emmanuel actually is given birth, when the Word takes on a garment of flesh and breathes among us as God breathed Him into creation. Please, beloved friends, can we prepare our hearts for the arrival of our Savior? Because He has already come, lived, and defeated death; but He's coming back. Revelation makes that clear: "[Jesus] who testifies to these things says, 'Yes, I am coming soon.' Amen. Come, Lord Jesus." And so, just as we sing "let every heart prepare Him room" at Christmas, let each of us prepare room in our hearts for Jesus to return, not clinging to things but learning to live light, to travel as pilgrims in this world, unencumbered by things that tether us. We must throw off everything that hinders--our pride, our reliance on ourselves, our self-focus, and maybe even our fascination with things and clothes and gadgets and stuff--to run with perseverance this race set before us. Amen!
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| Come, Lord Jesus. |
- For Siddhu, who I met on the train to the airport yesterday and who is an agnostic who'd like to believe in God but can't get over the problem of suffering and says he feels a big void in his life; I gave him a Bible and Henri Nouwen's Reaching Out, so please join me in praying that God brings growth in his life and that he comes to know God's fullness!
- For my friend David, who's trying to discern whether God has called him to co-lead the mission trip to Uganda in August with me
- For the Outreach Team of PFA, the Christian ministry I'm involved in at school; we need God's guidance and power and vision to see many, many people come to know Christ and walk in His joy and peace!
- For people who don't have close friends and people who are depressed and lonely
- For God to be preparing the hearts of those He has called to the Uganda mission trip in August, and for wisdom for me in preparing for that and deciding how to use the time before the trip
Tuesday, December 6, 2011
Prayer begins... last Friday
Do you realize how much God loves dust?
Genesis 2:7 // The Lord God formed the man from the dust of the ground and breathed into his nostrils the breath of life, and the man became a living being.
Isaiah 41:14 // "Do not be afraid, O worm Jacob, O little Israel, for I myself will help you," declares the Lord, your Redeemer, the Holy One of Israel.
Daniel 9:18 // "Give ear, O God, and hear; open your eyes and see the desolation of the city that bears your Name. We do not make requests of you because we are righteous, but because of your great mercy."
That's me: the dust, the worm, the little one, the unrighteous beggar for mercy--wow, God. I'm just thinking about the wonder of it, that God would meet with such as us, and that He calls us His people (Hosea 2:23). And I just end up stunned every time.
I guess that--to just share my amazement at God's glory--was the primary purpose of this little post, as it should be for every post, but secondarily, I've a request for you: I've been asked to lead the mission trip to Uganda (the one I went on last August with my Christian fellowship here at school), and after about a month of prayer and discernment I accepted on Friday. Which means that prayer for the trip began on Friday, and I'm asking you to join me! At this point I have essentially no details (when? probably about August; who? I don't know, but I may have a co-leader; how? by God's provision), but will share them as they're settled.
Things at school are going well, and I praise God for His work in my heart and in the lives of others around me this semester! Only a week and a half til I'm home for Christmas... Peace!
UPDATE: I'm no longer going to Uganda this summer, but please continue to keep the team in your prayers!
Genesis 2:7 // The Lord God formed the man from the dust of the ground and breathed into his nostrils the breath of life, and the man became a living being.
Isaiah 41:14 // "Do not be afraid, O worm Jacob, O little Israel, for I myself will help you," declares the Lord, your Redeemer, the Holy One of Israel.
Daniel 9:18 // "Give ear, O God, and hear; open your eyes and see the desolation of the city that bears your Name. We do not make requests of you because we are righteous, but because of your great mercy."
That's me: the dust, the worm, the little one, the unrighteous beggar for mercy--wow, God. I'm just thinking about the wonder of it, that God would meet with such as us, and that He calls us His people (Hosea 2:23). And I just end up stunned every time.
I guess that--to just share my amazement at God's glory--was the primary purpose of this little post, as it should be for every post, but secondarily, I've a request for you: I've been asked to lead the mission trip to Uganda (the one I went on last August with my Christian fellowship here at school), and after about a month of prayer and discernment I accepted on Friday. Which means that prayer for the trip began on Friday, and I'm asking you to join me! At this point I have essentially no details (when? probably about August; who? I don't know, but I may have a co-leader; how? by God's provision), but will share them as they're settled.
Things at school are going well, and I praise God for His work in my heart and in the lives of others around me this semester! Only a week and a half til I'm home for Christmas... Peace!
UPDATE: I'm no longer going to Uganda this summer, but please continue to keep the team in your prayers!
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