One step forward; two steps backward, then baby steps to victory!

February 2, 2013

While I am not 100% yet (that’s gonna take awhile) I do feel I am improving.  When I ventured down to the showers later on in the day, I discovered that two of our guys had installed wooden doors.  Oh how wonderful.  Now, I didn’t have to live in fear of the wind (which was ALWAYS) blowing the curtain loose from where I had it tucked; giving whoever might be strolling by a view they weren’t counting on.

On the way back to my tukal, feeling somewhat refreshed and improved, I came upon my son and grandson sitting in the shade of one of the tukals.  Joining them was a delight. I always, always welcomed a moment to hold my grandson.  When only a few moments are allotted and it will be a few years before you get to lay eyes on each other again, these times become priceless.

Hey Dad, I’d rather look at you!

Holding on to him; holding on to a memory!

Our conversation that afternoon centered around my son’s plans about preparing for the future.  He has some well thought out ideas.  I’m especially intrigued with his future study plans which will involve living and studying for several months in a western European country.  The thought that we (my husband and I) will likely get to go visit him there thrills my very soul.  (There are some mighty delightful perks to being the mom of a missionary!)

It’s February 3, 2013

. . and my improved health has proven to be short lived.  Crawling into bed that afternoon, I noticed I had fever.  I sent word to have my son bring me some ibuprofen hoping it would relieve the aching and the fever I was in the throws of. When my son brought the medicine, I approached him about the possibility of my going home earlier than planned. ( Actually, I wanted to leave asap.)  I was feeling all of my 64 years and was beginning to think I had bitten off a lot more than I could chew.  I remember saying to my son, “You have got to get me out of here!”  To say I was in the depths of despair would only scratch the surface.

My son did not want me to make such a decision in my present weakened state.  He called my husband and after his attempt to give me a pep talk, it became painfully clear that I wasn’t going anywhere.

So I resigned myself to the reality that no matter what I had got to stick this thing out.  I had not expected things to be so difficult and I began questioning God’s purpose in allowing me to come for the length of time I had committed to.  Honestly, I was a little mad at God.  He knew what was in store for me and He didn’t intervene to change a thing to spare me this misery. (Ever been in that boat?)

Unlike everybody else in that camp, my reason for being there was mainly to make memories with my son and grandson.  But to do that successfully, I had to feel a lot better than I was.  So achieving that goal was  slightly hindered at the moment.  Very disheartening.

The fiery darts were doing a number on me.  Criticizing me for not being as spiritual as the others and as a result caving in when conditions got challenging.  Fortunately, I’ve had some good training in that regard and I was alert to what the Enemy was up to.  Basically, it all boiled down to

John 10:10

A thief comes only to steal and to kill and to destroy. 

I have come so that they may have life and have it in abundance.

I knew I had a decision to make.  I could cooperate with the thief and allow him to steal, kill and destroy, everything that God had planned for me, or I could cooperate with God and enjoy the abundance with which He was so willing to bless me.  Admittedly, it wouldn’t have been quite so hard, if I hadn’t encountered the physical challenges of the sickness, but I was there for the duration and my focus needed to change for God to get the glory and for me to experience success.

The Turning Point

My son left the tukal for awhile and returned to share with me that the camp members were gathering around my tukal to join in prayer for me.  I will never be able to describe the peace that came over me as their audible and soft words drifted around and through my tukal.  Their prayers left me feeling cared for and encouraged. The only condemnation was coming from those stinking fiery darts and believe me I was going to get a grip!

                                                         I could do this thing.

My book gives a detailed account of what fiery darts are and how to fight them.  I hope you will check out my book and its accompanying blog:

Fiery Darts: Satan’s Weapon of Choice

blog:  http://fierydarts.wordpress.com

Until next blog,

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Getting use to life in the bush!

3 generations of moon watchers! And here we are in Africa!

It’s January 27th and we are settling in for our first night in bush camp.  This is a conflicting environment.  During the day it’s hot (but only if you are not in the shade) but in the night it can get rather chilly.

We gathered together in a rectangle formation in the center of camp sitting on planks laid on the ground. (Not an easily accomplished feat for me, I can tell you!) Blankets (not the Karamajong ones) were handed out and orders were taken for more b/c there wasn’t enough.  I was curious as to why we needed blankets but during the night I not only put on the jacket I had brought but pulled that blanket over me that had been lying at my feet. When I had gone to bed it was comfortably warm and I didn’t need the blanket. All of that changed in the night with the onset of the chilly breeze that invaded our sleeping space. Brrh!

We didn’t bother with pj’s b/c they wouldn’t have been warm enough in the night; opting instead for whatever clothes we wore during the day.  In the mornings we usually kept these clothes on and came out of our tukals wrapped up in our karamajong blankets and when it warmed up, we would take off the jackets (or the blankets we had wrapped up in!)

Our 3 Karamajong friends wrapped up in their blankets.

It’s Jan. 28 and I awoke at 5:30 a.m.  Why, you may ask?  I thought it was about 7:30! I hadn’t slept well at all due to the cold (my blanket was stiff and of a rough texture, wasn’t cooperative when I tried to tuck it in around me to keep out the cold, ugh!) Oh well, going back to bed was not an option so I found a place to have my quiet time and journaled.

My son fixed something like potatoe patties for breakfast and with the cookies bought in town, we had a tasty breakfast.  Assignments were made–dig a latrine, walk to a nearby town and buy sugar, clear the camp area of rocks and thorns.  They were going to dig 2 latrines (his and hers!) but after the laborious act of digging one, it was decided one was enough! This took a few days and in the meantime you had to walk a good distance from the camp, find a secluded bush and well, you know!  And yet again, prayed you would not have an audience.  (This did happen but thank God not to me, although I had some close calls!) This was manageable as long as you did not have to hurry–and I’ll leave it to your imaginations as to why quick trips might become necessary.) Oh, but that’s another story!

Due to the scarcity of water a daily shower was not an option but after a couple of days in camp I felt the strong desire to change clothes and wash my hair.   But because the showers weren’t built yet we had to improvise.  This meant we parked the two vehicles downhill from the camp side by side, hung the karamajong blankets over the windows (so no one from camp up the hill could accidentally view a showeree) and stood in the space between the vehicles to wash off (yes it was open to the world on each end).  The process involved carrying a plastic wash basin to the area between the trucks, stand on the plastic mats laid on the ground and pour the water over you with another smaller plastic container to rinse off after soaping up. (Oh, that would be after you disrobed and soaped up and prayed no local Karamajong would be strolling by.) I was extremely appreciative of the lavender soap that my tukal mate had given me as a gift. Simple pleasures become luxurious in such situations.  My gallant son helped me by carrying my shower water for me and standing guard while I cleaned up.  And btw, completely disrobing was not an option for me; not by a long shot.  That’s just a little too much vulnerability for me.  The day the showers were finally built was a happy day for me.  It’s amazing the difference 4 walls make when you are taking a shower!

This is a double shower, actually. The view is from the side so you can’t see the shower beyond. And this picture was taken before the doors were added. Until then we just hung our Karamajong blankets over the open space and prayed the wind wouldn’t blow it down.

Well, that’s enough for today.  Next time I’ll share the exciting news about bush latrines.