Thankful

After more than ten orbits of the sun here in Uganda, living and working at the same place for all ten+ years, I feel both excitement for the days and ways we live in our remote village and a commonplace-ness that keeps me from seeing any of the days as special.

Today I feel particularly nothing special at all.

But, I have this pressure and angst to write something that would move you--move me--lift us off the plateau of everyday and inspire us to a beautiful view again.

Honestly, what is it that inspires us? (Insert "Sunday School answer" here: Jesus) After all, when we "don't know what to say, just say Jesus." I hate that song, by the way. As if His name is some trite magical "abracadabra" that excuses us from engaging with Him in the process of taking responsibility for our actions and reactions, and sifting through our thoughts and questions. Allowing His name to pass through the lips does not automatically fill the ugly void created by foolishness or ignorance. Jesus is not a trite answer. He could never be that. But, honestly we live often as if our lives did NOT depend on Him.

Living life in Uganda, China, California or Georgia, Nepal, Siberia, Guatemala, or Tasmania we are all His. Whether we view our days as mundane, ordinary, extraordinary, fulfilling or filled with randomness, we all come from Him. Our lack of recognizing His hand on us doesn't negate that His hand has given us life.

For that I am most grateful.

His nail-pierced, raised hand is the reason I live. My God, my Father gave His son Jesus for me. Life for life. Amen.

Whether I see today as special or I see it as regular old whatever doesn't change that it is an ordained day according to His plan.

Thankfulness changes what I see.

I am thankful.

Thankful for the privilege of living among Ugandans, meeting weekly with young people and walking with them as they desire to understand God and live for Him.

Thankful for the privilege of watching the kids entrusted to us walk past my house everyday to school or church, the football field or basketball court.

Thankful for the privilege of being the house where massive amounts of munchkins swarm the compound every afternoon, raising the din from bird banter to kid's laughter and squeals.

Thankful for the privilege of homeschooling my kids. Though, sometimes our activities surrounding such can seem to only maintain the mundane.  I've got the schedule, the plan, the handy-dandy teacher's guide, and a vision for why we school the way we do. But, we often fail to start the school day committing our intentions to Him. We run from the breakfast table--where we've prayed and talked together--off to our individual morning tasks and then show up at various intervals at our desks to begin the academic pursuits. Before I know it, we're scattered all over the place and no one wants to stop their momentum to pray together and give it all to Him again. So much can happen between breakfast and the end of the first hour of school. Why do I fail in this regard? Homeschooling as if it didn't depend on Him. Forgive me Lord, for these kids are yours and these hours are given to show them You. This is truth no matter where one lives--the mission field of another country or the mission field where you've always been.

I am thankful for my kids' hearts, their passions, their struggles, their questions and doubts, their hopes and sadness, and the nothing special.  The privilege of being with them all day long as they grow and change and come to better understand who God is and how He is over it all and loves us all is a gift regardless of where we might find ourselves in this world.

We've spent ten years together in this different culture with all its beauty and its ugly, its fascinating and its strange, its exhibition of uniqueness and exposure of common human frailty. No doubt, it has changed us!

I'm thankful for the ways we've changed.

Never completely at home in this host culture, never again completely at home in our original culture.

In all the stretching, painful, joyful and wondrous experiences we've had we've changed. For the better.

Though I forget to give thanks in many moments of many days, I have learned that I can't go very long without being reminded that being able to give thanks for even the difficulties brings growth towards Him.

Let's not forget to give thanks . . . to GOD, to Jesus. Don't just say Jesus, LIVE for Him! I hope as much for you as I do for myself that we would LIVE, even in the mundane, with a thankfulness that lifts us, even in the difficult, to appreciate and see His hand.

In that vein I share a recently crafted poem I wrote inspired by almost losing my youngest at the end of the first week of February this year. I am thankful for all the days we have, however long they last.

In the bush of Uganda

Under wide open sky

Through the hot dry season

Climbs Kevin very high

A fruit snack the goal

His eyes on the prize

He scales trees barefoot

He scales trees of size

The young ones below

Yell, "even me, you throw!"

And Kevin climbs up

An expert hunter

A toe here, a toe there

Placed ever so adeptly

On each branch with care

Branches hold, fruit sways

Three jackfruit are spied

As he knocks them down

"Weebale!" Tikes cried

With jackfruit scored, over yonder a new reward

So, Kevin climbs up

The old jambula tree

Heavy laden with fruit

It calls, "Climb me!"

And Kevin's in pursuit

"Up, Up!" Kids squeal

"We want more snacks!"

So farther Kevin goes

Steady in his tracks

Juicy plump ones entice

And they look so nice

So Kevin climbs up

He sees few this side

But, what's over there?

That looks like a haul

With plenty to share

Grabbing branches on left

Scaling branches on right

He has no idea 

Of the soon coming fright

The branches wiggle and they prance with a 

Creak--

crack--

dance!

And Kevin falls down!

Twenty five' to the ground

Kevin tumbled straight down

And everybody shutters

At the loud smack sound

Uncle Steve and Aunt Virg

Run out their front door

The kids and the teens

Come close to see more

Kevin wails and he cries

Uncle Steve at his side

Aunt Virg calls the mom

And says bring a ride!

Uncle Paul sets him in

But there is no smile

To the hospital we fly

All praying all the while

X-rays are taken

Ultrasound done

Pronounced free and clear

And to home again we run

In the bush in Uganda

A clambering boy 

Survives a great fall

And lives to our joy.

Kevin fell from the height well beyond the top of the water tower! He began his fall near the top right of the dark green tree in the middle of the photo.

Blessings to you as you LIVE!