Tending Harvesters

October 2nd 2008

It’s a new day. Roosters across the countryside chorusing together. After having watched “How Great Is Our God” last night with Chris Tomlin and Louie Giglio, my heart was warmed and perspectivized. I felt myself shrinking in that good universal shrink wrap. Down goes the pride as up goes the Lord into something miniscully approximating his true grandeur. When I think of that one galaxy 31 million light years (x 5.88 trillion miles) away from us, with the figure of the cross in its black hole core, I just shake my head and smile. Sudan in perspective. Me in perspective.

October 3, 2008

I just returned from Harvester’s Orphange where I met with about 25 teachers and their principal for a staff development meeting. The founder and CEO, Dennis, is pictured with me. Eight years ago nothing was here but bush. Now this group feeds 500 mouths a day out a a dozen or more buildings.

I spoke on stages of discipline in a classroom, some materials I had liberally lifted off different internet sites with some of my own salt and pepper. These were primarily men, teaching pre-schoolers and primary schoolers! Amazing. Warm, humble bunch, far as I could see.

What a blessing to be told I was a blessing to them all. I think I had some encouragement and information to offer them, in that order. I told them they were my heroes, that it was for such a time as this that they were called to be the body that Christ no longer has on this planet to that group of people whom Christ is particularly fond, orphans. I thanked them for Him. I said that they might be the only representative of a Father that these children might ever see that was kind and loving. God with skin on Him. Their heads were nodding, some eyes puddling. It was a holy moment. Thank you Lord for your most awesome gifting to them thru me whilst I stood by and watched.

Thunder Therapy vs Balloon Therapy

I was leaving with a few others at 5 pm today to visit Judah House orphanage. Dima was driving up as we were leaving in a group. He leaned out and said, you want me to join you? I said yes. He jumped out and began to walk with Simon and I toward town. Simon is a “lost boy” that I got to know from last year, one of 4,000 in Uganda that were orphaned and banded together as a family group to survive in the bush. He escaped from this group, was adopted by the Catholics, educated, and now works here. He walked with us along the dry, pitted Miridi Rd, well past his turn off, and pointed the further way to the orphanage. We thanked him, continued.

The skies were darkening. Dirt devils swirled the dusty road and blew leaves and twigs up in our faces, causing us to turn away and walk backwards. We walked and as we talked Dima got anxious to get back home. We continued to walk another mile or so , and the rain spitted and stopped, fat raindrops hiccupping down out of the skies.

Dima said, where are all the others? Where are we going? How long will this take. He was not overly impressed with our situation. I said, Dima, your attitude is grinding on me like steel wool on a wound. If you continue to feel like you’d not like to be with me, please turn around and go back to Reconcile. He kept walking, head down. It began raining in earnest. We kept walking. Silent. Together.

Our spirits were more miserable with each other than the weather was with us. Particularly since we have forgotten our umbrellas and rain jackets. Oh well, it was warm and sticky still from the beating heat of the 95 degree day. The rain actually was a welcome cool-down.

We arrived at the Judah House orphanage. It was still deplorable. One lonely, sour mama with ten children or so. Beer bottles empty in her bedroom but no bed-nets in evidence. Little food. Barefoot. Rags. Broke my heart. Father Simon no where to be found. Gone for two days without giving anyone an idea of where he was to be. Will be back to check later in the week.

We walked home 4 miles or so in the pouring rain side by side. Totally slammed by the storm. Weirdly enough, it was a good experience. Dima’s mood improved as we went. This is a tribute to his resilience. He bounces back from slumps quicker than mercury. We made jokes back and forth as we walked past Yei town people standing under cover: “we dumb Americans don’t have enough sense to get out of the rain….” People calling to us from their porches, laughing. Go figure. Happily hammered. Father and son recovering, working stuff out. Someone must have been praying.

October 1, 2008

Today another visit to Judah House after the morning meetings. Kirsten, from Germany, age 25, went with us. A wonderful Christian young woman. Thunder bumpers in the sky but no rain today, so far. Kirsten broke out the balloons once we got there. Children yelping with glee. Balloon therapy.