Collage

I've been sick this weekend, which is not a surprise considering my lifestyle lately.  The blog has taken a backseat to drinking gallons of tea, water, orange juice, horchatas (I keep trying to like the stuff), vending machine chai, and lemonade.  Thankfully, Ruthie put together this great collage for your enjoyment. Click on it to enlarge.

Suggested uses: iron-on t-shirt design; billboard; laptop background; face painting pattern; online entertainment; prayer guide; donation motivator; poster

Thursdays

Ruthie and I sat on the patio tonight looking out at the apartment complex and thinking about relationships.

Some days, it's difficult for me to be down here.  I get homesick for the people I love back in Chicago.  We gathered around great music and movies almost every night. Life here is rich and rewarding, but it gets profoundly lonely sometimes.

I suppose this is culture shock. The glory of the exotic life you dreamed of peels away, and you find yourself waking to a day-to-day reality.  The fact is that in my neighborhood, I'm an oddity. I wouldn't trade it, but it's lonely and overwhelming sometimes. 

Of course, it helps that we work with a bunch of warm-hearted, lovable kids.  When I arrive home from my day job, nerves sparking from the stress, they call to me from their balconies and they remind me that this work I've given my life to is worthwhile.

The picture above interrupted me in the middle of a spell of depression tonight. I thank God that he gives me good things to capture my attention in the times when I'm blind to the glory he's placed all around me.

Refugee All-Stars

Picture credit: banker white

This morning, I ran errands while listening to a CD by Sierra Leone's Refugee All-Stars, a reggae band formed in refugee camps outside Sierra Leone while the country suffered a long, bloody civil war.

I was thinking about how moving the music feels to me, although I haven't set foot on the continent of Africa or lived as a refugee or even really worried about being able to eat. It doesn't take much to connect with another human being. One shared idea or the resonance of a tune or a line in a drawing can unite people in a powerful way.

Some film producers found this band and made a low-budget documentary, and it was enough to give these refugees a voice to reach me, a white guy driving a new car with a working CD player (see yesterday's post).

I pay close attention to stories like this, I delight in the connections, and I pray that, by God's grace, I will help make this unifying joy possible for others.

Missionary Ride

We borrowed my brother's car for the past six months. When he came to live with us, we returned the keys. At that point, our friend Jesse Cummins agreed to let us use his for a while until we figured something out.

Today, thanks to a donor named Darrell Suderman, we have wheels! It's a buick with a great interior and (get ready- this is a first for Ruthie and me) a working CD player!

The vehicle has a few minor issues, but that's why we call it a "missionary car." I don't even know if I'd feel like a legitimate minister without a few car problems.

It was interesting to learn how many connections Darrell has with my family. One of his best friends worked on my parents' and my older sister's cars for years. Darrell attends First Baptist Atlanta, where my younger brother works. His home church in Denver is Foothills, which has supported our family for years! And now he donated a car to Ruthie and me.

Which brings me to an interesting point: when you're doing missionary work, it really is a small world. For whatever reason, since moving down here, I have seen some crazy coincidences.

"But Ian," you tell me, "there is no such thing as a coincidence."

"Listen, (your name here), you know what I mean, so just loosen up," I reply.

Which brings me to another crazy "coincidence." I got all excited recently because two of my favorite African musicians, Femi Kuti and King Sunny Ade, are doing a show in Atlanta.

I was telling my fellow missionary Bayo Otiti about this, and he replied that he just happens to have been good friends with Femi Kuti's dad, and Sunny Ade's son had just called Bayo from New York a few hours prior to our conversation.

Interesting stuff.

Village Gathering

We had our first "Village Gathering" hosted by Rachel Weast. We were so grateful for her hospitality!

Everyone wore their traditional dress, even little Susan. She is a regular at our jewelry classes.

This is Purna. She is from Bhutan and spent 17 years in a refugee camp in Nepal. She made Nepali tea for all the guests. For many of the women, it was the first time to visit an American home. I asked Purna to tell me one thing she noticed to be different about it and she said, "so many kitchen things."

The American women did not hesitate to support the refugee women by buying their handmade jewely. I saw pure joy on their faces when their pieces where admired and chosen.

We were all pretty tired at the end, especially little Susan.

After the "Village Gathering" I took the women to my parents house to show them were I grew up. I was glad to share a peice of my history with them.

Welcome to the New Millenium

Ruthie had her first "Village Gathering" today, which was a party where she brought refugees to meet with Georgians and share stories.  She brought back some great shots of the event. However, uploading the pictures on this dial-up connection typically takes nearly an hour after all is said and done.  

Tomorrow, Comcast will be coming to our apartment to welcome us into the new millenium.  After they install a good internet connection, it will take mere minutes to do what used to take hours.  So at that point we'll lay the pics and stories on you and there will be much rejoicing in the land.

Until then, have a good night.

Futbol con Peruanos

It's no secret to anyone who has seen me exercise that I am sorely out of shape.  Six hard Chicago winters and heaps of great international food have joined forces to render me pretty much worthless on a soccer field (or a tennis court converted to a soccer court).

Just keep that in mind as I unfold this here tale I'm about to tell. 

You see, I was never great at soccer, but I used to be able to run around in 100 degree heat and have a pretty good time. That is not the case today.  In preparation for a 5-mile run around Stone Mountain, a confederate version of Mount Rushmore, Eric and I went to the park for a quick jog.  It did not go very well.

As we finished our second mile, Eric bounding around the last curve with his hair streaming behind him like a mane, and me staggering in an odd gasp-hop-fall-forward-style run, we heard the sounds of soccer coming from the tennis courts at the back of our apartment complex.  All the complexes in this city once catered to the tennis-playing set, but the demographics have changed a little since those days.  Now the courts have no poles or nets, and weird PVC rectangles are strapped to the fence to serve as goals for the latino tenants.

I had a stupid idea.  Why not play with them?  My brother and I used to stomp opponents back in the old days.  So we stretched out and went.  After watching for a few minutes, the guys worked us into teams and we got going.  My teammates were stout, potbellied construction worker types, and they immediately saw that Eric's team got the better deal.

Anyway, you can imagine how it went.  Eric dancing around the court, nailing shots from deep in his own zone.  Me staggering around, a little late for everything, getting yelled at by my middle aged teammates.  At half time, we all sat down and got to talking.  Apparently, Fridays are Peru day at the court. I told them I had been to their country, and we knew enough of each others' languages to string a good conversation together.  The break ended with me inviting all eight of them over for fish on Wednesday.

Also, I offered to start teaching them English, which I haven't the faintest idea how to do.  But these days, I'm pretty much in "what the heck? Let's give it a shot" mode.  So now our ministry with the men in the place is up and running.  

Not that I was up and running for much of the rest of the game, although I played smarter, nailed a couple of goals, and our team came out on top. Eat it, Eric.

Now, as I type, my arms have disturbing discolored splotches on them and I feel a bit like my nerve endings are all loose wires, sparking, I'm on my second gallon of water, and it feels great, to tell you the truth.