Ethiopia Bound

Five days remain before I’ll be taking a 15 ½ hour flight from Washington, DC to Addis Ababa with my friends, Brad and Jean.  The three of us are going on a mission trip to work with the Moria’h Deliverance of Ethiopian Children (more commonly called Moria’h House) evangelical ministry.  This ministry provides a much needed service to many boys living on the streets of the Ethiopian capital city.  The boys range from only eight or nine years old all the way up to young adulthood.  Some have run away from difficult family situations.  Others are orphans, or children whose parents could no longer feed them.  All are perfect recipients of the care and service which the dedicated staff at Moria’h House offer by way of providing meals, counseling, academic tutoring, other forms of assistance, and most importantly, an introduction to the love and grace of Jesus Christ.

During the course of our 11 days in Ethiopia between February 27 and March 9, we will share the joy of serving our Lord with these fine people, many of whom began caring for the poor and needy among them while they themselves were yet a part of that group.  We will teach English, share Bible lessons, serve meals to dozens if not hundreds of street boys, play games, laugh and sing, pray with and simply open our hearts and minds to whatever it is God has in store for us and those with whom we come in contact.  This is a ministry run by volunteers who know beyond all doubt that the promises of Jesus Christ are real.  Even as we seek to work with them and share ourselves through faith, we will learn from these young and devoted Christians and tap into their energy.  It is infectious, you know.

We will be posting regular updates to this blog so that you can be a part of our experiences in as close to real-time as possible.  Join us as we learn about love and grace in action, and add your smiles to the boys of Moria’h House, especially once we've taught them to play American football!  Or perhaps you will be laughing instead at our attempts to keep up with them playing Ethiopian football (soccer).  Either way, our journey will be enlightening, thought-provoking, exciting, joyful, spiritual and probably many more adjectives that will come forth in future posts.  Stay tuned.

My First Kids

My first kids, twins who are three years apart in age, live in different countries, and are of different races, began a journey of love that knows no end.  Nearly twelve years ago, Monica, a beautiful 8-year-old Colombian girl, and Enoche, a cute and somber little 5-year-old Haitian boy, were born into my life on the same spring day.  I began writing to them instantly, and through the years we shared many wonderful letters and even a few photos.  Each would tell me about their school activities, their families, and what they were learning in Bible school or camp.

One Christmas, early on, Monica received a shiny pink bicycle from me.  I believe it was her favorite gift of all time and she could not stop expressing her joy and love for me.  How could that not warm one’s heart?  Enoche’s gifts went another direction.  He received babies of his own…baby goats and chickens and other livestock.  This thrilled me, for it was important to him and his family.

After many letters, I could not bear the thought of knowing my kids, but not ever meeting them, so I set off on a journey to Haiti in November 2003 with many other Compassion International sponsors.  We stayed in the now unhappily famous Montana Hotel on the hills overlooking Port au Prince.  My experience in Haiti was wonderful in many respects and certainly eye-opening to my American sensibilities.  I saw a picture of life that I was entirely unfamiliar with, and deepened my desire to help release children from poverty in Jesus’ name.

My visit with Enoche and his father was all too brief.  I met a very shy 9-year-old boy who rarely smiled.  He rarely spoke except the occasional “Oui” to answer my questions.  Yet he let me take him swimming in the pool and in the ocean, new activities for him, and we played constantly for hours.  Upon my return to my American home, he wrote me something that will always and forever bring joy to my heart.  He said, “You were the most beautiful of all the Americans!”  I love that boy, who is now a young man of nearly seventeen.

In June of 2006, I had the wonderful opportunity to be among a large group of Compassion sponsors making the first trip to Colombia for more than a decade.  For safety reasons, tours had not been taken to that nation for many years, but many children in need were still being sponsored by caring souls in the US, the UK, Canada, Australia and elsewhere.  We flew into Cartegena on the north coast, where we stayed throughout this trip.  It was important for the Colombia Compassion staff to carry this tour off without any glitches if they were to schedule more such sponsor trips in the future.  Their work was truly outstanding.

The morning I was to meet Monica, she arrived by bus with the children of all the other sponsors.  We all watched with great anticipation as the kids descended the steps and came out into the sunlight along the ocean bay.  Even from afar, I recognized her immediately and we were soon together.  There was no distance any longer.  We knew and loved each other.  Our day took us to an island resort where we played in a pool and in the ocean, and we even took a quick dance lesson.  She was graceful and I was not!  It was hard to leave this beautiful young girl, but we continued our frequent letters thereafter and I made another trip to see her in Bogota in 2008.  My girl was growing into a lovely young woman by then, and by 2009 she had graduated from high school with a dream of entering a university to study law.  Her difficult economic circumstances were not holding her back because she had and has an advocate whose name is Jesus, and he has been at work through me in Monica’s life.  And you know what?  He works through these kids to touch my life more than anyone could ever imagine.

But Monica and Enoche were only my first two kids.  I’ll tell you about my Ethiopian kids in the next post.  In fact, it won’t be long until I’ll see them face to face, and you will too.  Time moves so slowly as my anticipation grows…

Long Term Love

Valentine’s Day means cupid, red roses and steamy romance to many people. To some, it means sending or receiving secret messages of love.  To me, it brings cause for reflection and a sense of gladness.

About 76 years ago, give or take a few months, two ten-year-olds became best friends.  One was a boy, small of stature.  The other, a young girl, daughter of the town’s preacher.  They shared walks to school and get togethers at each other’s homes.  The little fellow could be seen carrying his girl’s accordion home for her when the need arose, even though it practically dwarfed him in size.  Chivalry lived in those days.

Only a few years later, the girl moved away with her family and the two would not reunite until both had completed college and begun their careers, he in journalism and she in education.  It wasn’t a chance meeting, mind you.  Her father and his older brother conspired to bring them back together.  What had begun as puppy love would eventually become a lifelong, affirming relationship.

At age 26, they wed and began life together.  A family quickly ensued and the days, months and years passed rapidly.  As in every relationship, there was happiness and sadness, challenges and triumphs.  But through it all, their love endured.

Now, nearly 60 years later, these two people, my father and mother, continue to live out their marital vows, taken with great seriousness and determination.  As illness and infirmity have taken their toll, my mother accepts this phase of her life, and appreciates her husband for the great love he holds for her.  Daily, he lives up to his vow, “for better, for worse, in sickness and in health, from this day forward…”

I have great respect for these two important people in my life, and honor their love and commitment.  This is what Valentine’s Day is all about to me.

Nouns and the Verbs That Enable Them

What do you think about when you’re thinking of nothing?  I’ll bet it’s not nouns and the verbs that enable them.  It doesn’t seem to be the most obvious thing in the hit parade of common thought.  But then again, this thinker would never lead the list of people determining the makeup of conventional wisdom…and I kind of like it that way.

Anyway, here’s just a small list of the verbs I’ve known and how they enable their nouns.  Many have played a role in my own life’s course.

Players play.  (Indeed, that was me as a child using pent up energy on swings and jungle gyms, softball diamonds and football fields, playing Skittle Bowl or The Game of Life.  Yes, I was a player.  I am a player.)

Performers perform.  (I began music lessons at age five and performed my first impromptu concerts shortly after that.  It was the start of an enjoyable musical journey that took me through high school band into a small music conservatory.  The same love for musical performance bled over into finding fun in public speaking.  That comes in handy even now as I offer running commentary to tour groups young and old in our nation’s capital.)

Teachers teach.  (My career may have begun as a public school music teacher in a small coal mining town in northeastern Pennsylvania, but I actually began teaching as a small child by playing school with my friends and siblings.  Instead of “doodling” when I was bored in school, I found myself writing up music test questions, for fun.  Yes, I know this may be weird, but after all…teachers teach.)

Dancers dance.  (This one has always been an “in your dreams” notion for me, but it’s a truism nonetheless.  In my college dance classes, I realized that dancers do indeed dance.  Unfortunately, it was at that time that I learned somewhat definitively I was not one of those.)

Writers write.  (As a very small child, I took great pleasure in going to my father’s study in the evenings and typing up stories on his black, manual typewriter.  When I was just seven, I would ease in behind the rounded sectional of our corner sofa to what I called my office, sit on a small stool I’d placed under the standing lamp, and proceed to write chapters of a book about two children and their ponies on a yellow legal pad.  With this blog, I am once again “teaching” myself that I am a writer, and that means I must write.)

Preachers preach.  (I’ve known many preachers in my life.  My grandfather was one.  So was a favorite uncle.  My father became one, and so did some cousins.  They didn’t decide to preach…they had to preach.  It’s what preachers do.  And now, though I am not a preacher in the vocational sense, I, too, sense that I am a preacher.  It’s a good and right feeling.)

I think you get the drift of how I’ve known many nouns and the verbs that enable them.  But I’d like to leave you with an example that just occurred to me recently.  It is one that I hope defines my very being.  And I’m serious now.  Are you ready?  Here it is.

Karen’s care.  (Okay, I know this is a homonym, but that doesn’t matter so much does it?  When I think about what drives me forward from one day to the next, it is caring about others.  Caring for my family, my friends, my Compassion children, my dog, my church, my God.  It’s what I do, and I hope that never changes.)

What verbs enable your nouns?

It’s My Nature…What’s Wrong with That?

Have you ever wanted to throttle someone for getting on your case for no reason at all?  I suspect I’m not alone in that thought.   By nature, I’m an introvert.  As a small child, I would sometimes hide behind my mother’s skirt when adults tried to talk to me.  If I saw one of my school teachers in a store, even if I liked them, I would go out of my way to avoid them so I wouldn’t have to talk to them in an unfamiliar setting.

Over the years, I found that, like many creative types, I felt much more comfortable speaking on stage or performing in some way, usually musically, than I did interacting with people one on one.  I could, in effect, play a role in the former, but I had to be myself in the latter.  That could be scary and uncomfortable, so I didn’t embrace what for me was a challenge.

This personality trait made me fit the explanation I felt compelled to give to friends, and at least as often to strangers, who would, out of the blue, say to me, “What’s wrong with you?”  My explanation was simply, “I’m not the smiley type.”  Sometimes I’d simply say, “Not a thing,” and turn to walk away.  That was the truth too, until my blood pressure would rise because of what felt like a hurtful and needless question.

As you can tell, this repeated question throughout my life has troubled me.  I’ve wondered, “What’s wrong with my face?  Why do people feel they must make such comments to me when I’m minding my own business and not even interacting with them or anyone else?”  I’ve concluded that, while I remain reserved by nature, I must make the extra effort to smile and be “chatty”.  It seems to satisfy our culture better, and makes for more attractive photos besides.

Now, decades after these questions began, many of my friends and acquaintances would not guess this part of my personal history, because they’ve seen and know the person who has worked hard to overcome her inherited nature.  Oh yes, my father faced the same questions.  It’s comforting to know someone who can relate…and I call them both FATHER.

Facing the Giants on Super Sunday

I’m getting ready to settle in, like millions of others, and watch this year’s Super Bowl between the Pittsburgh Steelers and the Green Bay Packers.  I’ll probably have a drink and enjoy a snack or two.  I might even root for one team or the other as they pour their hearts and souls into achieving victory on the field.  After all, football has become our national pastime…hasn’t it?  Nothing surpasses football in the grand scheme of things, other than Troy Polamalu’s hair, right?

Thinking about this big game, and all the games that led up to it this season, my mind wanders off to the antics some players exhibit after a big play, or when they score a touchdown.  Others make no show whatsoever and jog back to the sideline or huddle as if nothing much had happened.  Still others, the ones that catch my attention most, touch their chest and point to the sky, or they kneel in the endzone and offer a word of thanks.  Does God care that they just scored a touchdown?  There are many skeptics who like to argue that, in fact, God doesn’t play favorites.  Funny thing is, I agree with both sides of the argument.

Before I state my case, I’ll offer a quote from Coach Grant Taylor in one of my favorite films, Facing the Giants.  Exhorting his team on in a pregame speech before the state championship game, he says, “I want God to bless this team so much people will talk about what He did. But it means we gotta give Him our best in every area. And if we win, we praise Him. And if we lose, we praise Him. Either way we honor Him with our actions and our attitudes.”  What if many of our college and pro players actually go into their big games with this attitude?  What if they put every last ounce of effort into their training and game prep, and then they promise to praise God in all things?  We see the praise when things go right, when they score the touchdown, make the big tackle or pull down an amazing interception.  We don’t often see the praise when the game goes awry.  But, I suspect we would see it if we followed some of those same players into the locker room after the game, or out into life the next day.

Coach Taylor goes on to say, “Winning football games is too small a thing to live for. And I love football as much as anybody. But even championship trophies will collect dust and one day be forgotten. It's just that so far this has all been about us; how we can look good, how we can get the glory.”  He plugs his team into what they (and we) are really here to do, and that is to praise God.  I love that!  And he finishes his speech with this plum, “So I'm askin' you... What are you living for? I resolve to give God everything I've got, then I'll leave the results up to Him. I want to know if you'll join me.”

So, as I watch the Super Bowl this evening, I’ll be paying attention to the actions and attitudes of the players when things go good and when they don’t.  These actions and attitudes reach right into the psyche of the American public and particularly the youth.  We learn from those we admire, in good ways and bad.  So…give us a good show Pittsburgh Steelers.  Make us proud Green Bay Packers.

It’s getting close and the only thing left to say is, “Are you ready for some football?

My friend is a Wissionary

I just learned that my friend Steve is a practicing Wissionary.  I traveled with Steve and about 50 others to Ethiopia three years ago.  I spent time with him in conversation, in playtime with children, and even in prayer.  We ate together and laughed together.  We chatted online.  I smiled at pictures of him with his children and wife.  Still, I never knew he was a wissionary...never, that is, until last night.

You see, after visiting Ethiopia along with me and many other Compassion International child sponsors, Steve visited Jamaica with a mission team.  More recently,  he jetted off to the Dominican Republic with his daughter and still more Compassion sponsors.  Steve is an engineer by day.  He holds a responsible job and supports a loving family, but in the back of his mind, not some of the time but all of the time, Steve never waivers from the desire to share God's love with people near and far.  As he says, he's just a normal guy "wishing to be a better missionary."  He's a Wissionary!

You know what?  I think I'm a wissionary too.