The Movement from Illusion to Prayer

As many of you know, I'm an Anglican priest who serves under two bishops: Archbishop Robert Duncan (Archbishop of ACNA and Bishop of Pittsburgh) and Bishop George Katwesigye (Bishop of Kigezi). With regard to the former, one of the encouraging things that the Diocese of Pittsburgh does is send out a weekly email called the Pittsburgh Advance.  This brief newsletter includes writings from different folks in the diocese (most often the wonderful Rev. Canon Mary Hays) that provide various insights and encouragement.  I was given the opportunity to submit something on prayer that has been working inside me for a while.  You'll find it below.

The Movement from Illusion to Prayer

The Rev. Travis Hines, Missionary in Uganda

Living cross-culturally is a painfully effective way of shredding the illusion of control.  All our ideas, learning, and skills seem irrelevant in the rub against the grind of daily living and the subtle but radically different worldview of the people we live among.  Confused and weary, we are then confronted by the persistent knocking on our door -- strangers and acquaintances insisting on help with school fees, weddings, funerals, sickness, transportation, business ventures, food....  When do we say yes?  When do we say no?  How can we help?

In the beginning, there were far too many times I said "yes" to the demands for our money and time.  Why?  Because I felt compelled to do something, to make some sort of a difference.  I felt like I had the responsibility and the power to effect change in a person's life.

That was an illusion.

My time, my money, my words, my efforts -- none of it produced the needed change in anybody's life.  I don't have that kind of control or that kind of power.  I don't even have that responsibility.

Instead, what I have begun to do is say to the person standing on our porch, "We don't give money.  That's not why we're here.  But I will pray."  And then I put my hand on the person's shoulder, and we bow our heads.  I always begin with silence, listening.  Quietly I ask the Father what he is doing.  And I wait.  Then I begin to pray out loud, and often I'm surprised at the words that come...and the difference the prayer makes. It is in that moment of helplessness and being overwhelmed in the face of unyielding need that I've discovered the freedom and power of moving from illusion to prayer (to use a phrase from Henri Nouwen).  I have nothing in word or deed that can effect lasting change, but I do have a relationship with Jesus, with the Lord who is present and is in control, and who is giving his Spirit to bring comfort, counsel, and change.

As I follow the news of Pittsburgh from afar, I think of all the helplessness and the overwhelming situations that you face.  It is a painful, fearful time, yet it is also an opportunity to be stripped of illusion and clothed with prayer.  In embracing such an opportunity, "we convert our protest against the absurdities of the human existence into a prayer lifting us beyond the boundaries of our existence to him who holds our life in his hands and heart with boundless love and mercy" (Nouwen, Reaching Out, p. 131).

The Gift of Receiving

Our most recent post comes from the fingers of Leslie!  Enjoy!
------------------------------------------------------------------

I have always heard that it is better to give than to receive.  After a year in Uganda, I am seeing that it is equally important to receive as to give because without receiving, there can be no gift.

One of the things I love about Ugandans is that they receive without complaint or condition.  Imagine serving afternoon tea to a guest on your front porch.  In Uganda, you would never hear:

• "Do you have any  soy milk?"
• "Sorry, I'm on a no-cookie diet this week."
• "I really shouldn't have black tea this late in the day; do you have any herbal tea?"
• "I prefer honey, not sugar... Equal is even better."
• "Is this peanut butter organic?"
• "I can't sit for tea, I'm sorry I have to run... maybe next time?
• "I only eat whole grain bread" or "That butter is too high cholesterol for me!
• "I'll just have water, thanks."

Washing hands before tea

Instead, what you would find is a gracious  guest who will wait for you to sit with them, then give thanks in prayer for whatever is being served and for the gift of your time & company.  They will drink what is in their cup and joyfully eat what is on their plate -- all of it.  They will not refuse what is served or request anything that is not being served.  They  receive a gift without question or complaint.

I can tell you that it brings a lot of joy and simplicity to life -- to gratefully take what is given and to be thankful in the moment.  I personally have a lot to learn in this department. I have flat out rejected gifts from family & friends, and in doing so, I have robbed the giver of the joy of giving.  How wonderful it is to give a gift that comes from the love & generosity in your heart and to have it received with that same love & generosity. It doesn't matter the size or importance of the gift. What matters is the love that is extended & received between the giver & the recipient.

Another example  that impacted me recently was when I had collected some odds & ends of worn out clothing the kids had outgrown, including one brown shoe -- there was only one because Jesse had lost the other shoe at the Rwandan border...still not sure how that happened exactly.  ( I have learned not to throw anything like this out with the trash because it will be sorted and pulled out of the trash anyway. It's not trash; it's just gently used;)  So, after I put everything in a bag, I took it over to my neighbor because there isn't a Goodwill store nearby and I didn't know what to do with the items.  When she answered the door, I explained that not all of the clothes were in good shape, and that there was also a boy's shoe without a match.  She smiled and took the bag and said, "Thank you so much, I'm sure we will find a good home for everything, even the shoe."

As I walked back home, I realized how quietly profound her gracious reception of me and my bag of throw away items had been.  She could have said, "Oh, thanks, but no thanks.... I don't want your used clothing. What can I possibly do with these things?"  or, "Sure, I'll take the bag of clothes, but not the shoe.  Who will want only one shoe?"  Of course a bag of second hand clothes is hardly a wonderful gift, but it did start me thinking about giving and receiving and how I felt joy when my neighbor received me and did not reject my small contribution.

So, little by little, I am trying to make an effort to be a better receiver, to say, "yes" when someone offers -- even if what is on offer doesn't fit my need or my schedule or my diet or my sense of fashion. What harm is there in receiving a gift with a grateful heart and then deciding what to do with it later?  So what if dried apricots are not your favorite snack or if lavender is not a flattering color on you, or if the stuffed bear someone is giving your kid is missing an eye and will definitely need to be washed?  I'm trying to remember to smile and say "thank you," and to enjoy the moment and the love & friendship that is being offered.  I have Ugandans to thank for that!

Leslie receiving lunch from Sharon, one of our workers and friends.

July Snapshots

Whoa.  July has zipped along!  It has been a fast and full month.  I've been teaching (and loving it) the books of Hebrews and 1 Timothy, and trying to step up my assistance with technology at the school.  (Regarding the latter, I've been updating the BBUC website -- take a look:  bbuc.ucu.ac.ug)  The older three kids are nearly through their second term at their school Aine'Mbabazi (exams around the corner).  Julia continues to astound and amuse with her rapid intellectual and physical growth.  Leslie continues to shape our house into a home in spite of frequent power outs and almost an entire month without running water -- in the dry season!

Dry Kabale Town

The dry season is not quite what we expected.  I, at least, envisioned hot days and nights with searing dusty winds blowing across the hills.  I got the dusty part right!  The roads and paths swirl with dust raised by tramping feet, blowing winds, and various kinds of traffic.  People frequently get sick during this time because of breathing in the dust.  White shirts are not advised (although somehow the Ugandans still walk across town and sit in church and school with shoes, clothes, and faces looking clean and bright!  How do they do it?!), and shoes end up with a reddish-brown hue regardless of the color they had when you first stepped off the porch.

The mornings and nights, however, are quite cool, and sometimes even cold!  The sun is intense from late morning through early evening, but the breezes are still cool, and shade or cloud cover is quite comfortable. The beauty of Kabale continues to encourage us.

One jerry can of water weighs about 40lbs.
Protase carries two at a time.

Access to water is definitely a problem in this season.  The absence of rain coupled with regular power outs (power is required for pumping water to the town and up our hill) and frequent problems with water pipes results in a serious water shortage for the whole community.  We ourselves have been without running water for almost a month, and our rain collector has been dry for weeks.  This means our worker and friend Protase joins the stream of people trudging up and down the hill with heavy jerry cans of water.  I can't even begin to estimate how many gallons of water he has hauled for us.  Oy!  We would be in dire straights without him.  And inside the house it means carrying bowls and buckets of water to the kitchen and bathroom for cleaning dishes and bodies and for flushing toilets.

Here are a few snapshots of some of the ways we've spent our time this July (remember you can click on them to see a larger version):

Our neighbour and head of security for BBUC, Benon, married, and I had the honour of being the chauffeur for the bridesmaids.  I loved the stark contrast of their fancy dresses and shoes against the backdrop of Kabale buildings and roads. The wedding itself was very much in the western (Anglican) tradition. The "Give Away," which happens the day before, preserves much more of the tribal culture, and is wonderfully joyful.

July is a celebratory month!  Micah (one of our teammates) had his birthday on July 2, America had her birthday on July 4, Jesse had his birthday on July 10, and we had our anniversary on July 11. The 4th of July was a fun time -- there was something special about remembering the history of our home country while being so far away.  In addition to hamburgers and attempts at fireworks, we also spent time singing, reviewing our constitution and the founding values of our nation, and re-learning how to play baseball!

Jesse turned 11 this year! This guy is growing in humour, intelligence, strength, and good looks. To celebrate, Jesse, Dr. Aaron, Micah and I spent a night on a local island called Bushara. We explored the island, stayed up late watching Legend of the Guardians, canoed out to Punishment Island, swung on rope swings and dropped into the (very) cold lake, and had a devotional and discussion about manhood on the dock at sunrise.  A highlight was the presentation of a flag designed by Jesse and Micah, and brought into existence by Jesse's grandma & grandpa.  (More about that on the kids' blog in a few days.) Another personal highlight for me was getting extended with with Aaron. On the actual Day, we celebrated with the Morrows and a friend named Gracious, eating chicken tacos & chocolate cake on the front porch.

Just this week, BBUC has been celebrating the life of one of their late lecturers, Prof. Joy Kyamunyogonya.  She was the Dean of the Social Work department, and apparently had a passion for cleanliness and concern for the least of those in the community.  In honor of her and in living out BBUC's motto of "Go and Tell Them," BBUC is spending the week imitating these ideals.  On Monday, we marched down Rugarama Hill and spent the morning picking up trash in Kabale.  This is a rare community service in this country, and Kabale is in such need of it! Yesterday we spent the Tuesday chapel hour worshipping God by cleaning up our own campus.  The remainder of this week will be spent visiting local hospitals, the prison, and other communities in need.  Pictured in the centre, by the way, is our Principal, Rev. Prof. Manuel Muranga -- he leads the way in all these events.

Village Visits

When we first arrived in Kabale, I would often ask a student or fellow lecturer, "So, where is your home?"  What I meant by the question was, "Where are you currently living?"  Almost invariably the person would gesture toward the distance and reply, "I stay in Kabale, but my home is...," and then would come the name and description of a district and village somewhere many kilometres away.  I quickly learned that the structures where people live here in Kabale -- whether it's a staff house, a hostel, a dorm, or a place in town -- is simply the place where they stay.  "Home" is where they are from, where their family is, where their land is, regardless of how long it has been since they last visited that place.

Here's a similar insight: Back in May our team joined Global Teams missionaries from all over East Africa for a retreat in Kenya.  The retreat was organized by GT's Missionary Caregivers, a group of women lovingly dedicated to pursuing our health and well-being.  The first few days of the retreat we

Kabungo Parish near Bunyonyi. Rev. Hannington's son, Golden,
is a student at BBUC

were with other North American missionaries serving in East Africa, and we spent time studying Scripture, listening to God and to each other. The second part of the retreat about 30 East and Central Africans joined us.  They are GT missionaries as well, with amazing stories of how they are reaching unreached people groups in their areas.  At one point during this part of the retreat, we had a session on cultural differences.  I asked the people in my group, "What does friendship mean in your culture?  How do you know whether someone is a good friend?"  One of the answers that received many nods and vocalizations of affirmation was, "A good friend is one who knows my family.  I mean, this is one who has traveled to my village and met my mother and my father and my sisters and my brothers and my relatives.  One who has been to my home."

So it's not a surprise that we've begun visiting people's homes.  On a Saturday or a Sunday, we pile into our white van and say a prayer.  Then we navigate our way down our hill to the main road, and drive to the local market.  We learned early on that bringing a gift is important to being a good guest, and bringing a branch loaded with matoke (green bananas) is one of the best gifts. Normally we then pick up a guide along the way, the host himself or a friend of the host, who directs us to the turnoff.  Then we bump (and, if it's raining, slide) across red dirt (or mud) roads in between, over, or around hills, past banana plantations and fields of sorgum or beans, through village markets, past countless pedestrians trudging to or from someplace we'll never know.  When we at last reach our destination (sometimes after 30 minutes of driving, sometimes after 6 or 7 hours of driving), we are always warmly welcomed by our host.

Typically, we all sit down for a cup of tea before anything else begins.  Even if a church service where I'm to preach has begun (we can hear the drums beating calling the people to worship), we

must sit down for tea.  First, a child of the host brings water warmed in a teapot and soap, and pours the water over our hands as we wash off the dirt of the road.  Then we enter the house, and sit (or squeeze) around around a table where the tea awaits.  Sometimes there is English tea (water and black tea), African tea (milk and chai), coffee (always a tin of instant Nescafe), sugar, milk, bananas, bread, honey, and g-nuts (peanuts).  Sometimes there is just African tea and a few pieces of bread.  Always there is graciousness and gratefulness, and time to pray and give and receive welcome.

Then the events of the day follow.  If it's a Sunday, all of us are brought to the front of the congregation to sit in full view of the people.  It is a long service of worshipping, singing, preaching (most often me through a translator), more singing, dancing (one of our favorite parts), and communion.  Another one of my favorite parts is the offering.  When the offering basket is brought to the front after being among the people, amid the coins and few bills you will often see a bag of eggs, a small collection of fruit, or other agricultural gifts from folks who did not have money to bring.  I have even seen a goat led to the front and tied to the chancel during the offertory!  Before the service is over, they will auction these gifts off to the congregants, and the money will go to the church, and the food item to the person who bought it.  Often that person will turn around and give what she has bought to the priest or to the visitors.

One other part I love is when I participate in giving communion to the people.  I get to see and touch
these dark, rough, holy hands of people who are so different from me, yet who are my brothers and sisters coming with faith to receive from the One who saves and unites us.  "The body and blood of our Lord Jesus Christ keep and preserve you and you and you and you...unto eternal life."  Old, withered faces with bright eyes; young, strong faces mildly amused at this muzungu priest; tired, sad eyes that won't meet mine; friendly, hopeful faces ready to receive; unreadable faces that stare straight ahead.  The family we are just barely coming to know and love.

After the service comes lunch.  There must be lunch!  Don't even try to excuse yourself from it!  Squeeze in there and be ready to pile your plate high with matoke, "Irish" potatoes, sweet potatoes, goat, beef and/or chicken cooked in a wonderful broth, rice, greens, rolls, liver, intestines, and (once) rabbit.  After you have eaten it all (mostly in silence), be ready for the fruit dessert -- the freshest pineapple, banana, passion fruit and watermelon ever to pass your lips.  Then comes obushera -- this strong, mildly fermented drink that few white people can stomach, but that all Bakiga insist is wonderful and very good for digestion.  Then comes...yes, more tea.

Finally, full of food and welcome, we totter back to the van, often carrying a bag of beans or potatos or vegetables as a parting gift.  We clamber into the van, and begin the journey home.

These visits are both hard and wonderful.  Hard -- we're still learning cultural cues, struggling with
communication due to our lack of Rukiga (the local language) and our hosts' differing uses of English, adapting to new physical circumstances, and eating unusual food.  There is also the challenge of being a young family in these situations; naps are missed, children get tired, they get hungry (although we're impressed with what great eaters of Ugandan food they have become!), places that feel safe to our hosts sometimes seem dangerous to us; I get a lot of attention and am often involved with services or interacting with people while Leslie is left alone to care for the kids.

Wonderful -- the hospitality is unceasing.  Our hosts and their community consistently receive us with genuine excitement, unending hand-shakes, hugs, gifts, kind words, and food.  We learn more of Bakiga culture in a few hours in the village than days in our house on our hill above town.  We get to see a way of life that reveals both the beauty and challenge of the simpler, poorer life away from town.  The geographical beauty is often stunning.  We experience the humbling joy of being hosted by people who know how to love a lot with so very little.  And we become friends with the people we're learning to love, knowing them in their home.

(Here are a few more photos from our visit to Canon Jovahn's home, pictured above, Deputy Principal of BBUC.  By the way -- in case you don't know, you can click on any of the pictures in our blog and see a larger, clearer version.)

Caring and Careful Wisdom

As you read in my previous post, obviously I enjoyed the importance of tea in the meeting of the Scholarship Committee.  I was even more impressed by the caring and careful wisdom of the men and women on this committee.  We interviewed candidates from a number of backgrounds and current situations, all of them rather dire by western standards.  We had the expected criteria -- academic performance, experience, vision, spirituality, etc., plus a scoring system to aid in the decision making process.  Here is what impressed me:

Me with Canon Jovahn, Deputy Principal of BBUC
and Chair of the Scholarship Committee
(yes, having tea!)

• My colleagues did not hesitate to ask piercing and probing questions.  I squirmed more than once during the interviews (as did the candidates), but clarity came from such honest questions.
• The people mattered far more than the process, and "people" meant far more than the just the candidate we were interviewing.  The questions and discussion explored how awarding a scholarship to an individual would in fact affect their family and their community.
• My colleagues' dialogue was insightful, humble, and responsive.  They listen to each other.  The conversation is formal, polite, and often firm, but minds and hearts change submit and change as the discussion continues.
• They are always ready to stop, pray, and listen before making decisions.

I actually have learned more about Ugandan cultures, my colleagues, and my students in these meetings than in many other situations.  No surprise, of course, but working together reveals even more than observing and asking questions. I have also been grateful for how willing they are to listen to my thoughts and ideas, even though I'm an outsider and newcomer.

By the way, if any reading this blog would be interested in providing a scholarship for one or more students studying at BBUC, please contact me directly at hinesfamily@gmail.com.  The need is great, and I am now witness to (and participant in) the fact that the scholarships are faithfully and prayerfully given with consistent integrity.

Lecturers and Administrators of BBUC

To Tea or not to Tea...

...that was the question!  We were almost an hour into our Scholarship Committee meeting, and the g-nuts (peanuts), bananas, mugs, and thermoses of tea sat waiting on the table.

I have learned several important lessons about tea time in Uganda.  First, no one wants to miss tea.  (It took me half a term to realize the reason students are anxious for a timely end to my morning classes is so they won't miss morning tea.)  Second, one rarely conducts business over tea.  Third, skipping tea is not an option.

So what were we going to do?  It was time to interview the applicants, and in only 45 minutes the church service was to begin.  The politely formal yet earnest discussion began.

"We cannot have our tea while we interview the candidates.  We must take it now."

"But we should not keep them waiting.  Why not have the tea after the interviews?"

"It will be time for the service. Why not have it after the service as our lunch?"

"This we cannot do! Tea for lunch?!"

"Chairman, some of us may not have eaten breakfast in anticipation of this tea.  What of them?"

After about ten minutes of discussion, we settled on permitting the hungry to discreetly munch on g-nuts while we conducted the interviews, and having tea immediately after.

Fast-forward thirty minutes.  We can hear the music of the service beginning.  Two candidates remain, waiting to be interviewed, and the tea remains to be taken.  The earnest discussion begins again, not without a good measure of humor.

"Chairman, I would like to submit that we now take our tea, and interview the remaining candidates after the service."

"I second the proposal."

"But the service is beginning!  Do we have time?"

"If we hurry."

"Take tea in a hurry?!  How could this be?"

"Perhaps we could not take the tea."

"Would you have us not take tea?" 

(Quiet, shared incredulity.)

"Let us have tea."

The two waiting candidates were invited to join us for tea, while those with responsibilities quickly enjoyed their tea and slipped out.  The rest of us unhurriedly sipped our African tea (hot milk and chai) or English tea (hot water, milk, and black tea), ate our bananas and nuts, then entered the service to join in the singing and dancing.

 

(Next: While obviously I enjoyed the importance of tea in this meeting, I was even more impressed by the caring and careful wisdom of the men and women....)

Ugandan Martyrs

 On 3 June 1886, thirty-two young men, pages of the court of King Mwanga of Buganda, were burned to death at Namugongo for their refusal to renounce Christianity. In the following months many other Christians throughout the country died by spear or fire for their faith.

 These martyrdoms totally changed the dynamic of Christian growth in Uganda. Introduced by a handful of Anglican and Roman missionaries after 1877, the Christian faith had been preached only to the immediate members of the court, by order of King Mutesa. His successor, Mwanga, became increasingly angry as he realized that the first converts put loyalty to Christ above the traditional loyalty to the king. Martyrdoms began in 1885. Mwanga first forbade anyone to go near a Christian mission on pain of death, but finding himself unable to cool the ardor of the converts, resolved to wipe out Christianity. 


The Namugongo martyrdoms produced a result entirely opposite to Mwanga’s intentions. The example of these martyrs, who walked to their deaths singing hymns and praying for their enemies, so inspired many of the bystanders that they began to seek instruction from the remaining Christians. Within a few years the original handful of converts had multiplied many times and spread far beyond the court. The martyrs had left the indelible impression that Christianity was truly African, not simply a white man’s religion. Most of the missionary work was carried out by Africans rather than by white missionaries, and Christianity spread steadily. 

Renewed persecution of Christians in the 1970’s by the military dictatorship of Idi Amin proved the vitality of the example of the Namugongo martyrs. Among the thousands of new martyrs, both Anglican and Roman, was Janani Luwum, Archbishop of the (Anglican) Church of Uganda.  


PRAYER
O God, by whose providence the blood of the martyrs is the seed of the Church: Grant that we who remember before thee the blessed martyrs of Uganda, may, like them, be steadfast in our faith in Jesus Christ, to whom they gave obedience even unto death, and by their sacrifice brought forth a plentiful harvest; through Jesus Christ our Lord, who liveth and reigneth with thee and the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever. 

(I found this helpful summary at The Hanscom Family Weblog.)

Two Months Later....

So what does one write about when one has not posted to one's blog in almost two months?

• The challenge of finishing my first term of cross-cultural teaching and administering and marking final exams and assignments?
• The joy of participating in a retreat in the shadow of a volcano in Kisoro with theology students completing their studies and preparing to return to full time ministry?
• The ongoing frustrations, failures, and triumphs of trying to get furniture for our home?
• Watching our kids experience their second round of final exams in the Ugandan educational system?
• Presiding over my first Holy Eucharist service as a priest?
• The joys and challenges of kids being off from school for a month before their next term begins?
• Easter in Uganda?
• The maturing of our Hines-Morrow team as we understand more of what it means to live, love, and learn together under various levels of stress?  Humility, forgiveness, openness, communication, tears, prayer, listening, receiving, giving....
• A two week trip to Kenya and back for a tiring but wonderful time with Global Teams team members from the US, Uganda, Kenya, Ethiopia, Malawi, Rwanda, and Congo?
• The sadness and joy of celebrating Lucy's 5 year old birthday far from home?
• Traveling with the Bishop of Kigezi to preach at a confirmation at a village church?
• Traveling for hours along a treacherous road to emerge in the beauty of the village home of our friend and deputy-principal of BBUC?
• What life holds for us in the next few months?

Whew.  Let me just share what's on my heart today, and then I'll put up a few photos for fun.

Kabale is beginning to feel like home, but at the same time the sadness, weariness, and frustration of cross-cultural home-away-from-home living continues.  A glimpse of what it's like:  We were sitting at the lunch table in Kampala about a week ago, after almost a fortnight away from Kabale.  I asked the kids whether they missed anything about home, meaning Kabale.  What they said was sweet:  "I miss Maureen...Protase...Sharon...Gideon and Esther!"  These are our Ugandan house help and neighbors; I love it that when our kids started talking about what they missed, it is the people they mention first.  Then Julia piped up, "I miss Andaddy's house in Merica." (I miss Granddaddy's house in America.)  *sigh*  There it is -- Kabale is becoming home, but we miss home.

The "fortnight away from Kabale" was so we could spend time in Kampala doing some necessary business (dental visits, shopping, work on our van, visas, and rest) and joining other Global Teams missionaries (both North American and African) for a gathering in Kenya.  The former was both practical and fun, and the latter was tiring but very, very good.  Regarding the latter, a small team of GT Missionary Care Givers flew all the way from the USA (carting along requested items plus a few surprises) to lead us in almost a week's worth of Scripture study and reflection, and to connect with us on a personal level and hear more of the reality of life on the field.  Additionally, they coordinated with the East African Global Teams leaders to have two days of integrated engagement.  In other words, for two days we North Americans connected with GT members from East and Central Africa (see above), hearing about their work with unreached people groups, and exploring cross cultural issues together.  It was our first face-to-face encounter with the realization a significant part of GT's vision:

Global Teams equips and sends teams of missionaries from many nations to multiply disciples of Jesus within cultures least familiar with the Gospel.

We listened to stories of work East and Central Africans are doing to "see the heart of Christ in the skin" of cultures where the Gospel is only beginning to make inroads.  We have a lot to learn from these brothers and sisters.  We're looking forward to more!

The return to Kabale has been good and hard.  Good -- we have a renewed perspective and vision for our time and work here; we love the geography and climate of our home; it's wonderful to realize we a becoming known and welcomed here; it's good to know there are people we miss, and there are people who miss us; our Hines-Morrow team is more closely connected than ever.  Hard -- kids are diving back into long days at school (8-5); I'm two weeks late in the BBUC term; day-to-day living is still a challenge, and our house is still not fully settled; we're tired from the travel with little chance to rest.

Through it all, however, we keep sinking deeper into the reality that Jesus really is the source for all aspects of our lives, that the Father really does love us and is providing for us in ongoing, deep, significant ways, and that we are desperately dependent on the presence and power of the Comforter/Counselor.

And now, for a few photos:

Lucy celebrated B-Day #5 while in Kenya! I felt a bit sad about it being so different from what would have happened Stateside, but she loved it and said she didn't want the day to end!

One of the dear ladies from the GT team brought fixin's for s'mores! We roasted marshmellows over a coal stove.

A group of us visited a Kenyan church about 45 minutes drive away, and only a stone's throw from Obama's family's home. Afterward we attended an amazing dance performance at a local girls' school.

GT in action!

Jesse, Micah, Aaron and I made a new friend and enjoyed a round of volleyball.

The team with which I served when presiding over my first Eucharist service. The man on my right is the chaplain of BBUC, an alumnus of Trinity (my seminary alma-mater), and our wonderful neighbor, Gideon!  Many of others are my students from last term.

I love this picture of my wife and son.  (Jesse's fingers are blue from Easter Egg Dye.)

Emma Shae and our beautiful Georgia on Easter!

Julia trying her hand at Easter Eggs!

The crew post Easter Egg Hunt.

What DO I do all day?

Here is Leslie's follow-up email to her Lenten Reflection:

So, after my Lenten email, someone pointed out... what DO I do all day, then???   Really... I sit around in my nightie and eat bon-bons!   :0)

But, if I'm not doing that, then I am boiling water, eating breakfast, chasing Julia, boiling more water, taking a shower (or not), flushing the toilet (or not), getting Julia dressed (this takes well over an hour!), boiling more water, getting myself dressed, (it is now noon).

I usually go to town each day -- I should video the drive down the hill one time so you can really get the feel of it!!!!  (For now just imagine a scary rollercoaster ride on old wooden tracks at one of those side-of-the-road fairs in Texas.) Anyways, I thought I was stressed when I had to grocery shop in the US... by the time I've been to the market and grocery store here, my hair is falling out and I have red lasers coming out of my eyes -- I am totally dehydrated, and if I swiped a cotton ball across my face, it would be covered in red dirt. (Multiply that by 2 if Julia is with me... she picks up whatever off the ground and usually puts it in her mouth...I do miss those handy little drive-around carts for kids in Wal-Mart!!! She does make little friends easily when we go to the market though!) So, shopping is tiresome, and because of power outages, I do need to shop almost every day for dinner b/c food will spoil if I stock the fridge.

So, Lucy gets a lunch time pick up from pre-school and we have rest-time/nap-time after lunch...during which time I boil more water and make bread of some sort or another. (No good bread options here in Kabale unless you're fond of eating cardboard.)  Boil more water, then boil more water.  (No hot water out of the tap, so we have to heat water for dishes, laundry, baths, etc...)  I try to get dinner ready in the late afternoon, so that we can eat together soon after the big kids get home from school at 5pm.  After dinner, it's bath time for the kids -- boil more water  -- bed time for the kids by 8pm. Bedtime for me 8:10pm.

Ha!!!  That's actually not too far off from the truth -- it's a different life than the one I had in the US; it's a slower pace for sure.... I think one of the hardest things is not having energy or motivation for much of anything in the evening.  I'll leave you with the view from my kitchen sink, Lucy picked these flowers for me :0)

love, Leslie

Leslie's Lenten Reflection

Just before Ash Wednesday, Leslie sent out the following email to some family and friends.  I thought the rest of you would enjoy reading it as well:

With Ash Wednesday fast approaching, I had to come up with a plan quick!  So, for Lent this year I am giving up:  ice cream, chocolate, Chick-fil-A, chips & queso, margaritas, Shiner Bock, going to the movies, electricity, marshmallows, dairy, fajitas, haircut at the salon, TV, running water, antibacterial foam soap, and salmon.  (Random, I know.) 

What...?

Travis just informed me that Lent is about giving up things by choice... or even adding something to help you focus on Jesus more!!!  Well, I guess that changes my list then... I think I will add something after all... I'll start with a grateful heart.  Here's the real scoop about life in Uganda -- the things missionaries don't want you to know about... our secret lives in Africa... are you ready for it???

I only do dishes on the weekends -- every other day of the week someone else washes my dishes and cleans my house top to bottom.  Lunch is cooked for us 3 times a week.  Someone washes our car (inside and out) once a week.  I don't do laundry at all any more -- my house helpers wash (and iron!!!!) all our clothes (they even wash shoes). The weather is beautiful every day.The view from our front porch is astounding every day.  I never worry about getting pulled over for a traffic violation... might is right, you just push your way on thru and keep 'er going --  try not to run over any bicyclists.  You haven't tasted pineapple until you've had a Ugandan pineapple!  A lot of communication is non-verbal -- note the power of the raised eyebrows -- brilliant for an introvert -- less words!!!!  The land is lush and fertile -- year round gardening... if you provide the seeds, they will plant it and it will grow!!

So, those are just a few of the things I am grateful for this Lent, I'm also thankful for people who love us both near and far!

Stay tuned for Leslie's next post:  "So what DO I do all day?"

Cathedral Service

Photo by Nicola Swann, a visitor to Uganda

It's 7:45 Sunday morning, and I'm trudging through a downpour with my vestments slung over my back and an umbrella held above my head.  I look down the muddy road and smile; a neighbor  is coming toward me is dressed for church, and holds a huge banana tree leaf over her head for protection.  The rain is so loud we don't even try to speak, but we smile a greeting to each other as we pass, and we're thinking the same thing:  "Mukama Asiimwe!  Asiimwe Munonga!"  (Praise the Lord! Praise him a lot!)

At least, that's what I think was thinking.  It's a common greeting here, especially on a Sunday.  One thing we have learned, however, is that if you think you've got it figured out, think again; you probably don't.  This particular rainy Sunday is a good example.

Rev. Joshua, one of the wonderful Associate Subdeans

As most of you know, I was ordained a priest just this past December 2010 here in Kabale at St. Peter's Cathedral on Rugarama, the hill where we live and where BBUC is located.  Before my ordination, Bishop George Katwesigye wisely and graciously directed me to join the cathedral staff so I could begin learning about ministering in the (Anglican) Church of Uganda.  After December, I took a break from the cathedral as our family began to work out what our life would look like once my teaching began and kids returned to school.  It became evident fairly quickly that it was important for me to continue assisting at the cathedral.  I have much to learn about what it means to be a priest full stop, much less a priest in Uganda!  Also, the connection it provides us with the community and the diocese outside the university community is invaluable.  And it's where the Bishop wants me!

So Sunday mornings I walk three minutes to the cathedral to assist in the English service.  Until the rainy Sunday under discussion, I've mostly just put on my vestments and processed to the front and sat with the other three priests (Subdean Amos, and Associate Subdeans Obed and Joshua). Even though the liturgy is a bit different from what I'm used to, I love being present to its rhythm, joining in the worship with the small congregation of a smattering of students (from primary through university), teachers from the local schools, a few neighbors, and an occasional visitor from the West.
  The cathedral is a large structure, rather dark and very cool in the mornings (I'm grateful for the added warmth of my cassock and surplice) and filled with wooden pews and plastic chairs.  The space doesn't quite succeed in swallowing up the voices, voices which grow in number within the first 40 minutes of the service.  The music is always led by the youth, so it is consistently lively and often a bit long.  We move into reading the Scriptures and prayers, always punctuated by more singing. The welcome follows, then come announcements, then we're on to the creed and intercessions (with more singing along the way).  The sermon comes next (always preceded by a song), usually delivered by a lay person from the Rugarama community.  We then sing the preacher out of the pulpit, then one of the subdeans summarizes the sermon, and leads us into the offertory.  We conclude with a prayer and a blessing, and recess to the vestry to a final hymn.

Back in December I led the service once in a rather bumbling manner, and after that point I've either led the time of intercession, or have given the blessing at the end.  This particular Sunday, however, I slogged into the vestry with 10 minutes left before the service began, and quickly began putting on my vestments.  The subdeans entered with their characteristic energy and joviality, gathered us together to pray, and mentioned almost as an aside that I was the one leading the service!  A quick prayer, and out the door we go, with no more words of direction for me than that.  That's the way the Ugandan ball bounces, my friend.  I had no idea what the readings were, what songs would be sung, who the many visitors that day were, why for the first time ever there was a projector, screen, and computer set up, why a white guy was sitting in the choir with a guitar, who was preaching, who was reading...!

And it was wonderful.

I was free to lead as I felt led. I won't recount the whole service, but I enjoyed the opportunity to weave together the readings, songs, prayers, and the sermon (one of the best, incidentally, that I've heard since coming to Uganda), and to give occasional explanations of the liturgy.  All along the way I had the subdeans behind me, ready with a whispered re-direction, an encouraging nod and smile, and a quick answer to any question I had.  Learning on the job!

The following Monday I dropped by the offices of the subdeans to ask for feedback on how I led the service.  They were surprised and pleased I asked, and mostly gave me encouragement, in addition to critiquing gently my decision to cut two portions of the liturgy for the sake of time.  Their main counsel regarding handling the order of service, however was this: "When you lead, you are the order!"

Georgia, Jesse, Lucy on the way to school

Serving at the cathedral has been and will continue to be a great joy.  Right now it's mainly a place of learning for me, but we also anticipate it becoming our family's main place of worship.  Jesse, Georgia, and Lucy joined me at the most recent service, and I was so proud and happy as I looked out over the congregation and saw the three of them sitting there. They were comfortable and attentive, and all three said they were ready to come back to the cathedral.  This was very encouraging to me, as it is one of the places where I feel most at home, and a time when I remember why we came and whom we serve.

Prayer for Strength and Purpose

I just thought I would share with y'all a prayer I found and prayed today in a collection of prayers given to me by a dear departing missionary (er...departing as in leaving Uganda, not as in leaving life):

Lord of the world,
We pray thee master these our weak and vacillating wills,
With thine almighty, clear-discerning will.
We would have working through our ineffectiveness
     thy quiet strength,
Through our blind folly thy clear-eyed discernment,
Through our changing impulses thy one direct
     and steady determination,
Through our indecision thine unswerving judgment.
Transform us therefore by thine own presence within us,
That so, being mastered and possessed by thee,
We may find liberty of our wills in entire subjection to thy will;
      through Jesus Christ.  Amen.

Heart Squelches and Doing Math with Pens

(Before I begin, a small announcement.  The kids are starting their own blog called HinesKids (http://hineskids.wordpress.com/).  They'll begin to post their experiences in their own words.  The first post is introducing them.  Next week, the real blogging will begin.)

We are three weeks into the kids' school year, six weeks into the BBUC term, and six months into our first year of living in Uganda.  There is an ongoing pulse of stress-and-peace, hard-and-good, pain-and-ease.  Some days the kids come home with bright eyes and fun stories, some days they tumble into the van with weariness and tears.  Some days my classes flash brightly with clear understanding and new insights, some days they clunk through hours of clouds and dullness.  Some days it is clear we are living the dream, other days we are slogging through...not a nightmare, but one of those lifeless, early morning dreams out of which you're happy to wake, but which drag you down for the rest of the day.

Sounds a lot like regular life, doesn't it?  On one of my recent Facebook updates I lamented leaving Georgia and Lucy in tears at school.  A stateside friend commented, "I've had to do that too many times myself."  In reading that comment I realized that, in many ways, we're simply living life here, a life not that different from what you're living back home.  We would experience the same (mostly) ups and downs in Texas or PA that we experience here.  Undoubtedly, living life in a different culture often pushes those experiences to the extreme, and in that extreme, what squelches up to the surface are hidden wounds and sinful attitudes of the heart. The evidence is in the actions -- lost tempers, muttered swear words (What?! Missionaries use bad language?!), unexpected tears, depression, irritability, judgmental attitudes -- and they point to the unsurprising roots: insecurity, fear, pride, loss, grief. We are learning that the mark of  "successful missionary life" is not shiny, happy people, but humility of heart, and a willingness to have our motives realigned and purified. All of this is true regardless of our cultural location.

Sunset seen from our front porch

Present with us is God himself and the beauty of what he has given us.  I preached recently on Psalm 16, and verses 5 and 6 echo still in my mind: "The LORD is my chosen portion and my cup; you hold my lot. The lines have fallen for me in pleasant places; indeed, I have a beautiful inheritance."  My temptation, whether in Ambridge or in Africa, is to assume today will be stressful and frustrating, and to wish my life were different.  The truth is, however, that the "the lines have fallen for me in pleasant places," or, as in another translation, "my boundaries enclose a pleasant land."  When I seek refuge in God (verse 1) I am reoriented to the reality that God himself is my portion and my cup, and my life is realigned with him and his future (verses 9-11).  I begin again to see clearly.  We are in a pleasant place, both literally and metaphorically.  I do agree with Wesley in The Princess Bride: "Life is pain, highness.  Anyone who tells you different is selling something."  But I also stand firm on the words of God through David: "You will show me the path of life; in your presence there is fullness of joy, and in your right hand are pleasures for evermore."

Enough reflection.  Some stories:

Aine' Mbabazi -- God's Grace 

Hines/Morrow kids entering school

Georgia and Emma Shae in school uniforms

That's the appropriate name of the new school where Jesse, Georgia, Lucy, and our teammates' kids now attend.  It has been a very, very good move.  The school is much smaller than their previous one, and both the students and staff have been wonderfully receptive of our children.  For the first time since we arrived, all of our kids are coming home talking about the fun they've had playing with Ugandan friends.  Jesse tells of his "best Ugandan friends" named Old (twin brother of "Young" - no kidding!) and Emma (short for Emmanuel).  Jesse, Micah, Old and Emma save seats for each other  eat together, organize games of tag together, and roll tires around the gravel playground.  Georgia relates stories of games with the girls in which their pencils are babies who travel in buses (the pencil cases), and they care for them throughout the day.  Lucy talks about how she, Mallory, and Bethany (the one other white girl) have formed "Team Kabale" on the playground, and they dance for the other kids' entertainment.  The classrooms are well organized and calm, and the headmistress is wonderful. 

There are still challenges, of course.  The kids are still witness to discipline measures that sadden or anger them.  Beginning in Jesse's grade, apparently, kids are no longer allowed to use pencils, a real frustration when it comes to math.  Georgia is required to drink all of her water before she begins to eat lunch, leaving her full at the start and thirsty at the end of the meal.  And the day is looooong.  They leave home about 7:30am, and return about 5:30pm!  They all complain of too little time to play.  We're talking with the headmistress about all these issues (and more), and she is responding well.

Teaching at BBUC
 

My Mark-Acts students

BBUC.  I still love teaching.  It is the highlight of my week.  The schedule has finally settled into a set routine, and I've worked out a way to avoid competing for a classroom every time we meet.  The Mark-Acts class is the most invigorating; God's word speaks for itself!  I've designed this class to be an exegitical study of these books, and each week we study and apply a different "exegetical tool" as we look at different portions of the text.  An encouraging moment for me was when a student gave me the following feedback after class one day:

"Until now when we preach, we use just one verse, or even one or two words, then talk about whatever we want.  We have been giving uncooked words!  Now we are seeing that these verses are part of a bigger context that tell us what the message is."  I can die happy.

My Intro to the NT students

My Introduction to the New Testament course has been more challenging, but not because of the students.  My original design of the course is not working -- I'm trying to say too much in too little time, relying on others' course notes rather than on my own.  Just this week, however, I think I've finally found a method of presenting the material to the students that is clear to them, faithful to my own style and understanding, and still have some room for discussion.



Home Life

Leslie and Julia with Jeremiah

Six months, and we're still getting settled.  Leslie has transformed our living room and dining room with covered cushions and bright curtains, and I have an actual desk in our study.  A fun surprise came when one of our carpenters made a chair for us out of left over lumber.  It is a gift from him because of the love we have shown him, his wife, and son, Jeremiah.  "It is through my hands, but from Jeremiah because of how you love him."  We call it the "Jeremiah Chair," and it sits on the front porch welcoming anyone who wants a quiet space.  Nevertheless, we still live out of trunks, Julia sleeps in a pack-n-play that is too small for her, most of my books remain in boxes that we fear now house a family (families?) of mice, and we have no shelves or places to hang towels in the bathroom.  Not the greatest of hardships, surely, but how we would love to put clothes in drawers, books on shelves, towels on racks!

In December we received a wonderfully strong response to a request from our supporters for additional funds to finish acquiring furniture, build a rain collecting tank, and purchase a generator.  (We're writing much belated thank you notes this week!)  The rain tank is near completion, and we'll be able to purchase a generator soon from Kampala.  It will greatly simplify our life to have a close source of water (over Christmas, we went 4 weeks without running water in the house) and a reliable source of electricity (there can be days with no power).

I'll end with a few more photos:

Lucy and Julia

Lucy with Tabea and Mallory

Georgia and Emma Shae, Tea Time in the Garden

Leslie and the Rose