Journey Home Part One

They say home is where the heart is but I am afraid my heart is broken into pieces because I have several homes. We were blessed last month to travel to a few of my homes. We arrived at 3:00 in the morning to Entebbe International Airport, I was greeted by the fresh night air with a bit of asphalt and exhaust fumes...such a familiar smell. We were one of the first off the plane as we were seated on the back row. This was nice as we were able to rush through the immunisation check and onto the visa office. It was nice to hear a familiar accent and kind welcome from the officer as he perused through our worn passports looking for an empty page. “ We would like an East African tourist visa” we asked, but he answered you are not tourists...Dave shared, “ Yes, we use to live here for 11 years many years ago”. He quickly gave us our visas and we moved to get our bags. Thankfully all 6 were there and we left the airport with ease but as we glimpsed the crowd of taxi drivers we did not see our friend, we called him on the phone and realised he was on his way. We quickly found some seats with a table in front of a coke kiosk.

      As we sat , we all committed that we had that feeling of belonging and that sense of home that we had not felt yet since moving to Chicagoland. It is funny how when you have not felt a feeling for over 4 years and you feel it again, it is kind of a surprise….a nice surprise...we knew exactly what to do in this situation. There was no thinking or guessing what the crowd was thinking or how we should respond ...it was second nature to us. We felt very comfortable even though everyone was staring at us. Many were asking at first if we wanted a ride but when we sat down they left us alone. Dave went into the shop and bought some chapatis (flat bread) and some passionfruit juice. Now we were really feeling at home! Such familiar sensation in our taste buds.

  Our friend that use to be my taxi driver but now has his own tourist business came and picked us and drove us into Kampala. It was now about 4:30 A.M as we drove on the airport road into Kampala. My mind drifted back on that first drive over 24 years ago when my sister had picked us up at the airport and we had driven this road for the first time. Back then the thing that had jumped out to me was all the coffins that lined the roads from the coffin stores. This was sadly due to the Aids epidemic that was at its highest point , where one in every three people were HIV positive. This time, I could not even find one coffin shop. What struck me, this time was all the houses and businesses that lined the road… and lights, lots of light.

We were being dropped off at the old American Club, which was one of our favorite haunts that we frequented often. Every Monday like clockwork our family would spend our day off at the club. Swimming pool, playground for the children, gym, and American food was such a special treat. It was also a fun social time as many other missionary families would also be around. Even missionary friends that lived up country would come and stay in the guest rooms. This would be our treat for our first day back in Africa to stay one night at the American Club which is now called the Makindye Country Club. I had sent an email requesting an earlier than usual check in of 5:00 AM. We found that the room was all ready. After unloading the car which the staff generously helped us with, we collapsed into our beds.

I was the first to wake up at about 9:00. I was eager to look at everything in the light of the sun. Everything was much as I had remembered with a few renovations and additions done over that years. The breakfast was one of my favorite things that were served at the club. I went and sat in our usual spot, comfy chairs that overlooked the pool area.

As my coffee was brought to me , my mind was flooded with all the memories of conversations that had taken place in this same spot. I was glad that I was up alone. I was able to have some sweet fellowship with the One who had drawn near me all these years and who has been my sweetest confidant these last 4 years in our transition.
As I was sitting there I could almost hear my kids laughing and playing with their friends. As if 20 years ago had not happened yet...I could see my three toe heads bouncing around with little Ruthie running after them ….and later Timothy would be on my lap...no!... Time had past and we had moved to Rwanda after 11 years in Uganda and then had moved to Chicagoland , where we have been living for the past 4 plus years. My oldest daughter had graduated from college and wedded, my two older sons are finishing up their university time, little Ruthie is now a junior in high school and baby Timothy is turning 14 years this month...I reminded myself. No these were not my little kids I saw swimming and laughing in the pool….time had passed...but I could remember and savor those sweet memories...I could be thankful and rejoice that God had allowed us to journey in this land for a season. I was thankful that we had been given a chance to return and to be reminded again that this life happened and it was real!

Guest Blog My daughter, Ruth Jenkins

Story of my life: 

Adapting to my own culture

Growing up as an adopted TCK (third culture kid) born in Africa I’m used to change and adapting to new situations. A third culture kid is a child raised in two or more different cultures during their developmental years outside of their parents culture. I was born in Kampala, Uganda August 1999. I don’t really know the exact date of my birth but it’s an educated guess at the hospital when they found me and took me in. I don’t know anything about my biological family because I was adopted at two months old to an American family.

My parents and family never made me feel like I was anything other than their daughter or sister even though there’s an obvious difference in skin color. I only really ever notice that there’s a difference when I tell people that I am adopted because I think about what they must think of me knowing that I have parents of a different race than my own. I don’t normally tell people first off that I am adopted because I get somewhat self-conscious about how they might respond to it. First off being from Africa is something the average American thinks is crazy however being also adopted raises so many awkward questions. To answer some common questions: I’m not bilingual, I did not live in a hut and Africa is my first home yet I don’t like it better than any other places I’ve lived. I don't prefer any places I've lived before I appreciate all of them and how I've grown in all.

Although my parents are white they’re not regular, Americans who just went to Africa to adopt me and my younger brother. My mother was born in Cameroon and raised in Kenya for a few years. Her parents(my adopted Grandparents) were missionaries in Africa so that is her connection to Africa. She is a TCA(third culture adult) and I can relate to her in more ways than everyone else thinks when they first meet us. Although I am the African one by blood some days I feel like my white American parents are more African than me because of their 17 years in Uganda and Rwanda. I have four siblings, Timothy, in 7th grade, is adopted from Uganda like me, but not biologically related to me. The rest are American but understand Africa just as well as me. My first home was in Kampala Uganda where I lived for about four years.

I loved Uganda because I have my earliest memories there and can’t remember a single bad thing happening. Although we had household help that spoke Oluganda I had trouble keeping up with my friends at bible class who spoke it and pretended to know what they were saying because everyone pretty much expected me to speak the language. I never learned anything other than English throughout my whole time in Africa. After living in Kampala, Uganda, I moved to Oklahoma for about a year. In Kindergarten, I grew a little more aware about everyone around me.

School was a place where I could finally speak the same language as everyone but still felt a little bit different. Even at a small age I realized no matter where I went I would always have something different from everyone. I met my best friend Alexis in Oklahoma

because our parents were friends, we went to the same church and school. I had no idea she would be there for me after kindergarten and understand everything about me from a young age. Making friends in kindergarten was easy to do but very hard to let go of when I had to leave them. All I wanted to do was stay with Alexis and go to the same school every day. After Kindergarten, we moved back to Africa but lived in Rwanda.

Although I was born in Uganda I lived in Rwanda for most of the time I was in Africa. I don’t remember much of first, second and third grade, but I do remember that I loved having a normal routine and having friends who I saw every day and started getting closer to every year. I went to an amazing school called KICS(Kigali International Community School). KICS was an international school that my parents founded. It started out as a small school that was in a house but moved over to a building. All the students at KICS are so diverse that I didn’t feel different at all because everyone was different like me. I basically had a friend from every part of the world. Alexis had moved to KICS in 2nd grade with me. Having Alexis in Rwanda with me made me feel more like myself because she understood how diverse I was.

My mom started to get sick by the end of third grade and she left to go to Kenya for better treatment. My mom went from Kenya to America for a few months. Not having my mom around for so long didn’t affect me as much as I thought it would. Normally when you’re young and so dependent on everyone else it affects the way you act because you miss them so much. For some reason, I was just fine. It was almost as if she was just out of sight and out of mind. We eventually got to see her because we moved to Oklahoma again as she got better. We lived in the exact same city, went to the same church, but this time, things were different from kindergarten. Everyone at church had grown closer because they had been together for so long. 

I had a fairly easy time making new friends at school but reconnecting with people at church was a little harder because I couldn’t just pick off where I left on in kindergarten and talk about the same things from when I was a little kid. After my mom got better I really hoped we would stay in Oklahoma just so that I could stay with all my new friends I took such a long time to make. By the end of fourth grade we moved back to Kigali and I started fifth grade at KICS. When I got back I felt as if I was completely new although I had been there for first, second and third grade. So many new students had come the year I was gone it made me feel like all the other years I had been there didn’t even matter because they made new memories without me making it hard to pick up where I left off. Eventually, I felt a little better that I wasn’t there for fourth grade but some days it really got to me.

I had to explain myself instead of having everyone just know who I was. I didn’t know if I should identify as African or American. I had passports from both continents, but I felt like I had to choose one. Sure I'm African American but not the stereotypical one everybody thinks of. All my African friends made me think I was too different because I didn’t speak the language, but all my American friends couldn’t relate to my hair or skin problems. My African friends constantly told me that I wasn’t truly African I just had the African body and “white” mentality because of my family. I hated that. I didn’t know I could be both because I didn’t feel like both. I couldn't call myself Oreo because if I called myself a black girl with a white mentality everyone would think I was trying claim I had white privileges like my family.

I didn't know how to respond so I would just awkwardly laugh trying not to agree but also not correct them. I just wanted someone to think of me as a person and not give me a label. After 5th grade, I was still in Kigali for 6th. I was so happy that I would have a chance to build friendships for middle school and grow with them till the end of high school. My sister was in her senior year for high school and decided she was going to choose Wheaton College as the school she was going to study at for her four years of college. My parents were excited for her and spent a lot of time talking about what they would do without her. I didn’t care about how much they would miss her I thought she was tough enough getting through college alone without us. They then told me after a few months of school we would move to Wheaton and Church plant in the Chicago area.

I resented my sister the moment I heard we were moving after 6th grade. I didn’t want to leave all my friends, I again took so long to make. I didn’t want to start over another time. I hated the thought of change. No one liked new students. I don’t even like new students and I’ve been one 4 times so far. By the time we moved in 7th grade my opinion changed a little. My family went to a great summer camp in Oklahoma called TCK camp. They explained what a Third Culture Kid is, everyone shared their stories and I realized it’s not so bad to be one. I still wasn’t proud of being from all these different places, but I loved hearing that other people struggled with the same things I did. I wasn’t culturally 100% African or American either. I didn’t love the idea that I wasn’t only one thing. Normal people are only one thing is what I used to think. I just wanted to be one thing with one culture. I still hated all the adaptations I had to make, but I decided I join a few clubs at school because I might as try and get comfortable if I was going I was going to live here for the rest of my life.

I thought that as long as my parents had a job and my sister was close by we wouldn’t leave again. My 7th-grade year at Franklin was a lot better than I thought it was going to be. Moving so much taught me how to make friends and how to pick who to sit with at lunch because I had done it a lot before. Although I joined a few clubs and made lots of new friends I still felt like I wasn’t making the connections everyone else had. Everyone had their cliques and they were very nice to me, but I didn’t feel truly included until the end of the year when I joined track with my best friend. I got closer with a small group of people instead of trying to be friends with everyone I saw. At the end of 7th grade, my parents decided that the suburbs weren’t for them.

This time, I was beyond mad. I hated everything about moving around so much. I didn’t even want to compromise or keep making new friends that wouldn’t last. The TCK camp I went to was pointless to go to. We decided to go the summer of 8th grade. I didn’t want to go because I didn’t want to be a TCK. It seemed a lot more boring to me because I went but ignored everything positive they had to say. I saw only negative things. By the time we moved to the Northside Chicago in 8th grade I decided to be online schooled. I didn’t want to make friends or be a part of any clubs.

By 8th grade year, everyone knows who their friends are and when you’re a young teen your friends make up your life and it’s hard to let new people in because only a select few people like meeting new people. I really wanted to continue in dance classes because I had been in them for 4 years, but we couldn’t get into the dance classes at the places I wanted to dance at. Dance was the only thing I had during all my transitions and not having it made me feel like I lost absolutely everything.

I was at the lowest point in life by 8th grade. I joined youth groups, but no matter how hard I tried I didn’t feel included or like I belonged. The more they tried to include me the more I felt like they knew I was a homeschooled girl who didn’t have any friends. People trying to welcome you to a new place lasts for a short amount of time because they greet you, tell you about themselves and leave to their prefered group of friends. It wasn’t just that I couldn’t make friends it was that I just didn’t have the desire to. My perspective was that if I tried to make friends and I ended liking them I would just end up moving which made it feel so pointless to even try. It took a few months of trying to get used to things in the city but eventually I found a routine.

Chicago is fun, but Wheaton definitely felt a whole world way. I still don't get why people say they're from Chicago when they're really from Wheaton. Sure you can go to the city every weekend of your whole entire life but you still don't really live there. Chicago and Wheaton are extremely different and you'll never know that until you've actually lived there. My neighbors were the sweetest people on Earth and made me feel a little better about living there. My sister had been visiting a lot more often which made me feel a lot better because I no longer resented her for making our family move. She gave me a ton of advice on how to adapt to feeling alone and how to embrace being a TCK. Every time she came over she would help me by explaining that if I hadn’t moved the many times that I have I would not be the same person or exposed to as many things.

Being “normal” and growing up in the same area for your whole life doesn’t help you grow. You have to expose yourself to new places and cultures instead of staying in your little box. Sure can people go on 2-week vacations to exotic places and be “changed” but are since I lived in a few different places I truly understand the culture instead of just admiring it. Joining new groups, making new friends and being a part of different schools taught me a lot of different social skills and the different types of people there are.

Even though I leave, them in the end, I would rather meet 100 new people instead of having the typical shrinking high school group everyone seems to have. By the end of 8th grade into 9th grade, I decided to go back to a school. I realized I would be leaving behind my babysitting job and the comfort of my home but for the first time, I was excited for something new. Being a freshman meant I would be just as new as everyone else which made me feel a lot more confident. I met so many new people at Uno Rogers Park High and learned so much about the Latino culture because the majority of the people there are 70% Hispanics. I met my best friends there and even though we didn’t know each other for our whole lives it didn’t matter.  

By the time, my parents told me we were moving back to the suburbs I hadn’t been as angry at them as I was in the past. I’ve moved 3 times in the last 3 years but now that I realize the positives and the good effect it had on my life. We all end up going through change at some point in our lives and it took me awhile to learn to live with it but, in the end, all the things I’ve viewed as negative are what has shaped me. I don't know if that's the last move I'll do before high school ends but if it isn't I'll be ready and prepared for what's to come.

Re-entry Has Not Been Easy

“If I find in myself desires which nothing in this world can satisfy, the only logical explanation is that I was made for another world.” 
― C.S. Lewis, Mere Christianity


It has been almost 2 years since we moved back to the U.S.
    
         Re-entry has not been easy.

There has been a lot about being here that I have enjoyed. Being closer to my college age kids and having a front row seat in their lives. Having special time with my extended family....and enjoying the feeling of accessibility to them....if we have a long weekend we can pick up and drive a while or fly briefly and be with family. It feels less detached as I felt when we lived abroad.

The ease of life here has been nice. Drinking from the tap, plugging things in without a thought to voltage or whether power is on or off, hot running water for bath, a sundry of cleaning supplies, convenient cooking,  and fast internet to name a few.

Being able to find so many gently used things for free or inexpensively easily and in abundance has been awesome!

  TARGET, malls, little specialty shops, and an abundant of thrift shops---I have really enjoyed. Sometimes I like just going to Target just to look without a long list of supplies that I have to get for the next 2+ years...it is nice knowing it will be there tomorrow!

Movies, in theaters and at home, plays, concerts, magazines , T.V and catching up on old T.V. series on Netflix and Hulu on the internet!

I have also enjoyed all the different churches we have visited--old and new, large and small, anglo, ethnic and multi-cultural--my favorite! I felt like I have feasted with all the lectures, seminars, retreats and classes I have attended.

There has also been a special bond that our family has developed as we are experiencing this adjustment together. We understand each other,share common memories, and exposure to new things. Our family has grown even closer through this season. For that I am thankful!

Now for the hard stuff..... I have read a lot on re-entry, and have sat at the feet of others that have gone before me through this... but I guess it is like going to the dentist...no amount of reading and preparing that you do takes away from the pain of going through the procedure. Being prepared did help some in terms of giving myself and  my family the language and postmarks of what we are experiencing.

What makes this hard? I have shared in some earlier posts about the loneliness http://jana-joyinthejourney.blogspot.com/2014/01/loneliness.html
 and making home a choice http://jana-joyinthejourney.blogspot.com/2013/10/home-is-choice.html?

It is hard to fully express what makes this hard...a few things are;

I have changed in the last 20 years as I have lived abroad.

The U.S. has changed in the last 20 years.

Struggling to be understood.

Struggling to understand or process this new place.

Resisting putting all my memories and real experiences in a box or picture album on a shelf.

Looking for where my unique experience and skills can be used.

An overwhelming 'home' sickness that is at times paralyzing.

Loneliness!

Sometimes I feel like I have so much inside of things I have seen
 and experienced of God's handiwork and there seems no outlet to share and I feel like I may erupt..... learning how to ponder these things in my heart.....

Another thing hard about this season is that it is not just me.
It is like adjusting to jet lag.
When you are traveling alone jet lag is hard but you can adjust in a few days but when you are traveling with your family who is adjusting to jet leg in different ways
                   jet lag drags on longer for Mom!

It would be nice if like flying you could adjust your breathing mask before helping others but this is not possible when you are a parent or spouse.
You can not tell your kids "just wait till mom gets all adjusted and then I will be there for you..."

But as I have helped my children thrive it has helped me as well and we have processed many things together...

It has not always been pretty...sometimes it is super hard to see your child you love so much hurting...and everything they are expressing is so similar to how you feel and you so wish they were not having to go through this and you know that is not their choice but a calling you have on your life. It is in times like this that I have to trust that God has this and just as he has walked with us in our past He is walking with us now!

Early on in our return an older missionary shared with us not to lose our missionary calling. We have held on to this encouragement and God has showed us more.....I wrote more on this in an earlier post http://jana-joyinthejourney.blogspot.com/2013/10/i-have-heard-levitical-call.html.
I think one thing that has helped us and hurt us is that we are somewhere new.

Most of things you read about re-entry talk about going back to a familiar place--some where that has been a place of significance either before you went abroad or some where you visited a lot during your time away....a place where you have family and friends . This can be helpful as you have a base of support but this can also be hard as you may feel that you must fit back into a place where both you and those around you have changed....the puzzle has changed and you, one piece of the puzzle has been re-cut. Sometimes I wish that our family had moved to a familiar place but both of our parents have moved during our time away and even our support bases had also gone through some significant shifts.  There are familiar individuals and shadows of old places but no real familiar place for our family.

We  kind of  had a clue that this would be the case for us and since our oldest daughter was going to school in Wheaton, Illinois; and there was a good soft landing for missionaries( Missionary Furlough Homes) we decided that it might be a good start for us.

After spending the majority of our ministry serving the Diaspora of East Africa we feel a lot of affiliation with them and as we transition from Wheaton into Chicago last fall this was one of the draws.  " I am all of the places that I have left my heart" Marina Sofia ---I so relate to this statement and I am determined to be who God has molded me to be and serve others from this place. Cities have been a part of the common denominator for us in all the places we have lived and Chicago has not disappointed. So instead of re-entry being adjusting back into something known we have seen "Re-entry is the opportunity to relaunch yourself into your next great thing"  Cate Brubaker,PhD

Relaunch.....I like the sound of that word better than trying to forget my experiences in order to fit the norm..... Next great thing.....I have joined God in some awesome stuff in Africa and there a temptation to think.....
was that the climax of my live....
No, I am still serving the same God and He is taking us to the next great thing and I can not wait!

Getting a new dog,morning with our Rwanda friends, loving our children well.

Saturday after much research and dreaming and a little begging we decided that we wanted to get a dog for our family. We have always had dogs. In our years in Uganda and Rwanda we had 11 dogs...some were poisoned by thieves, some died of sickness, some we inherited by people moving away. We never had more than 3 dogs at a time and usually had only 2. We also sold german shepherd puppies as the part of the world we lived in did not have an over abundant of good pet dogs. This also helped to supplement our missionary income.

I must confess I am not a dog lover but the rest of my family is and it brings me joy to see how much joy dogs have brought our family. I have such good memories of our dogs with each of our kids at all different ages. When Sophia, our first child, was a baby we had a great big German shepherd, named Shadow and he would let Sophia lay on him as he gently cuddled with her. Caleb and Ethan loved our dog Hannibal, another large long haired german shepherd and would run around outside for hours! ( A mother's dream when having young children...giving me much needed breaks) I have a very clear picture of my daughter Ruth licking her lolly pop and then 'sharing' it with one of our dogs...."no do not put that back in your mouth!" Timothy wanted a small white dog and prayed about it and the very next week we saw one being advertised in the same notice that we had advertised the launching of our new church plant CCR ( Christ Church Rwanda). We got it for him and he named her after his favorite Power Ranger girl --Kira. Such joy!

I think in my mind a part of settling down and not being on a 'furlough' is getting a dog. We have always had outside dogs. Dave would often say to the kids " Outside dogs and inside kids but this can be changed" So now that we are living in an apartment , we knew if we got a dog --it would be an inside dog.( We are keeping the kids inside too!)

Dave and Ruth visited the Chicago shelter for dogs and found a dog that we would like to bring home. Dave filled out the extensive paper work and they asked for the whole family to come and be around the dog as they would approve wether we would be a good family for her. Saturday was the big day. Everyone was excited. The shelter did not open till noon but we decided to go to the pet store to get some supplies and get all ready for our new dog.  It started out as a great family day.....the sun was shining and it was one of our first warmer days here in Chicago after the coldest winter on record.

We got to the shelter and they had lost Dave's paper work. As Dave filled it all out again the rest of us went to meet the dog and spend time bonding with her. We were all so excited. When we came back to Dave ...I started to realize there was a problem......

I have purposely not used the term we were going to 'adopt' a dog. As an adoptive parent I have never really liked this term used for taking care of pets. I might loose a lot of readers here...I love our pets but they are not my children. I know that they are a part of God's creation and I love this verse,"The righteous care for the needs of their animals, but the kindest acts of the wicked are cruel." Proverbs 12:10

There where 3 concerns about us being a good fit for a shelter dog...
        1. We had left our last 2 dogs with friends in Rwanda and did not bring them to the                    U.S.
        2. We have breed dogs in the past.
        3.  One of the 7 reasons that Dave checked for why we were interested in a dog was                for a mouser.

Dave tried to explain context as to why we have breed dogs. In the region we lived there was not very many dogs. In Rwanda during the Genocide where over a million people were brutally killed in 100 short days. That is "On average about six men, women and children were killed every minute of every hour of every day for three months."
http://www.news.com.au/world/africa/the-genocide-in-rwanda-20-years-on/story-fnh81gzi-1226876682010

One of the horrific scenes that occurred was that dogs were eating the flesh of the victims. The U.N soldiers were not able to shoot those that were perpetrating the Genocide but shot all the dogs to prevent them from scavenged the bodies of dead. ( There is a very good film called 'Shooting Dogs' about these events but when this film was released in the U.S it was retitled 'Beyond the Gates') As a result of these events, when we moved to Rwanda there was still a very small dog population. 

As Dave was trying to explain these events, I found my emotions raising...this month of April is such a hard month. I did not loose family in 1994 but have many friends that are in my community that have lost family and I have forever been effected by these tragic events. I was wrestling with the trivia of this experience of wether or not we would be accepted to provide a home for this dog and thinking about all those who lost their love ones in 1994. I was so distracted by my own thoughts that I could hardly follow the conversation. 

The women was saying something about being racist...What? RACIST? That caught my attention. Dave said, " what I am saying is please do not compare my children to dogs!" 

"Well you brought your children back from Africa why not your dogs?" she said as she rolled her eyes at my kids. I looked at my kids and hoped they did not catch fully what was happening. " Where did racism come in? I am just saying I do not want my children being compared to dogs", Dave reiterated.  

" Well your request is denied." She said. Dave and I both said almost in unison" Thats ok, we see we are not a good fit for your shelter, Thanks!"

We ushered the kids out and told them we did not qualify. We were all so disappointed about loosing the dog but we were also upset!

We all got in the car and began to try and help the kids and us process what had just happened. As the story came out more, we realized we did not share the same values as this shelter. Dogs are pets not children. We love them but they are not the same. My 17 year old son Ethan, expressed wisely do they really believe what they are saying? It does not seem they would keep these dogs in these cages and then euthanize them because they can not find 'qualifying ' families if they see them the same as humans.

We were all trying to figure out the racist statement... We asked the children if they heard what she said and they said yes. " What do you think about it?" "She did not seem to make since." one said, my youngest was so upset he did not want to talk about it. 

We affirmed our children and Dave said when we get home we are going to look on Craig's list and see if we can find a dog. I began to pray again, God I know you have this and you are in control...maybe there is another Dog for us.

When we reached home we were all a bit down but hopeful that Dave would find something. One of the first dogs that caught his attention was a dachshund / beagle mix. He sent a message and it was still available. After looking through the rest of the options we all decided this might be the one. After spending most of the day driving around, Dave and Ruth were the only ones that decided to drive the 1 hour plus to go and see this new dog. The owner had just gotten a 2nd job and felt she was not able to give the dog the attention he needed. 

The rest of us that stayed home waited eagerly for any news....the phone finally rang and Ruth was on the other end sharing that we got the dog! " He is so sweet and his name is Loki." Timothy was so excited! It was so fun to see the joy this brought the family. We waited not so patiently as Dave, Ruth and Loki returned. 

Well, it has been a few days only that Loki has been in our home but he has already brought many gifts....Ruth has a new companion and room mate( bed mate actually--Loki sleeps at the end of her bed all curled up --Ruth is all curled up at the top of her bed) added chores--so far the kids are more than willing to do them--Dave enjoys patting and snuggling with the dog in the evening---yesterday he took Imani ( the baby that I babysit) and Loki for a nice long walk.

For me the gift has been the gentle awareness that this is home for now...not a temporary pit stop but God is asking us to put down some roots...getting a dog is a start....

Loki--- Our new dog!

A Third Culture Kid's Ramblings Pt 1

My earliest childhood memories-- sharing chai with my sister, Keri and Leila Merritt ( my childhood friends) and Mama Joyce ...dipping blueband spread bread sandwiches in the tea! Feeling the warmth not only from the Kenya sun but the warmth from the love and kindness of my Africa home.

My sister and I 

....Yes, Kumba, Cameroon .... yes that is the country Cameroon in West Africa... no Africa is a continent  -- Cameroon is the country of my birth....frustrating conversation with U.S. postal worker when filling out forms....

From the not so nice "n" word that I was called in 3rd grade when ignorant Texas kids found out I was from Kenya....to some of the curious questions ....." Did you have loins as pets?" ....." Did you live in a mud hut?" struggling to find the words to explain my world or worlds that are all mashed up!

Am I African? Cameroonian? Kenyan? American? Some where in between......  

A child's perspective is an interesting thing. Children take things at face value...I knew my simple idyllic life was just how it was. I loved concrete red floors....not so much the mosquito net that to often slummed into my face during the night and made me feel claustrophobic.  I loved passion fruit juice for breakfast, imaginary play with my sister and friends, big sisters verses little sisters, and all the adventure that would always seem to find us...... from the crazy man coming up in our yard to seeing the big girls attack by a wild hawk( Ok that was a bit scary!). Loved going to the pool almost every day after school....oh the cool water felt so good after my feet were so hot from running around with such thin soles of Bata tennis shoes.  Fairy circles, Narnia, survival games....so much fun even if we had to hide all our books so when the Merritt girls came over they would play with us and not read! 

Mom, my sister Debra,my brother Wade and me

I loved Sundays...although sometimes they were long days...the adventure of even the journey of getting to the rural church where my Dad would preach was exciting. We had a baby blue volkswagen  bug. I would often crawl back in to the 'back-back' and enjoy the journey from there. During the raining season we would get stuck in the mud but no problem several village folks would just push us out or sometimes even pick us up! When we arrived people would start to gather....us kids would run around ....beautiful green rolling hills and red dirt...goats, cows, and chickens to chase. Then we would gather for worship. Men would sit on one side and women and kids on the other...all on wooden benches under a tree or thatched roof enclosure with mud walls with splattered holes that the sun would shine through ---I often thought it looked like stars in the sky. A women in back would belt out a phrase of a song and we would all echo her with clapping and on some songs there was trilling! Then my mom would gather us kids up and we would go out side and sit on a

large mat. She would bring out her flannelgraph and tell the stories of the bible. This is my earliest memory of putting God's words in my heart. I loved the Noah story and Queen Easter.....the story of David and how God saw into his heart was my favorite. 

After church service we always went to one of the leader's home for lunch. Yummy chicken stew, greens and ugali ( corn meal mush) ...I can almost smell the charcoal infused food... which was enjoyed more because it was shared.  Then after the last pot of chai was consumed it was back in the blue bug for the long bumpy ride home....this time I would stretch out and sleep after we dropped off the few folks that squeezed in our car.

I have so many memories of my early growing up years in Kenya...but what stays with me the most is a sense of warmth, joy, adventure which all has given me the confidence to face life! And for that I am grateful!

Mashup Church Experence

St. Paul's by the Lake Episcopal Church Chicago

Dave, my husband was asked to preach today at a South Sudanese Church. This church was not located in South Sudan or any where near Africa. This church was meeting in Chicago. It was meeting like most immigrant churches at a odd time on Sunday afternoon when the building is not in use. It was not in the basement of the church but meeting in the main sanctuary.  We came early before very many had arrived. The Church building was a beautiful ornate old building built in 1882. Stained glass windows depicting the early apostles framed the sanctuary.  The wood work was exquisite with intricate work every where you looked. It was just breath taking! It was decorated for this Christmas season. The smell of incense was in the air. Then on the front pews there was something unusual that you would not expected to see in an Old Episcopal Church , two African drums.

Soon several South Sudanese began to join. This was primarily a gathering of the Dinka , who are very strikingly tall dark beautiful people. They began to sing in Dinka. I do not know this language but have heard it before through the years of meeting Sudanese refuges in Uganda and Kenya. The singing is very rhythmic and remains with you. 

I began to close my eyes to worship God in my heart and as I did I was transported far away to a small church gathering under a tree in rural Africa. I could see the large tree we were meeting under. Children wandering around playing with simple toys made from wire and other recycled material. I could feel the cool breeze blowing through reminding me of God's spirit. I could see all the colorful material that was worn by the women and the clean pressed suits by many of the men. In the near distant I could see several huts with thatched grass roofs. When I opened my eyes and saw the Old Episcopal Church building  again...somehow these to things were having a hard time coming together for me. It was such an unusual experience.  

It reminded me of a mashup song--where 2 or more songs and blended together to form one song. It was if the old American church with its liturgical service was mashed up with a traditional Dinka worship service. What was made --was something unique and beautiful.  I am so thankful that I experience  a Mashup Church today.