these are a few of my favorite things

i was lying in bed 3 nights ago and my mind was flooded with thoughts of things i've seen and experienced here in Sudan that have warmed my heart. i began to smile to myself as the recollections came, and i felt tangible peace in my soul...

we have about 10 toddlers who go from playing together, to slapping each other, to crying, to playing together again, in 5 minute cycles. they can sometimes be so mean to each other, but they are never slow to forgive and forget. i'll watch them walk in a line, all holding hands, across the compound. i'll hear them singing worship songs and dancing together. a few days ago, 4-year old Ema blatantly stole a scrunchie that 4-year old Iko was playing with. She began to cry, i took the scrunchie back, and Ema began to cry. i scolded him and told him he could sit over there if he was gonna act like that. to my great surprise, he actually obeyed. not 5 minutes later, i see Iko walk over to him and hand him the scrunchie. her attitude was not vengeful, like "you stole this from me. now that i have it back i'll make you suffer by never giving it to you." she knew he had wanted it, so she gave it to him. i wish we were all more like this...

my favorite thing about African culture is the priority status that Africans give to relationship and conversation. loneliness does not exist here. houses are only for sleeping. people sit on their porches and eat all meals together. there's always someone to talk to. i love eating dinner by Abuba's fire. (she's one of our house mamas. "abuba" means "grandma"). she'll often share her food with me. many of the kids congregate here, because she's amazing and everyone loves to be around her. there will be a radio playing and all of us bobbing our heads to the music. occasionally, one of the kids will get really excited by a favorite song and jump up and start dancing. there's a lot of laughter, and Abuba's deep, gutteral laugh resounds above it all. one day, i slept over at a friend's house in town without telling Abuba. i came back to the compound the next day, and she proceeded to scold me (playfully) and told me to lie down on my stomach so she could cane me (the Sudanese form of spanking). it was hilarious.

one of the high school kids, Malik, LOVES the movie Stuart Little. we watch it regularly. he'll come over, i'll make some tea. after the movie, we talk about school, soccer, Sudanese politics, future plans, God. he's a very intelligent young man who went through the worst of the civil war, running into mountain caves to hide from the dropping bombs. i love hearing his thoughts, his dreams for the future, his hopeful outlook on life, his love for his nation.

i love Safari (20) and Kennedy's (16) laughs. i want to record them and play them back when i need to smile.

Justin (25) is amazing with children. he is such a rare gem in this culture where fatherless-ness is pronounced and many men don't have active roles in their children's lives. Justin is a true father after the Lord's heart. he loves the kids, and they adore him. he's always playing with them, talking to them, holding the babies. one day, 3-year old Vicky was throwing a tantrum and was wailing out in the pouring rain. an older girl carried her to the house, but she just wailed harder and went back out into the rain. Justin was sitting on his porch and said, "Bring her to me." she wailed, he took her inside, grabbed a stick, and said, "Do you want to get caned?" she was immediately silent. he then sat her on his lap and wrapped her in the jacket he was wearing. it was so beautiful.

our compound manager, Tito, is probably one of the most amazing men i have met in Sudan. he is hard-working, diligent, honest, compassionate. he has 8 beautiful kids and works tirelessly to provide for them. out of no where one day, he approached me and said, "There are some small cakes in town from Juba. I am going to buy you some" and bought me 6. no other Sudanese has done this for me. he doesn't see my white skin; he sees me as his friend, like any other.

when i lived in a room in the office, every morning, Betty our accountant, would arrive to work and shout "Rinaaaaaa!" in a high pitched squeal to greet me. it sounds like it would be annoying, but i loved it.

i am touched that Mama Eudita, our head house mama, calls me her daughter.

i wash clothes Saturday mornings. there are normally 10 grubby little toddler hands reaching into the basin "helping" me. they'll take a shirt the size of their whole bodies, put soap onto a small piece of it, scrub scrub scrub, twist out just that small piece, and throw the shirt into the clean clothes basin. when they're not looking, i sneak the shirt back in to rewash. i love their hearts.

i love the sound of rain on the corrugated iron roof. it is the most calming sound.

i love swinging in the hammock on my porch, sipping a Coke, watching the wind in the trees or the sun set. African sunsets are the best in the world.

in a harsh environment like this one, where i feel lonely sometimes and weary in heart, joy is to be found. you have to search for it at times, because it's hidden away in a word or a small action, like a treasure. but it's there, and i love when i find it.

forgiveness

i haven't written in a little while because i haven't had much to say. nothing too exciting has been going on here, and nothing too profound has been happening in my brain. i'll share some recent thoughts, though. i've been thinking a lot about forgiveness and how difficult it actually is to carry out. i'm thinking of one of my friends specifically, a Congolese refugee and child soldier who witnessed killings and brutal acts of all sorts as he grew up in the midst of war in Congo. on top of that, he is a Tutsi and had to endure the heartache and pain of his people being massacred in the Rwandan genocide in 1994. he has been massively restored by the Lord, healed of a lot of anger and hatred. but there are still places of unforgiveness in his heart, people towards whom he feels vengeance, events he can't seem to forget. the initial Christian reaction is to call the person to forgive, which is right, but easier said than done. we who have not lived in war and witnessed friends, family, neighbors raped, hacked to death, murdered simply because they were of the wrong tribe cannot comprehend how difficult it must be to forgive.

i got my own tiny taste of the battle called forgiveness when i was harassed by a soldier at the Sudan-Uganda border. he called me into his office, for no official business (because i had already passed through immigration), just "to talk to me", and when i refused to come, his ego was hurt and he proceeded to demand my passport and threaten to throw me in jail. nothing infuriates me more than corruption, and i retaliated. i finally just walked off, with him still shouting after me, and for days afterward, i felt so defiled to have been treated so, like my humanity had been compromised. i wanted revenge. it took me about a week to forgive him, and this incident was not nearly as traumatizing as what my friend has endured.

forgiveness takes some serious Holy Spirit enabling. it defies the tendency of the human heart. i am awed anew at Jesus' ability to cry out "Father forgive them!" with perfect sincerity as His persecutors were driving nails into His hands. it was a direct confrontation to every natural human inclination and emotion. He was demonstrating His inherent power to forgive the worst deeds...and the ability to forgive the worst deeds that He gives to all who are in Him. i guess we pray for that ability, and ask for the working of that power in us.