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.