Where were you eight years ago today?  And what were you doing?  We at Shiloh know exactly where we were and what we were doing.  

For us it actually began in the weeks leading up to that day.   Menus were written, an extra large shopping was done, extra guards were hired for the day, room reservations were carefully made.  There were only so many rooms to accommodate all the out-of-town guests.  We made the invitations ourselves.  They had been hand delivered in plenty of time.  And Shiloh sparkled like never before.

Marie had been living with us for the last month.  That was Guy's wishes.  He wanted us to help prepare her for marriage.  It was all pretty foreign to us.  Nobody does this in America.  What were we supposed to do anyway?  How do you prepare a young lady for marriage?  We blundered along, trying our best.  But truly, we didn't know what we were doing.  Now it's "old hat" for us.  We've been asked to do the same for other brides-to-be, so now we're experts.  

We were up and out of bed early.  Don't forget to feed the bride.  Nobody faints today.  Before eight the hairdresser arrived and set up shop in the library.  Cameroonian brides go all out:  hair pieces, fancy hairdos, tear-dropped shaped pearls pinned into the hair at strategic spots, manicures, pedicures, and makeup professionally applied.  Even an ordinary girl turns into a beauty queen on her wedding day.  Several girls from both the bride and the grooms families helped dress the bride.  She wore a soft pink, street length dress for phase one of her wedding day.

The groom and his men arrived and were secreted away in a bedroom.  When Guy was dressed in his new suit, I brought some food and a cup of tea to him.  It's easy to forget to eat on your wedding day.  He was pretty nervous, so when his room cleared out of men, I sat with him talking quietly.  Then we prayed together and I left to check on Marie.  She too had been left alone.  A Cameroonian does not like to be all alone, so I pulled up a chair and sat with her for about an hour.  She was very nervous.  I prayed with her and then took off to check on the dining room.  We had decorated the day before, so only minor adjustments needed to be made.

Relatives and close friends had been arriving over the last hour.  Now the Mayor and his group arrived.  Everyone quickly took their places.  The brides family on one side and the grooms on the other.  Then the nervous bride and groom and their attendants filed in and sat in front of the Mayor.  His official books were spread out on the table in front of him.  This particular Mayor is a strong Christian.  He was choose for that  reason.  He asked the bride's representative if the bride price had been paid?  Was the family satisfied?  Did the groom feed her family?  Did everyone have enough to eat and drink?  These are all important questions.  When it is established in front of the Mayor that the bride's family is satisfied, nobody can bring a complaint later on.  In addition to conducting the civil ceremony, he read to them from God's Word.  When the ceremony ended and the Mayor left, everyone relaxed a bit.  We still had a couple of hours before the church blessing part of the wedding would begin.  

Guy and Marie retreated to their separate quarters and the bride changed into her wedding gown.  Meanwhile we fed everyone who was at Shiloh.  Guy wanted the church blessing to take place outside so we scurried around setting up chairs on the lawn.  It was a beautiful, sunny day.  Guy had asked Papa Jim to be his father and walk him to the ceremony.  A large crowd of family members swarmed around them as they slowly came down the driveway and onto the lawn.  People were singing and dancing and clapping.  It was a joyous time.  Then it was time for the bride to make her grand entrance.  Marie also had a large group of people around her as she slowly made her way down to the wedding site.  There were many speeches, sermons, and prayers during the church blessing.  Guy is well loved and everyone wanted to have a part.  The church blessing ceremony is never rushed. It should last at least two hours.  Three is even better.  

Afterwards everyone slowly made their way to the upper lawn where tables were set out, groaning with food.  What a feast we had!  Of course we had made all the food, but it sure was good.  There was a beautiful wedding cake.  Here in Cameroon the guests just get a small bite of cake, served to them on a napkin.  Having an entire piece to yourself is unheard of.  The celebration lasted for quite some time.  Finally people started leaving.  

When the crowd had thinned out and only the extended family on both sides was left, the bride and groom once again disappeared into their rooms.  Guy freshened up a bit but his bride changed her cloths one last time.  She wore a lovely blue dress for this final event.  Guy and Marie walked hand in hand down the driveway, leading a group of about 25 people out the gate and down the road to a nearby outdoor restaurant/bar.  We were included in the group.  We all had a lovely, relaxing time together, reliving the events of the day, and enjoying being together.  Finally, when it was many hours past my bedtime, we walked back to Shiloh together.  By now our numbers had dwindled down to only those of us who were spending the night at Shiloh.  The groom took his bride to the honeymoon suite which we had decorated the day before.  A three day honeymoon at Shiloh was our gift to them.  The following morning we ate a final meal with all the relatives and everyone went back to their homes. 

The memories of that day linger with all of us.  That was the day Guy's family adopted us into their clan.  We have enjoyed all the rights and responsibilities of the family ever since.  It's great to belong.

It's Mother's Day here in Cameroon.  A pastor friend of ours sent his driver to pick us up at ten this morning.  We were honored guests at his church.  It had been three years since we last visited them.  Everyone was so happy to have us back. With no advanced warning, we were invited to the platform to share a word.  The mike was handed to me first.  Public speaking is my forte.  I can share on most any topic from God's Word at the drop of a hat.  So I gave the mothers a charge to raise their children for the Lord.  Then the mike was handed to Jim, who hates public speaking, though he always does a good job.  He spoke to the fathers, challenging them to take their responsibility to their children seriously.  

What a treat to be in church together.  It happens about once every two or three years.  Someone must make a sacrifice in order for this to happen.  That's why Doris arrived at Shiloh shortly before 6 a.m. today.  After letting Joseph, our night guard, go home, she made breakfast for our guest.  Then she made breakfast for us and brought it to our room.  Meanwhile we were getting our day started.  Then Doris cut up and froze a large quantity of mangoes.  She let our guest out at the gate when he went to his church.  Next it was time to let us out at the gate when the car came for us.  When the mangoes were all tucked away in the freezer, Doris began cleaning guest bedrooms.  She was finishing up the second one when we arrived back at Shiloh around 1:30 p.m.  We sent her home and took over running Shiloh, which included preparing the evening meal for a guest.  Now it is 10 p.m. and bedtime has finally arrived.  Another busy day awaits us in a few short hours.

The pastor started coming to Shiloh for spiritual retreats way back in the beginning.  At least nine years ago, maybe nine and a half.  We've grown quite close over the years.  He calls us his parents.  In fact, we are always blessed when he comes.

She discovered Shiloh about seven years ago.  She has come here at random intervals over the years.  Even had her honeymoon here at Shiloh three years ago.  She and her hubby dropped over to introduce me to their 10 month old precious little girl.  Jim had already seen the baby, held her, and played with her.  That was a couple of months ago when he repaired their washing machine.  

Seven of us gathered around the table to eat a meal together.  The pastor just "happened" to sit directly across the table from the lady.  In fact this was the first time they had been at Shiloh at the same time. In the course of the leisurely meal, with conversations flowing all over the place, they discovered something. To their great surprise, they learned they are from the same tribe, the same village in the tribe, and this lady is even related to the Pastor's mother!  It would be a distant relationship, but they are related none the less.  

There is a saying about Shiloh that was coined by another pastor some years ago:  "People come to Shiloh to meet each other."  

It's really hard to get hold of money in smaller denominations here in Cameroon.  We have 10.000 F bills, 5.000 F bills, 2.000 F bills, 1.000 F bills, 500 F bills plus 500 F coins, 100 F coins, 50 F coins, 25 F coins, 10 F coins, 5 F coins, and even 2 F coins.  But anything other than 10.000 F bills and 5.000 F bills is difficult to come by.  So one develops strategies for getting smaller bills and coins.  You can take a larger bill to a nearby little store and buy something, anything at all, thus forcing the owner of the little store to come up with the change.  It's not a real good strategy because often you must wait while the shop owner goes off to find someone who can break the big bill for them.  This can take time.  Another strategy is to buy phone credit.  This usually works better because the little "call boxes" which are on every corner, sell as little as 500 F worth of phone credit to people, and thus generally have change for a larger bill. If we are going into town, my favorite strategy is to deliberately and intentionally pay with only big bills at any of the major stores.  They take in lots of money all day long and thus have bills and coins in all denominations.  But the best strategy of all is to make friends with a taxi driver.   Now there is a person who always has piles of small bills and coins.  All day long he takes in fares of 300 F per drop.  At the end of the day his pockets are bulging with nothing but small money.  And he is more than happy to trade you small bills and coins for large bills.  So that is why Eric, our favorite taxi man, stopped by Shiloh at 6:30 p.m. today.  We gave him two 10s and a 5 and he gave us 25.000 F worth of small bills.  We're all set for several weeks now.  And when we run low again, Eric is just a phone call away.

We spent a busy day in town today, running errands, paying bills.  Guy and I left Shiloh at 8:30 a.m. and drug our exhausted bodies back at 3:30 p.m.  It has been years since I went anywhere by myself.  It just isn't safe.  

The city becomes more and more congested with traffic as the years go by.  It used to take 15 - 20 minutes to get into the downtown area.  Now we plan on 45 minutes to an hour..  So on a day like today we spend a good bit of our time in traffic.   

We have a short list of taxi drivers whom we know and trust.  When we need to go anywhere, we just start down the list until we find one who is available.  It is considerably cheaper to hire a taxi at 3.000 F (approximately $6) per hour than to own our own car.  In 25 years we have never owned a car out here in Cameroon.  When we travel outside the city, we take public transportation.  It's not nearly as nice as a private car, but it works.  

 

The Senator phoned shortly after 3 p.m. yesterday.  His plane had just arrived at the airport.  Was there a room available at Shiloh? He would be there in an hour.  

The Senator has been a good friend of ours for a number of years now.  When we first met, he was just an ordinary man, working for a mission in the North.  He would frequently bring groups of doctors to Shiloh.  We loved having him come.  He was always gracious and kind.  And such an interesting person.  Educated in the States, he was quite familiar with life in the U.S.  

Some years after our friendship was forged, the President of Cameroon called for the formation of a Senate.  Our friend ran for office and was elected.  Now we rarely see him, as the Senators stay at one of the big hotels here in town when the Senate is in session.  But every now and again the Senator is free to stay where he chooses, and he always comes to Shiloh.  

We had a delightful time around the table last evening.  It is so encouraging to talk with this man who is in a high position, and yet remains faithful to God.   Shortly we will be going down to the kitchen to prepare an early breakfast for the Senator.  After breakfast a driver will pick him up and he will go on his way.  The Senate has been summoned to Limbe for meetings.  Though we won't see him again for some time, we will continue to pray for our good friend, the Senator.

Papa Jim had an adventure today.  He had the opportunity of driving someone's car out of Shiloh's driveway for them.  The last car in on Friday evening had been wedged in between the wall and the car gate.  Papa Jim is one of the few who could handle this challenge.  He did a masterful job.  The wall is still standing.  There are no new dents in the car.  The gate didn't sustain so much as a scratch.  

But the adventure didn't end there.  Next he became the traffic director, assisting four other ladies to each drive their car out of tight spots and onto the road in front of Shiloh. While these well-to-do ladies owned their own cars, they obviously had never had backing up lessons.  And like ladies everywhere, they were not convinced that it was altogether necessary to follow a man's instructions.  

Papa Jim managed to survive his adventure, and is in the process of living happily ever after.  

They invited me to eat the evening meal with them.  I've lived in Cameroon long enough to know that "Why thank you," was the only appropriate answer.  Twelve ladies scrunched tighter together around the table to make room for this American grandmother.  While they were honored to have me in their midst, I was not the focus of their time together.  When they handed me a plate full of, I don't even know what it's called, I was doing a lot of praying.  Whatever it was was sort of slimy, with these short, cigar shaped things in it.  The taste was interesting, to put it politely.  And hot.  As in H-O-T hot!  We're talking fire food here.  But again, my good upbringing, coupled with many years of being a missionary, came to my rescue.  I knew that if I was to have any credibility with these ladies, to eat what was set before me, to eat it all, and to eat it with a good attitude, was my only option.  Situations like this really improve ones prayer life.

Twelve ladies sat around the table at Shiloh, competing with each other to see who could talk the most while devouring their favorite food.  It was all in Pidgin English.  Everyone was talking and laughing at once.  The white grandmother was the only quiet one at the table.  Not understanding much of what she was hearing, she didn't even know enough to laugh at the appropriate moment.

 Finally the meal was over.  We were lingering over cups of tea when someone suggested we discuss the movie War Room, which we had watched that afternoon.  One by one they began sharing what impressed them the most about the movie.  Lots of good comments were made.  Interestingly enough, everyone was now speaking my kind of English.  Then slowly the conversation shifted to talking about cultural norms and constraints that make life challenging in the context of marriage and family life.  The conversation became lively and at times heated.  Everyone talking at once was quite acceptable.  The volume rose and fell as the conversation ebbed and flowed.  The American grandmother remained silent.  Well on the outside, that is.  My heart was burning within me.  I had so much to say, but could not get a word in anywhere.  So I kept on praying and watching and listening.

An hour and a half after the conversation began, it finally started winding down.  By this time three ladies had left the table.  At long last, the American grandmother saw an opening and took it.  "Would it be possible for an old Grandmother to say something?" I asked.  They were eager to hear what I had to say, but chided me on calling myself "old" until I told them my age.  And here is what I said, more or less in its entirety.

"I've enjoyed eating with you and listening to your conversation.  We have lived here in Cameroon for 25 years now, but we are still learning things about your culture.  I've learned new things tonight.  There are a number of things I would like to say regarding what we have been talking about.  First of all, my sister here recently asked the question 'How to you know when you have reached the breaking point?'  [Referring to marriage]  She posed a good question.  There is an easy answer for her question.  Any of us who have been married for six weeks or longer have grounds for divorce."   There was a small outburst of agreement, followed by one lady saying "This is wisdom.  Let's be quiet and listen to what she has to say."  And so I continued, "The secret of marriage is to find grounds for marriage, and to go right on finding those grounds for the rest of our lives.  

"You have talked a lot about culture tonight.  I've heard you talk about the English culture and the French culture.  You've talked about the Cameroonian culture, and even about African culture.  I know you each have your various tribal cultures as well.  I too have a culture that I came from.  My American culture is quite different from your culture.  But I'm not very interested in culture.  For those of us who know the Lord as our Savior, we are in God's culture.  I'm very interested in God's culture.  If we want to truly follow Him, we need to get to know His culture and follow His culture more and more as time goes by.  

"There has been much discussion about how to handle money matters in marriage.  You talked about having a joint bank account vs individual accounts.  Everyone had her opinion and there were many conflicting opinions.  But the only opinion that counts is God's.  What does God's culture say about handling money in the context of marriage?  God does have something to say about that.  We need to study His Word and find out how to live in His culture in this area of our lives.  

"You asked what happens to the children when a marriage is over?  Do they go with the mother or stay with the father?  We need to find out what God's culture has to say about that.   

"Marriage is not easy.  You have all been married longer than six weeks.  You already know that.  I have been in my marriage for 47 years now.  And it is never easy.  That's because I made a very big mistake on my wedding day.  I married a sinner.  I didn't know that at the time, but six weeks later I had already discovered my mistake.  But you see, my husband also made a very big mistake on our wedding day.  He too married a sinner.  Do you know what marriage is?  It's two sinners who agree before God and in the sight of man to live together in holy wedlock.  And if God blesses that union with children, now you have a whole bunch of sinners living together under the same roof, doing what sinners do best...sinning every single day.  

"In the movie War Room, we learned that in marriage we are to pray God's blessing for our spouse.  Ladies, my sinner does not deserve God's blessing.  Honestly, though I am a sinner, he is a much bigger sinner than I am.  You ladies know that we women are not nearly as bad as our husbands are.  Is that true?  Actually it's not true.  Many times I am the bigger sinner.  

"When Becky read us that wonderful list of "Ten Things a Christian Husband Should Do For His Wife", I thought I was in a dream.  What would it be like to have been married to that kind of husband for these last 47 years?  But ladies, let me tell you something, my husband has never done even one of those things on Becky's list.  Not once, not ever.  And yet, because I am living in God's culture, I have one choice.  I must keep right on praying that God will pour out a blessing on him, even on my birthday when he once again forgets my special day.  My sinner does not deserve God's blessing, and frankly I don't really want to ask God to bless him.  But guess what?  If I am serious about living in God's culture, getting to know Him better and better, becoming more like Him, then I have one choice.  I MUST pray God's blessing on him EVEN on my birthday when he has forgotten what day it is."

Well, the sermon didn't end there, but perhaps that's enough for now.  You get the idea.  Eating weird, unappealing, tasteless, excessively hot food that is not to my liking, is the least I can do in order to be used by my Lord to impact the lives of others.  That's why we are here.  No sacrifice is too great to make for Him.

Some days we see God more clearly than other days. It's our own fault, you know.  He's always there.  Sometimes (all too often actually) our eyes of faith grow dim and He fades from view.  But today was one of those days when we saw His hand of mercy at every turn.  

Remember me telling you yesterday about all we were going to do today before noon?  All those cockroaches and other critters who were going to be fully eliminated from Shiloh?  And the doors and windows would be thrown open?  Ten fans would be set to pulling bad fumes out and sucking fresh air in?  Wonderful plans.  

Small problem.  We forgot to program in one of our frequent power outages.  And we didn't count on getting a late start due to the unforeseen.  Nor did we consider that the electricity would be off for a few hours, come back on again for a couple, and then go off 'till the end of our work day.

Late morning I simply gave up trying to make things turn out well inside the house, and escaped outdoors.  It had been a very long time since I did any weeding and pruning.  Relaxing work.  Enjoyable work.  Get-your-mind-off-the-problems-of-life work.  Therapeutic work.  And just two hours of effort can produce such lovely results.

When I was finally able to face the chaos and confusion that was Shiloh, something amazing had happened.  Without my organizational skills, direction, or input, things were falling into place.  The Spray King's work was coming to an end.  Numerous rooms had already been put back in order.  Electricity was temporarily back on and rooms were quickly airing out.  Amazing!  

As I took my calmer self from room to room, slowly and carefully inspecting everything, tweaking this, adjusting that, I couldn't help but stand in awe of the Almighty. Long before our guests arrived, Shiloh was sparkling. Once again the God of the Impossible had done the impossible.    

 

It started day before yesterday. Been counting dead cockroaches ever since.  

Papa Jim is on his "Attacking Insects" campaign.  He wages war on a semi-regular basis with mosquitoes, cockroaches, and anything else that inadvertently gets in the way of his spray apparatus.  He's developed this whole outfit over the years, complete with a Darth Vader type mask.  You should see him all decked out.  It's priceless.  (Maybe I should take a picture.) 

Tomorrow is the final day.  There's only our room, the library, the storage room, living room, powder room, downstairs bedroom, and bathroom left to go.  He's getting an early start in the morning in order to be completely done long before noon.  

That's when all ten of our fans will be set to run on high, every door, and every window will be opened wide. That tell-tell insecticide odor must be gone before late afternoon.  A big group is coming in for a three day conference.  

We're pretty good at what we do.  We have this down to a science.  Unless you tell, they will never know what we've been doing in these days.  Even those dead cockroaches, laying on their backs, with their pathetic legs up in the air, will be carefully  disposed of.  

It's just another normal day at Shiloh.

“Mama Alice,” he said, “you and Papa Jim have taught me everything I know. When I came to you I had only known the Lord for two weeks. I still had one foot in the world and one foot in Christianity. If anything had gone wrong, if I had lost my job, I could so easily have gone back into the world. And today I would be very far from God.”

“It was not easy at first. You were very hard on me. I didn't understand what you were doing, why you were so tough. But now I know. Now I am a husband and a father. I am trying to train my children. I know a parent has to be hard on his children sometimes if he wants them to turn out well. I look back now and I can see so clearly all that you were trying to teach me. And now I am busy teaching others. Not just my own children, but people in my church as well. As an elder I counsel many people. And always I remember the things you and Papa Jim have taught me.”

“And look at Doris,” he said. “She has changed completely, too. If you and Papa Jim were to die tonight, you would go to Heaven in peace, knowing that you influenced two people's lives. Doris and I are strong in the Lord today because of all you have done for us. If for no other reason than the two of us, you would know that God really used your lives here in Cameroon. We are proof of that.”

All parents long to hear their children say “thank you.” Our cook Francis has found a beautiful way to thank us for our investment in his life.

He told us this evening that he only has two students.  Rather than being discouraged, he is hoping that these two men will not only learn well the things he is teaching them, but that they will teach others, who will in turn teach others.  

His seminary had to relocate to Yaounde from one of our neighboring countries a few years back, due to the political situation there.  African students come from various countries, to continue working on their masters, or their doctorate, in theology.  Since they are renting facilities walking distance from Shiloh, we frequently are called upon to house either visiting professors or students.  In fact, the seminary would be delighted if we would just let them rent Shiloh full time and we could morph into their student housing facility.  

Small problem.  We are first, last, and always a Spiritual Retreat Center.  We exist to provide a place for pastors, church leaders, and ordinary Christians to come and spend time with God.  They come individually and in groups.  Not being allergic to missionaries, we permit them to stay at Shiloh too, on a space available basis.  

And so we restrict the seminary on the number of bedrooms they can occupy at any given time. And Shiloh maintains its original purpose and intention.  

Our current professor arrived in country at 4 a.m. today (yawn!) and was in the classroom teaching his two students a handful of hours later.  He's teaching a week long class, and then will return home to Europe.  One of the side benefits of providing housing for visiting professors is that their students very quickly figure out where they are living and make their way here in the late afternoon, after school is out.  These visiting professors are real troopers.  They are always available to give extra help. 

It started with a dead mouse on the kitchen floor and progressed from there.  Since Mama Alice refuses to remove dead mice from the mouse trap, she stayed far away from the kitchen until big, strong Papa Jim came to the rescue.  And since he was already in the kitchen, why not make breakfast?  Thus ensued a rare and relaxing meal, just the two of us, lingering over his famous eggs with all the trimmings.  (You'll have to try them when you come to visit.  His eggs really are worth writing home about.)

Then came the drop-in visitors.  They came individually, continuously, and unendingly.  Each visit was refreshing, enjoyable, and encouraging.  After saying "good-bye" to each friend at the gate, we turned back to the house, climbed the stairs to our room, eagerly anticipating a Sunday afternoon nap.  If we got as far as the bed, we didn't lay down for longer than five minutes before the doorbell rang again.  

We never ate another meal.  There was no time.  That illusive nap?  Never happened!  While we are "peopled out" we are grateful for a day cram full of opportunities to minister to others.  After all, that's why we are here.

Wonder what tomorrow will bring?

 

We hadn't seen her in nearly two years.  She and her husband brought a young couple over this evening to see Shiloh.  They are getting married in June and were thinking of having their honeymoon here.  In fact, they were so impressed with what they saw, they went ahead and made the reservation.

 

When our friend saw the most recent picture of our family back in the states, she immediately dubbed it the "Tucker Tribe".  Since we've been friends for years, she feels like she knows our sons and their families.  Soon she was planning a big family get-together here at Shiloh.  Dan, Tim, and David could bring their wives and all eleven of the grand-kids.  In fact if we gave her enough advanced warning, she would take time off work and come cook for us.  She had it all figured out.  A big house like Shiloh, with six bedrooms and five bathrooms, would have plenty of room for everyone.  Papa Jim, Mama Alice, and all 17 of their descendants could sleep 3 and a fraction per room.  This is Africa.  We could make it work!  

 

Small problem.  We just have to talk all the rest of the Tucker Tribe into spending a small fortune to get themselves out here to Shiloh for a visit.

Thursday was a quiet, but busy day at Shiloh.  Quiet because our Team consisted of only Guy.  Both Francis and Doris were unable to join us.  Each are struggling through typhoid, coming in for a few hours per day when they have the strength, staying home in bed when they cannot do anything.  Unfortunately, we've all had typhoid.  We understand  just how dreadful it is.  

But with a Team of one, plus God, we were able to accomplish a lot.  Shortly after feeding breakfast to guests in the house, we returned to the Spring Cleaning Adventure.  Can't remember when Spring Cleaning drug on into May before, but we can only work in and around the edges of other activities here at Shiloh.  We do what we can, when we can. Eventually the Harmattan grit and grime with be a fading memory, and every corner of Shiloh will once again sparkle.  We've finished with the living room, the dining room, the front hallway, and now the back hallway.  Each location takes from two to five or even six days of serious cleaning. Curtains come down and are washed. Even mattress pads, mosquito nets, and bedspreads are washed. In addition to cleaning, we remove everything from all cupboards and drawers, clean everything inside and out, and each item must justify it's existence before being put back in place.  Harmattan dirt seeps through the cracks and is hiding everywhere, even inside hutches and dresser drawers.   It's a big job, but one that I really enjoy doing.  And the finished product is well worth the effort.

Our 2015 U.S. income taxes were finished this afternoon. And now tonight they are being hand carried back to the U.S. to be dropped in a mailbox tomorrow or shortly thereafter. Missionary friends are on their way back to the states and agreed to help us out.

You're probably thinking “Taxes? They were due April 15^th.” Well, yeah they were. But that's for you who live in the Land of Plenty. For those of us who live on the Dark Side of the Moon, Uncle Sam graciously gives us a two month automatic extension. So they are not actually due until June 15^th. No worries. Ours will be postmarked in plenty of time.

Annually, after taxes are done, I remind Jim that he better treat me well. His next wife sure won't know how to do his taxes for him! From data collected on our thoroughly unscientific, and very limited, random survey of American citizens, I seem to be the last person left alive who actually does taxes by hand without any outside tax consultant help, not even Turbo Tax. (Or whatever the latest might be.) I've been doing taxes for the better part of 50 years now. Obviously ours are not complicated, or I would be singing a different tune!.

8 p.m. Sunday evening.  Jim was in the library showing a movie to some guests when the doorbell rang.  Joseph went to the gate to see who it was.  Talking to the person through the one inch gap between the metal gate and the cement block wall, he learned it was a pastor who had a reservation to stay at Shiloh.  The problem was, Joseph already knew that there was nobody new coming in that night.  He left the man outside the locked gate and went looking for us.  

I went to the gate with Joseph and took his flashlight from him.  Shining it directly in the man's eyes I said "Good evening."  From then on I spoke only when he said something that needed to be responded to.  He was the one needing to convince me he had the right to come inside our gate.  The flashlight remained aimed at his eyes for several reasons.  I wanted to blind him so he could not see into our yard, or worse yet, through the patio front door and down the hallway.  I didn't want him to be able to see me.  And furthermore, I wanted to intimidate him and help him understand that he could not get inside Shiloh through force of his will.  After a pause, he told me his name, said he was a pastor, and that he had a room reserved.  Well that one I could respond to. "No you do not!" I emphatically stated.  He acted shocked and repeated that he did have a reservation.  So I repeated myself.  Two can play this game, I thought.  He then tried to convince me that his friend had phoned at 1 p.m. on that day to make the reservation for him.  Even gave me the name of his friend.  "Nobody phoned.  You do not have a reservation," I replied.  Suddenly he realized the gig was up.  His voice dropped to just above a whisper as he said "What am I supposed to do now?"  I sweetly informed him he could come back tomorrow anytime after 8 a.m.  He turned and walked off into the night.  And we have never heard from him again.  

By Monday evening we were all convinced this alleged pastor had robbery on his mind, not a spiritual retreat.  Joseph even said he may have intended to kill us.  Sounds melodramatic, doesn't it?  Unless you realize that just 15 months earlier, three older women arrived at Shiloh in much the same fashion, and at the same time of night, pretending to be pastor's wives. Those women had robbery and murder on their minds.  They very nearly succeeded in killing both Joseph our guard, and Doris, who was in charge of Shiloh that night in our absence. And they did succeeded in taking a number of our things.  We learned the hard way that we cannot be too careful.

If you live in the United States, you probably know that today is Mother's Day.  Cameroonian  mothers however,  will have to wait another three weeks for their day.  For them it is not a commercialized holiday.  In fact the date will rate little more than a passing glance.  Fathers will not be training their children to honor their mother.  Mothers will not be receiving gifts or even a card.  And certainly nobody would think of taking Mom out to a restaurant for a fancy dinner.  But Mother's Day IS noted on the list of public holidays.  This year it will fall on Sunday, May 29th.  

If you are an American Mom, maybe you are glad to be living in America on this your special day.

Today was one of those events you really had to experience to believe.  It started shortly after 1 p.m.  I was sitting at my desk, working on the ever present paper work.  Out of nowhere a wind storm blew through my two open windows with enough intensity to catch my attention.  After living in a tropical rainforest for the last 25 years, we are well trained to react to sudden weather change.  Heavy winds almost always precede heavy rains.  

My initial reaction was to dash upstairs to unplug our electronic equipment.  Jim has linked everything together so we just have to pull one plug.  We really (really, really) cannot afford to have our lap top, printer, and WY-fi router all die at once.  

Before I got out of the office, I remembered we still had laundry hanging on the lines out back.  I quickly changed direction and flew out the back door and around the corner.  Standing below our second story bedroom window I began calling "Jim!  Jim!"  With the noise from the high winds, I could not tell if he heard me.  I dashed back around the corner and began pulling cloths and towels off the line, knowing that just moments remained before the rain would begin.  It begins first with big, lazy drops which accelerate to a torrential downpour in a scant minutes.  It never rains "cats and dogs" in Cameroon.  Here the rain falls in sheets!

Glancing skyward I saw black sky in the two directions I could see.  Another strong indicator that rain was on the way.  By this time, interior and exterior doors began banging shut.  I knew this would be disruptive for the numerous people at Shiloh on individual spiritual retreats, but there was no time to deal with that problem.  

It was about that time that I began to realize that things were flying around.  The strong winds picked up two hand held laundry brushes that live on the back of our outside laundry tubs, and tossed them around like they were feathers.  An empty laundry basket was blown off the back porch and rushed across to the back wall, where it finally was dropped into a drainage ditch.  There was a small stack of cardboard egg cartons on a table that were being picked up one by one and hurled across the back porch, where they were being lined up one next to the other and "wind glued" to the porch railing.  (Is "wind glued" even a word??  Well, it is now!)  

Though there was a certain amount of risk involved in being outside with various things being tossed about by the wind, I had to keep working.  Before I finished bringing everything inside and securing everything outside, Jim showed up.  My call had reached his ears.  He was engrossed in a project and had not noticed the wind.  But with my frantic call, he sprang into action.  His first thought was also protecting our electronic equipment.  Next he dashed to one of the second story balconies and began turning the plastic table upside down and stacking plastic chairs on top of it.  If we don't do this, the table can be smashed to pieces against the railing.  The chairs can easily fly over the railing to a crash landing below.  Jim's next order of business was to close all windows on the two sides of the house that were being hit hard by the heavy winds.  And then he joined me downstairs to finish securing everything.

The most amazing part was that the rains never came!  All that promise and no delivery.  Well, that is to say, they didn't come for two hours.  And when they finally did arrive, no wind accompanied them.  It's not to say that it never happens like this, but it's pretty unusual.

While the wind was whipping my hair every which way, and I was dashing around out in it, my mind turned to the famous Columbus Day Storm of 1962, in the Pacific Northwest.  Anyone who lived through it of a certain age or older, will never forget it.  That was quite a storm.  If you are interested, you can do a Google search.  That's exactly what I did after our windstorm had blown itself out, after the rains had come and gone, and after our electricity came back on.  

While the internet was down for a day and a half, things did not stay quiet at Shiloh.  In fact we had more excitement than we like to have.  Well, at least not THIS kind of excitement.

Wednesday is Joseph's night off work.  It does not take a rocket scientist to figure out that we don't have a night guard on Wednesday night.  Anyone wishing to scope us out can quickly uncover this fact.  And so it was that last Wednesday, May 4th, sometime in the middle of the night someone climbed over our twelve foot wall.  They went into our carport and found a wooden ladder that we never use any more.  It ended up at the front corner of the house, driveway side, laying against a large flowerpot.  They also walked the length of our long kitchen back porch, took out their pocket knife, and sliced through the hoses connecting two bottles of gas to two three legged wrought iron burners.  

While our thief would have preferred to help himself to the two gas bottles, he only got away with the two burners.  We've had them for ten years.  Back in the early days of Shiloh, we didn't have a stove.  We did all of our cooking and our baking on these two burners.  They are not expensive and are readily available here in Cameroon.  We have large aluminum pots that we used to use to do all of our cooking in.  We used to put a layer of sand in the bottom of one of the pots, set an oven thermometer on top of the sand, and cover the pot.  When the air inside warmed up to temperature, we took the thermometer out and carefully lowered the cake or casserole down on top of the sand.  That was our oven.  After cooking like this for four years, we were finally able to buy a real stove with a real oven.  Eventually God blessed us with two stoves, which are in constant use.  We moved our three legged burners out to the kitchen porch.  They are still used when we do canning, or when we are feeding a large group of people.  

We are forever grateful that Jim Tucker is one of us.  On the day we moved the burners outside, he drilled two holes through the wall, right into a kitchen cabinet.  Then he ran the hoses from the burners, through the holes, to the gas bottles.  And that is the only reason we still have those bottles!

Our thief also found some hand held American garden tools out back of the house.  We're not sure exactly what he was trying to do with them, but we are awfully grateful that he dropped them.  

While we really don't know the order of events, we do know that the last thing he attempted to do was come in the front door of the house.  And that is when he bumped into our low tech security system.  How thankful we are for Guy who taught us this trick after our very first robbery.  Guy had us buy some tin cups and put them on all our inside door handles each evening.  That way when anyone tries to get into the house, as they turn the handle, the cup slips off the inside handle and crash bangs loudly onto our marble floors.  Wednesday night (or was it the wee hours of the morning on Thursday?) our thief took off running when he heard the noise.  Our lives and all the rest of our "stuff" were spared.  We are thanking God for His protection.

And yes, we've made some changes.  Each theft is different.  Each theft points out holes in our security system.  

This time around we immediately put the ladder in a locked storage room.  We're probably going to dismantle it since we have two nice metal ladders which are in constant use.  They live in a secure place.  

We're not sure just who, but we do know that SOMEONE will be our new Wednesday night guard.  We have two possibilities who are under consideration at this moment.  

There have been other improvements, too.  We remain confident that God is our real guard, nighttime, daytime, all the time.  We rest secure in Him.  

Had we had electricity on the evening of May 4th this is the blog I would have written:

Once again God took our breath away!  

Missionary friends who are returning back to their home country, blessed us with a lot of non-perishable food. As Guy and I sorted through everything, we were astounded to discover so many, many items that we use all the time at Shiloh.  We even found food items that we purchase monthly to take out to Papa Pollycarp and his dear wife in the village of Eyene.

Our pantry shelves are bulging.  I don't remember when we have ever had so much food at Shiloh.  What an amazing, almighty God we serve!

If we had had electricity on the evening of May 3rd, this is the blog I would have written:

Six children, ranging from eight years down to two years, spent the day at Shiloh.  What fun we had playing Grandparents with these precious children!

I showed the 8 year old girl and her five year old sister my office.  They discovered blue and red stamp pads, and a whole array of stamps, from a date stamp to the official Shiloh Association stamp.  When they discovered my stack of scrap paper, the stamping began in earnest.  My desk drawers contained such treasures as paper clips, a stapler, two sizes of post-its,  felt tip markers, and a whole punch.  These goodies provided my new secretaries with hours of fun.  Of course my supplies dwindled down, but it was worth it.

Meanwhile Jim took the boys upstairs to the library and began making paper airplanes.  Then he moved on to his entire repertoire of paper craft items.  The boys discovered that paper airplanes can be flown off the front balcony.

The six year old boy found two books about medieval castles and armor in our children's library.  They occupied his attention for a long time. 

One of the girls discovered our dolls, and promptly arranged them in an attractive pile on one of our sofas.  She found a dolly baby bottle, and being the good mommy-in-training that she is, carefully fed each of her new babies.

After lunch everyone went back up to the library to watch children's DVDs with "Grandpa".  

They discovered all of Shiloh's balconies and porches.  They found out that you can run in a big circle from the front hallway, through the sheer curtains, into the dining room, down two steps to the back hallway, turning right when it dead-ends at the front hall, and racing back to the sheer curtains.  What fun!

Playing grandparents for a day was a rare treat.

 

We are frequently asked to describe a typical day here at Shiloh.  The thing is, there is no such thing as a "typical day".  Each day is different.  If you thrive on variety, you will absolutely love Shiloh!  

Take today for instance.  It actually began on Friday when someone made a reservation for two people to spend Monday (today) here at Shiloh.  They wanted to come in the morning, eat both the noon meal and the evening meal, and then they would leave.  So when Francis came in to work this morning, we sent him off to a nearby small market to buy a few items for the two meals.  But while he was gone we received a phone call, canceling everything.  Due to circumstances beyond their control, they could not come to Shiloh.  Lunch and dinner plans were quickly scrapped, and we moved on to Plan B.  Jim fixed our washing machine while I got busy cooking food to put in the freezer. Francis wasn't feeling well so we sent him to the doctor for some lab work.  Turns out he has malaria and typhoid, so he's off work for awhile.  Doris has been down with, guess what, malaria and typhoid since Saturday.  Maybe she will be strong enough to come to work tomorrow.  And Guy had the day off to take care of some personal business.

Four hours later a call came in asking if there was any possibility of three rooms being available this evening.  Nine people needed to stay at Shiloh until Wednesday evening, maybe even longer.   Now we were on Plan C.   One of the three available rooms had not been cleaned since the last guest moved out Saturday evening.  So Jim rolled up his sleeves and began cleaning the room.  Meanwhile I quickly finished my cooking marathon, got everything labeled and in the freezer, and was ready to welcome our new guests when they arrived at 9 p.m.

It's 11 p.m. now and this "typical day" has finally come to an end.  Wonder what tomorrow will bring?

 

It was just a week ago when he dropped in for a visit. I personally had never had an extensive conversation with Herman, the youngest half brother of Doris. Actually he didn't come to visit, but was sent by Doris to ask for an advance on her salary. She was very sick and needed to see a doctor. But he was in a mood to talk and quickly forgot his mission. Early on he wanted to know where Papa Jim was. Papa Jim always gives him something to drink. So I fixed him a cup of hot milk, which is what he asked for. Soon he was asking me if I would bake a cake for him for his birthday. I let him know I would be happy to bake a birthday cake for him, but I needed to know his birth date. Then he said he wanted a birthday party. Well, I couldn't promise that. I explained it would depend on how busy we were at Shiloh on that day.

And then he got down to the heart of the conversation. It turns out that he is set on going to America. In fact he recently started attending a “church” of some flavor. On two occasions they “prophesied” over him that he would go to America. As a result he began attending their prayer meetings two nights a week. He candidly confessed that his only motivation was to tell God that He had to get him to America one way or another. He was quite convinced that God can be manipulated to do things to our liking. It quickly became obvious that this 20 year old young man had his ears stopped up. He had neither the time nor the interest in listening to any council or advice. About an hour into the conversation, when he began talking about using Face Book to find a white American girl who could help him get to America, get a good paying job, and get married (preferably to her), I decided it was time to make him listen to me. I told him first one story and then another about the dangers of meeting people through social media. He still didn't have ears to hear, but I kept on talking anyway. Finally, finally he began to listen to my advice, just a little bit.

It seemed to me that Herman is a lost soul. His greatest problem is that he does not yet know the Lord Jesus as his Savior. But beyond that, in his entire life nobody has loved him enough to invest the time and effort to raise him properly. His mother had four children by three different men. While it is true that his father is the only one that she lived with, the relationship fell apart. His dad soon married someone else and had a family with his real wife. Herman and his brother (who died a couple of years ago) quickly became unwanted leftovers from a previous relationship. Their mother then married a Frenchman and went off to live the good life in France. That marriage ended in divorce, as did another marriage to a different Frenchman. When Herman was in his mid-teens his mother was killed in a car accident in France.

I really didn't know many of the details of Herman's life, but he reminded me of someone who was frozen emotionally at five years of age. His behavior was very appropriate for a five year old, but completely over the top for a twenty year old. My heart ached for him. I wanted to scoop him up in my arms and hug him. Oh how badly I wanted to give him a bedroom at Shiloh and let him join our family. But I knew that this was not possible. And I also knew that the God Whom we serve is by no means limited to Jim and Alice Tucker. He is more than able to help Herman become a fully functioning adult man. Several days later I discovered that Herman was indeed five or six years old when his parents split apart. Variations of this story is repeated over and over again here in this country, as well as all over the world. How my heart aches for children who never had a proper upbringing.