Thursday, June 30, 2016

The library is my favorite room at Shiloh.  It is spacious, beautifully decorated, and most importantly, the walls are lined with lovely bookshelves.  Bookshelves that house 2,000 books.  Books in French.  But mostly books in English. Such rich treasures can be found in the library. It draws many of our guests.  They are frequently found with their noses buried in books.  The library is entered through an archway.  With no door, it is open 24 hours a day.

But libraries don't run themselves.  All those books being taken off the shelves need to be re-shelved in the right place, or soon chaos reigns supreme.  By virtue of being the only member of the Shiloh with limited library training and experience, I am the librarian.  Back in the early days I used to get so frustrated when people shoved books back on any old shelf.  It took me quite a while to figure out that books out of order are books that have been read.  Frustration turned to delight as I realized just how many books are being read.  

Once a year I do a massive inventory of all our books.  At the end of this 4-5 day process, I discover just how many books we have lost.  For years our annual loss ranged from 12-15 books.  Suddenly last year that all changed.  For some unknown reason we only lost eight books, and we were grateful.  I'm at the end of day two of this years inventory.  It's way to soon to tell how many books have grown little feet and walked out this gate this time around.

Somehow, in spite of all the theft of books here at Shiloh, our library has grown, and grown, and grown.  We receive many donations.  In fact we finally had to start giving them away ourselves when we ran out of room for more books.  This is the reason why we aren't overly upset when books disappear.  God always provides.  He is so faithful..

Wednesday, June 29, 2016

Shiloh comes with its own built-in maintenance man.  And he's never yet run out of things to do.  

Yesterday and today it was repairing the chandelier in the library.  In involved dragging out his super tall ladder and climbing halfway to the sky.  Our maintenance guy reports that putting all the gazillion little parts that comprise a chandelier back together is not unlike doing a challenging puzzle.  You should see the finished project!  It looks sparkling new again.

The other day it was cleaning out the septic tank.  For that he enlisted the help of the much younger Guy and Francis.  Certain jobs just need to be handed off to  guys who still have a good portion of the strength of their youth left.  But Mr. Jack-of-all-trades was the master mind behind the project.  He was right there, coaching, instructing, and even doing.  Meanwhile Doris and I spent the entire day praising God He created us female. They never once thought of enlisting our help.

Last week our favorite maintenance man was repairing an attachment for our Kitchen Aid.  If you can't run out to the store to buy a new one, it's sure awful handy to have a Jim Tucker around.  We highly recommend it.

For the last 46 years he has been the official knife sharpener.  We don't even know what a dull knife looks life.  I admit to being spoiled rotten.  

We have a refrigerator repair man living right here with us.  And a washing machine repair man.  Large appliances, small appliances?  Piece of cake.  He can fix them all.  Sewing machines, hair clippers, shavers, the list goes on and on.  If you can brake it, he can fix it.  No problem.

We've never taken the time to calculate how much money our favorite maintenance man has saved us down through the years.  I mean, how would you begin to put a price on everything?  

Monday, June 27, 2016

We had lived in Cameroon exactly seven months when we were invited to our first wedding.  And we've lost count of how many weddings we have attended since then.  In fact we could not possibly attend all the weddings we are invited to.

By virtue of being our first Cameroonian wedding, it stands out in our memories.  It was held in the pastor's home.  Silly us, we arrived on time, along with all the other Western guests.  We got to watch people scurrying around, setting up extra chairs for all the anticipated guests, putting up simple decorations, finishing cooking food for the wedding feast, and practicing the special music.  A number of weddings later we finally figured out that it's much better to arrive 45 minutes to an hour late.  It wasn't easy giving up our Western mind set.  But we finally got there.

Some years ago we were invited to a village wedding.  Technically, it was the paying of the bride price.  But for the young couple, that was all they were going to do.  Their first child was already on the way, and the bride's father insisted on receiving the bride price.  The civil ceremony was not necessary.  And since nobody knew the Lord, they didn't even think of the "church blessing" part of a Cameroonian wedding.  When we arrived at the bride's parent's house, the festivities were already underway.  It took us awhile to figure out who was getting married and who were the guests.  We felt overdressed wearing our Sunday cloths.  We were there for three hours.  All we observed was various people dancing, and everyone, dancers and non-dancers alike, rapidly getting drunk.  There was no ceremony of any description.  And if a bride price was paid, it happened behind our backs.  Finally we felt we could slip away without offending anyone.

But all other weddings have been Christian in nature and a time of joyful celebration.   

Last Saturday's wedding  was beautiful.  We didn't know the bride and groom, but in the culture, that didn't matter.  A close friend of the bride invited us to attend as her guest.  We've long since learned that this is a normal part of the culture.  And the young couple themselves are overjoyed to have white people at their wedding.  It is thought that to shake hands with a white during your wedding brings you a special blessing.  This explains why we are invited to so many weddings. 

Sunday, June 26, 2016

Nearly 47 years ago when we were married, we never had a honeymoon.  We were just two kids madly in love, scraping together every penny we could find to pay for the wedding.  And we pinched every one of those pennies until they squealed.  The honeymoon was not a high priority.  We just wanted to be married.  The wedding took place in my home town.  That evening, when the festivities were over, we hugged our families good-by and began the twelve hour drive to Jim's hometown.   That first night was spent in a hotel an hour out of town.  The next night we were finally home, beginning life as Mr. and Mrs.

In the ten years that we have been privileged to have Shiloh, we have been on many honeymoons!  While previously we had no first hand knowledge of what goes on during a honeymoon, we are now experts on the subject.  

Many Cameroonian newly weds, who want to establish their marriage in the Lord, come to Shiloh for their honeymoon.  Just as married couples come in all sizes and shapes, so too do honeymoons.  

There was the couple that arrived for their three day honeymoon still decked out in their wedding finery.  We registered them in the office and then showed them to the "honeymoon suite".  We closed the door on them and left them alone.  But they didn't leave us alone.  Soon we heard loud talking sliding out from under their door.  And the loud talking soon became LOUD talking, which devolved into VERY LOUD talking.  This went on day in and day out, the whole time they were there.  We would quietly set their balcony table with our fanciest dishes and all sorts of yummy food.  Then I would nervously knock on their door.  I had to knock loud in order to be heard over the din.  Immediately all noise stopped.  I could hear scurrying around, and then the door would open a crack.  I would tell them their meal was ready and then turn and run back downstairs.  Soon they were on the balcony, laughing and talking sweetly to each other.  They lingered over each meal, having such a wonderful, romantic time.  But the moment their bedroom door would close, the VERY LOUD discussions would begin all over again.  

WOW!  If ever there was a marriage that wasn't going to make it, this was it!!!  But that's not how the story turned out.  This couple came back some time later to have a spiritual retreat.  They spent the weekend with us, eating meals at the table with Jim and I.  A more kind, considerate, and loving couple you could not hope to find anywhere.  We were sooooo glad to see them actually making a go of it.

Then there were the newly weds whose pastor paid for a three day honeymoon at Shiloh.  The honeymoon was not their idea.  They just came to please the pastor.  They barely spent any time here at all.  They were constantly asking us to open the gate so they could drive off to do this, that, or the other thing.  They would announce that they didn't want the next meal.  They would find something to eat while they were out.  In the end, they cut their honeymoon short by a day.   

Another couple came for their honeymon one evening, announcing that the new wife would be leaving the next morning.  She had things to do that would take her away all day long, each day of their honeymoon.  So could they please have an early breakfast?  And the husband would be spending their honeymoon alone in their room, so only fix lunch for one person.  Would it be OK for them to eat the evening meal after 8 p.m. when the new wife got back?  

But the current honeymoon that is going on right now, even as we speak, is going down in our book as the quietest honeymoon of all times.  This couple go out onto the balcony to eat their meals three times a day.  If it weren't for the scraping of chairs as they sit down to the table, or as they get back up from the table, we would hardly know they are there.  When they do finally talk, they talk in low, murmuring voices.  Mostly it's his voice we hear.  She hardly adds a comment.  And then the long stretches of silence return. 

 And on and on the true stories go.  We could write a book about our experiences on all the honeymoons we have witnessed over these years.  We have learned so much.  The one thing we know for certain is that you cannot predict anything about how a marriage will turn out biased on how the honeymoon goes.

Friday, June 24, 2016

Listen... 

Do you hear it?  

That's guitar music.  And singing.  

It's been going on for well over an hour now.  Brother and sister duet.  

They show up at Shiloh fairly regularly.  Always request rooms side by side.  Always come on a Friday afternoon.  Always start with singing.  

Their voices blend beautifully, like only family members can. Don't know how they do it.  No hymn book.  No sheet music.  Just one song after the other.  No break.  No stopping to discuss what they should sing next.  

It's always the same.  The songs of praise to our Lord and Master just flow out of them in an endless stream.  How blessed we are to have this free concert seeping into every corner of Shiloh.  They are welcome any time they want to come.  
 
We love this ministry with all its ups and downs. With all the challenges and uncertainties. With each day being unique.  We wouldn't change a thing, even if we could. Every day and in every way we are blessed beyond measure.  We receive so much more than we ever give.

Thursday, June 23, 2016

He arrived this morning.  Sent here by his pastor.  Was a student at the University seven years ago.  Living in a dorm on campus.  Two young ladies from Campus Crusade knocked on his door.  Shared the gospel with him.  Accepted the Lord Jesus as his Savior.  Became active in Campus Crusade.  Grew spiritually.  But then it slowly happened.  Busy with school.  Busy with other things.  Life interfered.  God got left out.  

He's not happy with the way things are.  Wants to come back to God.  Pastor sent him to us.  Shiloh exists for people like him.  Spent some time counseling him this morning.  He's an avid reader.  Busy devouring books on prayer and on our life in Christ.  Amazed with what he is already discovering.  Will be here until Sunday.  Promised to pray for him.  Couldn't believe we would pray for someone like him.

This Christian life is full of ups and downs.  Bumps in the road.  We fall off the straight and narrow.  We've all done it.  We're perfectly imperfect in every way.  He's no different than the rest of us.  But the road back to God is short.  He's just a prayer away.  In fact, He's been there all along.

Wednesday, June 22, 2016

It all began forty-five years ago today.  We were traveling around the nation, serving on an evangelistic team.  I was seven and a half months into a problem pregnancy.  Just thirteen months before we had lost our first baby.  The doctors never figured out why.  Jim had taken me to live with his parents so I could be near my doctor.  He went back to the team, with the promise that he would join me for the final wait.  Saying good-bye was hard.  In twenty-two months of marriage we had never been apart.  But we knew it was the right thing to do.  We wanted this baby more than life itself and we were willing to make any sacrifice.  The following morning I woke up in labor.  Jim was notified to come right back, and then Mom rushed me to the hospital.  Not long after Jim joined me, I was taken into the delivery room.  My favorite husband was allowed to be with me.  It was a real new thing to let Dads in, and my hospital was on the leading edge of the newest and latest.  Not only did Jim not faint like Dad's were supposed to, he was utterly fascinated by the whole procedure, and a great help to me.  Before we knew it, our baby had arrived!  A boy!  We were so in awe of God Who chose to bless us so enormously. 

My precious baby was held up by his feet for me to see.  I caught a brief glimpse and then they whisked him away.  He went by ambulance to another hospital.  They gave him a 50/50 chance to live.  The first 24 hours were critical.  And thus began some of the longest days of our lives.  Our baby was so premature.  His lungs weren't fully developed.  He was a weak sucker so he could not nurse.  They fed him through a tube.  They ran a bazillion tests on him.  He was in an incubator.  Then he turned jaundice.  They taped cotton balls over his eyes and put him  under the lights.  He had tubes running all over the place.  When I finally got to see him, long about day three, they wouldn't let me touch him.  I sat in a chair by his incubator and prayed for my baby.  We prayed night and day.  Many others joined us in praying.  Little by little our baby turned a corner.  He was going to live.  But he had to stay in the hospital.  Our faith grew by leaps and bounds as we clung to the God of the Impossible.

Then one glorious day the hospital phoned to say we could take our baby home in the morning.  I hardly slept that night, I was so excited.  It was his one month birthday.  He was so tiny.  He was swimming in new born clothing.  Preemie clothing had not been invented yet.  He needed to be fed every two hours around the clock.  But he was there, and he was alive, and he was ours.  Our joy knew no bounds.

From time to time over the next number of years, one friend or another would call to say her friend had just delivered a premature baby and it was touch and go.  Would I be willing to go with her  and share my story in order to give the new mom some hope.  On those occasions I would drag my first born with me.  My story always helped, but the greatest blessing was for her to see an example of what her baby might look like in X number of years.

Happy 45th Favorite Oldest Son!  May God continue to use you for His honor and glory for many more years to come.

Monday, June 20, 2016

God is absolutely, indescribably amazing.  Sometimes He sends someone along with a little word here, an unexpected comment there, and suddenly the flood-lights come on.  Things previously unknown become startlingly clear.  Lots of little pieces begin falling into place.  And we find ourselves snuggling down even deeper into our Father's breathtaking love.  It was one of those kind of days.

Sunday, June 19, 2016

Left Shiloh in the pre-dawn gray of 5 a.m.  At 9 p.m. returned home in the pitch blackness of a  torrential downpour of Noah proportions.  Three hours down to Daoula.  Five and a half hours back to Yaounde.  Sandwiched in-between was a delightful visit with dear friends.

Five years of marriage.  Endless visits to doctors.  Final visit to fertility specialist resulted in "nothing more to try".  They were simply not able to have children.  Our friend looked at her specialist and declared "Now we will see what God will do."  Five months into the pregnancy that could not happen, went to visit the specialist.  Wanted to give testimony to what God alone can do.  Is going back when the baby they couldn't have turns five months old.  Wants the doctor to see for herself what only God can do.

We arrived one month and one day after the birth of their little "crowned prince".  They promised him that his one month party would be a day late.  The white grandparents were coming.  There would be a celebration.  And what a celebration we had!  We brought gifts, held him while he slept, took many pictures, and ate.  My how we ate!  Breakfast was waiting for us.  Didn't want us to starve.  Knew we had gotten up a great while before dawn. 

We ate and talked and talked and ate.  Stories came spilling out about our own babies that Guy had never heard before.  After working very closely with us for nine years, he thought he knew everything there was to know about Papa Jim and Mama Alice.   He can hardly wait for breakfast at Shiloh on Monday morning.  Has big plans for telling the rest of our team "Did you know that Papa Jim and Mama Alice..."  We'll see.

We weren't the only grandparents there.  The Crown Prince is the first on all sides of the family.  After a five year wait, and with him being the only one, and a BOY thrown in for good measure, well you can imagine the joy one small little bundle is bringing into the lives of all concerned.  

While waiting for the baby to wake up, the men took Guy on a tour of the house.  Mama Alice and the new mama settled down for some girl talk.  Confiding fears and hopes and dreams and plans for this new responsibilities' future.  We could have kept on talking, but the guys came back too soon.

The new parents had this strange notion that we would only want to see their pride and joy with his eyes open wide.  Silly people!  So we waited and waited and waited for the Crown Prince to wake up and come downstairs to meet us.  Eventually it was decided he had to make his grand appearance while sound asleep, or not at all.  

There he was!  His own sweet little self.  Looking now like Daddy and then a glimpse of Mommy.  Yes.  No doubt about it.  He's a keeper.  He never cried, never fussed, was the calmest, most peaceful baby ever.  So precious.  So sweet.  So tiny.  So loved.  Papa Jim prayed for this little life, that he might grow up to serve and honor God with all his heart. 

He was laid back into his little bed so we could all file back into the dining room for T-H-E feast.  There was chicken, and fish, and fried plantains, and rice, and a special sauce, and several kinds of tropical fruit, and surely there must have been something else which I have now forgotten.  And the grandmothers were there too.  How we enjoyed our last hour together around that table!

Then it was time to go.  We scooped up our happy memories and the many pictures we had taken.  All too soon we were giving good-bye hugs all around and heading back to the bus.  

 

Friday, June 17, 2016

Phone calls were sprinkled all through this day.  

Sister Rose is going to America for six weeks.  It's everybody's dream destination. 

Senator Paul reported in.  Just back from the Far North.  Was sent on official government business.  Probably won't see him this time, but good to hear his voice.  Brought us up-to-date on his activities.  We hold him up in prayer.

Heard from the U.S. Embassy.  Still working on Guy's invitation to the annual Independence Day celebration.  Learned it will be held on June 30th.  Such an honor to be included on the guest list. 

Talked with our friend who is a Manguisa pastor.  Big meeting coming up in Sa'a on the 28th for all Manguisa pastors.  We're not invited, but will be at a follow-up meeting next month.

Then there was the man who called to discuss a group coming in to use Shiloh for a day long event.  Wanted to know all the details.  

Our driver phoned. Had we already purchased tickets for tomorrow's trip to Daoula?  He's going down to Edea and could transport us that far.  Tickets were purchased a couple of days ago.  We're organized.  None of this last minute stuff for us!  Staying with Plan A.  Picking us up in 8 hours.  We're good to go.  Just need some sleep, showers, and a quick bite to eat.

Time for bed.  3:45 a.m. alarm is coming all too soon.

 

Wednesday, June 15, 2016

Went to the Peace Corps office today.  It was Senator Paul's suggestion.  He thought we might be able to sell market bags made by prisoners from the Foumban Prison at their office.  Just an idea.  Worth trying.  Was certain that his good name would get us past the guards and inside the office.  Wasn't quite that easy.  The guards weren't impressed.  No appointment?  Didn't know the director's name?  Who were we and why were we trying to get inside the gate anyway?  Turned out my white skin did the trick.  Sometimes it pays to be white.  Sometimes it's better to be black.  

Didn't see the director.  Didn't see his assistant.  Saw the number three person.  A lovely Cameroonian lady.  Very professional.  We were treated well.  She was curious about me.  "How long had you been in Cameroon?  25 years?  Really?  And how often do you come out here?  You LIVE in Cameroon?  Have LIVED here for 25 years?  Wow!  The Director will want to meet you!  And your husband, he's Cameroonian, right?  He's an American, too?!!!  Wow!  The Director and his assistant will both want to meet you!!  You are just the kind of person they are looking for.  They will be in touch with you soon.  Thank you soooooo much for stopping by the office.  It has been such an honor to meet you and to get to visit with you." 

Maybe this drop-in-visit will turn out to be something.  Maybe not.  One never knows.  

Stopped by the U.S. Embassy to meet the new director of CLO (Community Liaison Office).  We have a longstanding relationship with CLO.  We don't want that to fall apart with the changing of the guard.  Turns out the new director has worked for the Embassy for fifteen years.  He's a lovely man.  Had a good first visit.  He wants to continue the relationship.  

Tried to see the new director of the Commissary while we were there.  Discovered the "new director" that we had been told about didn't last.  There's another new director.  Didn't get to see her.  Talked with the lowest person in the Commissary.  She's also new in her job.  Young, scared, intimidated by all the white people at the Embassy.  But we extracted a promise from her that she will give our contact information to the new director.  And more importantly, we got the name of the new lady so we can follow her up if she does not follow up with us.  We really don't want to loose this contact.  It's important for Shiloh Association.

And we received invitations to the annual Independence Day celebration, the biggest event of the U.S. Embassy's year.  Jim and I and Guy and Marie have been going to this event for several years now.  As far as we know, we are the only missionaries on the invitation list. 
 

Tuesday, June 14, 2016

I've been phoning her regularly for about a year now.  Ever since she  phoned to tell us that her husband, who's 15 years older than her, was in real bad health.  He spent three months in the hospital during one stretch.  And it's been home again for a few weeks, and back to the hospital again for a few days, weeks, or longer ever since.  

Three months ago she was so relieved.  He was much better than he had been for a long, long time.  The difficult months were finally behind them.  The wheelchair had been returned to the hospital.  He slowly walks outside each day and sits on the front porch, enjoying being outdoors.  The future was bright.  There was much to praise God for.

Since things were going so well, I thought I could wait three months to check up on my dear friend, instead of making monthly calls.  But now her gentle, kind husband was once again back in the hospital.  They had been there for several days.  Waiting on test results.  Wondering how long it would be this time.  She was so grateful to hear my voice.  She knew she could count on my prayers.  

Wish I could drop in for a visit.  She could really use the encouragement.  But the 8-9 hour bus trip that separates us makes that impossible.  So we will visit by phone.  I'm calling her in two weeks.  Maybe there will be better news then.  And I'm praying.

 

Monday, June 13, 2016

We sent Guy into town today to buy our round trip tickets for Saturday.  Jim, Guy, and I are taking the first bus down to Daoula, visiting the new baby, and coming right back to Yaounde.  We hope to be safely back at Shiloh by dark.  Guy also took our gifts to town and had them gift wrapped.  We phoned Crystal to make final arrangements.  She and Hervey are excitedly looking forward to showing off their miracle baby boy to us.  They can't believe that we would go to all this effort just for them.  It's true that it will be a long day, but we are traveling on a V.I.P. bus.  New, air conditioned, roomy seats, on board bathroom that is kept clean throughout the trip, WiFi, on board hostess, meal provided...what more could we ask?  And yes, we will more than likely nap both going and coming.

Meanwhile back at Shiloh: 
*Jim repaired a door handle on one of the bedrooms.  The locking mechanism was in bad   shape. 
*Alice tried out a new mango cake recipe.
*Doris cleaned two bedrooms, two bathrooms, and did some ironing.
*Francis spent the day cooking food ahead for future guests.
*Guests enjoyed individual spiritual retreats.

Sunday, June 12, 2016

She dropped by for a visit this afternoon.  We hadn't seen her in nearly a month.  Has a new job.  She's a cook.  And a very good one at that.  Worked for various and sundry Americans, Canadians, and Europeans over the years.  Can cook just about any type of Western food your mouth is watering for.  But she hasn't worked for a couple of years now.  Been making ends meet by selling some of her pastries to Westerners.

That's why she reluctantly accepted her new position.  She's working for a Cameroonian family this time around.  But she wanted us to understand that she won't stick around if they don't treat her at least passably OK.  She listed off all the typical ways Cameroonians treat their house help/cook.  Make you work extra hard.  Complain loudly over every little infraction, real or imagined.  Come pay day the excuses are pulled out.  Don't have any money today.  Will pay you tomorrow.  Or in a week.  That can be stretched on for a very long time.  Just until you figure out that pay was not part of the job.  

So she has a new job.  But for how long?  She's not holding her breath.  This isn't a new story.  It happens every day, all over the place.  Our heart aches for our friend, and all others in the same boat.

Saturday, June 11, 2016

Doris surprised us today when she told us that she has recently changed churches.  A number of years ago, the lady who led her to the Lord invited her to attend church with her.  Doris was there that very first Sunday and has been involved in the church ever since.  It's a big church with lots of activities.  They enjoy solid Bible teaching.  She never thought of changing churches for any reason until...  

A new church started up in her neighborhood.  They are renting a building a stones throw from her place.  Her old church is a long ways away from her place.  It costs quite a bit each month for taxi fare back and forth several times a week.  Finally Doris felt it would be good for her to join with this new group and begin helping out.  The pastor is a godly man.  His wife is active in the ministry with him.  They have little children.  There is another man in the church who is also a strong Christian.  He is serving in a leadership role.  There is much work to do in a new church like this.  In just a few months time they have already attracted around thirty people to their Sunday services.  Ten of those are children.  Of the twenty adults (the oldest being 38 years old) only the pastor, his wife, the man, and Doris are true children of God.  All the rest are good religious people who enjoy attending church on Sunday.  They come from every church background imaginable.  They are all thrilled to have a church within walking distance from their homes.  And so Doris has taken on a leadership role, too.  We are delighted to learn how God is using her.  She is putting together a choir which she will lead.  She works with the children.  She is the one who counsels the ladies when they have issues they need help with.  And so our girl is becoming ever more useful for the Glory of God. 

Friday, June 10, 2016

The current group here at Shiloh will be eating breakfast tomorrow at 7:30 a.m. Some partially made homemade sourdough cranberry nut bread is spending the night in the refrigerator.  The alarm is going off at 5 a.m.  If all goes as planned, our guests should be enjoying fresh from the oven bread with their morning coffee.  They hope to be on the road by 8 a.m.  They have a long day's drive ahead of them to reach their village before nightfall.  We want them to leave Shiloh fortified for the trip.

Thursday, June 9, 2016

This is the third night in a row that he has stayed here at Shiloh.  He's an assistant pastor from Daoula and has stayed here numerous times in the past.  But this time he needs a place to stay to be near his mother-in-law.  She's in her mid-50s and is a strong Christian.  When he got the phone call that she had contracted meningitis, he was on the next bus to Yaounde to help out.  After getting her to a local hospital and under a doctor's care, he came to Shiloh for the night.  As he left early the next morning, he told us that he was going back to visit his mother-in-law and then would be returning to Daoula.  But that's not how things turned out.  He did visit his mother-in-law, and he did go to the bus station to buy a ticket for his return trip.  It was at that moment that he received a phone call from the hospital telling him that his mother-in-law had taken a turn for the worse.  He rushed back across town to be with her.  The doctor informed him that her kidneys were now failing and she would need to go on dialysis.  He stayed with her through the first treatment and then came back to Shiloh for night number two.  He left Shiloh at 6 a.m. today, assuring me that no matter what happened, he was going directly back to Daoula.  He had to.  He had not brought a change of cloths with him.  It was late afternoon when the call came.  Could he have his room back for one more night?  He had barely arrived back home in Daoula when the hospital again phoned to say his mother-in-law had taken another turn for the worse.  So he boarded the bus and headed back to Yaounde.  He was with her for her second kidney dialysis treatment and then brought his weary body back to Shiloh.  The doctor says she will have one more dialysis treatment tomorrow morning.  Then they will do tests to see if the kidneys are functioning properly.  If not, things will not go well for his mother-in-law. 

Wednesday, June 8, 2016

The moment I heard her voice on the phone, I knew what this call was all about.

"Do we have a baby?" I asked.  

"Yes!  We have a baby!" she excitedly replied. 

(Read my December 26, 2015 blog to get the background on this story.)

Ten days earlier our dear friend had given birth to a precious little boy.  I asked how she was doing.  She quickly brushed aside the pain of childbirth to dwell on the wonders of finally having their own child.  When I inquired about the new father, the phone was quickly handed to him.  

"Mama Alice," he said, "from time to time we will be calling you to be asking for ideas on how to raise our son."  

We've raised three sons, so they consider us experts on the topic.  It's been a few years though.  Our "baby" is 41 years old! 

We're planning a trip down to Daoula to meet this latest grandchild of ours.   Guy, Jim and I plan on taking the first bus out of town on Saturday, June 18th.  We've already bought a gift. We'll spend a couple of hours holding this new little bundle of joy.  We'll take lots of pictures.  And then we'll get right back on the bus and arrive back in Yaounde before dark, if all goes as planned.

Monday, June 6, 2016

It wasn't the day we had planned.  Not at all.  The taxi was picking Guy and I up in 15 min. We had three errands to run.  Shouldn't take more than two hours tops.  Doris had already started cleaning a room that a guest had vacated last evening.  There was also a bathroom waiting for her TLC.  Then there would be some ironing.  Francis was preparing to make a chicken pot pie to freeze ahead for the next guest.  And Papa Jim was hoping to make progress on his fan repair project.

And then the phone rang and everything was turned upside down.  Would Jim be able to look at a missionary's car and diagnosis the problem?  Our friend had lost confidence in the mechanic his mission uses.  He remembered that Jim had done a superb job of fixing his car.  Must have been 13 - 14 years ago.  Could he bring the car by around 2:30 p.m.?

Jim, Francis, and Doris were instantly switched over to emptying out our under the stairs storage room.  Jim's seldom used auto tools had to be there somewhere.  The car came for Guy and I, but we promised to join the fun just as soon as we could get back to Shiloh.

Fortunately Jim managed to find the right tools fairly quickly, and was busy getting everything in order.  Since so many boxes had already been hauled outside, why not go ahead and just empty the whole room out?  Before long the four of us had everything piled around outside.  Then came the cleaning part.  Walls were divested of cobwebs, and an impressive mountain of dirt was swept up.  Even the floor got a bath.  

Meanwhile Jim had gladly abandoned us to the cleaning work when the ailing car arrived. Diagnosing and repairing cars beats cleaning any day of the week.  

With an hour and a half left in our work day, we began returning things to the storage room.  Boxes were cleaned, labeled, and put back in an orderly fashion.  Finally the mammoth job was done, and so were we!  (All done in that is!)

Mechanic Jim and friend were still having fun working on the car, so I decided to tackle the dishes.  With a cook and a cook's assistant, it's rare that I wash dishes.  But the kitchen was a mess and I just couldn't end the day that way.

Wonder what tomorrow will bring?

Sunday, June 5, 2016

I hadn't seen her in 13 years.  Back when we lived in the village, she was the one in the family that my heart went out to.  As a young teenager she had been taken out of school and turned into little more than the family slave.  She cooked all the meals, did all the laundry, cleaned house, washed all the dishes, and did whatever else she was made to do.  She had no time for fun.  It was a life of absolute drudgery.  On those rare times when only she and I were left in the compound, she would come into our room, sit on our bed, and pour out her heart to me.  Many a time I put my arms around her and held her as she cried.  I would pray for her with tears running down my cheeks.  Always I tried to point her to God, Who was her only hope.  

What a surprise to see her again after all these years.  Shortly after arriving at our village house on Friday, she showed up.  I got the biggest bear hug of all times!  And she kept clinging to me for a long time.  A quiet girl who is not given to much talking, she began telling me what had happened to her these last thirteen years.  First she had a son by an unnamed person who did not stick around to care for the child.  The following year a young man laid eyes on her and took her for his common law wife.  They have been together for four years now and have had two children.  A handful of weeks ago she brought her three children back to her father's house to wait for her "husband" to come and pay the bride price, and then marry her officially.  She just beams when she talks about a man wanting to marry her.  Imagine that!  She who was so despised and unloved in her father's home is finally going to be married!  She said she would invite me to her wedding.  

Thursday, June 2, 2016

In less than an hour the car will pick us up.  The ice chest is packed with food.  With no electricity in the village, there is no refrigeration.  Menus are carefully planned.  Ice packs will no longer be cold before it is time to head back to civilization.  

The driver of the car we normally rent for village visits is a strong Christian.  He's a hard working young man and eager to help.  In fact, upon our arrival, all three men will quickly unload the car, and then Guy and our driver will begin hauling water.  Depending on how low our water barrels are, they may take two or three  trips back and forth to the well.  The car is a great blessing.  Imagine hauling all that water by hand!  And yes, we've done it before.  But that was back when I was much younger, and still able to carry a bucket of water by myself.

The next job on the list is cutting back the jungle.  We live in a tropical rain forest.  It's rainy season and things are GROWING at a rapid rate.  

Meanwhile Papa Jim and I will be busy opening the house and attacking the build-up of spider webs, dirt, and mouse droppings.  I sincerely hope we don't come across any more mice nests.  We will also open our metal storage trunks and will put things back on the shelves.  Those trunks are an absolute life saver.  Before we bought them (they are made in Yaounde and sold on the street) we had a terrible problem with mice.  They chew through most anything and make an awful mess.  Some things cannot be salvaged.

Then it will be time for me to start cooking our evening meal.  We've invited some pastors to our village house for a meeting.  Since the meeting starts at 4 p.m. Cameroonian time, which means that's an approximate time, it is a good idea to end the meeting with a meal.  But we have no idea how many pastors will come.  It could be anything from one up to we have no idea.  So how much to cook becomes any man's guess.  But somehow it will all work out.  It always does.

It's time to leave, so I'll quietly fade away now, with a promise to come back when we return to civilization.  Assuming, that is, that Shiloh will be blessed with both electricity AND internet connection at that time.  
In many tribes here in Cameroon (though not all of them) culture dictates what happens to a new widow.  Upon the death of her husband, his brother takes her as his wife.  This is the only instance where the man does not pay the bride price.  The woman's family understands that the man's family has already paid for her.  If the brother already has one or more wives, he just adds his brother's widow to the group.  Polygamy is quite common in many (though not all) tribes, even today.  

We recently learned that in some tribes, polygamy was introduced many generations ago to eliminate the problem of prostitution.  It was thought that if a man had many wives to choose from, he would not stray from home, seeking pleasure outside of marriage. 

Nice theory.  Papa Jim has had it explained to him, in minute detail, exactly what would happen to him if he even entertained thoughts of taking on a second wife.

Wednesday, June 1, 2016

First thing this morning we were scrambling around trying to find a pick-up truck to rent.  Shortly after 10 a.m. arrangements were made, the truck arrived, and we loaded up.  Papa Jim and Mama Alice squeezed into the front.  Papa Jim graciously took the space between the bucket seats along with half of the passenger's seat.  This made it possible for Mama Alice to have the arm rest smashed into her right side.  Fortunately the ride lasted around 20 minutes each way.  Hardly long enough to notice any discomfort.  Guy and Joseph rode in the back.  We headed out to a missionaries house to buy a good, used refrigerator from them.

It's a neat story.  Purchased new back in 2004 for around $1,000, this fridge was not budgeted to be replaced for several more years.  Then one fine day it gave up the ghost.  Just like that.  No advanced warning.  So the missionary couple went into town and purchased a new one, similar size and make, for $2,000.  When they plugged the new fridge in, to their shock and horror, it did not work either!  This cannot be!  So they plugged it into another outlet and it worked just fine.  Hmm...maybe they should plug in the old one in another outlet, too. It also worked just fine.  The outlet had gone bad, not the fridge.  Oops!  Well, there was nothing to do but sell the old fridge.  They priced it at $160 and we bought it sight unseen.  Bargains like this don't come along every day.  

One of our two old refrigerators is on it's last legs.  But it can die any time now.  We're prepared.  Trust me, when Papa Jim declares something "dead" it is really dead.  He can breath life into most any ailing appliance.  That's one of many reasons why we keep him around.