Saturday, July 30, 2016

I was all set to go out the door when Eric texted me to say he was caught in traffic and would be at Shiloh as soon as he could get there.  And then the door bell rang.  Doris opened the gate to Effie, of all people.  What was he doing here?  He never drops in for a visit.  He's way too busy for that.  But here he was, holding out a bottle of sparkling grape juice and a thank you card.  

I invited him into the living room, still wondering what this was all about.  And then the story spilled out.  He had come to say "thank you" to us in person for all we had done for the village chiefs who stayed at Shiloh earlier in the week. He went on and on about how we had made such a large contribution to the success of their meetings.  Us?  What had we done?  

The chiefs were so overwhelmed to be welcomed into the home of Christians.  They said they never imagined they would see the day when they would be invited to stay with Christians.  But we greeted them warmly each evening when they came back to Shiloh.  And we told them "good morning" each day as they came out of their rooms. They were treated so well, they said.  Effie said our treatment of them was such an important illustration to these village chiefs of all that he was trying to present to them in his meetings.  
You see, Effie was doing something that had never been done before.  He was bringing village pastors and village chiefs together for three days of meetings. Seventy men from half as many different tribes sat together around a conference table and discussed how they could help each other.  It was a time of reconciliation.  A time of discovering each others value and strength.  A time of stepping into the future together to find ways to help their respective tribes prepare to receive God's Word translated into their language.

Who knew when we were cleaning toilets, sweeping floors, dusting furniture, and warmly greeting our guests, that we were having such a profound impact on their lives?  We were just us, busy doing what we always do.  And God was busy being God, doing what only He can do.  Somehow the chiefs saw glimpses of Him shining through our lives.  And all the praise and all the honor and all the glory goes to His lovely name.

Friday, July 29, 2016

When he brought me back to Shiloh, I handed him 6.000 F as I got out of the taxi.  

"Wow!  Thank you!  Are you sure you want to give all of this to me?" he asked. 

Since I couldn't figure out what he was talking about, I re-calculated how much I owed him.  Reminded him that he picked me up at 6 p.m. It was now 7:15 p.m.  He agreed.  So what was so special about paying him for the second hour?  It's what his government says we are supposed to do when we hire a taxi by the hour.  Anything over the hour is charged as another full hour, no matter how little of that hour is used.

He hastened to informe me that, while it is the government established regulation, very few people abide by it.  More often than not, he is cheated out of his fair pay.  I'm one of the few that is scrupliously honest.

He helped me carry my purchases into Shiloh, handed them to the guard, and turned and gave me a great big hug.  With tears in his eyes he thanked me for being so honest and so kind to him.  

If others can't see Jesus in me, what's the point of being a missionary?



 

Thursday, July 28, 2016

Busy, busy day.  Said good-bye to one guest when the five important men left at 7 a.m. Remaining four spending last night at Shiloh tonight.  Will leaving 7 a.m. tomorrow as meetings ended today.  

Doris quickly cleaned vacated room.  New person moved in an hour later.  

Washed clothes for Simeon and his new family, and helped in various other ways.

Two trips into town.  Morning trip with Guy.  Afternoon trip with Doris.  Returned to Shiloh exhausted, stiff, and sore.  Bursitis acting up again.  Time marches on.  Effects of aging becoming more noticeable. Nobody stays young forever.

Tomorrow promises to be even busier. Four bedrooms and three bathrooms to clean.  New people to welcome.  Shiloh will fill right back up before days end.  In addition, yogurt and granola to make.

Heading for bed.  

Wednesday, July 27, 2016

Simeon.  Knee high to a grasshopper.  Cute as a bugs ear.  Black as coal.  With a smile too big for his face.  Bright.  Curious.  Laughing.  Hugging.  Loving.  Running.  Lugging around handfuls of toy cars.  Looking at books.  Exploring.  Pounding rocks.  Happy, happy, oh so happy.

Simeon, newly adopted son of undetermined age.  Three?  Five?  Conflicting stories.  Tragic past.  Joy-filled present and unimaginably happy future.  Adoption is complete.  Two full months of paper work, red tape, and delays up in Bamenda.  Now to walk through the maze of Canadian paperwork.  Passport and visa perhaps in a month?  Maybe longer.  Delays, set-backs, hold-ups almost certain.  Nothing happens quickly.  But at the end, and the very end of all this effort waits a new Mom.  A new brother.  A new sister.  He's already with his new Dad and his new Grandma.  

Simeon is blessing Shiloh with his smiles while paperwork is submitted and the waiting continues.  Maybe in a week Dad and Grandma will be freed from red tape and able to scoop Simeon up and head for the beach for some fun.  

Meanwhile we intend to enjoy every minute of this pint sized package of pure joy.

Tuesday, July 26, 2016

They started trickling in yesterday shortly after 4 p.m.  The last two arrived at 8:30 p.m.  They are here for three days of training at a location not far from Shiloh.  These are all VIPs from various tribes around Cameroon.  We understand sixty were invited to attend, but only the most VIP among all the invitees are staying here at Shiloh.

The first two to arrive were older gentlemen from the same tribe.  They are happily sharing the downstairs bedroom which comes with a private bath.  

An hour and a half late two men arrived.  The first one through the gate was kindly, soft spoken, humble.  But right behind him was "Mr. Big" with a woman trailing behind him.  "Here comes trouble," I thought.  It turns out he is a village chief and quite aware of his great importance. I soon learned the woman was one of his wives. While not part of the training session, it was important for her to inspect the chief's room.  It must be of the highest quality for a man of his stature.  We were neither surprised nor offended when she announced Shiloh was not to her liking.  With a sigh of relief, I let the chief and his lady back out into the night to find a better place.

But the last to arrive were the most interesting.  I was at the gate, greeting each guest as they came inside, shaking hands with everyone in good Cameroonian fashion.  To my surprise, when I extended my hand to an older man with a cane, he just stood there staring at me.  "Good evening, welcome to Shiloh," I said.  He leaned on his cane and kept staring.  Just as things were becoming really awkward, another older man came inside our gate and very quickly announced "We're Fons.  We don't touch people."  WOW!  I had committed a great big NO-NO!!!  I apologized and tried to turn this major social blunder into a joke.  When all else fails, just become the dumb American who doesn't know anything.

The second Fon is the very biggest of all the big VIPs at Shiloh at this moment.  He's a retired general in the Cameroonian Army.  He lived, of all places, in Tucson AZ for ten years.  He was decorated by President Regan for all his achievements during that time.  He then came back to Cameroon and served in the military for another ten years, stationed right here in Yaounde.  Now he is 70 years old and retired back to his village.  His father and his grandfather before him were Fons.  At the death of his father, he became the Fon.

So what is a Fon, you ask?  That's a very important village chief from the Northwest Region of Cameroonian.  The Fons are not appointed.  It is an inherited position.  A Fon can trace his ancestry back many generations before Germany colonized the country.

Though these two men are VIPs of the highest order, they are both very nice.  We are enjoying visiting with them.  They are far more agreeable than the chief who found Shiloh not to his liking.

Sunday, July 24, 2016

Her question took me off guard.  Normally I would have laughed and turned it off as a joke.  I'm adept at handling these situation.  And yet it arrested my attention. 

The problem is that, unbeknown to her, I have been praying for months the she would join our church choir.  They've been coming to our church for awhile now.  Her husband jumped in feet first and got involved in everything:  the men's group, mid-week prayer and Bible study, Friday night prayer meeting.  He's even joined an intimate group who gather weekly in the pastor's study to pray with him.  But the wife has steadfastly remained a Sunday-morning-church-service-only kind of person.  

Early on, the choir director learned she had sung in the choir in their former church, and pounced on her.  Our choir is small, struggling, and needs all the help it can get.  She would be a perfect addition.  But no amount of coaxing, cajoling, begging, or hinting has worked.  Until today.  

After the service, I happened out of the church building just in time to bump into the choir director, making one more desperate attempt to chide her into joining forces with the choir.  She laughingly retorted, "If Mama Alice will join the choir with me, then I will sing in the choir."  It was supposed to be a joke.  A quick witted way to get out of a tight spot.  Mama Alice would of course laugh it off and she would have successfully escaped this latest trap.  And yet, it arrested my attention.

Mama Alice didn't laugh it off.  Mama Alice began asking serious question.  Both audible and inaudible. 

"God, is this from you?"  

"Are you serious?  Would you really join the choir if we joined together?"  

"God I need to hear your voice.  Tell me clearly if this is from you."  

"What kind of a commitment would this be?"  

"God I've prayed so long for this very thing to happen.  Is this an answer to my prayers?  I don't want to run ahead of You.  Show me clearly if You are in this joking invitation."   

"OK.  I'm going to ask God what He wants me to do.  If He says 'Yes' then I'll join the choir with you.  Are you sure you are serious about this?  And would you walk me home after choir practice each week?"

As I walked home from church, God had a captive audience of one. I want to be sure this is from Him. My decision cannot be an impulsive one.  I have to be clearly led of Him, and then I'm willing to make any sacrifice necessary.  My life must be lived for His honor and glory.

Papa Jim was immediately enthusiastic. He didn't wait for the end of the story before he began pointing out all the ways He could see God leading me to join the choir.  That is an important first step to the answer I seek.  Without his approval, it's not from God.  That much I know for sure.

God has arrested my attention.  I'm praying.  I'm waiting.  I'm listening.  I will hear His voice and follow His clear leading.  

Saturday, July 23, 2016

Dirt mixed with even a little bit of water quickly turns to mud.  Throw in a torrential rain storm the likes of which we are famous for out here in the tropics, and you have a veritable mud bath everywhere you put your feet, once outside Shiloh's gate.  

The rains are back and we are once again enjoying what is affectionately termed "muddy season."  Mud, when caked on shoes, has a tendency to fall off in little glops.  It doesn't take a sleuth to discover just who it was that walked into Shiloh with muddy shoes on their feet.  The trail leads from the front door, right on up the stairs, and straight to the culprits bedroom door.  This scenario generally brings a smile to my face.  Only because it rarely falls on me to clean up the mess.  Oh the joys of muddy season!

Friday, July 22, 2016

If you have a car, it probably has a trunk.  A trunk to put stuff in.  Spare tire.  Maybe one of those specially designed bags to carry car-type stuff so it won't roll all around in the nearly empty trunk.  Some water for the radiator.  Couple of tools.  Some rags.  A liter of oil.  What else?  Sometimes you fill the trunk up with bags of groceries.  Maybe sports equipment.  Or a picnic lunch.  What about that funky floor lamp you found at a garage sale?  If you hold your mouth just right you can barely close the trunk lid.

But who said trunks were only for those ordinary things?  Why can't we go outside the box and get creative here.  And who said trunk lids had to close?  Is that a law?  Come to think of it, maybe where you is, it IS a law.  

So come with me to Cameroon, the land of endless uses for a car trunk.  You can always stuff one more oversized 100 lb. bag full of rice or corn or you name it into a smallish Toyota taxi trunk.  And if all else fails, that last bag can be wedged between the back window and the open trunk lid.  If you get real creative, you can cantilever a propaine gas bottle out the back of the trunk, wedged between one of those oversized bags filled with who knows what, and the bottom of the trunk.  If you can close the trunk lid even half way, it can be tied shut with strips of inner-tube rubber.  Great rope substitute.  It's sold all over the place.  And quite cheaply, too.  Entirely too large pieces of furniture can be muscled into the trunk of a car.  How about a full sized fridge?  Think it can't be done?  Try it sometime.  With a bit of determination, absolutely anything can fit into the trunk of a car.  Even people.  I've seen 3-4 guys squished together in the open trunk of a car, with other stuff shoved in all around them.  Every now and again a taxi trundles past with someone sitting in the partially closed trunk, hanging on for dear life to a two wheel cart that is bouncing along behind the vehicle.  
All of this is so common place that I don't even think to take my camera and capture it on film for you to marvel over.  

Thursday, July 21, 2016

She sashayed through Shilo's front gate the other day.  A million watt smile lit up her face.  Even her eyes were laughing.  And before she came into our yard, her pudgy little three year old hand landed on a hip.  She was so cute.  I've often seen her with her hand on her hip.  She's the only Cameroonian little girl that I know who strikes that pose.  This time I discovered why she does that.  Her mother informed me that she is trying to imitate me.  ME???  I don't look like that!  Well, that is, until my eyes traveled down to my hip where I discovered my hand firmly attached.  As I live and breath!!  I guess I do have a hand on a hip much of the time.  I never noticed.

Wednesday, July 20, 2016

This afternoon I took a break from work to look inside our upright freezer.  It's a full size American freezer.  We bought it a number of years ago from some missionaries who were returning to America for good.  Normally it's full with made-ahead meals for future guests, bread, banana bread, homemade ice cream, meat, chicken, fish, and various and sundry other things.  But now, as we've passed the half-way mark in this month of very limited resources which resulted in no market shopping at all, I just wanted to see how we're doing.  I was awe struck by both how empty the freezer is (can't remember when I've seen so many  empty shelves) and yet how much food is still left.  I saw many future meals staring back at me (some already prepared and some waiting for my creative genius).  No doubt about it.  We will easily make it through to next month.  What an amazing Father we serve.  He always takes care of His own.

Tuesday, July 19, 2016

We no longer know how long this project has taken.  The days melted into weeks which turned into months.  Has it been three months?  Four?  Good grief!!  How long does it take to do the annual Spring Housecleaning at Shiloh???  Of course you have to know a few things before you label us the slowest cleaning crew on the face of the earth.  We can only work in and around the edges of our guests.  Sometimes the work comes to a grinding halt for a day or a week or two. And we don't just clean.  We sort through everything, organize shelves and closets and cupboards, and find new home for whatever we no longer need.  We have twenty one windows to clean, each with it's own personal pair of shutters.  There are five outside doors downstairs, and two outside doors upstairs.  It's a five thousand square foot, two story house with lots of nooks and crannies.  And enough balconies and porches for everyone!  Yesterday we all trudged out to the carport and tore it apart, cleaned it from head to foot, and put everything back in a well organized fashion.  So of course we had a torrential tropical storm blow in last night that dumped unending sheets of rain on us most of the night.  This morning we woke up to an inch of mud that has washed off the road in front of Shiloh, slid under the car gate, and journeyed on down the driveway, to end up in our clean carport!!!  Such is life in the tropics.  But today, this very day, July 19, 2016, we finished the last of the last of the cleaning, sorting, and tossing. 

Now to get really serious about the landscaping.  We always do a bit of snipping here, some trimming there, cutting back the jungle growth over yonder.  It's a continuous project out here.  But tomorrow we put on our gardening gloves and live outside for the next week or two while we put the spit shine on everything.  We will take our already beautiful miniature Garden of Eden and take it to a higher level of WOW!  We're just crazy enough to love doing this kind of work.

Monday, July 18, 2016

It is quite rare to meet a Cameroonian who grew up in a Christian home.  Most are first generation Christians.  But today we learned that our pastor's GRANDFATHER was a strong Christian!  Unheard of!  Unbelievable!  Amazing!  But true.

Grandfather lived all his life in his village of origin.  Every day he would gather all the members of his family around him.  They would sit outside with Grandfather while he taught them from the Word of God.  What an amazing heritage!  Grandfather was over one hundred years old.  Last Saturday Grandfather went back into the house after his daily Bible teaching session with his family, sat back down in his favorite chair as usual, and went Home to Glory.  Just like that.  No final illness.  Alert and clear thinking to the end.  And his final act was to instruct his family in the ways of the Lord.  Our Pastor, one of Grandfather's many grandchildren, happened to be in the village at the time of Grandfather's home-going.  He and two other family members gently bathed Grandfather's body and dressed him in his best clothing.  Then they lovingly carried his body to the backseat of our Pastor's car and transported it to the morgue.  Though the family is mourning the loss of Grandfather, they are rejoicing in the wonderful assurance that, one day soon, they will be reunited in Glory.  And they are planning quite a celebration for when they bury Grandfather's body.  It will be a large funeral.  The gospel will be clearly presented.  God will be glorified because of Grandfather's life that was invested in the Kingdom.

Sunday, July 17, 2016

We were eating breakfast with our team the other morning when a story spilled out.  While we knew bits and pieces, we had never heard it in its entirety.

Eight years ago we were in the throes of moving from Shiloh's first location in Odza to where we are now.  While the new house was actually a bit larger than the old, the property was significantly smaller.  Shiloh Odza was situated on an acre of terraced and beautifully landscaped land.  All those lawns, hedges, flower gardens, and trees took a lot of work.  We had a full time gardener on our team.  In fact our day crew numbered five and we had a full time night guard as well.  But the new location with its postage-stamp size cement yard needed very little outdoor work.  We felt we could get by with only two people during the day, plus the night guard.  It was tough to know who to keep and who to let go, but through much discussion and prayer, we finally made the decision.  We would let the night guard go and would offer that post to Francis, who was actually one of our newest team members.  But he had proven himself to be valuable in the time he was with us and we didn't want to let him go.  

And thus begins the story Francis recently shared with us.  Ever since he was old enough to start looking for work, Francis had promised himself that he would NEVER take a night guard position.  Truth be told, he's afraid of the dark and doesn't even want to think of all the scary things he would have to deal with all night long, night after night.   Being a night guard was not for him.  No way.  Not now.  Not ever.  Not under any circumstances.  Then one day we offered him an opportunity to move with us to the new location, but only in the position of night guard.  We had no clue he felt the way he did about the job.  By that time he had grown spiritually to the point that he was starting to let God run his life.  While he really didn't want the job, he felt maybe God wanted him to take it.  So he accepted the offer, and we remained ignorant of what we were asking him to do.  

He reports that it was during those months that he was our night guard that his faith was stretched and he grew spiritually.  When a torrential tropical rainstorm blew in during the night, he would put on his hooded jacket, grab the flashlight, and go outside.  He was shivering cold, and scared to death.  But as he walked around outside all during the rainstorm, he was cast on the Lord.  He refused to stay inside the house because he knew that many thieves break into houses during the heavy rains.  As a child of God, he took his responsibility to do his job to the best of his ability very seriously.  And he cried out to God night after night for safety and protection for all of us.  He slowly began to see that our Heavenly Father was more than able to protect him in the middle of his worst fears.  

Today Francis looks back on those difficult months as the time when he grew the most spiritually.  He says it was there, walking around outside in the heavy rain, that he proved the faithfulness of God.  He learned to cling to Him as never before.  While he has no desire to give up being our cook and go back to being a night guard, he is so grateful for the time spent outside in the rain in the middle of the night.  He wouldn't change that experience for the world.

Friday, July 15, 2016

She came for a four day spiritual retreat.  Day after day Shiloh was filled with the sound of her lovely voice, singing praises to the Lord.  She blessed us all.  Day three she came looking for me.  She asked question after question for over an hour.  And finally it came spilling out.  A man at church wants to marry her.  While he is also a Christian, and while she desires marriage, is he the right one for her?  It turns out that his life goals are going in one direction and hers are going in another.  Friends suggest there is something wrong with her.  She should be jumping at the chance to be getting married.  But she doesn't want to be getting married just to be getting married.  She wants to KNOW he is the one God has for her.  We examined her question in the light of God's Word.  That is our final authority.  "Will you pray for me?" she asked.  What an honor to join with her in crying out to God to make the way clear. 

Thursday, July 14, 2016

10:45 p.m. Doorbell rang.  Guard went to gate.  Shined light in eyes of man he could see through crack between gate and wall.  Saw man's car.  Man said he lost our phone number. Needed to come inside, make reservation for two day spiritual retreat.  Guard said to come back in morning.  

Guard woke us up.  Reported incident.  On high alert now.  Without a doubt man is a thief. 

Going back to bed.  Putting our confidence in the Almighty Who is the real guard here at Shiloh.

 

Wednesday, July 13, 2016

Hosted a luncheon for longtime linguist friend.  Eating, talking, eating, catching up on old times, eating, picking her brain on all things linguistic.  And did I mention eating?  Focused in on a tribal group of interest.  Informative, educative, enjoyable, encouraging, repeatable.  Made a date to continue discussion in early August.  

Watching God weave things together as only He can. His time, His way, His will.  All for His honor and glory.

Monday, July 11, 2016

It was an exceptionally rough morning for Doris.  A lady in her church died early this morning.  She had been sick for awhile.  It's a small, close knit group of Christians.  They all gathered together and spent her last hours on this earth with her.  It was a bitter sweet time as they watched this dear sister in the Lord slip away from them.  They are clinging to the bright hope of seeing her again one day in Glory.

Doris rushed back to her place to get ready for work.  She was already late, but knew we would be understanding when we heard what was going on.  She quickly left her apartment with a heart filled with sadness mingled with joy.  Just a short distance from her house she came upon a gruesome sight.  A young man had been killed, stripped of his clothes, and his badly battered body had been tossed off to the side of the road.  Neighbors and others were gathered around trying to figure out who he was.  Someone was phoning the police.  She was well traumatized when she arrived at work an hour and a half late.

Death is stark and out in the open here in Cameroon.  Only one life, 'twill soon be past.  Only what's done for Christ will last.

Sunday, July 10, 2016

It's been a busy Sunday.  Lots of people coming and going.  Started early with two pastors coming to inform a professor staying at Shiloh that he was preaching this morning.  But he's been to Africa many, many times, and was already prepared for a potential last minute preaching opportunity.  

By the time I took off for church at 8:45 a.m., the front gate had been opened and shut quite a few times.  Jim was on guard duty.  Shortly after I left, he let the last of our guests out as they headed to various churches in the area.  

When I came back to Shiloh, we enjoyed a quiet hour before the doorbell began ringing in earnest.  It seemed like every person who ever knew one or another of our guests came to visit them this afternoon.  Shiloh was hopping with people all afternoon.  Animated conversations were going on in every possible corner of the house.  One person would leave and shortly thereafter another arrived.  But Jim was gracious and kind and let me have some down time.  He was the faithful guard going back and forth to the gate every little while.  By the time Joseph, our night guard and only team member who works on Sunday, arrived at 6 p.m., all visits had ended.  The house returned to its normal tranquil self and we are relaxing in our room.  And thus ends our day of rest.  In a handful of hours another busy week will begin.

Saturday, July 9, 2016

She left the village when she was a young adult.  Got married.  Didn't work out.  Left her husband.  Been struggling ever since.  But in her struggles, found God.  The true and living God.  Changed her life completely.  Began praying for her family.  First one sibling and then another came to know her Lord and Savior.  Has other brothers who mock her continuously.  Problem is, they have "succeeded" in life by the world's standards.  She, on the other hand, has never found a real job.  Some days finds something small to do that brings in a bit of money.  Other days can't find any work of any kind.  Spends those days going about sharing her Lord with any who will listen.  Her light shines brightly for her King.  Nobody at her church has any idea just how poor she is.  God protects her at all times and in every way.  After a number of years, her mother came to know the Lord.  Some years later, her father also trusted Christ for salvation from his sins.  Now when she visits them in the village, has such sweet fellowship in the Lord.  While one of the poorest ladies we know, she is at the same time, one of the richest.  Her treasure is laid up in Heaven where no thief can steal it.  What an honor to have her for a friend.

Wednesday, July 6, 2016

Birth certificates.  Everybody has one.  Back when we were having babies, someone would come into the hospital room with a clipboard and the birth certificate application.  They would ask the questions and fill in the blanks for us.  In the end, we would sign the form.  A short blur later, the birth certificate would show up in our mail box.  That was all there was to it.  After that, the birth certificate gets filed away and never thought about until that moment when a copy needs to be produced.  Then it's just a matter of remembering which drawer, cupboard, file cabinet, or bank lock box all important papers are kept in.  Just a routine part of life.  Nothing complicated.

That would be in America.  Hop across the Big Pond and things change.  It's not a given that everyone has a birth certificate.  People of a certain age where born before such things as birth certificates and other forms of record keeping arrived here in Cameroon.  Birth dates were all rather vaguely remembered.  Comments like "My grandmother always said I was born during the year of the big flood," are commonly heard.  

The Colonial Era brought such things as birth certificates and other outward signs of "civilization" to Africa.  But people soon discovered that one's actual birth date may not be the best one to use.  Multiple birth certificates were an easy solution.  There was the first birth certificate issued around the time of the baby's birth, give or take a few months or even more than a year.  It may or may not contain correct information.  It all depends on what the birth mother's goal was for her child.  If at a later date she discovered that she choose wrong, it is a simple matter to apply for a new birth certificate.  The child can thus become old enough to get into school, for example.  But even later it might be discovered that if the child were to be younger than their actual age, there would be certain benefits.  No problem.  Just make another birth certificate.  

We know many, many people who have two birth certificates.  It only gets complicated if a young person uses the wrong one when applying for their first identity card.  Perhaps later, at the time of marriage, they use the other birth certificate.  Now the certificate is in conflict with the date on the identity card.  That's just one possible time when problems can arise.

We even know people with four birth certificates. And sometimes the birth mother may die during the birth of a younger sibling.  It is entirely possible that the deceased mother is the only one who knows which one of these four certificates is the real one.  So how does the child untangle this when they become a young adult?  They will be spending a lot of time in government offices.  And it will cost money.

Something that is an uncomplicated, routine part of life on your side of the Big Pond can be something else entirely on our side.


  

Monday, July 4, 2016

We came to Cameroon to serve people. 
Young people,
old people,
people we like,
people we would rather not see again.
Anyone God brings across our path.  
 
In any way possible. 
For His honor and glory.  
 
We serve them in big ways, 
in small ways, 
in ways that are seen, 
in ways that go unnoticed, 
when we feel like it, 
when we are too tired to think.
 
In any way possible.
For His honor and glory.
 
And that brings us to today.  A Cameroonian man we have known and loved for a long time asked us to pray for his younger brother.  And out spilled his story.  We had heard bits and pieces of it in the past, but never in one long, connected chain of events.  We saw so clearly his deep love for his sibling, and yet his agony of soul as this one is choosing a wrong path for his life.  After an hour and a half of sharing deeply, we separated, renewing our commitment to pray.  Our God can do all things.  Nothing is too hard for Him.
 
Not an hour later a young lady sat with us and poured out her story.  She's a new missionary.  Been serving in a neighboring country for a handful of months.  Didn't expect to have so many issues with fellow missionaries.  It was all so intellectual when she was going through her training.  But now it's real.  Real people, real conflicts.  Where is God in all of this?  And how can missionaries act this way?  
 
Grappling with the big question.  Should she just give up and get out of missions?  Is she even cut out for this kind of stuff?  She really hates this one person.  Missionaries aren't supposed to hate.  Especially not fellow missionaries.  But the emotion is there.  And there is the strong temptation to accept a job offer with a humanitarian aid organization.  She wouldn't have to go back home in disgrace.  She would earn a good salary, stay in the same location, keep using the foreign language she has been struggling to learn, and not have to work with difficult-to-get-along-with missionaries.  
 
Tough issues.  Hard to deal with.  Listened to her for an hour and a half.   The tears flowed as disappointment and frustration poured out.  Surprised her (and even shocked her) with glimpses of our story.  We know.  We understand.  We've been in her shoes.  
 
Cling to God.  He is her only hope.  Our God can do all things.  Nothing is too hard for Him.
 
Exhausted bodies climb the stairs at days end.  Emotionally drained.  Giving out all day long takes its toll.  But our God can renew our strength.  Nothing is too hard for Him. 
 
Tomorrow is just around the corner.  New opportunities to serve people await us.  And we remain committed to do just that...
 
In any way possible. 
For His honor and glory. 
 
 
 
 

Sunday, July 3, 2016

Sunday morning.
Dress up.
Carry the Bible.
Walk to church.
Participate in singing,
    praying,
    worship.
Challenged by sermon. 
Greet pastor.
Visit with friends.
Return home blessed.

Sounds normal, right?  Except at Shiloh.  Haven't been in church since sometime in January.  That's right...five entire months have slipped away since last joined together with the body of Christ for corporate worship of our Lord and King.  Most Sundays find us serving others at Shiloh.  Not able to be in church.

But today.  Today was a rare and treasured day. 

Saturday, July 2, 2016

Ten of us gathered at Shiloh this evening to celebrate the 4th of July (on the 2nd).  Americans all, we decided we would have our own party since the U.S. Embassy no longer hosts a picnic for us.  

For years and years it was held the day after the big event for all the dignitaries.  Hot dogs, hamburgers, potato salad and swimming in the big Olympic size pool.  It was what we all did year after year.  It was a fun, relaxing afternoon with our fellow Americans.  Missionaries mingling with aid works, Peace Corps people, business men, and others.

That's OK.  We could throw our own party.  Everyone who came brought something to eat.  And those who didn't, at least brought their appetites.  Hamburgers and hot dogs cooked over the grill, baked beans, potato salad, potato chips, and on and on it went.  We had enough food to feed an army.  When we couldn't eat another bite, out came the dessert!  Decadent cupcakes, no bake chocolate cookies, and a big tub of ice cream.  It always amazes me how we can take only locally available food and turn it into 100% traditional 4th of July food.

Friday, July 1, 2016

The guest list had been submitted to the Ambassador of the United States of America  three months earlier.  Invitations were printed and delivered to honored guests.  Cameroonians and Americans not on the list scrambled to get an invitation, using every contact they had.  But the Ambassador had spoken.  He was inviting 1,400 people and no more.  The guest list included the Prime Minister of Cameroon, the Minister of Foreign Affairs, Senators, government officials, prominent Tribal Chiefs from all over Cameroon, Ambassadors and High Commissioners from other countries with a presence in Cameroon, U.S. and French military officers serving in Cameroon, dignitaries, and one lowly missionary couple.  

This was by no means our first invitation to the Embassy's biggest event of the year, nor will it be our last.  Our name is on the permanent list. How it got there and why we have been honored above so many others is beyond us.

Last night was the annual U.S. Embassy's Independence Day Celebration.  To receive one of the coveted invitations is to attend. 

With Boko Haram having killed eleven people in the far North of Cameroon earlier in the day, security was heightened.  In fact the road in front of the Embassy was barricaded.  We all walked in from a good distance away.  

After being warmly greeted by a line of dignitaries, we were ushered into a large tent.  Red white and blue abounded.  We were fed until we couldn't possibly eat any more, and then they came by with even more food!  We mingled and met people, chatting with the ones that we knew.  The mood was festive and everyone was friendly.  Then we all filed down to the lower lawn for the program.  A University choir sang a number of American songs.  It was fun to be back in the U.S. for a few hours.  Next came the traditional speeches.  Our current Ambassador speaks good French.  This is not always the case.  When the Military presented the colors, Jim and I proudly saluted our flag.  And we joined the choir in singing the national anthem.  In fact Cameroonians who were crowded all around us were looking at us in awe because we knew all the words.  

With the formal part of the evening behind us, we mingled some more as a famous musician and his band entertained us.  The evening ended with birthday cake.  After all we were celebrating 240 years of America's existence.