It was one of those ho-hum days.  The kind of day that holds the wild, exciting ones together.  Spent the day working on our annual report for the government.  Actually finished the English side of the report.  All fifteen pages, complete with pictures.  The French side has been translated.  Just have to do the data entry.  Another ho-hum type event.  Then have the final proof reading and print it out.  Off we'll go to town to have our booklet bound.  Then comes the fun part.  Trying to find our boss in the government in her office so we can turn the report in.  Our copy has to be stamped and signed to prove we really did turn it in.  We have no idea what hours our boss keeps.  Mostly she is never there.  It will take two or three tries before we find anyone in the office.  When the boss is away, why should the underlings have to work?  And then we will be scolded for taking so long to turn our report in!  It's all part of life out here.  You have to take the good along with the bad.

He recently told me an interesting story.  In his whole life nobody ever paid attention to his birthday. No birthday cake.  No singing "Happy Birthday".  No gifts.  Nothing.  Christmas was the same.  Just another day.  Nothing special.  No fancy meal.  No Christmas stocking. No presents.  Nothing.

When he got married, and for every Christmas thereafter, he and his wife always wanted to be able to eat chicken. Have a fancy meal. Maybe have people over. But they could never afford it.  And so their dream had to wait for another year.

And then they were invited to join our Christmas celebration.  And they couldn't believe it.  They received gifts (plural) for their unborn baby.  And practical gifts for each of them.  Several gifts apiece.  They were overwhelmed.  "Thank you" seemed so inadequate. But it was all they had to give.

Then before the party was over they were given a big bag of food.  All sorts of things.  When they were recovering from the wonder of it all, they were handed a frozen chicken.  That's right.  A chicken!  One they could take home and eat.  Invite friends over.  It was their  dream.

But the very best part of this story is the children.  You see, six of their neighbor children had told them they were coming over on Christmas Day.  They were excited that these kids, ones they had been teaching about God, wanted to come. At the same time they didn't know how they would ever feed them?  But God knew.  He had it all worked out.  Everybody came and they all ate chicken. For the first time ever on Christmas Day.

See why we love living here?  See why we love this ministry?  We receive so much more than we ever give.

Well I did it.  That would be me.  Nobody else around to blame.  Believe me, I turned over every stone looking for a culprit.  No, it was me and none other.  I sat my cup of tea down wrong (i.e. not flat) and it tipped over TOWARDS the computer (that would be my new computer) and spilled all over the keyboard, touch pad, the hinges, everything.  Someone suggested my computer spend two nights in a sack of rice, after drying it off of course,  Then Jim went on line and figured out how to take it apart and check everything out inside.  And here I am, back at it again.  Using my formerly new, thoroughly baptized laptop.  Seems to be fine.  Repenting in sack cloth and ashes.  Changing my drinking habits.

She called to inform us that she has finally opened her little shop.  Could we please come by some time and pray over her business?  So we phoned Eric and he showed up at 3 p.m.  We left Doris behind to guard Shiloh and the rest of us piled in.  We didn't know until we arrived that her shop is right across the street from the entrance to Francis and Ingrid's place.  Imagine that!  So of course Ingrid came too and we had a grand time.  We rummaged through the piles of new merchandise and exclaimed over this and that.  Asked a few questions.  And then got down to business.  We each began picking out things we really couldn't live without.  We had decided beforehand that we would bless her new business by buying whatever caught our fancy.  She sells really good quality plastic-ware of all types.  So Ingrid and Francis picked out some pretty plastic glasses that looked just like glass.  Let the kids try and break them!  Guy found some lovely dishes he would sure Marie would love.  And Eric began amassing his stash.  Papa Jim picked out a few items.  I just sat in a corner loving all the laughter and chatter and the fun.  I was the official photographer.  Finally everyone found all they wanted.  Then I sent them off to find some things for Doris, too.  It's not right or fair to make her stay back and guard the place and miss out on all the fun.  We looked for things in blue, her favorite color.  We had to twist our imaginations around a bit to come up with a yellow that was blue at heart.  Our friend tallied up the cost and we joked about whose turn it was to pay.  And then we got down to business and prayed up a storm for her and for her new business.  We want her to succeed.  Most of all we want God to receive all the Glory for this new venture.  We scrunched ourselves together along with our piles of plastic-ware and had an official picture taken.  And then with more hugs and lots of good-byes and waving, we climbed back into the car and headed back to Shiloh.  

Each day is an adventure.  No two are alike.  We wouldn't change this life for the world.

"But what about your wife," I asked.  "What would she say?"

"No, Mama Alice," he replied.  "She would say the same thing, I'm certain.  Our marriage really is good."

And that was what I wanted to hear.  I have earned the right to cross examine this dear pastor at random intervals.  He can to Shiloh at the point of a nervous breakdown.  Spent a month with us.  He and I began meeting daily, going over many areas of his life.  And then it tumbled out.  His marriage was in the pits.  In fact, his wife was feed up with him.  Didn't want to be married any more.  So we rolled up our sleeves and went to work.  Eventually we brought his wife in and began counseling her as well.  In time he began to see many things he had been doing wrong, all in ignorance.  She too had areas that needed to be addressed.  They were willing to put in the effort to turn their marriage around.

And turn around it did.  That was several years ago.  They are solidly committed to their marriage and have become a roll model for others.  But I needed to do a check up.  Needed to ask the blunt questions.  He needs to understand that there is accountability here, even years later.  They call it tough love.  That's what we are all about here at Shiloh.

Our pastor's wife stopped by this afternoon.  She's been making men's shirts.  Wondered if we would be willing to help her sell them.  She gets these white shirts from somewhere and dyes them all sorts of lovely colors and patterns.  They really are a work of art.  Jim, who is hard to buy for, fell in love with them.  We bought every one she had in his size.  Then Francis came along and couldn't believe what he was seeing.  So we broke down and bought some for him, too.  And we took every shirt she had.  We'll start trying to sell them for her.  We don't have the marketing opportunities we had in the past.  But we can do what we can do.  I am sure we will be able to sell them from time to time.  They are lovely.  They will sell themselves.

The upside of my laptop crashing and burning two weeks ago tonight is that Joseph will become the proud owner of said laptop.  He's been dreaming of having his own computer for a very long time.  And tonight his dream will become a reality.  Now don't you go saying anything to him.  We want this to be a surprise.  We wiped it clean of all our files, pictures, saved emails and other such stuff.  While it is true that the laptop has died, our son, the computer expert, tells us that with the purchase of a new keyboard, Joseph will be able to get some use out of it. So you see, every cloud has a silver lining.

Been down with the gunge.  Four days of laying around, coughing, suffering from an earache, head about to split open, with no interest in food.

Somehow Shiloh has managed to continue to minister to many guests, even though the mother was down for the count.

Today actually made it downstairs for breakfast.  Didn't eat much, but at least ate something.  Still taking naps.  Still not in top form.  But on the upward side of the gunge.  Maybe in the foreseeable future normalcy will return.  One can always hope.

We are into burning season now.  It comes along part way through the long dry season and Harmattan.  So we mix ash with the fine dust that coats everything, inside and out.  This truly is the only nasty season of the year.

"Why are people burning?" you ask.  "I thought you lived in the city.  What's to burn there?"  These are all good questions.  Yes, we live in the city.  But Cameroonians will always and forever plant crops, even if they have just a minuscule strip of land.  They plant corn (one of the favorite things to plant when you really don't have any land) and they plant all sorts of root crops (none of which you know anything about) and other things as well.   And at this time of the year they burn off the land.  Slash and burn is their age old method of farming.  So we get to mix smoke and ash with Harmattan grit.  And dream of better days to come.  In March.  

Yesterday at 4 p.m. when our day crew went home, I began doing laundry.  There were piles and piles of sheets and towels to be washed.  At 1 a.m. I took the seventh and final load out of the washing machine.  All clean laundry is put in basins and lugged from our bathroom, where the machine is, to the top of the stairs.  Our night guard comes along and carries them downstairs.  Then at 5 a.m. he begins hanging laundry out on the lines out back.  The lines hold five loads of laundry.  Only five.  Not seven.  The two remaining basins wait patiently on the back porch for our day crew.  Since it's dry season, long about 10 a.m. sheets are taken off the lines, folded and put away.  This makes room for those last two basins of laundry.  And long before the day is over, even the heaviest towels will be dry, folded and put away.  

This is a procedure that is repeated over and over again.  To run a spiritual retreat center is to do incredible amounts of laundry.  It's all part of our ministry to others.

We recently attended an ordination service for our good friend, Pastor Arsen.  We were honored to be there.  He considers us his parents.  He turns to us when he needs counsel and advice.  And we love him with all our hearts.

It was the first ordination service we had ever attended.  The invitation said it would start at 4 p.m. "precise" which is a very Cameroonian way to word invitations.  We intentionally arrived 45 minutes late, not wishing to be the first ones there.  While not the absolute first to arrive, we were among the early ones.  But the program was already underway so we sat down in the V.I.P. section and enjoyed the choir.  Or maybe Praise Team would be a more accurate description.  We occasionally chatted with each other as the music went on and on and on, and other guests were slowly arriving.  

At seven o'clock, when we were frankly quite tired of listening to the singers, there was a commotion at the back of the church.  Suddenly we were all on our feet as Pastor Arsen and Nadege were ushered in with a group of dignitaries.  They came first to us and warmly greeted us.  Then they moved among the other V.I.P.s and greeted each one.  When they were seated on the platform, we settled back in our chairs to "enjoy" more music.  By then I was wondering how long the singers could sing and dance without wearing out.  It was quite a marathon event!  

A half hour later we again rose to our feet as Pastor Arsen and Nadege were quickly removed from the auditorium.  We were told to remain standing.  And the singing continued.  Another twenty minutes passed and finally the head of their denomination was ushered into the auditorium with much fanfare.  Then came Pastor Arsen and Nadege once again.  And finally swarms of other pastors.  It was nearly eight p.m. when their denominational leader preached an excellent sermon.  This was followed by the ordination ceremony itself.  It was all very interesting and novel for us.  

At 9:30 p.m. the service finally ended and people began dancing down front to present gifts to Pastor Arsen.  We took advantage of that moment to quietly slip out the back and go home to bed!  We later learned that we missed out on a big feast, which we would have been way too tired to enjoy.  Cameroon events can go on for an incredibly long time.  As foreigners, we are forgiven when our stamina runs out.

New Years Day.  It's a day for children to knock on their neighbors doors and give them some flowers.  Wish them "Happy New Year." The neighbors are then supposed to give them a treat like candy or cookies.  Here at Shiloh it is also the day we take down our Christmas tree and all the other decorations.  The children started coming at 8 a.m. We made sinker-doodles for them this year.  We always give them a gospel track, too.  

Two grade school boys were holding out their flowers when I opened the gate.  "Happy New Year!" they chorused.  Then the one said to the other "He's stupid."  The friend replied "Be quiet."  I asked who was stupid and the first boy told me about a boy.  He said he was sitting a short ways away from our gate.  He told these two boys that he wasn't going to come to our house.  They could just give me his Happy New Year and collect my gift for him and bring it to him.  I told them that if that boy wanted to bring me some flowers and wish me Happy New Year, I did have a gift for him.  But I wouldn't give his gift to anyone else.  The boy never showed up.  He was the looser. 

We love New Years Day.  We love seeing all the children and interacting with them. And we love giving out cookies and especially gospel tracks to them.