By means of this announcement Mama Alice, the grandmother from Darkest Africa, is temporarily suspending her blog.  Suspending, NOT ending.  

"Why?" you may ask.  Good question.  

Vague answer:  We are passing through some deep waters out here on the Dark Side of the Moon.  Waters we are not at liberty to discuss.  The situation is consuming all our spare moments.  Something has to give.  The Old Grandmother simply cannot do everything.  And the only thing that can "give" is this blog.  Thus the temporary suspension.

While this is as clear as mud to you, Dear Blog Readers, it comes with The Old Grandmother's promise to resume Blogging ASAP.

And how will you know that we are entering The Resumption of Blogging Phase?  An announcement will be made via our Prayer Letter.   

Questions?  Comments?  Suggestions?  Helpful Hints?  Send them all to our email address.  We promise to reply to the maximum extent of our ability to divulge things.

Life is speeding by at record breaking rates out here in "Never A Dull Moment" life on the Dark Side of the Moon.  

We give you exhibit A:  

A Nigerian doctor of psychology was to have flown from Nigeria to Cameroon on our one and only Cameroonian airline yesterday.  But shortly before flight time the airline opted to cancel the entire flight.  No delays, no rescheduling, just an out and out cancellation. This set into motion a chain of events that touched our lives here at Shiloh, as well as uncounted other unknown individuals and events.  You see, reservations had been made to house the good doctor here at Shiloh during his eleven day stay in Cameroon.  He was being flown in by Rain Forest International School (RFIS) to do psychological testing of students with potential learning disabilities.  A frantic phone call from RFIS mid-morning yesterday put the doctor's reservation on hold for the moment.  Probably a month ago when the reservation had originally been made, we were asked to feed him breakfast each morning.  The school would feed him lunch.  Parents, faculty, and staff would sign up to take care of the evening meals for the good doctor.  No problem.  We were good to go.  Until mid-day today.  Another frantic phone call from RFIS informed us that the doctor would be in tonight, arriving on a different airline, AND we would be the one feeding him all his evening meals, starting with tonight.  (It seems that some unnamed individual forgot to put out a sign up sheet for the doctor's evening meals!)  We politely but firmly informed the school that we would begin serving him breakfast and dinner each day, starting tomorrow morning.  And we at Shiloh went into an emergency meeting.  A quick inventory of our pantry, refrigerator, and upright freezer acquainted us with what the immediate menu possibilities were.  Next we rolled up our collective sleeves and discussed menu options.  We racked our brains to come up with nine mouth watering options for the nine evening meals we will serve our guest.  And then we compiled two shopping lists for the missing ingredients.  Soon our cook was walking out to buy everything that could be purchased a short walk from Shiloh.  And Mama Alice phoned our favorite taxi driver to make arrangements to be picked up in the morning to go to the big outdoor market and buy the rest of the missing ingredients.  

Meanwhile, we were in the beginning stages of Spring Housecleaning here at Shiloh when today's phone call came from RFIS. That's right, the Long Dry Season is officially over, and it's time to tear Shiloh apart, cleaning up massive amounts of dust and dirt that has seeped into every conceivable corner of the house.  Today we were humming away in the library, removing all books, shelf by shelf, cleaning both the shelves and each of the books.  With 2,000 books in our library, it's a Big Job to put it mildly!  This is also the time of the year we discover just how many books we have lost this time around.  Historically we loose between 12 - 15 books per year, though a year ago we hit an all-time low of only 6  books.  Multiply that times the 13 years we have been running Shiloh, the spiritual retreat center, and you have some idea of the magnitude of our loss.  But I digress.

The library was quickly put back in order and all Spring Housekeeping plans have been put on hold until March 16th at the earliest.  The dust, dirt, and grime is not going anywhere.  It will patiently wait for us to get back to this major annual event.

We could go on to exhibits B - Z of  Life Speeding By At Record Breaking Speeds, but you would die of boredom, so we will refrain.  Suffice it to say, Blogging sometimes becomes a distant memory.  We don't even have time to feel guilty about neglecting you, our Dear Blog Readers.  So now you have some idea of why there are gaps in Blog posts.

 

Can you hear that?  That lovely deafening noise is RAIN!!!  That's right, the rains are coming back and we are thrilled!  This is the second big rain.  One more just like this one and we will officially declare the long dry season to be over!  And it's only February 27th!  Last year the long dry season drug on into mid-March. We thought we were going to die.  But now we may be fully into the long rainy season very, very soon.

Of course once we make our official declaration regarding which season we are in, we roll up our sleeves and tear the house apart, doing intense Spring housecleaning. You cannot imagine how much dust and dirt seeps into cupboards and drawers.  Everything is taken out and washed, and all cabinets are washed clean, before putting everything back again.  We even brush the dirt off all walls and everywhere else.  Spring housecleaning is a major job.  Especially since we do all this cleaning around the edges of ministry, when we have a quiet moment.  We can't unload the hutches in our dining room for example, setting everything all over the dining room tables, when we are feeding a meal to guests.  So it's a challenge.  But we are experts with many years experience under our belts.  Besides, we are so delighted to have the rains come back that we can't bring ourselves to grumble over all the work it brings us.  And we haven't even talked about all the mud that gets dragged into Shiloh!

 

Dear Friends wrote and told us about their latest snow storm and we replied:

 

"That is so amazing that you are having more snow.  We're trying not to be green with envy as we lay in our bed sweating away.  The fans are on 24-7 now days.  It's useless to take showers to cool off.  It feels good for a brief moment, but then we are sticky hot again and wonder why we bothered.  This is truly the only nasty time of the year.  As we near the end of the season we are longing for the rains to come back.  We are longing for the end of "dirty season" where we shovel dirt in contrast to Americans shoveling snow.  We are dreaming of those wonderful torrential rains that we are so famous for.  It does not rain cats and dogs out here.  The rain comes down in sheets.  We know that Harmattan will not go on forever.  We know that there is an end out there somewhere.  Maybe the end of this month.  Maybe this will go on into March.  But somewhere out there the rains WILL come back.  We try not to think about it too much.  We try to live one day at a time.  We try to remind ourselves that this too will pass.  It always has in the past.  This will not go on forever, no matter what it feels like!  It takes three big rain storms to wash all the dirt out of the sky, all of the dirt off our lush tropical vegetation.  And when that third big  rain comes, we shout GLORY HALLELUJAH! as we roll up our sleeves and and joyfully jump into our annual Spring Housecleaning.  Every cupboard, every closet, every nook and cranny is covered with dirt.  We tear the house apart one room at a time, and slowly but surely our lovely Spiritual Retreat Center re-emerges.  And we live happily ever after."

He's from Benin, but he lives in Cameroon.  In the Far North Region.  And he was on his way to Yaounde to teach at FATEB, the seminary that is walking distance from Shiloh.  The school administrator had made reservations for him to stay with us.  Had assured us that their professor would definitely arrive at Shiloh prior to 8 p.m. on Saturday night.  Which is why we were on standby alert last night, waiting for his arrival.  We wanted to give him that warm Shiloh welcome which we are so famous for.  We wanted to give him the grand tour of the house.  And we wanted to make sure that he was settled into his room before we went off to our room for the night.  8 p.m. came and went.  9 p.m. rolled around.  Soon it was 10 p.m. and this old couple could no longer stay up waiting for our new guest.  Joseph knew to call us whenever the professor should arrive.  At 1 a.m. I awoke and realized that our sleep had not been interrupted.  Quickly phoning Joseph I discovered that the man had not yet arrived.  Thankfully I was able to fall back to sleep without any difficulty.  Until 2:30 a.m.  That's right, our guest arrived at 2:30 a.m. on Sunday.  A mere six and a half hours late.  But we live in Cameroon.  So this is not an unheard of event.  At 2:30 a.m. we sat in the parlor with our guest and listened to his story.  It seems that he and his fellow passengers boarded their plane and prepared for take off.  The plane taxied out onto the runway.  And then the announcement came that the flight would be delayed due to weather.  So they patiently waited.  And waited.  And waited.  Finally the plane turned around and taxied back to the terminal.  The announcement came that all passengers were to board a bus which would drive them to the next airport.  The weather conditions were not clearing up.  There was nothing else to do.  So off the plane they came, and collecting their luggage, headed towards the bus.  After a long bus ride, they finally arrived at the next airport, boarded the waiting plane, and finally were airborne, heading towards Yaounde.  Where they safely arrived.  Six and a half hours late.  Not to worry.  This is Cameroon.  We are used to delays and things not happening when, how, and why they should be  happening.  And the weather issues?  No, it does not snow here in Cameroon.  They were having a serious Harmattan dust storm.  That's the winds that blow off the Sahara dessert and darken the sky until visibility is reduced to a dangerous level.  Thankfully our guest had all day Sunday to recover from his adventure filled trip.  Tomorrow he begins teaching his students.  And the older couple?  We also enjoyed getting to sleep in and recuperate from the abbreviated night.

Dorothy, who is the first to know everything here at Shiloh, tells us that we have an invasion of rats.  RATS??!!! How did this happen?  So we went to our long time expert on such things and asked Night Guard Joseph for his opinion.  He said that these are big mice. So big in fact, that many people think they have to be rats.  But they are really mice.  Big or small, rats or mice, they have NO PLACE AT SHILOH!  Period.  There is NO ROOM AT THIS INN for mice/rats.  And that's all there is to it.  No discussion.  No arguments.  Papa Jim jumped into the conversation and decided that we need more of the heavy duty rat/mice traps.  So we commissioned Eric, our favorite taxi driver, to pick some up for us while he is in town.  He knows right where they sell them.  And he knows the price.  These mice/rats critters invaded his house recently, so he's a new expert on the topic.  Good!  We need lots of expert help here at Shiloh.  It is our deepest hope that Eric will deliver six rat/mice traps sometime before nightfall tomorrow.  That's right...Papa Jim has ordered SIX of them!  He wants Joseph to place them all over the property and see how many he can trap out in the first night.  And how many more on night number two.  Hopefully before long, this will be a fading memory.  One more chapter in the exciting missionary novel we are too busy to write.  It would have to be a novel cuz nobody would believe that our stories are true!  But they are.  We've lived them all.  And now we are living the rat/mice story.  Which will have a happily ever after ending to it.  Please.

There are eight people at Shiloh tonight.  Two are down with a cold.  It's the unintended consequences of group living.  It started with a guest who came to Shiloh direct from the airport.  Those long international flights are a great place to pick up all sorts of colds and flues and what-not.  It hit our guest in the middle of the night, night before last.  Then it was my turn in the middle of the night last night.  You have to wonder who will succumb in the middle of the night tonight.  Thankfully I have a milder version of our guest's cold.  So far I'm not coughing, sneezing, or dealing with a runny nose.  But I am being very careful.  Doing everything I know to do to keep this cold corralled at the entry level. I'm gargling with salt water, taking Tylenol,  drinking lots of water, juice, and hot tea, and I took two naps today. I would be taking vitamin C but we have run out and are not sure where to buy more.  Now I'm heading for bed early.  The last thing I need, want, or can use is a full blown cold.  Thankfully my symptoms seem to be dissipating.  And maybe there will be no more sickies in the morning.  We can always hope.

We've begun planning an Eyene Church Girls Retreat to be held here at Shiloh sometime during the two weeks schools are closed for Easter.  It will be a four day retreat (or maybe we'll call it "camp" or ???) This idea came up as we were discussing an issue in the life of one of the teen girls.  It dawned on us that we could host a retreat here at Shiloh.  We are after all, a Spiritual Retreat Center.  So we are excitedly tossing around ideas, and slowly but surely, a well thought out program is starting to emerge.  

We cannot host the counter retreat for all the teen boys in the church.  We simply do not have enough time left before we return to the U.S. for our next furlough year.  But maybe when we return to Cameroon...we'll have to see how God leads us. 

It's February 10th.  Today we start into another round of grandchildren birthdays.  From now on, one and then another and another will have their birthdays, until we get to December.  And finally the eleventh birthday will be celebrated.  It's like this every year.  

But today a certain very special young lady turned seven years old.  We arranged with her Dad ahead of time to phone at 7 a.m. Sunday their time, which was 3 p.m. Sunday afternoon our time.  The ringing phone was quickly picked up and we heard a grandaughter's voice!  We had lots of fun talking with her.  Finally we asked her if she remembered us.  After all, she was only three years old when she last saw us.  "Yes, I remember you.  And we have a picture of you, too!" she sweetly informed us.  So we asked her if the grandma in the picture was real pretty.  "Yes."  And was the grandpa in the picture real handsome?  "Yes."  "Oh good!  That's us!!"  And we all laughed together.

In addition to talking with the birthday girl, we got to hear the voices of various and sundry other family members as everyone was rushing around getting ready for church.  And then we had a nice long talk with the birthday girl's Dad, who doubles as our Favorite Oldest Son.  Fifty-five minutes after we sang "Happy Birthday" to Sarah, we were saying "Good-bye" to Dan.  And it cost a grand total of zero dollars and zero cents!!!  The marvels of life in these modern times never cease to take our breath away.  How well we remember the early yeas when we had to send smoke signals across the Big Pond.  We've come a long ways. Long live modern technology!

 

After decades of investment in the Manguisa of Cameroon, after trying every which way to get God's Word into their language in audio format so that the old grandmothers who never went to school could learn of God's overwhelming love for them (and failing miserably we might add), we are sitting out here in Darkest Africa tonight in utter amazement!  We have just been informed that forty short Bible stories exist in Manguisa, audio format.  They come with forty artist renditions of these stories.  We've listened to several of them.  The stories begin with creation and end with the death, burial, and resurrection of our Lord.  We cannot adequately describe to you how super excited we are!  We are eager to find both the means and the way to get copies of these stories and take them out to the old grandmothers.  We are thrilled beyond description.  All praise and honor and glory be to the Most High God, maker of Heaven and earth. 

She shared the story of her younger brother.  He's the next one down the line from her.  All during their growing up years in the village he was the family rebel.  As a young boy he attached himself to the Juju Man.  He was part of that group of young fellows who ran barefoot before the Juju Man, carrying his tools of the trade.  Dorothy's brother did many other things.  He was well known in the family as the "wild one".  

Finally their father sent him down to the Southwest Region to live with an Uncle and work on his farm.  Though a rebel, he was a hard worker.  Eventually the Uncle helped him get a job working in a pharmacy, and he began his slow climb up the ladder.  Soon his good buddy from his father's village showed up in town.  The two boys shared a small studio apartment and spent their free time plotting and planning how they would make it to the top.  After awhile they had saved up enough money to move to the big city of Yaounde.  Their goals were coming into focus. 

Being from the Northwest Region where virtually everyone is a "Baptist Christian", these two young men decided to attend church one Sunday morning.  And it was there, at the largest Baptist Church in all of Yaounde, sitting under the teaching of Pastor Philemon who is a godly man and a frequent guest at Shiloh, that these two rebels came under the sound of the Gospel.  Together they gave their hearts and minds to the Lord.  Shortly thereafter they were both baptized.  And day by day Almighty God continued the process of making them just like Jesus.  

The younger brother began going to night school to complete his high school education.  Eventually he phoned his older brother and announced that he wanted to attend seminary.  His brother told him that he was not in a position to help him out financially at that time.  "Oh no," he said "I'm not calling to ask for financial help.  I've saved up my own money.  I just wanted to let you know what my plans are."  

The two young men, who were by that time on fire for the Lord, went back up to the Northwest Region and attended seminary together.  But first Dorothy's younger brother had a visit to make.  He went to visit his mother.  He sat her down and began telling her all the bad things he used to do.  It was even worse than she knew.  Then he told her how his Heavenly Father had forgiven him of all his sins, and how he was going to attend seminary and prepare to become a preacher.  His precious mother had tears streaming down her face as she listened to her son's story.  And the details of that visit to his mother quickly spread throughout the entire extended family.  "Can this really be our relative?" they asked themselves.  When he completed his seminary training he became a Baptist pastor in the Northwest Region.  Now, years later, he has risen to the level of a district pastor, supervising a large number of other pastors, in addition to pastoring his own church.  Dorothy reports that whenever he illustrates one of his sermons with a story from his past life, the tears run down his cheeks.  He can never get over the wonder of it all.  That the God of the Universe would reach down and pull him out of the mess he was making of his own life, and set his feet on the narrow path that leads to life everlasting is so much more than he deserves.  Dorothy says that of all her brothers and sisters, he is the most on fire for the Lord.  And this from a lady who is herself deeply in love with her Lord!

This true story explains why it was that Dorothy sat in Shiloh's library this afternoon, across the table from her son and her nephew who had come to visit her, and prayed up a storm for his salvation.  Her well loved son had no idea that the entire time of his visit his mother was crying out to God on behalf of his soul.  "Oh God," she cried "make my son just like my brother.  Don't let him die in his sins."  Her son, though taught the Bible from an early age, has thus far rejected God's free gift of salvation.  And now he is the same age as Dorothy's younger brother was when he turned his life over to the Life Giver.  

Sometime before Dorothy came to live at Shiloh, her son said to her "Ma, why do you always say I'm not a Christian?  I AM a Christian."  Dorothy told him that he has never given his heart and life to the Lord.  He has never confessed that he is a sinner and cried out to Almighty God for His salvation from sin.  And he has never followed God into the waters of baptism, which is an outward sign to the world of what has happened in his heart.  He told her that she was right.  He had never done that.  But he will.  He promised her that he will.  When asked when that will be, he quickly replied that he would become a true Christian when he was ready to get married.  Before he gets married he will get saved and be baptized.  What a foolish young man!  God says that TODAY is the day of salvation.  We have no promise of tomorrow.  

The first missionaries to return to Cameroon following the October 30, 2018 slaying of Charles Wesco are staying at Shiloh.  

Last month a large group of missionaries to Cameroon, their families, and future missionaries to Cameroon met together at a church camp in the U.S. for a week.  Stephanie Wesco and her eight children were there, too.  Pastors came and ministered to them.  It was a time of further healing and recovery from the great shock and loss of this new missionary, who was in Cameroon just twelve days.  God's presence was very real.

We are honored to be chosen to provide housing for our friends as they re-enter the land they love so much.  They are here for two and a half months, exploring ministry opportunities in the French sector, and doing some preliminary  language learning.  After over 30 years of ministry in the English sector, they are having to start all over again.  There are many challenges before them, but they rest firmly in Almighty God.

Their first two nights back in Cameroon, Shiloh was brim full of guests.  Seven people were at the airport to greet them, and six of them stayed with us.   We find time each day to sit with our friends and talk.  We have no profound words of wisdom to give the, but we can give them ourselves.  Shiloh exists for people like them.

It all began on Christmas Eve.  Papa Jim was invited to show a Christian movie at Romeo's church.  Mama Alice was not with him.  Actually my health broke from exhaustion and stupidity the end of November.  (I think that's the correct medical term for a 72 year old Grandmother who was trying to act like a 21 year old young lady, though I might have that wrong...at my age I get things confused!)  Here we are in early February and Mama Alice is still not back to 100%, but day by day I'm visibly stronger than the day before.  And trying to be  wiser, too, which is the hard part.  Some of us don't age with grace and ease.

But I've gone waaaay off the rails on this story, so let's get back to it.  Can't remember which of our collection of excellent Christian movies that Papa Jim showed, but it was well received.  Romeo has told us several times how bless his church was with what Papa Jim did for them.   

Then two and a half weeks ago Romeo asked if his choir could come and sing to us as their way of saying "Thank You".  They selected today, Sunday, February 3rd, after church as the time they would come.  We were surprised and delighted that they would want to bless us like this.  We all pitched in to make this a special time for them.  Doris (with the "help" of five years old Prince Angle) baked cookies on Saturday.  Dorothy swept and mopped the library.  When he got back from his church, Theirry carried a tray full of glasses, cold water, peanuts, napkins, and a large platter full of cookies up to the library.   And Papa Jim and Mama Alice looked decorative.  (Age has it's privileges.)

At one p.m. Romeo phoned to tell us that his choir would be arriving at 2 p.m.  Silly us, even after all these years we assumed that was "white man's time" but of course, the choir was running on "Cameroonian time".  So it was nearly three when they arrived.  The lugged in all their sound equipment, keyboard, microphones, etc. along with a large sports bag which contained their lovely choir robes.  Papa Jim, Mama Alice, Dorothy, and Theirry waited patiently while they got everything set up and put on their robes.   

Eventually the concert began.  And we were blown away by their amazing thank you gift!  We had assumed that they would sing three or four numbers and then enjoy the cookies and go home.  But they had prepared a full blown concern for us.  The hours of preparation that went into this performance!  It was breathtaking!  They not only blessed us to pieces, but all of our near neighbors as well!  

Six children came along with the choir, so we became the "church nursery".  We held fussy babies, and rocked them to sleep.  We gave water to thirsty little tykes, and then handed them back to their mothers to be nursed. We let the two older ones snuggle up next to us and whisper things to us that we couldn't hear over the concert music.  But we could smile at them and hug them and they were happy.   

And afterwards we all filed downstairs and back outside for a lengthy picture taking session.  Everyone had to have their picture taken with the Americans.  We kept hearing them talk about posting their pictures on Facebook, so I suppose we are famous by now!  (Cameroon has changed so much over the twenty eight years we have lived out here.)  

Eventually Romeo pulled Mama Alice back into the house for a private conversation. It turns out that the choir had planned every part of this lovely concert except the "how are we going to get back home" part.  They had hired two taxis to bring them to Shiloh, and Romeo had made numerous trips on his motorcycle, too.  But nobody had thought about how they were going to pay for taxis for the return trip.  Mama Alice was being appealed to for help.  So of course we provided the 6.000 F that they needed (that's about $12) and soon there was the round of "good-byes" as they all filed out the gate with their heavy equipment, leaving us with our wonderful memories of an incredible concert.

Papa Jim came into our bedroom this afternoon and found Mama Alice "rolling on the floor" in hysterics.  When he asked what was so funny, I tried to read an email that had just arrived in our In Box to him, but kept going off in gales of laughter!  Finally I was able to get myself under control enough to read it passably well enough for Papa Jim to burst out in hysterical laughter, too!  With the author's permission, I hereby submit for your reading pleasure the funniest story we have heard in a long time.

So Alice, here's a little story about a recent foray I had into the
world of the pampered and petted.  It happened this way.

I was doing a bit of cleaning in one of the bathrooms and found this
gift paper bag that had been given to me some years ago and had gotten
buried in the closet.  In it was a pretty little bag with two large tea
bags that were supposed to be wonderful for putting in one's bathwater
and soaking in.  I'm not sure exactly what this was to accomplish but
anyway it was worth a try - maybe.  Another part of the story is that
the little bag had already gotten damp somehow (I don't even want to
know how or when that happened but being my mother's daughter and not
being able to throw something away that might have a possibility of
being used, of course, I had to try this soaky bath thing.)

One of the suggested ways of steeping the oversized teabag was to simply
throw it into the hot, running bathwater.  That was all fine and good
but since the teabag was already weakened by being damp, it naturally
came apart right away, and I'm sitting in the tub with all this dried
flower, twigs, grass, and leaves concoction all over me.  Then I had to
take a shower to get said flowers, twigs, grass, and leaves off of me. 
And then I had to clean all that stuff out of the bathtub.  So much for
a nice, relaxing soak in the tub.

Several days later, for the second teabag, in order to use it up
(because I'm still my mother's daughter), I chose to use the second
suggested method of steeping the teabag.  This started in the kitchen
with a pot of boiling water and since I wanted to get every possible bit
of good out of it that I could, I boiled and steeped it a second time
which any good missionary would of course do, right?  Then, not wanting
to repeat the flower, twigs, grass, leaves stuff in the tub, I took a
strainer to the tub to pour the two pans of boiling water through. 
Well, this was effective and I did enjoy the bath but it did seem to be
"much ado about nothing".  Thankfully, the teabags are a thing of the
past and my mother can rest easy.

The other thing in the little gift bag is a satin lavender scented eye
mask thing that you can heat in the microwave for 15 seconds if you want
and cover your tired, weary eyes for awhile. You're supposed to have
amazing results with this process.  I'll let you know how that turns
out.  At least it's not damp.
 

No matter how many times I read this, I still break out in laughter!  Sure hope you enjoy it as much as these two crazy missionaries living on the Dark Side of the Moon do. 

The older we get, the more the "outer man is wasting away" (and believe me when I tell you it's a wasting!) the more clearly we see what life is all about.  What's that saying?  Too soon old, too late smart?  There is merit to that saying.  We live it more and more every day.  But the other part of that verse from God's Word says that the inner man is supposed to be being renewed every day.  And that's MY responsibility.  Am I sitting in my proverbial rocking chair, knitting away my remaining days?  Or am I tying up the loose ends of what little mind I have left and investing it in the Kingdom? The choice is mine.  Today.  There may not be a tomorrow.  That's what comes sharply into focus as the years fly by at warp speed!

Take Mama Alice as a good case in point.  My strength is fading.  I no longer leap over tall buildings in a single bound.  I can't even step over little rocks without tripping!  Things I used to do without a backward glance are now on my ever growing list of "I can't do this anymore".  I'm not complaining, mind you.  I rather enjoy being the oldest one in the room.  (That's the unintended consequence of marrying a younger man!) Age has privilege.  I am not consider to be a "dictator" when I delegate.  People cut me lots of slack cuz I'm old.  They willingly wait on me.  And they don't think it strange when I assign myself the task of going back upstairs to take a mid-morning nap in my room.  It's normal.  Old ladies need more sleep.  

I don't live in La La Land. I am well aware of the fact that I am describing life in Darkest Africa for the aged.  This country has always respected age.  People run to the elderly to get their advice, to tap into their (assumed) considerable wisdom.  As an older woman, I find it enjoyable to be honored.  And I know that in my home country it is often quite the opposite.  Next time I cross the Big Pond to your side, it's possible that I will be relegated to the "funny-duddy-old lady" category.  I have not forgotten life in the land that values New And Improved above Tried and True.  I understand my home culture.  I don't always agree with it, but I do understand where people are coming from.

Increasingly people are coming to me, seeking my counsel and advice.  It is not uncommon to have from one to three or even four counseling sessions every single day.  I do more listening to people's problems and giving them counsel than anything else.  The only advice I have to offer from my long and varied life, and the wealth of experience that comes from all the adventures I have lived, comes from God's Word. The only suggestions, help, advice, or counsel that I can give is rooted and grounded in the One Who is the Way, the Truth, and the Life.  What a high and holy honor to point others around me to my Lord and Master.  

Color me weird, but I love growing old.  I love being available to minister to people at deep levels.   I love investing this phase of life in the Kingdom.  And I love knowing that my days are numbered.  It gives me a greater sense of urgency, of seriousness of purpose.

It began in the middle of the night.  After all large trucks such as this one are banned from our streets and roads until 11 p.m.  It's a safety issue.  Long live safety on the roads!

While this narrative is about a specific incident that actually just happened a brief five minute walk away from Shiloh, sadly, it is neither unusual nor uncommon.    

So it happened in the middle of the night.  A log truck was traveling down the road between MVAN and Tropicana, on it's way presumably to the large lumber company, which is also in close proximity to Shiloh. This particular log truck was carrying two large logs.  We've seen them carry anything from four logs to one gigantic log.  The assumption is that the brakes gave out on the log truck as it was coming down the hill.  Somehow or another (we weren't there...we didn't see it happen...we can only speculate...) there was a single log truck accident.  The logs went flying off the truck, one to the left and the other to the right side of the vehicle.  These are massive logs, mind you.  Clearly, judging from the damage to the road, they bounced when they hit the ground.  At least once.  Maybe more times.  And by God's grace, when the accident was over, when the logs stopped bouncing, when the dust settled, the log truck was in the middle of the two lane road, heading in the right direction.  The log truck was flanked by it's logs.  The left hand log was completely blocking a side street.  The right hand log was prohibiting even the smallest motorcycle to pass.  Are you getting the picture?  This major road that is heavily traveled all day long and half the night, too, was now completely blocked off from all directions.  And yet, there was no loss of life.  There was no car flattened under either of the logs.  No pedestrian was injured or worse. There wasn't even a smashed dog!  AND none, that's right, not even one of the businesses and houses which are built close together and very close to the edge of the road, were harmed in any way!  You have to understand that most any time of the night at least somebody is out walking.  And there is the occasional car going by.  It is incredibly rare to find a completely empty street.  

God's hand of protection was clearly visible several hours later when Mama Alice was in a taxi leaving Shiloh, heading partway into town for what was to have been a "quick" 45 minute to an hour round trip.  When we turned off of our street to head down to the main road, when we drove past the cheif's house, we suddenly realized there was a problem up ahead.  Cars were backed up to next year on our side street.  And we could see up ahead to the main road where, curiously, cars headed up towards MVAN were at a dead standstill.  At the same time, there were zero cars heading down towards Tropicana.  Something was really wrong.  Finally Donald, my taxi car driver, got out and walked down to see.  Soon he was back to say there was some kind of large truck that had had an accident and was blocking the whole road.  He asked if there was a way through to the next street.  It looked to him like the accident might have happened in-between the two side streets.  I expertly directed him down our little side streets, only to discover that the situation was even worse on the next street over!  We had landed smack in the middle of the accident.  Ever resourceful, innovative, and creative, Cameroonian drivers know how to make a way around a situation even when there is NO WAY! And that explains why my "brief" 45 minute to an hour round trip turned into a three hour adventure from start to finish!  

Amazingly, when we were trying to get back to Shiloh, the road was cleared off.  The culprit log truck was well off to the side of the road.  There were no logs in sight.  But the badly wounded road and entrance onto the side street was quite visible.  And traffic was still snarled up.  But that was due to another incident.  You don't want to hear about that.  This is enough.  I'll stop with the boring missionary stories for today!

CAUTION This Blog contains material that may gross you out.  Read at your own risk.

It's been the better part of forever since I last found a spare moment to Blog.  We've had endless adventures that normally would have been blogged about, but they have been washing over us like the waves of the ocean, with barely enough time to gulp some air before the next wave is upon us.  As a result you have missed out on some pretty amazing stories.

But this story takes the cake.  It absolutely does!! If you are sensitive to sights, sounds, and smells that are less than pleasant, do yourself a favor and don't read anymore. Go do something else.  Come back another day when, I promise you, we will have something less offensive to your sense to tell about.

This story began around 5 p.m. last evening. We are in the throes of Harmattan, which is the long dry season.  Dust is practically measurable. Rain is very rare. 

So when it started raining, Jim rushed downstairs to check on things. Did anyone leave anything outside that might get ruined in the rain?  Which direction is the wind blowing? Do we need to close shutters on that side of the house to keep the rain from seeping in under the windows?  These are the questions that were running through his head.

Upon his arrival downstairs he bumped into Dorothy who was coming to look for him.  "Papa Jim," she said, "there is a terrible odor outside in the front of the house.  I smelled it when I went out to take something in from the rain."  Papa Jim and Dorothy grabbed umbrellas and rushed out the front door together.  Sure enough, they were immediately assaulted with a strong sewer odor.  Like brave firefighters rushing into a burning building, they unlocked the front gate, and the strong sewer odor instantly reached gag-able levels.  Questions like "What on earth?!" were swirling in Papa Jim's mind.  Pretty quickly they were looking at the "What on earth!"  

Our neighbor catty-corner across from us, the one in the large, white, three story house that dwarfs our house, had raw sewage pouring out of a rainwater drainage pipe coming out of the lower corner of his wall.  The raw sewage had filled a small portion of the drainage ditch on his side of our little road, where it ran into a clump of grass and other green things which clog the drainage ditch. (I insert here parenthetically that every little while Papa Jim is outside cleaning out the jungle growth and opening up that ditch again.)  When the raw sewage was blocked from its downhill journey via the ditch, it jumped onto the road and continued on down the way.  At that precise moment it was a few feet beyond our front gate.

And thus it was that Papa Jim rushed back into Shiloh, found Mama Alice, and instructed her to CALL GUY QUICKLY!!!  While having been involved in various raw sewage issues in several countries,  he nonetheless had no idea what the protocols were for this particular raw sewage situation. (We're dealing cross-culturally here.)  

Thank the Lord for Guy.  Thank the Lord that it was now almost 6 p.m. and Joseph was just arriving at work.  Thank Almighty God that the raw sewage chose to run down the street and NOT across our little road, under our gate, down our fairly steep driveway, and on into our car port.  That's what our wonderful, torrential rain storm rains always do.  We've lived here for years and years.  We know exactly how things flow.  But our gracious, kind, and loving Heavenly Father protected us.  Imagine the state of affairs if the raw sewage had taken the rainwater path!

But I digress.  Guy instructed Joseph to see if anybody was home in the raw-sewage-problem-house and report the problem to them.  You have to understand that the family who owns the house spend very little of their time being our neighbors.  They have another large house down in Daoula, and that is where they mostly live.  None of us had noticed any signs of life at their place for some time.  But by God's grace alone, Joseph found the owner himself at home.  The man quickly told Joseph that he was aware of his problem, but that he couldn't do anything about it until morning.  It was dusk, and night was quickly falling.  

So we took charge of the problem.  (And trust me when I say that it is times like these that Papa Jim and Mama Alice are SO VERY GRATEFUL FOR WORKER BEES!  Otherwise we are the ones doing the dirty work!) By the time Joseph had linked our two hoses together to make one very long hose which reaches half way to the moon, by the time he had fixed up a bucket of soapy water, collected his flashlight, and gone back outside to begin the dreadful task Papa Jim had given him to do, the raw sewage problem had increased significantly both in quantity and the distance it had now traveled.  Joseph went to work with a will, never uttered a complaint, and spent several hours hosing the mess off the road, back into the draining ditch on the other side of the road, and washing it on down the way as far as his super long hose would reach.  He was simultaneously cleaning up the mess and diluting the odor.  When he was all finished, he began pouring buckets of soapy water into the ditch which further reduced the odor.  When he returned to Shiloh to give us his report on the state of affairs, bless his heart if he didn't volunteer to go back outside and check on the problem every hour or two all night long.  

You probably just heard a door close somewhere downstairs.  That would be Joseph.  It's 4:30 a.m.  He's probably just coming back inside from another inspection tour.  As soon as you and I stop talking (well technically I'm doing all the talking and you are doing all the listening...that is to say if anybody stuck around long enough to listen to this dreadful tale  of woe!) I will phone Joseph and get an update.  Then I'm going to crawl back under the covers and hope to join Papa Jim in dream land before long.  

People on your side of the Big Pond are forever asking us to describe a "normal day" on the mission field.  Maybe we should refrain from describing this particular "normal day" when next we are asked!

 

Just when we think we've seen it all, something new happens.

There is this older gentleman who just arrived from Chad.  (When I say "older" he's vastly younger than we are...maybe in his late 50s?) He flew down here to teach at a nearby seminary.  Their professors have been staying at Shiloh for  years.  So this Chadian gentleman was brought here from the airport at 9 p.m.  I welcomed him and gave him the fifty cent tour of the house.  He was happy to be here and had just a couple of questions.  

Shortly I was back in our room, finishing up a computer project before going to bed.  About half an hour later there was a loud CLANG CLATTER CLATTER.  It woke the dead!  And I knew instantly what had happened.  

Sure enough, our new guest (the professor from Chad) had tried to come into our bedroom.  No knock, mind you.  Just turn the handle, open the door, and come on in!  Thankfully we keep our room locked, and we keep the door bolted, and to top it off, we put a metal drinking cup on the handle.  And that accounts for the loud CLANG CLATTER CLATTER!!  

While heading for the door I called out "Who's there" but was met by silence.  I went out of the room and, sure enough, the professor was standing there.  He was puzzled why he couldn't open the door.  Turns out he thought we must have food in our room and he was looking for something to eat!

I would say "I've seen it all now!" but I know that sooner or later, another outlandish incident will invade our lives. There's never a dull moment at Shiloh.

You would have loved being a fly on the wall in the library this evening!

At 6 p.m. I phoned Dorothy and asked her to bring Joseph upstairs with her and meet me in the library.  He had just come to work.  So when they showed up I began telling them this story. 

At 4:01 p.m. the phone rang.  It was *** and she was asking how to get to Shiloh.  She made reservations a couple of days ago for a retreat which was to start today and last for four days.  But it's her first time so she needed directions.  No problem.  We get this question all the time.  And she is an English speaker so that makes it super easy for me.

When I learned which part of town she was coming from, I began telling her how to get across town.  She interrupted me to let me know she knows our area real well.  She has often had spiritual retreats at two of the three other places fairly close to Shiloh where one can stay. 

That made it downright easy.  I told her to tell the taxi driver to let her out at "Entrance Complex BIAC" (remember that if you ever come to visit us.)  When the taxi drops her off, she simply crosses the street.  She will know she is in the right place because there is a large billboard for "College YONDO".  I told her to walk down that street, passing a soccer field on the right.  Shortly after the soccer field she will come to College YONDO.  It's actually a high school complex with three large, two story buildings. Each building has "College YONDO" painted on the side in very large letters.  You would have to be blind not to see it.  So I then instructed her to stop when she gets to the first College YONDO and give us a call.  We will walk out and meet her. [FYI she would have arrived by 5 p.m., a full hour before twilight.]

"OH!" she exclaimed.  "THIS IS TOO COMPLICATED!  i CANNOT COME TODAY!  I WILL HAVE TO COME IN THE MORNING!"

To which I calmly replied "You are going to tell the taxi to let you off at Entrance Complex BIAC.  Then you will cross the street and the large billboard for the college will be right there.  Stop by the billboard.  Don't move.  Phone us.  We will come out and get you." 

She hung up.  And two hours later I was sitting in the library relating this story to Joseph and Dorothy.  I asked them for their opinion.  Will she show up tonight, or will she come in tomorrow morning?  Joseph went off into gales of laughter.  Dorothy glanced at him with a puzzled look on her face and then turned back to me.  "Mama Alice," she asked, "why does she think it will be easier to find Shiloh in the morning than in the afternoon?"  I was trying very hard to not join Joseph in his laughter, but it was getting harder by the second.   I told Joseph which room was reserved for this lady and asked him not to lock it up for the night until after 8 p.m. which is our deadline for guests coming in.  Then I informed Dorothy that when she has lived at Shiloh longer she will begin to understand what is so funny.  It's not uncommon at all to give directions to someone and have them go ballistic on us!  We've had them wander around for over an hour, phoning us every 5 to 10 minutes, more lost than the time before.  And all because it is nigh unto impossible for an amazing number of people to listen and follow simple directions.  There is no point in getting upset when we stumble onto this kind of person.  It's best to go off into gales of laughter.  We all live longer lives that way!

Don't think I've ever plagiarized in this blog before, so this will be a first.  A friend just wrote (talking about our upcoming furlough plans):

"I bet God had Alice in mind when He gave that chair to us!" I was also thinking of the parallel. "In my Father's house... I go and prepare a place for you!" It seems that not only is God having fun preparing a place for you in heaven, but He has been having fun preparing a place for you to rest on your furlough.:) I'm pretty sure I can see Him smiling. Also, as **** and I have fun preparing a place to suit your desires and needs and hope to delight you, it has given me insight into the fun God is having preparing a place for us in Heaven!! I never really thought about it before.

What a great analogy she gives!  I thought it was worth plagiarizing.  Hope you do too.

We have another half hour to go.  If they haven't showed up by then (8 p.m.), we'll know that they won't be coming until 8 a.m. tomorrow.  Or maybe not.  They could phone at 8 a.m. to cancel their reservation altogether.

Welcome to Shiloh!  People make reservations to stay at our Spiritual Retreat Center.  Some of them turn  into "No Shows".  Some phone and cancel.  Or send an email or text message canceling their reservation.  Sometimes we turn others away because reservations are taken on a first come first served basis.  And then if they end up not coming (no-show or otherwise) we feel kind of bad for the ones we turned away.  

Of course we haven't started talking about the drop in guests.  They ring the door bell; we open the gate; and there they are, bag in hand, confident that we will have a room just waiting for them!  And sometimes we actually do have a room.  But how many times have we had to say "We are soooo sorry, but Shiloh is full up."  We've had tears, begging, pleading, and all sorts of pressure put on us.  But our "no" is really "no", no matter how bad we feel.  So we give them our business card and urge them to phone ahead next time and make a reservation.  (Some actually take a several hour bus ride to come to Shiloh for their week of vacation from their job, without ever making reservations ahead of time!  It boggles the mind!)

But this particular case is different.  They notified us a handful of hours ago that one of their children just spiked a temperature.  If aspirin takes care of it, they will go ahead and continue on with Plan A, and come in tonight by 8 p.m.  (Don't know who will be taking care of the kids...but am confident they have it all worked out.) However if their child's temp continues to climb, they will (Plan B) spend the night at home and watch him closely.  If things improve by morning, they will (Plan C) arrive at 8 a.m. to have their looked forward to weekend get away from the kids.  We graciously told them that even if they have to cancel out at 8 a.m. (Plan D), there is no problem at all.  Several of us here at Shiloh are parents.  We fully understand illness that hits without warning.  Besides, we're just so glad they have contacted us, instead of leaving us dangling like so many others do.

So Welcome to Never A Dull Moment Shiloh!  Welcome to Never Two Days the Same Shiloh!  (It's a bit crazy at times, but we wouldn't have it any other way.)

It's really not fair!  

Good friends of ours who live near our rental house in Arizona (which Jim built half a lifetime ago and we lived in for six years before coming out here to Cameroon) just sent us a spectacular picture of SNOW.  Snow on the cactus (it's high dessert there and snows once every handful of years); snow on the magnificent mountains which are across the valley from our front window; snow on neighbor's roofs.  

And here we sit on the other side of the Big Pond, knee deep in Harmattan dust and grit.  We're shoveling dirt, not snow!  Alas, once again we've arrived at the only nasty time of the year out here in the virtual Garden of Eden where we live, work, and play all the rest of the year.

I guess that sounds kind of whiny, doesn't it? To live in such a lush tropical rain forest complete with an unbelievable variety of birds, exotic vegetation, and wonderful fruit...and then to have the audacity to complain when Harmattan arrives?  What is wrong with us!!!

A rather amazing thing happened on Saturday morning (the day after Theirry's birthday).  His parents phoned to tell him that they were leaving Daoula and coming up to visit him and all of us, AND they were bringing his youngest sister and brother.  Theirry is number two in a family of eight children.  He excitedly told us the good news at breakfast, and we became excited right along with him.

Hours later when the family arrived, they surprised us by bringing us lots and lots of food.  Not just some fruit as they have in the past.  There was an enormous basket full of all types of tropical fruit (and they gave us the beautiful basket, too!)  They brought us five chickens and a whole slew of fish from Daoula, all kept cold in a covered tub filled with ice.  Daoula is the seat of commerce in Cameroon and it is right on the Atlantic Ocean.  It's a seaport city. They have access to fish that we rarely get here in Yaounde.  So our upright freezer is bulging with quite a treat!  They came bearing a regime of plantains, a large market basket brim full of potatoes, and a double handful of baton de manioc (which you've probably never eaten but which we LOVE!) And if that wasn't enough, they brought us a five liter bottle of cooking oil, a large can of whole powdered milk (they even selected our favorite brand!), and various and sundry other staples, too numerous to mention.

I'm sure by now this is all sounding rather amazing to you too, but until you know the back story, you cannot possibly understand the depth of our amazement.  And yes, we quickly shared the back story with Theirry and his parents.  This month, the first month of the year 2019, our support for the month is what one would call minuscule.  We have  enough to pay all of our regular bills, but there is no money for frills like grocery shopping.  That's not to say that we can't buy ANY food all month long, but each time we think we need to buy something to eat, we examine that thought from every angle to make sure we really need whatever it is.  There will be NO day long trip into town to do the monthly grocery shopping.  And we declared that we would watch our Father take care of us, faithfully providing our daily bread and so much more, as He has done for all of the 48 years of our missionary experience.

So now you are starting to catch a glimpse of the depth of our gratitude to our loving Heavenly Father, Who laid it on the hearts of Theirry's family to provide some of the very items we are out of here at Shiloh.  What an amazing, adventure filled life we life out here in Darkest Africa.  We  wouldn't trade it for all the tea in China.

Blessing turned one years old yesterday.  Her Daddy made a cake for her at Shiloh, as is his custom when each of his children turn one.  Francis headed for home carefully carrying her cake.  Was he in for a surprise!  When he opened the front door, the house was full of relatives and friends.  Ingrid had planned this special event without letting him know a thing.  There were the newlyweds (his younger brother) just off their honeymoon.  And they brought Blessing's older cousins who live near their little studio apartment.  And there were neighbors.  And people from church.  And other family members.  Francis could not believe his eyes!  He told us his first reaction  was to step back outside, close the door and run away.  But he quickly realized that this was a wonderful thing that his wife had done.  They are committed to giving God all the honor and glory due His lovely name whenever and however they can.  Neighbors, family, and friends who do not know the Lord will come to a party when they would never darken the door of a church.  Francis rose to the occasion.  He talked about the blessing of having children.  And he talked about the high points of little Blessing's first year of life.  Soon he was talking about that baby who was born in a manger so many years ago.  He came to this earth place to suffer and bleed  and die for our sins.  And a living-room filled with people listened in rapt attention to this impromptu sermon.  These events often lead to other conversations which can lead to people coming to know the Lord as their Savior, too.

On Monday night, 5 December a 25 year old Manguisa man from a village about 5 miles from Eyene went inside the house of two older women in a neighboring village to his, and began brutally murdering them.  He savagely chopped them around the head, neck, and upper body.  When he was convinced that they were both dead, he drug their bodies into the bedroom and closed the door.  Then he disappeared into the night.  The following morning a family member came to the house and discovered the massacre.  Miraculously the younger of the two women was still breathing.  They rushed her to the hospital where doctors were able to save her life.  She will fully recover, but it will take a long time.  The police were contacted and were able to interview the survivor.  She knew the attacker and because of her, the police arrested him less than 24 hours after he committed this unspeakably horrible act.  He is  in prison awaiting trial.  He will have the book thrown at him.  Maybe even receive the death penalty.  It is extraordinarily rare for such savagery to take place among the Manguisa.  The elderly lady who lost her life was the widow of Mama Clair's older brother who had died some years ago.  This event took place in the village where Mama Clair was born and raised.  The younger of the two older ladies, the one who barely survived the incident, is Mama Clair's youngest sister. 

How did we arrive in 2019 so quickly?  This new year has sneaked up on us.  Needless to say, we've been real busy.  

But what a fun time of the year here in Cameroon.  Many, many friends are phoning to wish us Happy New Year and to let us know how much they appreciate us and the ministry of Shiloh.  And others are dropping by to wish us Happy New Year in person.  We've had back to back, wall to wall visitors.  We're exhausted!  But it's a good kind of exhaustion.

So Happy New Year wherever you are.  May 2019 be an even better year as you follow hard after the Altogether Lovely One.  It's the only way to live!