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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Once again God took our breath away!  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Playing grandparents for a day was a rare treat.

 

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

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

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

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

 

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

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

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

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