The nine year old girl staying at Shiloh who is soon to be adopted into an American family has been a very quiet child.  She rarely talks to us.  She talks a bit more to our Cameroonian team than to Papa Jim and Mama Alice.  We're pretty white, you know.  But then a couple of days ago Doris brought her three year old little girl to work with her and did things change!  Suddenly there was lots of laughter, chattering, giggling, whispering, and other girl kinds of things going on.  Turns out this child is able to talk non-stop.  And acts pretty much like any other child you might bump into anywhere in the world.  The girls have not minded that the one speaks more Sango than French.  They have not minded that they come from two different countries.  It bothers them not in the least that their cultures are quiet different.  They're just kids being kids.  Having fun.  Playing.  Amazing!

I guess we haven't seen it all.  I mean, after establishing and operating a spiritual retreat center twelve years ago (and living right inside the fishbowl called Shiloh) we've had literally thousands of guests stay with us.  Some come for a day retreat while others may stay for up to a month.  And do we have the stories to tell!  Some publishable and some not.  For a long time now we have repeatedly declared that we have seen it all.  Nothing shocks or surprises us any more.  Until today.

I guess we're not really shocked in the strictest sense of the word.  Maybe flummoxed would be a better way to describe our reaction to what is going on. You see, we have this person staying at Shiloh who has gotten her nose out of joint because of something our cook said to her yesterday.  She has chosen to hole up in her room and not come out.  And our cook didn't say anything wrong.  He was simply describing to her the rules and regs for using our kitchen.  She's supposed to be a Christian but we don't know her well enough to know if she is real or fake.  We have both kinds here at Shiloh.  We aren't sure how long she will be on her self imposed strike.  We do know she is supposed to be with us for a number of days.  We're not entirely sure what, if anything, we are supposed to do about this if it goes on much longer.  One thing we know for sure, the next time this happens to us, we will be old pros and know exactly what to do.  But for the time being, we're groping in the dark, hoping we won't blunder too badly. 

Adoption.  It's an interesting subject.  There are pros and cons.  It's viewed differently in different cultures.  For example Cameroon.  They are strongly against adoption in the Western sense of the word.  They have their own form of adoption, however.  When a person dies leaving behind children to be finished being raised, the large extended family holds a meeting.  This meeting traditionally takes place in the village the day after the burial of the child or children's parent.  They collectively decide the fate of the newly orphaned child.  Maybe the child will be handed off  to a widowed grandmother, or to an uncle who is gainfully employed and thus able to take on another mouth to feed.  Or maybe the child will be given to an aunt who does not have any children of her own.  After a period of time when this person no longer wants the orphaned child, it is handed off to another member of the extended family.  And in almost every case, the orphaned child is treated as little more than a slave in the home of whomever he is living with.  The child belongs to the tribe and the tribe does not want to loose the future potential of that child.  If it is a girl, she has the potential of bringing a obscenely large bride price to the extended family if marriage is in her future.  However if it is a boy, he is even more valuable when he grows up.  He and his generation are the ones who will carry the tribal traditions into the next generation.  He will produce heirs who will keep the tribe vibrant and alive.  This is their age old system.  And though it is not perfect, it is their system, and it does work for them.  Cameroonians are not happy when Westerners invade their tradition and adopt their orphaned children.  

We have an adoption going on at Shiloh right now.  It's a nine year old girl from the Central African Republic, one of our neighbors.  She arrived at Shiloh on Sunday night with the house parents from an orphanage in CAR.  They will be with us for three weeks, taking care of all sorts of things such as a medical exam.  Then when all the final things are in order, the adoptive parents will arrive from America.  They will stay with us at Shiloh for 2-5 days, depending on how long it takes to finalize everything.  Over the years we've had all sorts of children and their care givers stay at Shiloh.  And we've had all sorts of adoptive parents join them, overlap for a couple of days, and then fly off to America or Canada to begin their new life together.  And we do what we can to help them transition into this major change. 

She called yesterday morning.  Wondered if we would let her come in the afternoon and maybe take some cuttings from our plants.  Sure!  No problem!  We've given cuttings of our lovely plants to many, many people.  They've even been carried to the country of Central Africa Republic, and to all sorts of towns in Cameroon.  Besides which, most all of our plants began life as little cuttings we begged off various and sundry missionaries.  So why not pass it on?  Well, she came. We gave her a tour of our plants.  Answered all her questions about how to care for them, how tall they grow, etc.  She selected the ones that caught her eye and went back home to begin sprucing up their yard, too.

And then today an amazing thing happened.  Someone else showed up this afternoon bearing four exotic plants in hanging baskets.  They're all different varieties of tropical orchids from a neighboring country, sent to us by a fellow missionary.   Amazing!  One simply cannot out-give God.  That's all there is to it!

I entered the bank at twenty minutes after ten this morning.  Walking through the lobby, past lines of people waiting to see the tellers, I opened the door to a small side room and went inside.  Three bank employees were in their regular place, sitting behind glass, waiting on customers.  There was a Middle Eastern man sitting in front of the last window, and an older Cameroonian man sitting in front of the first window, in the only other chair.  Two other younger Cameroonian men were standing off to the side.  The older gentleman immediately stood and gave me his chair.  I'm always impressed with the level of respect that is given to an older person in this culture.  It didn't take many seconds for my attention to be drawn to the Middle Eastern man.  I tried not to state.  In fact, we all tried to avert our eyes and at least appear circumspect.  After all, we were in this little side room because we were either making large deposits or large withdrawals.  Large sums of money should not make us stare.  But we couldn't help it.  It took two employees to wait on the gentleman in question.  He kept producing large bundles of money and piling them up in front of one window and then the other.  The ladies kept reaching for one bundle after the other, removing rubber bands, and putting them in their counting machines.  As soon as one mound of money was counted, re-banded, and put off to the side, the gentleman removed more bundles and set them on the counter. The entire thirty minutes I was in the small side room, it never stopped.  Finally I realized that he had a large back pack on the floor next to his chair.  He kept removing endless stacks of money and handing them off to the ladies to be counted.  When the money I was withdrawing (all the support we have received for this month) was handed to me by the first employee, it looked so paltry in comparison to the unending supply of money that was flowing out of the back pack.  As I walked out of the small side room, back across the lobby, and out of the bank, all I could think of was Heaven.  That excessively large amount of money I had spent the last half hour staring at was absolutely nothing in comparison to what awaits us in Glory someday.  As the song we used to sing says "This world is not my home.  I'm just a passing through.  My treasures are laid up somewhere beyond the blue."  You can have everything this world has to offer, just give me Jesus. 

So we were sitting around talking about how we don't need to wait until somebody gives us a big, important job to do.  We can each find something to do that others may never know about.  It's important to do our small part.  And then he shared his own story.  

Some time ago he realized there were many people at his church whom he didn't really know.  I mean, they saw each other every Sunday.  And he knew their names.  But he didn't know much more than that about them.  So he decided to do something about it.  He talked it over with his wife, and she gave her approval to his idea.  Next he talked with another man at church.  Invited him to join in the adventure.  And then he approached the first person.  Decided to reach out to a lady who comes to church all alone.  Just greeted her after the service and said that he and his friend would like to visit her next Sunday afternoon.  Would that be OK?  She was surprised but agreed to let them come home with her.  They didn't spend a real long time at her house.  It was just a time of reaching out to her.  Getting to know her in the context of where she lived.  By the time he returned home to his loving wife and children, he was deeply touched.  Told his wife that he had no idea how bad the lady had it.  Shared her story.  The man she lives with (who isn't really her husband) beats her.  The poverty he saw in their home was extreme.   And then they set about finding a way to do what they could to help her.  

It's been a couple of years now since that first visit.  Every Sunday he sends his wife and kids on home ahead of him, while he and his friend visit yet another individual or family in the church.  This simple act has changed so much for everyone.  They ones they visit feel noticed and loved.  The church body is learning about needs they never knew existed.  And they are finding small ways that they can help meet those needs.  Or at least pray for the situation.  

What about you?  What are you doing in your corner of this old world?  Who are you  reaching out to?  We can all do our small part.  We don't have to wait to be asked.  Needy people are all around us.  And we receive so much more than we ever give.  It's well worth the effort.

It's not the first time they have tried this ruse out on us.  And they have been making the rounds of all the big houses in our neighborhood, too.  I guess they think we don't talk to our neighbors.  Or maybe they think we really are as stupid as we look.

It goes like this:  An official looking person comes to the gate, saying he is working for the electric company. He's even wearing the company uniform and has some "official" papers.  Says he's been sent to inspect our electric meter.  He takes a look at the meter, consults his papers, and declares that we need to buy a new meter.  And he goes on and on with a whole bunch of electrical jargon that is designed to intimidate one into thinking this is on the up-and-up.  Unfortunately Jim Tucker lives here and he's not easily intimidated by all the mumbo jumbo.  So while he goes to get his tools to test the existing meter and prove that it is perfectly fine, the official looking person shows Francis a paper that states we will have to pay 350.000 F ($900) for the new meter.  When Francis queries him, the man says he will negotiate with Jim when he returns.  But he quickly lets Francis know that, since he has had to do so much talking to explain everything to us, we have to provide him with a beer.  (Sure thing!)  When the non-dummy Jim Tucker returns with his tools and the man suddenly realizes that he has met his match, he begins back paddling.  "Well, no," he says, "your meter is not actually worn out.  But I'm in charge and when I say you need a new one, you must buy one from me."  In the end, when he sees there is no possible way of convincing Jim to come up with the money, he then tells him he will have to be paid 50.000 F ($100) in order to leave the current meter in place and go on his way.  (Indeed!)

Sadly for him, Francis ushers him out the gate WITHOUT the beer and most certainly WITHOUT the 50.000 F.  It's not his lucky day.  Francis tells us that if we had fallen for this, he would have removed our perfectly good meter, pocketed the money, taken his beer, and skipped off into the sunset with the false promise of returning right away with our new meter.  He can easily convert that meter into more beer money.

We live in a fallen world.