Sunday morning in Nigeria

I was hoping that today would be a day of rest, but instead I think it is going to be a day of pretty non-stop work. Yesterday was a frustrating day in which I spent many hours on a tedious task I wasn't expecting to spend many hours on, and then several more hours on a presentation for Monday that somehow I managed to not save. I am still baffled. But I have to re-do it. And my plan of spending a bit of time at the pool (a little play in all this work) is rather de-railed by the sheets of rain coming down outside anyway. Oh well.

It's been a season of overwhelming work loads, tears and good-byes (both to MA friends and to my dear grandma, who I may or may not have more visits with here on earth), and really struggling to trust God with our circumstances. We are once again in a situation where it seems like nearly everything is up in the air. Where will we be living in 2 months, where will J be working, where will we worship and serve in Baltimore? We have no idea. The plan I thought we had for the summer has changed and changed again. My departure to Nigeria for this stint was changed at least half a dozen times (causing J's ticket and all sorts of other things to be rescheduled multiple times), and the several weeks I was slated to spend here in Nigeria in July now may not happen. If there is one thing I am learning it is not to trust World Bank projects to stick to a schedule, but in the meantime, the uncertainty over my work commitments leaves our lives in quite a bit of limbo.

I know we will be in Abu Dhabi from June 10-15 and at a beach house in Kenya from June 16-23. Then we hope to go to Uganda. Beyond that we have no firm plans at this point. Last night I was sleepless, trying to see where frequent flier miles might take us and where we might occupy ourselves if I am not on a World Bank mission in July. I know deep down it will work out, but I struggle not to fret.

Yesterday while waiting to check into a hotel I read an advice column in a local newspaper, written by a young single woman who seemed to be a Christian, and it went about like this: God only gives perfect gifts, so we need describe to him in great detail the things we want, and we will get them. My friend spent months visualizing the baby she wanted to have, down to the shape of his fingernails, and she got it! Now I am doing the same thing about my future husband [insert list of ideal husband qualities that included wealthy, handsome, terribly romantic, you get the idea]. We can "mould" our futures. God only wants to give us perfect things, after all.

Of course such a view of God is totally false. Anyone who holds God to giving them "perfect" gifts according to their definition and timetable is going to lose their faith in God pretty fast. And they will miss out on the joy of letting God give His perfect gifts, which of course may feel uncomfortable, painful, or and very unwanted at the time. I think of my first two years of marriage, a time of a serious loss of health and financial stability. I think the lesson for me in that was to recognize that God had the right to take those things away, and also to see the blessings that came out of suffering. God of course views things in a completely different plane than we do-- the plane of eternity, where the goal is that our lives bring maximum glory to Him, and life to others in an eternal sense, and that we learn to embrace eternal riches and store up our treasure there. So we should be willing to let all sorts of security, comfort, and earthly stuff be stripped away here in order to gain what has eternal value, right?

And yet in the rubber-hits-the-road of right now, I am struggling to trust God. To believe that He is the good God he says he is. That if he totally rearranges our summer that there is a good reason. That even if parts of my long-held dream of a fun summer in Africa fall away (as actually, they already have), it's okay. That God knows our every step between now and wherever and whenever we land under our new roof in Baltimore.

I found myself in Psalm 37 this morning, and what stuck out was the simple commands: a great recipe for peace, trust, and joy in any circumstances. The whole Psalm is about God's care for his people, and it's easy to focus on the "he will give you the desires of your heart" passages. But this morning what I feel desperate for is not any particular desire, but the freedom of wholeheartedly trusting, delighting in God, committing my way, and being still.

³ Trust in the LORD and do good;
dwell in the land and enjoy safe pasture.

⁴ Delight yourself in the LORD
and he will give you the desires of your heart.

⁵ Commit your way to the LORD;
trust in him and he will do this:

⁶ He will make your righteousness shine like the dawn,
the justice of your cause like the noonday sun.

⁷ Be still before the LORD and wait patiently for him;
do not fret when men succeed in their ways,
when they carry out their wicked schemes.

cuteness

I try not to eat out of hotel mini bars. Things are always expensive and mostly not very good for me. (Although I guess expensive is all relative in a city where a buffet dinner and bottle of water cost me over $35 last night. In my perpetual quest for vegetables and protein while traveling I like the options of a buffet, but the prices here!! The "here" would be Abuja, Nigeria.)

But tonight I am so tired all I want to do is lie in bed, watch TV, and munch, and I saw these in my mini bar. How could I resist gummy fried eggs?? And the little ring even fit on my pinky finger. Those Europeans have the coolest candy.

what we have been given

Tonight I made bread with a Nigerian friend. I was actually supposed to be in Nigeria this week, but my trip there has been rescheduled so many times I have lost count. Now I may be going next Wed or I may not be going at all (this month). I have already rescheduled J's ticket and our beach house in Kenya twice, and am not doing it again-- so if my indecisive employer pushes the trip any later I just won't go this month, and J and I will get onto a plane together for Dubai on June 9.

Ah, uncertainty! Add to that the fact that my house is covered in a sea of boxes (we have to be out by Monday, after that we'll be homeless for a little while)... and the fact that my dear grandma is fighting a vicious cancer and that my next few months are filled with stacks of question marks, from where exactly we are going to be when this summer to where we'll be living when we return (the particular address in Baltimore)... life feels very up in the air. James 4 hits home again.

But back to the bread. I first met my Nigerian friend last fall at a women's retreat and then ran into her a couple months ago while out walking with J and remembered that I had wanted to get to know her this year, and then it took me til last weekend to actually get J and I together with her and her husband for dinner. J asked a very insightful question about what their highs and lows from their time in the US had been, and of course for both of them the lows were that Americans are so busy and bad at forming relationships (my words, they were a little more diplomatic)... and so of course they have felt so lonely and isolated here. I could have wept at the missed opportunity to be great friends with them all year. (They are totally fantastic people.) But no, I was an American all year.

I had brought homemade bread to dinner and Grace (my friend) nearly begged me to teach her to make it. Of course we are moving and I am trying to finish the final changes to our book MS and may or may not be going to Nigeria any time... but I felt like I really had to make time for some bread making this week. So this morning I went down to her place and we mixed it and tonight I went back to help her shape and bake it. And resisted the urge to rush home while it did the final rise, and baked. Instead, we sat and talked. I am so glad I did.

So many things have me thinking and so many things have me feeling utterly humbled. Like that Grace and her husband and two kids will be moving to Fort Worth, TX (for her husband to do a PhD at Southwestern Seminary), carrying what they can fit into their minivan. Meanwhile I am struggling for weeks to get all my stuff packed up and totally miserable with all the work of packing and wondering if it will fit into the storage unit and fit into the 16-foot moving van. And feeling virtuous because my couch is old and I hate it. I mean, it's not like all my stuff is shiny and new. Even if I do all by myself have enough stuff to outfit an entire African village. (I can't blame J the Minimalist, it is really my stuff that is creating the stuff problem.)

We also talked about the hardness of heart of the American church, how we delude ourselves into thinking that we are so poor and have nothing to give when we are so rich, rich, rich. These are my words; Grace is mostly just baffled by it. She and Zachs really need support; they are going to Texas not knowing how they will afford to make the move or how they will outfit their house once they get there, or how they will pay for their expenses month to month. I encouraged her to start writing regular letters and cultivating supporters here, and tried to explain what I thought would communicate to Americans. (She feels uncomfortable with asking people as individuals for support, since this would never be done in Nigeria. She said if she and Zachs were in Nigeria right now, of course everyone would know they needed money for their move, and would just contribute without being asked. So I am encouraging her towards a more direct approach with her American friends.)

In the midst of all this, Grace told me that a pastor they knew had just been killed in a car accident (ironically, on the way back from the funeral of another pastor's wife), and his wife and 4 kids are left without support. So Grace is trying to figure out how she can stretch her grocery budget far enough to send some of it to this woman every month to help her feed her family. This is the woman who really has no idea how she will be putting food on the table for her own family next year. I strongly encouraged her to put a little box in the newsletter about this woman's need, and pray one of their friends has a soft heart to respond.

Grace has such an amazing heart for widows, and stories that make me cry even after I have heard them a few times. In Nigeria her husband Zachs is a pastor, and a few years ago she decided to invite the widows of the church to her house to celebrate Zachs' birthday. Imagine, having a party and inviting the poor and the widows! That is exactly what they did. The widows were so afraid because they thought the pastor must be angry with them or must have harsh words about some reported misconduct. (Widows in Africa are often quite young and often accused of working as prostitutes, which some do, out of desperation.) They were so surprised to show up and find they were the guests of honor. From that day they started meeting together regularly in a kind of widows' association, to support each other. When Zachs came to the US to go to school they gave him a parting gift of a sizable amount of money (for them) that they had scraped together. They told him, "You are doing this for us." And they committed themselves to praying for him and his family during their time in the US. I tell Grace she's so lucky to have an army of godly widows praying for her!

As God would have it Grace and Zachs are moving to Fort Worth, where we have friends that I hope can help them move in and get connected to a church that can support them. I keep thinking that it should be a no brainer, for the body of Christ to reach out to a couple like this and meet their physical needs. I'm not so sure in the US it will be a no brainer, which kind of breaks my heart. Why are we so hard-hearted and slow to give? What if we as the Body of Christ were sensitive enough to the Holy Spirit to see needs within the Body and respond, without having to be told what the needs were? I don't think directness is all bad, nor is a desire to know that our resources are well used. I kept stressing with Grace that Americans are deeply pragmatic.

But what if God were like that, of only giving to us when he was sure His gifts would be well and correctly used, no waste, appropriate gratitude. When God chose to gift me with a fine mind, a (mostly) healthy body, and the birthright of a wonderful family who were citizens of a rich country, he didn't make these things conditional on whether I would always use them correctly. Because I certainly don't. And in spite of my repeated ingratitude and selfish waste and misuse of the gifts he has given me, he just keeps on filling my path with gifts.

So if our God can be so incredibly generous to those of us who least deserve it (which is all of us), why can't we find it in our hearts to be a little more generous with each other? It sure must break God's heart.

Bulgur Salad with Vegetables and Feta

I'm sitting in Schiphol airport (free internet!), eating a bulgur salad that I packed over 12 hours ago as I was running out the door, but still tastes great. I guess it's now either a middle-of-the-night snack, or breakfast, depending on which time zone I use.

This salad is basically just a grain, chopped vegetables, some olive oil and lemon juice, and (optional but good) some feta cheese. I have been making similar salads for years with couscous. When I spent a month living in university housing in Quebec (summer 2006) and studying French, I practically lived on couscous salad. Contrary to what I'd been told before I arrived, there was no useable kitchen in the dorm. So my "kitchen" was a mini fridge, an electric kettle, one plate, one bowl, one fork, one spoon, and a couple plastic containers. Oh, and a knife and mini cutting board. I would pour boiling water over couscous, fluff it up, and add tomatoes, cucumber, olive oil, lemon, feta, and chickpeas (protein!) and that was lunch or dinner just about every day.

I don't know why it never occurred to me I could do this with other grains. As we will be packing up our apartment in a few weeks, I am in cleaning out the cupboards mode. And for some inexplicable reason I have lots and lots of bulgur on hand. Bulgur is whole wheat that is pre-cooked and partially ground (the wheat used in tabbouleh), and the wonderful thing about it, like couscous, is that all you have to do is pour boiling water over it and it is cooked. Instant food.

So here's a rough recipe (I don't measure; just add ingredients to taste)

Bulgur Salad with Vegetables and Feta
Makes about 8 cups.

• 2 c. bulgur wheat (coarser grinds would work better here)
  
• 2 c. boiling water
  
• 2-3 c. chopped vegetables (this time I used red pepper, finely chopped red onion, peeled and seeded cucumber, and radishes, but grape or regular tomatoes, green onions, cooked green beans, and probably other vegetables would also be good)
• juice of 1-2 lemons
• 3-4 T. olive oil
• 1/2 c. feta, crumbled
• salt and pepper to taste
• fresh herbs like parsley and mint would be a fantastic addition
• chickpeas or cannelini (white) beans would be nice too
• kalamata or regular olives make just about anything better
• or go the main course salad route and add grilled chicken
  

Pour the boiling water over the bulgur in a large bowl, cover with a plate to trap the steam, and let sit for 5 minutes or until the water has been absorbed. Fluff with a fork and let cool. You can add the lemon juice and olive oil while it is still warm, this allows the grains to absorb them a little more, but you don't want to add the vegetables and feta until the grain is cool. If you keep the salad around long enough for it to seem dry (or if the flavors seem to have gotten a little flat), just add a bit more lemon juice and olive oil.

(In the interests of full disclosure I should say that we ate this Friday night with awesome lamb kefta-- mix 1 lb. ground lamb with 2-3 cloves garlic, 1 small onion very finely chopped, 1 egg, 1 couple good handfuls of chopped cilantro, cumin, cayenne, coriander, salt, and pepper to taste, form into small logs and broil or grill in a grill pan. Yum!!!)

I have been seeing tons of grain salad recipes lately-- whole grains seem to be hot-- so I will have to see what else I can do with the quinoa, millet, forbidden (black) rice, and other odds and ends of grains in my cupboard. Making this salad with couscous would be exactly the same, but other grains you would have to cook first.

Can I just say that I am really excited about summer and salad season being here! Cooking always seems so much more effortless in the summer.

laughing until I cry

Nothing profound to say tonight. It's 5 a.m. and I've been up all night working on the book that will probably still be in some state of revision when they put me in the ground (and hey, AIDS might even be over by then)... and needing a bit of levity after a not-fun night (at one point I lost a bunch of changes for reasons I still don't understand, except that any Word document goes a bit bezerk when it gets around 3K)... so now to finish this sentence... somehow I stumbled onto this awesomely funny blog called CakeWrecks.

Which is what it sounds like, pictures of cakes that never should have seen the light of day.

Which made me laugh until I cried and tears ran down my face.

Check out the freaky babies, the freaky Micky Mouses, and the 35 mis-spellings of the word "birthday."

Here's another really fascinating site I just stumbled across (a few nights ago when, fittingly, I couldn't sleep): All-Nighters. Some fascinating research on insomnia (who knew that it could cure depression?) as well as some great personal essays.

I am leaving for Swaziland in about 12 hours and intended to try to get on Swaziland time as much as possible before I left... which I guess means it is about time for my afternoon nap... (and I am hoping I can sleep like a baby when I get on the plan at 7 p.m. Boston time).

foreign aid factoids

My bro and sis-in-law recently gave me a lovely boxed version of The New Yorker on CD-- every issue and article that has ever come out since the 1920s. This of course is tens of thousands of articles and I will never come close to reading them all-- but tonight, as I am getting ready to go to Nigeria in a week, I decided to search for articles on Nigeria. Which brought up some interesting stuff, as these factoids from a 2000 article about the famous meeting between Bono and Jesse Helms. (Before the serious stuff, I just have to share the NY's rich little description of "Helms, whose enthusiasm for mononymic rock stars had hitherto passed unremarked". Ha!)

But here's the important bit:

In 1962, roughly three percent of the federal budget was devoted to development aid. This year, the share going to economic aid for poor countries is less than one percent, which is just twenty-nine dollars per American. (The typical developed country gives about seventy dollars per person.) The entire aid budget for sub-Saharan Africa would just about pay for one new destroyer.

--"Comment: They Are the World", John Cassidy, The New Yorker, 9 October 2000
.

bad news from Nigeria

As I'm headed to Nigeria in a week, this article caught my eye:

Nigerian massacre victims buried in mass grave (LA Times, 8 March 2010)

This isn't even the most disturbing thing I have read today. I guess reading about all the sick and incredibly broken stuff in the world is one of my occupational hazards (I have been reading about Kinsey tonight)-- but seriously, some days the world just seems so dark. Tonight I can't sleep. And just want to weep.

The last couple weeks I have been clinging to Jesus' words about His peace that is not like the world's peace, about not letting my heart be troubled or afraid (John 14:27). What verse do you cling to when the world seems dark?

Something else for sad and/or weary souls (we sang it yesterday at church):



P.S. I have to add that after writing this, who popped up in my Skype chat but my dear friend who is living/working in Darfur. It's nice to have a friend who is also up in the wee hours, which of course are the late morning hours there. And she has shared my depressing-field-of-public-health world like no one else, and I am so glad that God has given me such a friend to walk with me. And that tonight, she understands my heartache (good grief, she works in Darfur!), and can remind me that God is still the Healer and Restorer and Fixer, at work in the world, all the time. This was her verse for me tonight (Isaiah 5:11): "The LORD will guide you always; he will satisfy your needs in a sun-scorched land and will strengthen your frame. You will be like a well-watered garden, like a spring whose waters never fail."