Earlier that morning, May awoke from her sleep prematurely. It was time to put the “bathroom game plan” into action. Three hours prior to this moment the bathroom game plan had become essential, in her mind at least. One might find the “bathroom game plan” humorous, but they obviously have never slept in ant covered sand, 50 yards away from the six inch hole toilet seat in the middle of the bush of Africa. That person might never had taken the perfect dose of Tylenol pm, one and one-third tablets worth, promptly at 11pm that night and surely that person would be better versed in chemistry then May. (the previous“then” was intentionally spelled incorrectly by the author with hopes it might make Cappy smile, should he still read silly little story blogs). In order to understand the current game plan one must recognize the past failures…
At approximately 2:00am, standard time, May’s bladder awoke her. Her carrot shaped and colored earplugs, an essential part of her evening attire, had fallen out. Actually, just one ear plug fell out, the one that found residence in her left ear remained. This was a small detail that later would be of vast importance. She lifted her eye mask up. It fit loosely around her forehead and the back of her neck. She reached around in search of the clock-flashlight, as she thought, surely my clock would win a competition for ingenuity as it was a clock, alarm, and flashlight all in one. She began to wonder who gave her this clever little gift, but could not recall the day she received it. Presently, her hand made a sweeping movement across the tent floor but came up empty. May thought, maybe I can make it to the bathroom without a light. Later she would find that to be the most unintelligent decision of all of the unintelligent moves she made that night.
May stretched her extremely bug bitten legs out of her sleeping bag, stood up and walked to the tent door. Her walk was a wobbly one and almost resulted in her tripping over Red’s head, which rest peacefully two feet away from the zipper. May partially stepped and partially tripped out of the tent. Her barefoot landed in the thousand-wide ant army that seemed to be attacking something on the other side of the tent. She bent down in search for her flip-flops. Where on earth are they, she thought as she brushed the ants off her feet. She reached her hand slightly under the tent, her head, ear-length away from the battle line.
Are these little creatures laughing at me, she wondered. To her surprise, in a quiet and groggy voice, May whispered such phrases as, “just wait until next time”, “you can’t handle this”, and “rematch”. As any winning competitor does, the ants laughed at her, rather weak, attempt of “talking smack”. She could have sworn she heard them saying something but, between the Tylenol pm and the carrot shaped and colored plug embedded in her left ear, all she could make out was a muffled, “all, jant, all”. Later May would realize the ants battle chant was, “fall, giant, fall”, but at this particular moment, she was more concerned about slipping her flip-flops on and getting out of their territory.
Unknowingly, May stepped two feet into the climax of this game. She realized the Tylenol PM made her senses a little dim, what she did not realize was the carrot colored and shaped ear plug stuck in her left ear caused her equilibrium to be off balance. As a result, her third step landed her sprawled out on the dirt ground. Her light blue trimmed eye mask fell back over her eyes and she awkwardly lifted herself back up only to stumble blindly into the wall of Mr. Chard’s stick room. She removed the eye mask, took two more steps forward and finally realized she must remove the carrot colored and shaped ear plug from her left ear. She made it to the bathroom, half seeing and half guessing where the hole was, and made it back to the tent...alive.
May found her missing ear plug and her clock-flashlight thanks to Red’s headlamp. She lay down in her bed thinking of what she would do the next time she needed to use the bathroom. Little did she know, “the next time” was just three hours away. She made a “bathroom game plan” even though she was still unaware of her opposing team. She fell asleep thinking of all the restaurants she would eat at her first day back in America. She awoke three hours later to her bladder’s urgent beckoning.
May put the plan into action. She wrapped the cotton eye-mask around the foam ear-plugs and stuck them in her pillow case. After the successful completion of what May called, “pillow case protection”, she pulled her clock-flashlight out from under her mat where she devised its perfect position to be easily grasped when needed. She stepped gently over Red’s, auburn hair and the yellow blanket that covered her face, and made it successfully to the door of the tent. She slipped her feet into the flip-flops she had lain to the right of the door, facing outward, on her previous bathroom attempt. The ant army retreated and was no longer an obstacle. May made it to and from the bathroom at a steady pace with no stumbling, and this time she even saw the hole.
She re-entered the tent and lay comfortably in her bed reflecting on the morning’s first attempt when it all, finally, made sense. The eye-mask, the flip flops, the Tylenol pm, the ants, and of course the captain of it all…the carrot shaped and colored ear plugs were the other team. She was sure of it. She could even remember the tiny arms on the little bodies of those ants, they were dancing and clapping and cheering the team on. The eye mask was the silent player, but nevertheless just as important as each of the other team players. The flip flops had the most pressure on them and thus, hid, or was that just a trick in the game plot? And, the carrot shaped and colored earplugs, they were the captain of this inanimate object team? Wait, the clock, was the clock in on it, did it disappear in those moments when she needed its’ flashlight eyes the most…oh she could not bare the thought.
She remembered her sweet sister, McCaine, had given those earplugs to her…could she be the coach of all this, the master mind behind all this game? Was she out to defeat her? First thing in the morning she would have a “coach’s meeting” with McCaine to discuss the previous nights performance. After all, the best defense is a good offense. She fell back asleep with thoughts of how she had become “strange” and with wonders of whether or not she would ever “fit in” the American culture again.
Wednesday, November 21, 2007
Tuesday, November 20, 2007
Chapter 27 "Red Slash Paradox"
May entered the small stick room slightly earlier then Red and Berny, the new sister who came to their team two weeks prior to this cool morning in November. Her legs hung over the poorly painted iron pole bed as her body rested on mere threads intricately woven above and below to create a rainbow of twine strands. One might call this tapestry an economical mattress, but the subject who slept upon it would discontentedly describe it as nothing more then mere strings elevated above the ground. This morning it did not so much take the form of a bed, but rather a couch for the sisters and the visitor they expected. May’s eyes strode around the room. They jumped to the top where she noticed the flimsy wall barrier held up the tin sheet roof that lay slightly lopsided above their heads.
Her eyes moved to the sides of the room. They skipped over the gaps between the surplus of sticks and took a brief rest upon the slits she could see of the gigantic white tarp suspended on the outside of the wall facing the east. That morning it was a coat of protection from the wind’s breath that seemed so powerful. Its main purpose was not to protect the occupants of the room from streams of air, but rather the bullets and guns that were prevalent outside the door. Draped diagonally over the huge black gun in the middle of the tarp was a large red slash. For a brief moment May contemplated the red slash paradox that was the sign.
The sign protected the sisters from the same guns that protected the entire village from the rebels that had already killed 200,000 thousand people and caused another 2 million to flee for their lives. Anyone who was to enter their living quarters must rest their gun on the rock wall outside of the compound for, as the sign clearly stated, no guns were allowed in. Her mind critically found the sign to be a cheap comfort, nothing more then a superficial plastic protection from metal drops that stole, and would continue to steal, mothers and fathers and sons and daughters.
Her mind traveled a road of visions that resembled pot bellied babies, each viciously sucking on a single lolli-pop that appeared to be their first meal in five days. She saw the tired eyes of women who were alive and dead at the same time, breathing air into bodies that were drained of all hope. She thought, what is oxygen without hope? She saw the torn bodies of men, scars risen from thorns that tore into their black skin as they ran from rebels who set their homes on fire. She saw round lumps on their legs and their arms that were three inches too close to the bullet’s path.
Usually, May attempted, desperately, to avoid these pictures in her mind. She saw them daily but she distanced herself. She could not let herself enter in, even in the smallest way, this suffering in front of her. She was afraid it would paralyze her. It was later when she thought, if she closed her eyes she could see more clearly, and that is when she allowed her heart to grieve the evil in the area and the curse on the world.
Red walked into the room and unknowingly pulled May back to the present issue, where to find more tea for the visitor who would soon be there. At that moment neither sister realized the next few hours in their compound would change their lives forever.
Her eyes moved to the sides of the room. They skipped over the gaps between the surplus of sticks and took a brief rest upon the slits she could see of the gigantic white tarp suspended on the outside of the wall facing the east. That morning it was a coat of protection from the wind’s breath that seemed so powerful. Its main purpose was not to protect the occupants of the room from streams of air, but rather the bullets and guns that were prevalent outside the door. Draped diagonally over the huge black gun in the middle of the tarp was a large red slash. For a brief moment May contemplated the red slash paradox that was the sign.
The sign protected the sisters from the same guns that protected the entire village from the rebels that had already killed 200,000 thousand people and caused another 2 million to flee for their lives. Anyone who was to enter their living quarters must rest their gun on the rock wall outside of the compound for, as the sign clearly stated, no guns were allowed in. Her mind critically found the sign to be a cheap comfort, nothing more then a superficial plastic protection from metal drops that stole, and would continue to steal, mothers and fathers and sons and daughters.
Her mind traveled a road of visions that resembled pot bellied babies, each viciously sucking on a single lolli-pop that appeared to be their first meal in five days. She saw the tired eyes of women who were alive and dead at the same time, breathing air into bodies that were drained of all hope. She thought, what is oxygen without hope? She saw the torn bodies of men, scars risen from thorns that tore into their black skin as they ran from rebels who set their homes on fire. She saw round lumps on their legs and their arms that were three inches too close to the bullet’s path.
Usually, May attempted, desperately, to avoid these pictures in her mind. She saw them daily but she distanced herself. She could not let herself enter in, even in the smallest way, this suffering in front of her. She was afraid it would paralyze her. It was later when she thought, if she closed her eyes she could see more clearly, and that is when she allowed her heart to grieve the evil in the area and the curse on the world.
Red walked into the room and unknowingly pulled May back to the present issue, where to find more tea for the visitor who would soon be there. At that moment neither sister realized the next few hours in their compound would change their lives forever.
Monday, October 22, 2007
Chapter 26 "Power in the Name"
Six months into the journey the idea of planning ahead meant little and structured events, not being so structured, were still slowly being burned out of the sisters. A long time before this warm Monday morning they learned “glitches” would inevitably be a part of every day life in the Sandbox and that flexibility was essential. May would look back on this day, thankful there are no glitches in the Father’s perfect interruptions in her plans and with a heart a little more willing to be flexible.
When the sister’s plans changed that morning and they decided to visit their friend, Shatra, at her university, they were slightly annoyed but not surprised. Upon their arrival she requested they accompany her to her classroom. Hesitantly, the sisters followed Shatra into her classroom where they were greeted by her professor and twenty girls whose colorful head coverings, pressed firmly into their foreheads, would later leave slight indentations just below the brow of their hairline. After the professor’s amiable inquiry had passed, the sisters sat comfortably in the back of the classroom only slightly interested in the days’ lessen.
They soon found they were not there for mere cordial greetings and superficial attentiveness to the lesson at hand. The three white girls had been the objects of show that day. The professor requested they sit at the front of the room and share their lives with his students. Red and McCaine both shared about their families and about asking the Father where they should go to help people. May was the last of the sisters to go to the front and she was thankful for Red and McCaine’s conversations that opened the door for her to share.
Ironically, May did not like being with large groups of people and she loathed speaking in front of more then about three sets of eyes. In college she conveniently needed to use the restroom right before it was her turn to read a paragraph out-loud in class. When she was Student Government Union, President, she usually made the Vice President do most of the talking at the senate meetings besides saying “in favor of” and “opposed to” for her anxiousness and nervousness held her back from getting words out. As she sat and listened to what the sisters said she became anxious in the opposite way. She was anxious for them to finish so she could have her chance to share.
May had been holding her breath for one hundred seventy six days, the amount of time that had passed before she had the opportunity to say His name out loud. It seemed as though someone had placed their hands over her mouth and she could not get air in or out. She had slowly been suffocating and the only oxygen that came in was little gasps of air from hearing friend’s accounts of their opportunities. She felt frantic in the moment, trying to wait patiently for the sisters to finish sharing their stories, nervous the class would end before she could get up there and say his name aloud to these souls.
Each time she gave money to the beggar children and widowed women she declared to them, “G loves you and he has a good plan for your life,” but she always wondered who “G” was to them. This day May declared to the women that JC gave her hope, that JC gave her life meaning and that JC put it on her heart to come to this land and to love these people, their people. As she shared the Father’s 2000 year old gift with the young women in front of her she realized the gift she was receiving in the moment and she was able to breathe again.
When the sister’s plans changed that morning and they decided to visit their friend, Shatra, at her university, they were slightly annoyed but not surprised. Upon their arrival she requested they accompany her to her classroom. Hesitantly, the sisters followed Shatra into her classroom where they were greeted by her professor and twenty girls whose colorful head coverings, pressed firmly into their foreheads, would later leave slight indentations just below the brow of their hairline. After the professor’s amiable inquiry had passed, the sisters sat comfortably in the back of the classroom only slightly interested in the days’ lessen.
They soon found they were not there for mere cordial greetings and superficial attentiveness to the lesson at hand. The three white girls had been the objects of show that day. The professor requested they sit at the front of the room and share their lives with his students. Red and McCaine both shared about their families and about asking the Father where they should go to help people. May was the last of the sisters to go to the front and she was thankful for Red and McCaine’s conversations that opened the door for her to share.
Ironically, May did not like being with large groups of people and she loathed speaking in front of more then about three sets of eyes. In college she conveniently needed to use the restroom right before it was her turn to read a paragraph out-loud in class. When she was Student Government Union, President, she usually made the Vice President do most of the talking at the senate meetings besides saying “in favor of” and “opposed to” for her anxiousness and nervousness held her back from getting words out. As she sat and listened to what the sisters said she became anxious in the opposite way. She was anxious for them to finish so she could have her chance to share.
May had been holding her breath for one hundred seventy six days, the amount of time that had passed before she had the opportunity to say His name out loud. It seemed as though someone had placed their hands over her mouth and she could not get air in or out. She had slowly been suffocating and the only oxygen that came in was little gasps of air from hearing friend’s accounts of their opportunities. She felt frantic in the moment, trying to wait patiently for the sisters to finish sharing their stories, nervous the class would end before she could get up there and say his name aloud to these souls.
Each time she gave money to the beggar children and widowed women she declared to them, “G loves you and he has a good plan for your life,” but she always wondered who “G” was to them. This day May declared to the women that JC gave her hope, that JC gave her life meaning and that JC put it on her heart to come to this land and to love these people, their people. As she shared the Father’s 2000 year old gift with the young women in front of her she realized the gift she was receiving in the moment and she was able to breathe again.
Tuesday, October 9, 2007
Chapter 25 "Hope under the Trees"
May came empty, to a place beneath the giant leaf trees, surrounded by stick house villages, deep within the bush of Africa. She found a seed that had been planted there years earlier. On the outskirts of pot-hole filled roads divided by landmine covered fields, surrounded by disease filled soil that stole the lives of mothers and fathers, a seed of selflessness was planted, deep within the bush of Africa. Forgiveness sprouted, faith formed leaves, and hope blossomed from one selfless seed planted, deep within the bush of Africa.
A place exists where a handful of goodness was sprinkled during a time filled with evil, where few tears are shed and much laughter is contained behind the fence. There is a place where the Father’s glory shines through the people’s sin, where children play in a sanctuary of peace, deep within the bush of Africa. There is a place where creativity is found and where dreams are made, where children jump when they sing and throw their hands in the air when they dance. A place where the parentless have found the Father, where giggles can be heard from a distance and hugs can be felt up close, deep within the bush of Africa.
May knew Red and McCaine enjoyed visiting the orphanage, not quite as much as she, but they could see her heart was inspired by this safe haven for defenseless. She was thankful for sweet sisters who skipped lunches to hike the three mile path and to encourage the beginnings of a dream. Each of the sisters were captivated by this haven for the young and afflicted.
May came empty, but while she played tic-tac toe and swung children in the air, her heart softened. Somewhere, in between the times she twirled the children in the air and shuffled with them in the dance; somewhere, in between the sweet songs flowing from the mouths of the innocent and the attentive eyes upon her as she read stories about the Savior, May was filled again.
A place exists where a handful of goodness was sprinkled during a time filled with evil, where few tears are shed and much laughter is contained behind the fence. There is a place where the Father’s glory shines through the people’s sin, where children play in a sanctuary of peace, deep within the bush of Africa. There is a place where creativity is found and where dreams are made, where children jump when they sing and throw their hands in the air when they dance. A place where the parentless have found the Father, where giggles can be heard from a distance and hugs can be felt up close, deep within the bush of Africa.
May knew Red and McCaine enjoyed visiting the orphanage, not quite as much as she, but they could see her heart was inspired by this safe haven for defenseless. She was thankful for sweet sisters who skipped lunches to hike the three mile path and to encourage the beginnings of a dream. Each of the sisters were captivated by this haven for the young and afflicted.
May came empty, but while she played tic-tac toe and swung children in the air, her heart softened. Somewhere, in between the times she twirled the children in the air and shuffled with them in the dance; somewhere, in between the sweet songs flowing from the mouths of the innocent and the attentive eyes upon her as she read stories about the Savior, May was filled again.
Tuesday, September 4, 2007
Chapter 24 "Lessons from a Nalgene Bottle"
May’s purple Nalgene bottle had accompanied her through many experiences in the desert. She found a certain sense of comfort in having it by her side during her journeys. Nalgenes were not found in the Sandbox and she guarded hers very carefully, as it was her main source of hydration during outings. So, it was uncharacteristically careless of her to place it on the dusty floor of the Amjad as she fiddled through her purse to find the correct change for the driver. She handed him the change and walked into the restaurant with the sisters and without the faded water bottle which had taken residency in the backseat of the amjad.
The sisters could see May’s annoyance at her absentmindedness and they knew she was not particularly fond of amjad and rickshaw drivers. Since the stranger incident, she had never thought anything kind about any one of them and she had never given the benefit of the doubt to a single one of them. The sisters ordered their lunch and talked about the night before when their bathroom sink broke. May laughed as she remembered Red walking out of her room and entering the bathroom, one second later exiting the bathroom and exclaiming, “We have a problem.” She had jumped out of her bed to look and she saw the bathroom flooding from a leak in the hose that attached to the sink. Red and McCaine grabbed a bucket to contain the water and May tried calling for help.
The phone and sink were in a plot to get the sisters, outgoing calls could not be made. The sisters each took a turn, with all their might, trying to turn the water off, only to find out the valve they were working so hard to turn, was merely a decoration. The house phone finally worked and they called a friend. Red and May went up to the roof to see if there was a way to turn the water off from atop the house. McCaine emptied the red bucket that filled every few minutes.
May was excited to use her headlamp, as if she were climbing into a dark cave. She stepped on top of the roof and looked over the edge. At that precise moment she realized two rather important things. She had somehow attained a fear of heights since she had gotten to the desert and being up that high while on Tylenol PM was not one of her smarter ideas. She became light headed and made her way to the corner of the roof too afraid to get back on the ladder to get down.
Red saw their friend pull up and yelled up to May that she was going to let him in. May, mustering up as much courage as she could, half crawled and half walked around the roof trying to find the right nozzle to turn off the water. Red returned and realized May was huddled back in the corner, the roof had gotten the best of her. After a slight pep talk Red had gotten May down the ladder and safely into the house.
The sisters were close to hysterics when Red noticed May had stopped laughing and was starring out the door of the restaurant. May stood up as the amjad driver opened the door and approached her. He placed the purple Nalgene in her hand without saying a word. He had come back an hour later to return it. In the best Arabic she could recall, she uttered a “thank you very much” as he turned and walked out of the restaurant not asking for anything in return for the Nalgene.
May sat back down in her chair. Red and McCaine knew this was “a moment” for her. They started tearing as they saw May cry, humbled that in a culture filled with people who seemed only out for their best interests, a stranger who she never gave the benefit of the doubt to in the first place, went out of his way to return her water bottle and asked nothing in return.
The sisters could see May’s annoyance at her absentmindedness and they knew she was not particularly fond of amjad and rickshaw drivers. Since the stranger incident, she had never thought anything kind about any one of them and she had never given the benefit of the doubt to a single one of them. The sisters ordered their lunch and talked about the night before when their bathroom sink broke. May laughed as she remembered Red walking out of her room and entering the bathroom, one second later exiting the bathroom and exclaiming, “We have a problem.” She had jumped out of her bed to look and she saw the bathroom flooding from a leak in the hose that attached to the sink. Red and McCaine grabbed a bucket to contain the water and May tried calling for help.
The phone and sink were in a plot to get the sisters, outgoing calls could not be made. The sisters each took a turn, with all their might, trying to turn the water off, only to find out the valve they were working so hard to turn, was merely a decoration. The house phone finally worked and they called a friend. Red and May went up to the roof to see if there was a way to turn the water off from atop the house. McCaine emptied the red bucket that filled every few minutes.
May was excited to use her headlamp, as if she were climbing into a dark cave. She stepped on top of the roof and looked over the edge. At that precise moment she realized two rather important things. She had somehow attained a fear of heights since she had gotten to the desert and being up that high while on Tylenol PM was not one of her smarter ideas. She became light headed and made her way to the corner of the roof too afraid to get back on the ladder to get down.
Red saw their friend pull up and yelled up to May that she was going to let him in. May, mustering up as much courage as she could, half crawled and half walked around the roof trying to find the right nozzle to turn off the water. Red returned and realized May was huddled back in the corner, the roof had gotten the best of her. After a slight pep talk Red had gotten May down the ladder and safely into the house.
The sisters were close to hysterics when Red noticed May had stopped laughing and was starring out the door of the restaurant. May stood up as the amjad driver opened the door and approached her. He placed the purple Nalgene in her hand without saying a word. He had come back an hour later to return it. In the best Arabic she could recall, she uttered a “thank you very much” as he turned and walked out of the restaurant not asking for anything in return for the Nalgene.
May sat back down in her chair. Red and McCaine knew this was “a moment” for her. They started tearing as they saw May cry, humbled that in a culture filled with people who seemed only out for their best interests, a stranger who she never gave the benefit of the doubt to in the first place, went out of his way to return her water bottle and asked nothing in return.
Chapter 23 "Sitting in Brokeness"
Some days May felt like she wore her skin inside out, other days she felt like the slightest tap on any part of her body would lead the rest of it to shatter into a million little pieces. She loathed those days of brokenness and emptiness. She learned to sit through them, to sit still, and to wait patiently for the mood to lift and to be filled. She waited for a new day, when the insecurities shaken by a restless mind would settle back to a stable surface.
If beauty was found in brokenness, inevitably, she would find something stunning those days at the end of August, because the brokenness seemed bottomless. Sometimes it was hard and ever so painful to sit and wait. How does one visit and love others when they feel parts of themselves are missing, when they are not whole? She learned how to live outside of herself on those days. Some might consider it fake, to smile and laugh with people when the smile is a mask and the laughter is a mere shallow echo from empty chambers of the heart. She strived to be genuine while she was drowning inwardly in her tears.
As she was being refined in these flames of brokenness she saw her own inadequacies rise to the surface. Her shortcomings were exposed and she found herself walking on grace’s shore. The massiveness of this beach in which she walked, she could not grasp. In her hand she held a morsel of what set her free to bare the brokenness that was upon her. This one grain of grace was so vast and so much more beautiful then anything she could ever illustrate. She dared not even an attempt describing it because she could never give justice to its’ splendor. Walking on this shore, so immense, deserving not even one grain but being given the entire beach, to be loved that much, was in itself overwhelming and almost unbearable. She could not bare the weight of holding another grain in her hand because with it was the weight of the cross.
She sat in grace filled brokenness knowing the emptiness would be filled and the darkness turned white beneath His red cloak. She lifted her hands and kept singing joyful songs that came from a heart that was being purified.
If beauty was found in brokenness, inevitably, she would find something stunning those days at the end of August, because the brokenness seemed bottomless. Sometimes it was hard and ever so painful to sit and wait. How does one visit and love others when they feel parts of themselves are missing, when they are not whole? She learned how to live outside of herself on those days. Some might consider it fake, to smile and laugh with people when the smile is a mask and the laughter is a mere shallow echo from empty chambers of the heart. She strived to be genuine while she was drowning inwardly in her tears.
As she was being refined in these flames of brokenness she saw her own inadequacies rise to the surface. Her shortcomings were exposed and she found herself walking on grace’s shore. The massiveness of this beach in which she walked, she could not grasp. In her hand she held a morsel of what set her free to bare the brokenness that was upon her. This one grain of grace was so vast and so much more beautiful then anything she could ever illustrate. She dared not even an attempt describing it because she could never give justice to its’ splendor. Walking on this shore, so immense, deserving not even one grain but being given the entire beach, to be loved that much, was in itself overwhelming and almost unbearable. She could not bare the weight of holding another grain in her hand because with it was the weight of the cross.
She sat in grace filled brokenness knowing the emptiness would be filled and the darkness turned white beneath His red cloak. She lifted her hands and kept singing joyful songs that came from a heart that was being purified.
Friday, August 24, 2007
Chapter 22 "Distraction Lane"
It was evident that May hit the four month language slump when small Arabic words such as “warda”, which simply meant “rose”, tempted her mind into thoughts about the bookstore she wanted to open one day. She imagined the flower stand outside the store that would sell Chrysanthemum, Amaryllis, and Birds of Paradise, along with an array of others. Her mind walked through the doors of the bookstore and journeyed around shelves and amiable book displays. It stopped at the register counter where the different brands of the coffee, she would offer her customers, shadowed the pastries that would be served alongside freshly squeezed juices and homemade breads.
She heard the sound the tin lid made while being twisted off the thick, glass candy jar that contained dozens of lemon drops and sat next to the “save the manatees” pins near the cash register. Illogically, her next thought was the joy she would find swimming with the manatees one day. With her thoughts once again happening upon the bookstore, she realized that she never really decided on the actual books that would be on the shelves.
There was no controlling the randomness to her thoughts during this day’s diversion from studying. May wondered if her plans matched up to His and whether or not she would get to run the orphanages in Haiti and Africa that she wanted to build. She wondered if she would ever give a little more then she got. She always thought she would give more than she would get, but somehow managed leaving places getting so much more than she ever gave. That thought always baffled her and she wished to eventually give more than she would get. Her mind moved onto playing “airplane” with the orphans and twirling them in endless circles. She felt the dizziness.
She wondered when she would get the slight gap that sat comfortably between her two, center, bottom teeth fixed. She wanted to ballroom dance in the sand at the beach while the sun was setting and to own a long red coat and stylish black boots (neither of which she owned), just to be fashionable in cold weather somewhere one day. She wondered when she would be able to drop her middle name and move her last name to its’ spot and add another last name – she secretly hoped it would start with an “M” so her initials would squiggle “MMM”. Her mind drifted further off…
It wandered onto the things she wanted to “do” in her life. She thought about the kinds of marble and wood she would choose for the handmade backgammon board she would make her father. She wondered why she did not bring all the scrap pieces of material she had cut off from old prom dresses, basketball jerseys, and graduation caps to sew together with strips of material from aged tee-shirts that had significance and pieces of clothe she had purchased from different countries she had traveled. She wanted to sew together a “life” blanket that she expected to give to her kids one day.
She thought of all the things she wanted to learn. She wanted to learn to play the guitar (or just one song), surf, publish a book, make tasteful pottery bowls, run a marathon (preferably in Florida during one of the cooler months), earn a doctorate (she had no idea what in), throw a huge surprise party (she had no idea who for). She even thought about what name she would give the golden retriever and black lab she wished to own one day.
She did not realize she was strolling down Distraction Lane until a half hour passed and she felt a drip of sweat nonchalantly roll down her cheek, drip onto her forearm, and awaken her to the slightly smudged flash cards that she held in her moist right hand. There she was, sitting in the bamboo chair with pastel clothe cushions, amused by her mind’s ability to jump from “warda” to the entire rest of her life, some ideas more shallow than others. May flipped to the next flashcard hoping her dreams would one day become more than paragraphs on the paper narrative of her life.
She heard the sound the tin lid made while being twisted off the thick, glass candy jar that contained dozens of lemon drops and sat next to the “save the manatees” pins near the cash register. Illogically, her next thought was the joy she would find swimming with the manatees one day. With her thoughts once again happening upon the bookstore, she realized that she never really decided on the actual books that would be on the shelves.
There was no controlling the randomness to her thoughts during this day’s diversion from studying. May wondered if her plans matched up to His and whether or not she would get to run the orphanages in Haiti and Africa that she wanted to build. She wondered if she would ever give a little more then she got. She always thought she would give more than she would get, but somehow managed leaving places getting so much more than she ever gave. That thought always baffled her and she wished to eventually give more than she would get. Her mind moved onto playing “airplane” with the orphans and twirling them in endless circles. She felt the dizziness.
She wondered when she would get the slight gap that sat comfortably between her two, center, bottom teeth fixed. She wanted to ballroom dance in the sand at the beach while the sun was setting and to own a long red coat and stylish black boots (neither of which she owned), just to be fashionable in cold weather somewhere one day. She wondered when she would be able to drop her middle name and move her last name to its’ spot and add another last name – she secretly hoped it would start with an “M” so her initials would squiggle “MMM”. Her mind drifted further off…
It wandered onto the things she wanted to “do” in her life. She thought about the kinds of marble and wood she would choose for the handmade backgammon board she would make her father. She wondered why she did not bring all the scrap pieces of material she had cut off from old prom dresses, basketball jerseys, and graduation caps to sew together with strips of material from aged tee-shirts that had significance and pieces of clothe she had purchased from different countries she had traveled. She wanted to sew together a “life” blanket that she expected to give to her kids one day.
She thought of all the things she wanted to learn. She wanted to learn to play the guitar (or just one song), surf, publish a book, make tasteful pottery bowls, run a marathon (preferably in Florida during one of the cooler months), earn a doctorate (she had no idea what in), throw a huge surprise party (she had no idea who for). She even thought about what name she would give the golden retriever and black lab she wished to own one day.
She did not realize she was strolling down Distraction Lane until a half hour passed and she felt a drip of sweat nonchalantly roll down her cheek, drip onto her forearm, and awaken her to the slightly smudged flash cards that she held in her moist right hand. There she was, sitting in the bamboo chair with pastel clothe cushions, amused by her mind’s ability to jump from “warda” to the entire rest of her life, some ideas more shallow than others. May flipped to the next flashcard hoping her dreams would one day become more than paragraphs on the paper narrative of her life.
Thursday, August 23, 2007
Chapter 21 "Beggars at the Gate"
Faded rags covered the slender arms that reached up, open palms, toward May as she walked up the steps and through the gate to the ch*r*h. She turned her head slightly to the left without slowing her stride toward the open door. Beggars had become common. They had become nothing more than broken bodies covered by filthy rags. They had no past, no future, no children, no friend, and no one that missed them. Their eyes were no longer slits that told stories of struggle and sacrifice or of misfortune and sadness. She had begun to ignore each person that asked for money. She did not realize she had gotten to the point of dehumanizing the very people she came to love, until she sat down in the church pew and thought about the man on the ch*r*h steps.
Her heart was confronted with the “giving” issue again, as it had been a few nights before when convicted by wisdom that came through one of the brother’s words. She knew her “giving”, or lack of it, needed changing. She reached into her purse. As her fingers clenched onto the gold rimmed coins that lay hidden at the bottom, she thought about the dozens of times she did not put change into the beggar child’s sweaty hands, into the lame man’s tin cup, or into the woman’s thin fingers that reached through the amjad’s window.
She had been stuck in “thinking” about giving long enough. As with everything in her life, when she let herself be stuck in the “thinking” part, the doing part usually lagged behind. She contemplated the “how much”, “when”, and “who” questions. The stereotypes that often kept her from giving money, but rather food in the US, happened to be the same stereotypes that kept her fingers locked together in Africa. Embarrassed by other culturally embedded thoughts, she came to the conclusion the street beggars with half burned bodies, or missing limbs, or puss filled eyes, and eight year old orphans probably would use the money for food or shelter, not for addictions. This day, bigger thoughts came to her mind as she pulled her copper filled hand out of her purse.
May wanted a heart that did not fear not having things. She wanted a heart that longed to do more then empty the loose metal in her pockets into the hands of beggars. She wanted a heart that answered, “I’ll give them my bills and when I run out of bills I’ll give them the clothes off my back,” when her mind wondered what she would do if she ran out of loose change. May wanted a heart that desired to give everything to the poor and that did not worry about student loans and more education and material things. She did not have that type of heart yet. She wanted the inner chambers of her heart to desire to give what she had…religion that G our Father accepts as pure and faultless is to look after orphans and widows in their distress and to keep oneself from being polluted by the world.
She pulled out the small handful of coins from her purse and sat in the pew understanding grace deeper then before. She deserved nothing more then to be a beggar sitting on the steps of Heaven’s door, arms raised pleading to be let in the gate. It was by His Sacrifice she would be allowed through the gate, and by His grace that He did not ignore her or make her beg to enter. May walked out of the church to the beggar and dropped the coins into his hands, this time she saw his eyes. She saw a purpose and a future for this man. She wondered what these slender arms covered by faded rags would look like one day, palms lifted toward the S*vi*r, and she whispered for his soul.
Her heart was confronted with the “giving” issue again, as it had been a few nights before when convicted by wisdom that came through one of the brother’s words. She knew her “giving”, or lack of it, needed changing. She reached into her purse. As her fingers clenched onto the gold rimmed coins that lay hidden at the bottom, she thought about the dozens of times she did not put change into the beggar child’s sweaty hands, into the lame man’s tin cup, or into the woman’s thin fingers that reached through the amjad’s window.
She had been stuck in “thinking” about giving long enough. As with everything in her life, when she let herself be stuck in the “thinking” part, the doing part usually lagged behind. She contemplated the “how much”, “when”, and “who” questions. The stereotypes that often kept her from giving money, but rather food in the US, happened to be the same stereotypes that kept her fingers locked together in Africa. Embarrassed by other culturally embedded thoughts, she came to the conclusion the street beggars with half burned bodies, or missing limbs, or puss filled eyes, and eight year old orphans probably would use the money for food or shelter, not for addictions. This day, bigger thoughts came to her mind as she pulled her copper filled hand out of her purse.
May wanted a heart that did not fear not having things. She wanted a heart that longed to do more then empty the loose metal in her pockets into the hands of beggars. She wanted a heart that answered, “I’ll give them my bills and when I run out of bills I’ll give them the clothes off my back,” when her mind wondered what she would do if she ran out of loose change. May wanted a heart that desired to give everything to the poor and that did not worry about student loans and more education and material things. She did not have that type of heart yet. She wanted the inner chambers of her heart to desire to give what she had…religion that G our Father accepts as pure and faultless is to look after orphans and widows in their distress and to keep oneself from being polluted by the world.
She pulled out the small handful of coins from her purse and sat in the pew understanding grace deeper then before. She deserved nothing more then to be a beggar sitting on the steps of Heaven’s door, arms raised pleading to be let in the gate. It was by His Sacrifice she would be allowed through the gate, and by His grace that He did not ignore her or make her beg to enter. May walked out of the church to the beggar and dropped the coins into his hands, this time she saw his eyes. She saw a purpose and a future for this man. She wondered what these slender arms covered by faded rags would look like one day, palms lifted toward the S*vi*r, and she whispered for his soul.
Sunday, July 29, 2007
Chapter 20 "Day Dreaming"
May awoke early on Tuesday, as she did every Tuesday regardless of whether or not she wanted to, she slipped into the tattered skirt and long sleeve shirt that would block the sun’s attempt to darken her already lightly tan body. As she ate a filling breakfast of grain and yogurt accompanied by a sweet, warm, cup of coffee in her enchanting green kitchen, she daydreamed of places far away from The Sandbox.
She gazed out the kitchen window and pictured the fixer-upper house she wanted to own someday. A great, big, fixer-upper house that sat close to the water and who’s stained, glass, windows shaded the grass, clouds, and water different tints. She imagined the sizeable old fashioned tub that would be the focus of the bathroom and the crown molding that would bring character to the living room. She even thought of what rooms would be scented by which Yankee Candles. Surely, each room should have a sweet smelling scent in which to be recognized.
May thought of the snug office, that she would call a “study” merely because it sounded better. The study’s walls would be just big enough to fit a poster displaying photographs of different sushi properly named in the caption below each picture. It would be accompanied by framed photographs of different restaurants she visited around the world. Her favorite part of that room was the dark, mahogany wood, chair with cumbersome cushions that swallowed anyone who sat in it and perfectly accented the dark picture frames on the desk.
She imagined the flower garden in the back of her house. She saw herself walking down the red and yellow tulip and white daisy path to the, freshly white painted, swinging chair that faced the water. She looked forward to curling up on it and swinging in the breeze while being carried away in whatever book she was reading at the time.
May thought of future summer vacations to Cape Cod and the Jeep Wrangler that would get her there. She thought of the gigantic, black, boots she would wear Cole-hogging and how good Cole-hogs tasted with a smidge of horseradish on them. She thought about jogging on the Cape’s shores in the early morning and jumping in the ocean to cool off after a good workout. She imagined Christmas Eve’s by her Grampa’s old fireplace. She pictured playing in the snow and feeling the crispness of the air on her cheeks. She could feel the winter’s numbness on her hands and feet as she dodged snow balls in the woods behind his modest house that rested, between curves, on her favorite hill on the Cape.
She wondered whom it was she would share the beautiful house with and who would accompany her on her vacations to the Cape. She awaited the days when she would admire and be admired by the same person. She did not think of what he looked like or where he was but of quaint little things. She thought of the pleasantness it would be to have someone to take care of her when she had a cold, to reach the high places in her house, or to sway with on the white swing. She thought that whenever the Father blessed her with him, she would take him back to her little hometown in Connecticut and walk down all the roads she walked down single, thinking of who he was and how they would meet. She thought she would bring him to the little fishing lakes, the ocean and the bay, in Florida, where she used to jog and fish and do all those things as a “couple” that she once did as a “single”.
May finished the last sip of her coffee and swallowed the last spoonful of grain that nearly escaped her mouth. She took a deep breath in and warm air filled her lungs. It was another Tuesday morning in northern Africa.
She gazed out the kitchen window and pictured the fixer-upper house she wanted to own someday. A great, big, fixer-upper house that sat close to the water and who’s stained, glass, windows shaded the grass, clouds, and water different tints. She imagined the sizeable old fashioned tub that would be the focus of the bathroom and the crown molding that would bring character to the living room. She even thought of what rooms would be scented by which Yankee Candles. Surely, each room should have a sweet smelling scent in which to be recognized.
May thought of the snug office, that she would call a “study” merely because it sounded better. The study’s walls would be just big enough to fit a poster displaying photographs of different sushi properly named in the caption below each picture. It would be accompanied by framed photographs of different restaurants she visited around the world. Her favorite part of that room was the dark, mahogany wood, chair with cumbersome cushions that swallowed anyone who sat in it and perfectly accented the dark picture frames on the desk.
She imagined the flower garden in the back of her house. She saw herself walking down the red and yellow tulip and white daisy path to the, freshly white painted, swinging chair that faced the water. She looked forward to curling up on it and swinging in the breeze while being carried away in whatever book she was reading at the time.
May thought of future summer vacations to Cape Cod and the Jeep Wrangler that would get her there. She thought of the gigantic, black, boots she would wear Cole-hogging and how good Cole-hogs tasted with a smidge of horseradish on them. She thought about jogging on the Cape’s shores in the early morning and jumping in the ocean to cool off after a good workout. She imagined Christmas Eve’s by her Grampa’s old fireplace. She pictured playing in the snow and feeling the crispness of the air on her cheeks. She could feel the winter’s numbness on her hands and feet as she dodged snow balls in the woods behind his modest house that rested, between curves, on her favorite hill on the Cape.
She wondered whom it was she would share the beautiful house with and who would accompany her on her vacations to the Cape. She awaited the days when she would admire and be admired by the same person. She did not think of what he looked like or where he was but of quaint little things. She thought of the pleasantness it would be to have someone to take care of her when she had a cold, to reach the high places in her house, or to sway with on the white swing. She thought that whenever the Father blessed her with him, she would take him back to her little hometown in Connecticut and walk down all the roads she walked down single, thinking of who he was and how they would meet. She thought she would bring him to the little fishing lakes, the ocean and the bay, in Florida, where she used to jog and fish and do all those things as a “couple” that she once did as a “single”.
May finished the last sip of her coffee and swallowed the last spoonful of grain that nearly escaped her mouth. She took a deep breath in and warm air filled her lungs. It was another Tuesday morning in northern Africa.
Saturday, July 28, 2007
Chapter 19 "Dancing with the Father"
May excitedly strapped her mosquito repellent, Tylenol PM, towel filled bag on her back. It was move in day. As she and Red approached the rickshaw that would bring them to the house May would stay at for the next two months, she heard her phone ring. She answered and the “yes, move in” turned into a “no, wait”. She learned a long time ago, His timing was always better then hers but, she could not help her eyes from watering and her heart from feeling let down. After an encouraging hug from Red and the comment that made her giggle, “TIA…this is Africa”, May begrudgingly got into the rickshaw and went to The Smith’s house to tutor their children rather then to move in with a family.
The following days, as she rested her head on her soft feather filled pillow in the blue room, many insights were exposed about the previous week. The week prior to the inevitable phone call, her dance with the Father had drifted into nothing more then a monotonous shuffle. A hint of homesickness mixed with a dash of “BSDs” (bad single days, as her friends referred to them), added to an overuse of the internet was multiplied by the lack of sleep she had gotten because of her nervousness about the future. The other side of the equation showed, a tired “wanna-be” servant who let the world’s music clash with the Father’s.
May was thankful, even when she let the dance dwindle, He kept the pace. She was thankful, when she stepped on his feet and messed up the rhythm, His mercy and grace kept their hands intertwined. She was thankful that He was her partner in this waltz because she knew He would not let it end, even when she was distracted by others spinning around them. She was thankful for the “no” and “wait” answers because they taught her to keep her eye’s locked on His, the leader of the dance who knows the next step. The more she thought about it, the more grateful she became. She knew she used to be like many of the people she encountered every day, deafened to the music and completely unaware of the dance that was in front of them. She was all the more appreciative that she was subject to the Father’s lead and she waited patiently on His next step.
The following days, as she rested her head on her soft feather filled pillow in the blue room, many insights were exposed about the previous week. The week prior to the inevitable phone call, her dance with the Father had drifted into nothing more then a monotonous shuffle. A hint of homesickness mixed with a dash of “BSDs” (bad single days, as her friends referred to them), added to an overuse of the internet was multiplied by the lack of sleep she had gotten because of her nervousness about the future. The other side of the equation showed, a tired “wanna-be” servant who let the world’s music clash with the Father’s.
May was thankful, even when she let the dance dwindle, He kept the pace. She was thankful, when she stepped on his feet and messed up the rhythm, His mercy and grace kept their hands intertwined. She was thankful that He was her partner in this waltz because she knew He would not let it end, even when she was distracted by others spinning around them. She was thankful for the “no” and “wait” answers because they taught her to keep her eye’s locked on His, the leader of the dance who knows the next step. The more she thought about it, the more grateful she became. She knew she used to be like many of the people she encountered every day, deafened to the music and completely unaware of the dance that was in front of them. She was all the more appreciative that she was subject to the Father’s lead and she waited patiently on His next step.
Wednesday, July 11, 2007
Chapter 18 "Window Views"
May enjoyed “people watching” during breaks from learning Arabic. She sat in her sturdy, brown chair, in McCaine’s room and peered out the soiled, paint speckled, window. She peeked through the barbwire fence that stood two feet high, unevenly concreted into the brick wall. The breeze permitted a dusty, light orange bag to wave to its’ companions who were attached to the rusty yellow tractor, that sat peacefully among four filth covered iron beds, amidst the dirt field.
May was not sure if the family below hung their sheets and their small articles of clothing on the tractor to air out or to dry from their submission to the rain the night before. A rug, covered by the same amount of dirt that lay beneath it, sat draped over the hot pink, broken slide that leaned on the metal frame beds. The sounds of amjads and rickshaws penetrated McCaine’s room through her newly painted white frame window.
May gazed out the window for an hour wondering the character each person acted in life as they walked by that warm afternoon in June. She imagined the man dressed in a white jalabia, carefully walking through the trash lined paths, to be a local store owner or an amjad driver who had taken the day off from work. She wondered if the woman whose dangling earrings, gold wrist ringlets, and clean healed shoes, was on her way to visit friends or to buy baby food from the local pharmacy for her child at home.
She could not imagine why some men wore blue jeans and long sleeves shirts as they walked down the road in the 120 degree heat and she found the men wearing hats rather bizarre. May noticed a man riding an old fashioned bicycle. The small mango filled box attached to his seat swayed as his feet pushed the pedals forward. A donkey driven, flat carriage, passed as its’ owner whipped its’ pelt in an attempt to motivate it to a faster speed. A woman, carrying a baby who swung from right to left mirroring the stride of her feet treading the sand, stopped to fix her rustled auburn tobe.
May noticed dozens of people solemnly marching in the direction of the giant oval mouth that sat atop the local mosque. The voice was a small murmur but could still be heard in the blue room a half mile away. She watched local business owners and random commuters alike begin their zombie-like shuffle towards the giant msqe. It was the second call to wrshp that day.
May was not sure if the family below hung their sheets and their small articles of clothing on the tractor to air out or to dry from their submission to the rain the night before. A rug, covered by the same amount of dirt that lay beneath it, sat draped over the hot pink, broken slide that leaned on the metal frame beds. The sounds of amjads and rickshaws penetrated McCaine’s room through her newly painted white frame window.
May gazed out the window for an hour wondering the character each person acted in life as they walked by that warm afternoon in June. She imagined the man dressed in a white jalabia, carefully walking through the trash lined paths, to be a local store owner or an amjad driver who had taken the day off from work. She wondered if the woman whose dangling earrings, gold wrist ringlets, and clean healed shoes, was on her way to visit friends or to buy baby food from the local pharmacy for her child at home.
She could not imagine why some men wore blue jeans and long sleeves shirts as they walked down the road in the 120 degree heat and she found the men wearing hats rather bizarre. May noticed a man riding an old fashioned bicycle. The small mango filled box attached to his seat swayed as his feet pushed the pedals forward. A donkey driven, flat carriage, passed as its’ owner whipped its’ pelt in an attempt to motivate it to a faster speed. A woman, carrying a baby who swung from right to left mirroring the stride of her feet treading the sand, stopped to fix her rustled auburn tobe.
May noticed dozens of people solemnly marching in the direction of the giant oval mouth that sat atop the local mosque. The voice was a small murmur but could still be heard in the blue room a half mile away. She watched local business owners and random commuters alike begin their zombie-like shuffle towards the giant msqe. It was the second call to wrshp that day.
Wednesday, June 27, 2007
Chapter 17 "The Aftermath"
May was nervous sharing this type of chapter in her journey. She tended to minimize situations in her life but was nervous that the stranger encounter would appear over exaggerated to the ones she loved or that they would be genuinely upset about the circumstances. She had been enlightened by the Father and she hoped they may be awakened in some way too.
May was a person to them, she was tangible. Some knew her blonde hair, her blue eyes, and her smile. Some knew her pranks that, humorously, never seemed to go right. Others knew her through conversations or interactions they had along the way regardless of how shallow or deep. May had a voice. What about their voice? What about the women who were raped on their way to get water? What about the women whose homes were just burned down by the rebels? What about the orphans whose parents were murdered by the rebels? She thought, when was the last time she or any of those who knew her journey got angry for them…they have a voice too…
May’s voice quivered to a similar rhythm of her hands trembling against the Smith’s wooden table while she explained the events of Tuesday afternoon. A piece of her dignity had been ripped from her and she had lost her sense of security. The experience resembled a deep flesh wound, hurting more as the adrenaline dwindled and the shock wore off. The drive was a knife digging into her skin, but the pain felt deeper in the hours that followed when the bruising fear of traveling alone and the tenderness of shaken faith set in around the puncture.
The incident changed her. She did not want to admit, even to herself that it changed her, but she knew it did. The days following the incident, May found it hard to give anyone the benefit of the doubt. The men of the Sandbox were no longer individuals to her and each one of them resembled the disgusting man who jumped into her rickshaw, put his arm around her, and asked her obscene questions until she finally could escape. They were the despicable driver who knew the entire plan and would not listen to her demands to end the excursion.
May had considered situations like these before she left the states. She knew they were possible; however, considering the future and actually living a consideration were different from each other. Did she truly trust Him with her whole heart? Did she truly believe He could take “bad” moments and use them for his glory? May wondered how she could bring Him glory through this circumstance. It would be absurd to think the only events that could bring glory to the Father were the ones the world deemed “good”. As the days passed and a new week approached May spent much of her time asking Him to reveal the “good” from this encounter and for a deeper faith that she could bring Him glory through it.
During the hours of fear and sleepless nights May clenched His book of promises and searched it for answers. She played, and replayed, the situation over in her mind as she thought back to the moments in the rickshaw. She could see the battle being fought between good and evil, she could feel it. She saw the moments when the evil one was attacking and she saw her Father with a sword and a shield protecting her, and she felt Him holding her right hand. She had never considered the different roles He had in her life. This was the first time she realized and believed that He was her warrior. The Father was her warrior and she was thankful that He proved mighty in battle.
She began to sleep again, she slept covered in the promise that he was her warrior and that he would meet all of her needs. The following morning she awoke to the Father questioning her…Do you trust me, no May do you trust me? Do you believe I love you wider then you can reach wide, higher then you can see high, and deeper then you can feel deep? I love you more. Do you consider everything a loss compared to the surpassing greatness of knowing me as your Father, not some things May, everything?
May read more from the book and she felt more in her heart…I did not tell you to rejoice on just the easy days May, I told you to rejoice always. Get up and rejoice in me, not because I saved you from the hands of this present evil but because I am your Father eternal and because I gave my Son for you – I gave him for you in the moments that do not hurt and for you in the moments that do. Get up and sing praises to me, rejoice in me. I told you to give thanks in ALL circumstances. You have not thanked me for this, thank me. I told you to consider it a pure joy whenever you face trials of many kinds. Consider it a pure joy. Love me and know that I love you and find joy in this trial, May. I want to prove you genuine – your faith is of greater worth then gold and I want to prove you genuine, let me.
Her heart found peace in this conversation with the Father and she lifted Him high, thankful for His mercy and grace. She was nervous sharing this type of chapter in her journey with the ones she loved because she knew some of them would be genuinely upset about the circumstances. She knew she would share the story and she hoped they would see the deeper meaning behind it in their lives. May was a person to them, she was tangible. Some knew her blonde hair, her blue eyes, and her smile. Some knew her pranks that, humorously, never seemed to go right. Others knew her through conversations or interactions they had along the way regardless of how shallow or deep. May had a voice. What about their voice? What about the women who were raped on their way to get water? What about the women whose homes were just burned down by the rebels? What about the orphans whose parents were murdered by the rebels? She thought, when was the last time she or any of those who knew her journey got angry for them…they have a voice too. Her five minutes of fear was nothing compared to the life of fear these women live.
Whose interests are you looking out for? Look out for the interests of others. You are a mist that appears for a little while and then vanishes – there is not enough time to dwell on this and to overanalyze this – I want your heart completely and soon enough you will dwell in my house- do not waste the time I have given you dwelling on the trials you have-for they to are a mist within the mist and are not worth more thought then the moments of sheer joy and happiness I give you-do not act like they are.
The following Tuesday most everything was back to normal for May in the Sandbox. The Father’s healing had restored May’s faith and she thanked Him.
May was a person to them, she was tangible. Some knew her blonde hair, her blue eyes, and her smile. Some knew her pranks that, humorously, never seemed to go right. Others knew her through conversations or interactions they had along the way regardless of how shallow or deep. May had a voice. What about their voice? What about the women who were raped on their way to get water? What about the women whose homes were just burned down by the rebels? What about the orphans whose parents were murdered by the rebels? She thought, when was the last time she or any of those who knew her journey got angry for them…they have a voice too…
May’s voice quivered to a similar rhythm of her hands trembling against the Smith’s wooden table while she explained the events of Tuesday afternoon. A piece of her dignity had been ripped from her and she had lost her sense of security. The experience resembled a deep flesh wound, hurting more as the adrenaline dwindled and the shock wore off. The drive was a knife digging into her skin, but the pain felt deeper in the hours that followed when the bruising fear of traveling alone and the tenderness of shaken faith set in around the puncture.
The incident changed her. She did not want to admit, even to herself that it changed her, but she knew it did. The days following the incident, May found it hard to give anyone the benefit of the doubt. The men of the Sandbox were no longer individuals to her and each one of them resembled the disgusting man who jumped into her rickshaw, put his arm around her, and asked her obscene questions until she finally could escape. They were the despicable driver who knew the entire plan and would not listen to her demands to end the excursion.
May had considered situations like these before she left the states. She knew they were possible; however, considering the future and actually living a consideration were different from each other. Did she truly trust Him with her whole heart? Did she truly believe He could take “bad” moments and use them for his glory? May wondered how she could bring Him glory through this circumstance. It would be absurd to think the only events that could bring glory to the Father were the ones the world deemed “good”. As the days passed and a new week approached May spent much of her time asking Him to reveal the “good” from this encounter and for a deeper faith that she could bring Him glory through it.
During the hours of fear and sleepless nights May clenched His book of promises and searched it for answers. She played, and replayed, the situation over in her mind as she thought back to the moments in the rickshaw. She could see the battle being fought between good and evil, she could feel it. She saw the moments when the evil one was attacking and she saw her Father with a sword and a shield protecting her, and she felt Him holding her right hand. She had never considered the different roles He had in her life. This was the first time she realized and believed that He was her warrior. The Father was her warrior and she was thankful that He proved mighty in battle.
She began to sleep again, she slept covered in the promise that he was her warrior and that he would meet all of her needs. The following morning she awoke to the Father questioning her…Do you trust me, no May do you trust me? Do you believe I love you wider then you can reach wide, higher then you can see high, and deeper then you can feel deep? I love you more. Do you consider everything a loss compared to the surpassing greatness of knowing me as your Father, not some things May, everything?
May read more from the book and she felt more in her heart…I did not tell you to rejoice on just the easy days May, I told you to rejoice always. Get up and rejoice in me, not because I saved you from the hands of this present evil but because I am your Father eternal and because I gave my Son for you – I gave him for you in the moments that do not hurt and for you in the moments that do. Get up and sing praises to me, rejoice in me. I told you to give thanks in ALL circumstances. You have not thanked me for this, thank me. I told you to consider it a pure joy whenever you face trials of many kinds. Consider it a pure joy. Love me and know that I love you and find joy in this trial, May. I want to prove you genuine – your faith is of greater worth then gold and I want to prove you genuine, let me.
Her heart found peace in this conversation with the Father and she lifted Him high, thankful for His mercy and grace. She was nervous sharing this type of chapter in her journey with the ones she loved because she knew some of them would be genuinely upset about the circumstances. She knew she would share the story and she hoped they would see the deeper meaning behind it in their lives. May was a person to them, she was tangible. Some knew her blonde hair, her blue eyes, and her smile. Some knew her pranks that, humorously, never seemed to go right. Others knew her through conversations or interactions they had along the way regardless of how shallow or deep. May had a voice. What about their voice? What about the women who were raped on their way to get water? What about the women whose homes were just burned down by the rebels? What about the orphans whose parents were murdered by the rebels? She thought, when was the last time she or any of those who knew her journey got angry for them…they have a voice too. Her five minutes of fear was nothing compared to the life of fear these women live.
Whose interests are you looking out for? Look out for the interests of others. You are a mist that appears for a little while and then vanishes – there is not enough time to dwell on this and to overanalyze this – I want your heart completely and soon enough you will dwell in my house- do not waste the time I have given you dwelling on the trials you have-for they to are a mist within the mist and are not worth more thought then the moments of sheer joy and happiness I give you-do not act like they are.
The following Tuesday most everything was back to normal for May in the Sandbox. The Father’s healing had restored May’s faith and she thanked Him.
Sunday, June 24, 2007
Chapter 16 "The Stranger"
It was a blissful day, clouds draped against the blue sky. May and Red had successfully completed another day of language study, and were encouraged by an outing with their language helper. They went to the cheapest vegetable stand in town and stacked up on fresh potatoes, tomatoes, and cucumbers. May was elated that she would soon be in her comfy apartment where she could shower and rest after the long morning. Red was looking forward to teaching the Smith children the difference between adjectives and adverbs, as she regularly taught them English on Tuesdays.
The sisters parted for the afternoon, or at least that is what they thought they were doing. They divided the small bills amongst each other in order that neither sister would have a hassle with the rickshaw driver over the correct change. May entered on the right side of her rickshaw, leaving Red talking to a man standing on the left side. May’s driver started the rickshaw, the sound of the engine signaling the man talking to Red to jump in the back with May. The driver pressed the gas and before May could even decipher what was happening or why this stranger had jumped into the back of her rickshaw, they had taken off down the road leaving Red in a daze of dust and confusion.
May shimmied as close to the right side of the rickshaw as she could. Her right hip and shoulder pressed into the metal side. In decent English, the stranger told May he spoke French, English, and Arabic. She avoided eye contact and simply said, “that is good”. The driver asked May where she was going. May found this question to be odd as she had already told him the street name before she got into the rickshaw. She repeated the answer.
The stranger asked May where she was from. May, avoiding eye contact and trying to be as short as possible, answered, “America”. The stranger told May she was beautiful. May knew this was not a good situation and she turned as far to the right as possible, squeezing her bag of vegetables tighter. The stranger asked May if she lived with anyone and if there was anyone at her house right now. May knew she was in trouble and waves of helplessness began to wash over her as there was no one to turn to for help. She contemplated not saying anything but wondered if that would upset the stranger. She decided stating she had roommates waiting for her to get home would stop the stranger from trying anything.
Fear began to overwhelm her because she knew neither of the sisters were home and she did not want the stranger to know where she lived. May knew if the driver did take her home she would be in serious trouble. Remain calm, think of what to do next, remain calm, now is not the time to panic, remain calm May, remain calm…she repeated to herself.
It seemed like the ride was faster then any other rickshaw ride she had been in, she felt like she was in the buggy of a roller coaster wishing she could get off before she was overwhelmed with fear. Vegetables stands and buildings were passing by her quickly. She saw the bright orange and blue building a hundred yards in front of her approaching rapidly. The stranger continued telling her she was beautiful as he slid closer to her. She became nauseous. You can jump out May, you can jump out of this rickshaw and it will not hurt that bad.
She knew if she passed the orange and blue building she would have no other choice but to go home or be taken to somewhere she did not want to go. The right hand turn at the blue and orange building, opened the opportunity for her to go to her boss’s house and she knew Red would be taking that route so if she jumped Red would see her.
“Hena yameen (turn right here).” May loudly told the driver. “Hena yameen, hena yameen, hena yameen… right here, right here, right here.” The driver pretended not to hear her. May slapped him hard on his arm and screamed at him to turn right, she could not think of the word for “stop”. The stranger quickly said something to the driver in Arabic and he turned right, barely missing the turn and just barely avoiding the car turning left. That was the moment May understood she was by herself against a team and they had their plan from the beginning. Three minutes May, three minutes. You will be there in three minutes and you will get through this, if you get closer to Mr. Smith’s house you will have a better shot at safety.
The stranger moved his body up against the right side of May’s body. She was already pressed hard against the side of the rickshaw she could not move over anymore. The stranger put his arm around May. He began speaking obscenities to her. She could do nothing. She could not turn any further away. You will get through this May, you will get through this but you must do something right now before he touches you, you must act. You have got to do something right now. Jump or say something or scream or hit him or hit the driver. Do something!
She began to talk to him calmly and without looking at him. All she could muster was to tell him he spoke English well. May asked him how he had learned the language. He answered her and then continued telling her things he wanted to do to her. The next turn was approaching quickly. “yameen hena” she yelled at the driver. He was not going to stop. She had one foot out of the rickshaw and was ready to do a jump and role. She smacked the driver again and yelled “hena yameen” he skidded and turned. Is this really happening? The stranger pulled his arm tighter and she said no, no, no. You must jump out – you must or you will regret it later. Just jump – you will be okay.
“STOP,” she yelled at the driver. “Stop here, stop now, HENA!” May jumped as the driver began to slow down. She was in shock, still hugging the vegetables, she ran to her boss’s doorbell and rang it thirteen consecutive times, afraid the stranger was following her. Red’s rickshaw pulled up a minute later. May continued ringing the bell. McCaine opened the door. The sisters entered and closed the metal door. The clang of metal door hitting the lock rang safety to May’s ears.
The sisters parted for the afternoon, or at least that is what they thought they were doing. They divided the small bills amongst each other in order that neither sister would have a hassle with the rickshaw driver over the correct change. May entered on the right side of her rickshaw, leaving Red talking to a man standing on the left side. May’s driver started the rickshaw, the sound of the engine signaling the man talking to Red to jump in the back with May. The driver pressed the gas and before May could even decipher what was happening or why this stranger had jumped into the back of her rickshaw, they had taken off down the road leaving Red in a daze of dust and confusion.
May shimmied as close to the right side of the rickshaw as she could. Her right hip and shoulder pressed into the metal side. In decent English, the stranger told May he spoke French, English, and Arabic. She avoided eye contact and simply said, “that is good”. The driver asked May where she was going. May found this question to be odd as she had already told him the street name before she got into the rickshaw. She repeated the answer.
The stranger asked May where she was from. May, avoiding eye contact and trying to be as short as possible, answered, “America”. The stranger told May she was beautiful. May knew this was not a good situation and she turned as far to the right as possible, squeezing her bag of vegetables tighter. The stranger asked May if she lived with anyone and if there was anyone at her house right now. May knew she was in trouble and waves of helplessness began to wash over her as there was no one to turn to for help. She contemplated not saying anything but wondered if that would upset the stranger. She decided stating she had roommates waiting for her to get home would stop the stranger from trying anything.
Fear began to overwhelm her because she knew neither of the sisters were home and she did not want the stranger to know where she lived. May knew if the driver did take her home she would be in serious trouble. Remain calm, think of what to do next, remain calm, now is not the time to panic, remain calm May, remain calm…she repeated to herself.
It seemed like the ride was faster then any other rickshaw ride she had been in, she felt like she was in the buggy of a roller coaster wishing she could get off before she was overwhelmed with fear. Vegetables stands and buildings were passing by her quickly. She saw the bright orange and blue building a hundred yards in front of her approaching rapidly. The stranger continued telling her she was beautiful as he slid closer to her. She became nauseous. You can jump out May, you can jump out of this rickshaw and it will not hurt that bad.
She knew if she passed the orange and blue building she would have no other choice but to go home or be taken to somewhere she did not want to go. The right hand turn at the blue and orange building, opened the opportunity for her to go to her boss’s house and she knew Red would be taking that route so if she jumped Red would see her.
“Hena yameen (turn right here).” May loudly told the driver. “Hena yameen, hena yameen, hena yameen… right here, right here, right here.” The driver pretended not to hear her. May slapped him hard on his arm and screamed at him to turn right, she could not think of the word for “stop”. The stranger quickly said something to the driver in Arabic and he turned right, barely missing the turn and just barely avoiding the car turning left. That was the moment May understood she was by herself against a team and they had their plan from the beginning. Three minutes May, three minutes. You will be there in three minutes and you will get through this, if you get closer to Mr. Smith’s house you will have a better shot at safety.
The stranger moved his body up against the right side of May’s body. She was already pressed hard against the side of the rickshaw she could not move over anymore. The stranger put his arm around May. He began speaking obscenities to her. She could do nothing. She could not turn any further away. You will get through this May, you will get through this but you must do something right now before he touches you, you must act. You have got to do something right now. Jump or say something or scream or hit him or hit the driver. Do something!
She began to talk to him calmly and without looking at him. All she could muster was to tell him he spoke English well. May asked him how he had learned the language. He answered her and then continued telling her things he wanted to do to her. The next turn was approaching quickly. “yameen hena” she yelled at the driver. He was not going to stop. She had one foot out of the rickshaw and was ready to do a jump and role. She smacked the driver again and yelled “hena yameen” he skidded and turned. Is this really happening? The stranger pulled his arm tighter and she said no, no, no. You must jump out – you must or you will regret it later. Just jump – you will be okay.
“STOP,” she yelled at the driver. “Stop here, stop now, HENA!” May jumped as the driver began to slow down. She was in shock, still hugging the vegetables, she ran to her boss’s doorbell and rang it thirteen consecutive times, afraid the stranger was following her. Red’s rickshaw pulled up a minute later. May continued ringing the bell. McCaine opened the door. The sisters entered and closed the metal door. The clang of metal door hitting the lock rang safety to May’s ears.
Friday, June 22, 2007
Chapter 15 "Revenge of the Red, Brown, and Green Stripes"
It was a typical Thursday afternoon for the sisters. They had finished three hours of language study and were on their way out for two more hours with Jamela. McCaine wrapped her pink tobe around her and secured the bottom end tightly under her armpit. Red wore May’s, not-so-white-anymore, skirt and a black blouse with a black wrap. May proudly displayed her sewn skirt and matching red blouse. Jamila wore a jean skirt and black top that had suffered an attack from the “Bedazzler”, her head covered by a light green covering. The sisters and Jamela walked, in style, to the end of their road and waved for an amjad (mini van).
The afternoon escaped them quickly as they practiced vocabulary at the local market and exchanged money with venders and cashiers. Jamela haggled with an amjad driver for a price the sisters found reasonable for the short journey back to Jamela’s house. Once Jamela had won the haggle war, the group entered the amjad and opened all the windows. The wind breathed hot air on them from all sides and May held down the rambunctious skirt.
The driver claimed he had no change for the sister’s bill. May, forgetting she had change, asked Jamela to make a deal with him to bring them to their house for a round trip total of 9 dinar. The driver agreed. They hugged Jamela goodbye and thanked her for her help that afternoon.
Red took the front seat, May and McCaine shared the back. The driver continued his deceitful ways by taking them the long route, covering as much dirt road as possible on the trip. Each sister knew exactly what he was doing and sat quietly asking The Father for patience. A quarter mile from their house stood two women waving to the driver for a ride. He pulled over and told the sisters to get out of the amjad. Red had enough of his tactics, boldly scolded him and informed him, he would finish his job.
May could see the driver’s expression in the mirror. She could not tell if he found Red humorous or offensive. She did know that the driver would attempt to rip them off again and she was not going to have that. She looked at McCaine and announced none of them would exit the amjad until the driver gave them the right change. May’s prediction proved right. The amjad wobbled its’ way down the pot hole infested road and stopped at their gate. He refused to give the sisters their change. Red continued repeating, “ma kways” and grabbed their bill back from his hands. Neither May nor McCaine knew quite what to think for they had never seen Red so forceful but were happy for her boldness. May fumbled around her purse trying to find more change. The driver became irate and ordered the sisters out of his vehicle. Red and McCaine exited successfully. May did not.
She gave the money to the driver, he reached over just as she placed her left foot on the ground to accompany her right foot on the hot sand, and slammed the door shut. He pushed the gas, murmuring things May could not understand, and began to drive away. May suddenly felt paralyzed. The feeling, familiar to the skirt’s last rebellion, she knew she was stuck yet again. As fate would have it the striped skirt decided to lag behind her legs and was stuck in the door of the moving amjad.
At the precise moment, when the force of the vehicle moving in the opposite direction of her body would either drag her along or rip the skirt off her body, she was freed. McCaine stammered for words and thought to herself, why do these moments seem to always entangle May? She waited for May’s reaction before she reacted. Thankful the amjad released its’ grip on the stripes, she let out a full belly laugh. May and McCaine began hysterics as May bent down to pick up the limb that was torn from the skirt.
Red, still annoyed, stopped fiddling with the gate door and turned around to see the missing appendage of May’s skirt waving to her from the door of the amjad. She looked at May, who had picked up the torn strip and wrapped it around her head as a cute, or so she thought, bandana. Red, McCaine, and May sat down on the broken concrete sidewalk and laughed until tears flowed from each of their eyes. The amjad driver vanished in the dust and the tattered skirt rest peacefully on May’s legs and the ground.
The afternoon escaped them quickly as they practiced vocabulary at the local market and exchanged money with venders and cashiers. Jamela haggled with an amjad driver for a price the sisters found reasonable for the short journey back to Jamela’s house. Once Jamela had won the haggle war, the group entered the amjad and opened all the windows. The wind breathed hot air on them from all sides and May held down the rambunctious skirt.
The driver claimed he had no change for the sister’s bill. May, forgetting she had change, asked Jamela to make a deal with him to bring them to their house for a round trip total of 9 dinar. The driver agreed. They hugged Jamela goodbye and thanked her for her help that afternoon.
Red took the front seat, May and McCaine shared the back. The driver continued his deceitful ways by taking them the long route, covering as much dirt road as possible on the trip. Each sister knew exactly what he was doing and sat quietly asking The Father for patience. A quarter mile from their house stood two women waving to the driver for a ride. He pulled over and told the sisters to get out of the amjad. Red had enough of his tactics, boldly scolded him and informed him, he would finish his job.
May could see the driver’s expression in the mirror. She could not tell if he found Red humorous or offensive. She did know that the driver would attempt to rip them off again and she was not going to have that. She looked at McCaine and announced none of them would exit the amjad until the driver gave them the right change. May’s prediction proved right. The amjad wobbled its’ way down the pot hole infested road and stopped at their gate. He refused to give the sisters their change. Red continued repeating, “ma kways” and grabbed their bill back from his hands. Neither May nor McCaine knew quite what to think for they had never seen Red so forceful but were happy for her boldness. May fumbled around her purse trying to find more change. The driver became irate and ordered the sisters out of his vehicle. Red and McCaine exited successfully. May did not.
She gave the money to the driver, he reached over just as she placed her left foot on the ground to accompany her right foot on the hot sand, and slammed the door shut. He pushed the gas, murmuring things May could not understand, and began to drive away. May suddenly felt paralyzed. The feeling, familiar to the skirt’s last rebellion, she knew she was stuck yet again. As fate would have it the striped skirt decided to lag behind her legs and was stuck in the door of the moving amjad.
At the precise moment, when the force of the vehicle moving in the opposite direction of her body would either drag her along or rip the skirt off her body, she was freed. McCaine stammered for words and thought to herself, why do these moments seem to always entangle May? She waited for May’s reaction before she reacted. Thankful the amjad released its’ grip on the stripes, she let out a full belly laugh. May and McCaine began hysterics as May bent down to pick up the limb that was torn from the skirt.
Red, still annoyed, stopped fiddling with the gate door and turned around to see the missing appendage of May’s skirt waving to her from the door of the amjad. She looked at May, who had picked up the torn strip and wrapped it around her head as a cute, or so she thought, bandana. Red, McCaine, and May sat down on the broken concrete sidewalk and laughed until tears flowed from each of their eyes. The amjad driver vanished in the dust and the tattered skirt rest peacefully on May’s legs and the ground.
Monday, June 11, 2007
Chapter 14 "Humor in the Break or Make Moments"
May and Red were exhausted as the clock’s small right hand slowly reached out to the three and its’ faster left hand brushed up against the last gray slash of the two o’clock hour. The sisters slightly dreaded the upcoming hours when they would spend the rest of the humid afternoon learning the streets of the capital with their language helper, Jamela. They had been in The Sandbox for less then two months and had not picked up more then a few phrases and a handful of vocabulary. Jamela spoke only Arabic and the sisters found it difficult to understand anything deeper then simple greetings. As one may assume, the language barrier alone was enough to bring frustration or humor to any given circumstance, depending on the attitude of its’ subject.
The sisters and Jamela crammed into a rickshaw, a vehicle equivalent to half a car and motorcycle entwined to make a buggy on wheels. May and Red tucked their skirts between their legs in order to protect their threads from the wheels of the rickshaw. They exited the rickshaw and waved down a bus. The bus stopped to the snapping of their fingers, five minutes after it rolled away from the side of the road. They walked in a single file line, Jamela in front, Red in the middle, and May in the back. While they walked, Jamela explained the idea of a red light meaning “stop” and a green light meaning “go”. May smiled and thanked Jamela for the insightful lesson.
May inwardly recited the vocabulary words for fruit and vegetables as they picked up the pace. They crossed numerous roads and intersections before the intersection at which the light gray car was stopped, waiting for the red light to change in order that it may continue its’ journey. As the pace became brisk, Jamela could be seen slightly turning her head to see the sisters listening intently, with fake comprehending nods, for they knew nothing of what she was saying.
May’s skirt had a different agenda that day and decided it would rather be wrapped around the car she was passing then her legs. It ever so sneakily grabbed the corner of the license plate as she continued walking. May noticed the next few steps more challenging and soon she found she could not place her left foot in front of her right foot. She glanced up at the stop light that had just turned green and then down at her skirt, which refused to impart from the license plate. She reached down to the license plate and began to fight for her skirt back as the cars around her began to move. She made eye contact with the driver of the license plate’s car and noticed he was perplexed but did not care that she remained standing in front of his car. In a small panic and with a big huff, she grabbed her skirt mid length and yanked it free from the nemesis license plate to quickly put an end to the tug-o-war.
May turned to the forefront and noticed both Red and Jamela ten feet in front of her, on the sidewalk, glaring at the situation with baffled expressions on their faces. All they knew was May had slowed the pace and somehow managed to put a gaping hole in her skirt, her white leg glaring out from the red, brown and green striped cotton.
May returned home and stitched up the skirt, with a little bit of resentment towards it for causing her such an awkward encouter in the middle of the city. She laughed, thinking the skirt had put up a good battle but she still had won and had ownership. Little did she know the skirt had a few more tricks up its’ sleeve…
The sisters and Jamela crammed into a rickshaw, a vehicle equivalent to half a car and motorcycle entwined to make a buggy on wheels. May and Red tucked their skirts between their legs in order to protect their threads from the wheels of the rickshaw. They exited the rickshaw and waved down a bus. The bus stopped to the snapping of their fingers, five minutes after it rolled away from the side of the road. They walked in a single file line, Jamela in front, Red in the middle, and May in the back. While they walked, Jamela explained the idea of a red light meaning “stop” and a green light meaning “go”. May smiled and thanked Jamela for the insightful lesson.
May inwardly recited the vocabulary words for fruit and vegetables as they picked up the pace. They crossed numerous roads and intersections before the intersection at which the light gray car was stopped, waiting for the red light to change in order that it may continue its’ journey. As the pace became brisk, Jamela could be seen slightly turning her head to see the sisters listening intently, with fake comprehending nods, for they knew nothing of what she was saying.
May’s skirt had a different agenda that day and decided it would rather be wrapped around the car she was passing then her legs. It ever so sneakily grabbed the corner of the license plate as she continued walking. May noticed the next few steps more challenging and soon she found she could not place her left foot in front of her right foot. She glanced up at the stop light that had just turned green and then down at her skirt, which refused to impart from the license plate. She reached down to the license plate and began to fight for her skirt back as the cars around her began to move. She made eye contact with the driver of the license plate’s car and noticed he was perplexed but did not care that she remained standing in front of his car. In a small panic and with a big huff, she grabbed her skirt mid length and yanked it free from the nemesis license plate to quickly put an end to the tug-o-war.
May turned to the forefront and noticed both Red and Jamela ten feet in front of her, on the sidewalk, glaring at the situation with baffled expressions on their faces. All they knew was May had slowed the pace and somehow managed to put a gaping hole in her skirt, her white leg glaring out from the red, brown and green striped cotton.
May returned home and stitched up the skirt, with a little bit of resentment towards it for causing her such an awkward encouter in the middle of the city. She laughed, thinking the skirt had put up a good battle but she still had won and had ownership. Little did she know the skirt had a few more tricks up its’ sleeve…
Friday, May 25, 2007
Chapter 13 "At First Glance"
The days began to run into each other the second month the sisters were in the Sandbox. The hours began to blend together. Days of the week no longer had individual names but rather strung together and became one long day only being separated by the light switch in the sky. The dust from the arrival month had settled and the sisters had gotten into a routine, which none of them minded.
Part of May’s and Red’s routine involved workouts in the yellow room where the sisters could be seen lifting weights to random music mixes and jumping over invisible lines to keep beat with May’s, long forgotten, basketball agility routine. May, who swore she would never do another basketball workout again after the hundreds she did in college, thought if only her coaches could see her now. A quick wave of homesickness broke over her as she remembered some of her favorite days consisted of the cooler mornings in Florida. The ones that aloud her to arise early, place her ipod around her neck, and jog the slightly hilly path, while inhaling the citrus aroma on the service road of her old university.
May’s thoughts quickly subsided as she went to the kitchen for a drink between sets of lounges. She glanced out the rusty brown barred window and saw the little girl below, the same one that slept on the metal frames. On this day the shirtless little girl played in, what at first glance seemed to be, a fort her family had built. She danced under a cardboard ceiling held up by thicker sheets of cardboard. May saw through the gapping hole in the front side, the side that could be opened by a severely dented refrigerator door whose broken handle murmured tinks to the rhythm of the cars passing along the road.
May was curious to see what else the little girl was playing with on the soil floor. Did she have a companion dolly friend? A stuffed animal bear? Was the fort her secret place during the hiding part of Hide and Seek? May, still out of breath, took another sip of water and looked a little closer. The space contained by cardboard was not part of any game for the little girl’s amusement. It was a ten foot by ten foot bedroom the family had made. The cushion-less metal chair held up the right side of the cardboard and the family’s wardrobe hang over the back wall on the barbwire fence. It appeared the little girl was picking handfuls of loose dirt off the ground in her room. After a few minutes May understood the little girl was cleaning her room, the only room in the garbage field. Her mother sat outside the cardboard walls, ringing out the laundry she had pulled from the foggy water in the plastic basin that sat to the left of her. May contemplated, sometimes things were easier to accept at first glance.
Part of May’s and Red’s routine involved workouts in the yellow room where the sisters could be seen lifting weights to random music mixes and jumping over invisible lines to keep beat with May’s, long forgotten, basketball agility routine. May, who swore she would never do another basketball workout again after the hundreds she did in college, thought if only her coaches could see her now. A quick wave of homesickness broke over her as she remembered some of her favorite days consisted of the cooler mornings in Florida. The ones that aloud her to arise early, place her ipod around her neck, and jog the slightly hilly path, while inhaling the citrus aroma on the service road of her old university.
May’s thoughts quickly subsided as she went to the kitchen for a drink between sets of lounges. She glanced out the rusty brown barred window and saw the little girl below, the same one that slept on the metal frames. On this day the shirtless little girl played in, what at first glance seemed to be, a fort her family had built. She danced under a cardboard ceiling held up by thicker sheets of cardboard. May saw through the gapping hole in the front side, the side that could be opened by a severely dented refrigerator door whose broken handle murmured tinks to the rhythm of the cars passing along the road.
May was curious to see what else the little girl was playing with on the soil floor. Did she have a companion dolly friend? A stuffed animal bear? Was the fort her secret place during the hiding part of Hide and Seek? May, still out of breath, took another sip of water and looked a little closer. The space contained by cardboard was not part of any game for the little girl’s amusement. It was a ten foot by ten foot bedroom the family had made. The cushion-less metal chair held up the right side of the cardboard and the family’s wardrobe hang over the back wall on the barbwire fence. It appeared the little girl was picking handfuls of loose dirt off the ground in her room. After a few minutes May understood the little girl was cleaning her room, the only room in the garbage field. Her mother sat outside the cardboard walls, ringing out the laundry she had pulled from the foggy water in the plastic basin that sat to the left of her. May contemplated, sometimes things were easier to accept at first glance.
Thursday, May 24, 2007
Chapter 12 "Holiday in Africa" -dedictated to Sharon and Libbo
While the sisters brought a small taste of Christmas to the brothers in March during their time at the Centre; little did they know, Santa’s Elves would be manifested in the brothers as they arrived to the field with two bulky suitcases packed from McCaine’s and Red’s parents. Frosty snow and cold wind were absent during this Christmas in May; however, a light brown dust masked the ground, while stale, warm, air drenched the sisters as they gathered in the freshly painted, light blue, room of their apartment.
The suitcases resembled an ensemble of silver and red presents enclosed beneath sparkling green and blue ribbon with shimmery bows to accent the decorative décor. The dark nylon material, clenched together by shiny silver teeth, held stocking stuffers and gifts from the North Pole (or in this case Virginia and North Carolina). Beneath the wrapping lay spices, seasoning, pots, pans, oven-mits, socks, shirts, cards, and books.
The furry blue and pink bathroom rugs would hear laughter echoing between the sink and tub from the maccorni and cheese making endeavors that eventually would take place in the lively lime green kitchen. The new pots and pans eagerly awaited the salty taste to be brought to them by Mrs. Dash seasoning and her side kicks. The shirts anxiously awaited the experiences they would encounter and the smells that would engulf them. The socks anticipated clean lotion wrapped feet and wondered where they would be led and if they would persevere the journey. Both the shirt and socks knew they could only handle so many lashings from the new washer and cheap African detergent, but they were up for the adventures that would leave them tumbling in suds.
The sisters giggled as they rummaged through the sweet gifts that arrived on a random Thursday six months before the authentic Chr*stm*s holiday. They were thankful the Father never was too early or too late but always right on time. They were grateful that He always supplied what they needed, that He always supplied more then what they needed. When the unwrapping was over and the new gifts placed in there proper places, the Sisters eyes grew heavy and they fell comfortably asleep with thankful hearts and appreciative thoughts for the kind loved ones He provided for support and encouragement in their lives…for secret Santa’s workshops in North Carolina and Virginia and for the little elves bearing the gifts.
The suitcases resembled an ensemble of silver and red presents enclosed beneath sparkling green and blue ribbon with shimmery bows to accent the decorative décor. The dark nylon material, clenched together by shiny silver teeth, held stocking stuffers and gifts from the North Pole (or in this case Virginia and North Carolina). Beneath the wrapping lay spices, seasoning, pots, pans, oven-mits, socks, shirts, cards, and books.
The furry blue and pink bathroom rugs would hear laughter echoing between the sink and tub from the maccorni and cheese making endeavors that eventually would take place in the lively lime green kitchen. The new pots and pans eagerly awaited the salty taste to be brought to them by Mrs. Dash seasoning and her side kicks. The shirts anxiously awaited the experiences they would encounter and the smells that would engulf them. The socks anticipated clean lotion wrapped feet and wondered where they would be led and if they would persevere the journey. Both the shirt and socks knew they could only handle so many lashings from the new washer and cheap African detergent, but they were up for the adventures that would leave them tumbling in suds.
The sisters giggled as they rummaged through the sweet gifts that arrived on a random Thursday six months before the authentic Chr*stm*s holiday. They were thankful the Father never was too early or too late but always right on time. They were grateful that He always supplied what they needed, that He always supplied more then what they needed. When the unwrapping was over and the new gifts placed in there proper places, the Sisters eyes grew heavy and they fell comfortably asleep with thankful hearts and appreciative thoughts for the kind loved ones He provided for support and encouragement in their lives…for secret Santa’s workshops in North Carolina and Virginia and for the little elves bearing the gifts.
Tuesday, May 22, 2007
Chapter 11 "Girls will be Girls"
The sisters would look back on the apartment renovation days with thankfulness for the time it gave them to spend together. Gathered in May’s pink air-conditioned room, with the aroma of fresh paint and the worker’s cigarettes, the sisters jammed out to Kelly Clarkson’s, “Since You’ve been Gone” and “Just Walk Away”. Their toes gently tapped the new, clean, white tiles as their arms whirled in the cool air. Or the other days spent in Red’s fluorescent yellow room, reading the masterpieces of C.S. Lewis, and watching Sense and Sensibility and other classics—all the while knowing the workmen busily painted the kitchen the same green of Easter grass and McCain’s room the lightest shade of blue.
There was much time to relax and catch up on sleep those first days in their apartment. The surplus of down time was apparent the day May and Red decided to choreograph a dance to TLC’s, “Scrubs” song. They briskly waved their index fingers right to left in front of their hearts, as they sang “I don’t want no” and pretended to mop (hence “scrub”) the floor as they symbolically rejected all the scrubs of the world. If the walls had eyes, surely they would have been amused by the dancing and laughter their space contained.
May flashed back to the weeks before she had left. She sincerely missed her sweet friend, Jenn D., as she remembered fondly the jam out sessions in, Altty (her recently sold, red Nissan Altima). She wondered if Jenn D. was flapping her arms, as if she were a bird, to Bette Middler’s “Wind Beneath My Wings” somewhere amidst the orange groves of Florida. She missed deep conversation and lighthearted singing while passing the fake microphone back and forth with Jenn D. in Altty. She paused for a moment and lifted up whispers of thanks to the Father for her benevolent, selfless, sister in the states and for entertaining memories that were not forgotten.
As the mist of May’s sweet memories with Jenn D. began to dissipate, naturally she felt it necessary to serenade McCaine and Red with Bette Middler’s, “The Rose”. The sisters laughed and recorded May’s entirely out of tune and off beat solo. They hoped to send it to Jane, who they always thought of during the soon to be common, “girls will be girls”, moments.
There was much time to relax and catch up on sleep those first days in their apartment. The surplus of down time was apparent the day May and Red decided to choreograph a dance to TLC’s, “Scrubs” song. They briskly waved their index fingers right to left in front of their hearts, as they sang “I don’t want no” and pretended to mop (hence “scrub”) the floor as they symbolically rejected all the scrubs of the world. If the walls had eyes, surely they would have been amused by the dancing and laughter their space contained.
May flashed back to the weeks before she had left. She sincerely missed her sweet friend, Jenn D., as she remembered fondly the jam out sessions in, Altty (her recently sold, red Nissan Altima). She wondered if Jenn D. was flapping her arms, as if she were a bird, to Bette Middler’s “Wind Beneath My Wings” somewhere amidst the orange groves of Florida. She missed deep conversation and lighthearted singing while passing the fake microphone back and forth with Jenn D. in Altty. She paused for a moment and lifted up whispers of thanks to the Father for her benevolent, selfless, sister in the states and for entertaining memories that were not forgotten.
As the mist of May’s sweet memories with Jenn D. began to dissipate, naturally she felt it necessary to serenade McCaine and Red with Bette Middler’s, “The Rose”. The sisters laughed and recorded May’s entirely out of tune and off beat solo. They hoped to send it to Jane, who they always thought of during the soon to be common, “girls will be girls”, moments.
Sunday, May 20, 2007
Chapter 10 "Dinner and Dessert in the Desert"
The sisters sat at the dinner table, exhausted. They were broken and they knew no one could help, that only the Father’s grace was sufficient for the happenings of the day. It was late evening, after nine o’clock, and past supper time. Their hunger would not be so extreme had each of them eaten more then a power bar and crackers throughout the day. The sisters spent the morning and afternoon cleaning the aftermath of the sandstorm and waiting for the arrival of their new stove and refrigerator. They gave up hope as five o’clock came and passed and their stomachs gave into their impatience for electronics.
Red and May headed to the local market to purchase dinner. They locked McCain into their apartment, seeing as there was only one set of keys and still a glimmer of hope the appliances would be delivered. Red discovered a shortcut, full of lose dirt and shards of broken glass, behind their house. Covered from shoulder to toe in bright cotton, the sisters bared the 115 degree temperature in search of fuol, the traditional bean mush meal the people of this culture ate for lunch and dinner each day. Red whispered to the Father, asking him to help them find dinner. They roamed the streets but came up empty. Hungrier, dirtier, and a little more discouraged, they headed for home when they ran in Levic, the friend who lived above them. The sisters shared their disappointment about not finding the most culturally common food. She gave them a tour of the next few streets, showing them all the small stands where fuol could be found. Hotter, hungrier, and a little more discouraged, they arrived back to the apartment to inform McCaine they would have more crackers or power bars for dinner.
While out, they were informed that foul was made closer to 7pm. The three sisters, exhausted and famished, left the apartment in one last attempt to find dinner. They went back to the three different shops Levic had showed them. They returned to the apartment, frustrated and saddened by their lack of success in their final attempt of fuol finding. The mute pink wall and door to the apartment stood in front of them. Each sister gave her best attempt at opening the impassive door. It would not budge. Defeated yet again, now, they could not even manage to get into their apartment. They were forced to find Habibtie, the owner of their apartment.
The sisters had met Habibtie earlier that week. They admired her for being an educated woman in a culture that does not value women for anything, especially not for their minds. She was kind, giving the sisters sweats or soda each time they met with her. They were thankful her fidgeting with the door as it led to the door swinging open to the warm dusty air of their apartment.
Habibtie and the sisters entered the sitting room, demoralized and damp with sweat. May was annoyed there was no place to sit because everything was either still covered from the Hahboob’s breath or the workers belongings. She was frustrated and she tended to be grumpy when she did not get enough sleep and when she was hungry. She walked straight into the kitchen and began looking for something creative to make out of crackers and power bars. McCaine and Red spoke with Habibtie for a few more minutes. The sisters entered the kitchen and informed May that Habibtie was on her way to the market to get fuol for the sisters as a house warming gift. May, smiled politely, still annoyed, she went to find her ipod. She was at a breaking point.
She washed the dirt off the table Red and McCaine had pulled out from the piles of dirt. They sat around the table and listened to music and praised the Father. Sweat and tears ran down their faces, leaving clean vertical tracks barricaded by dirt, down their cheeks. They closed their eyes, each one sharing their doubts and frustrations with their King. They praised and thanked Him for the day, regardless of its events. At the sound of a knock on the door, they stopped praising the Father and opened the door to find Habibtie standing with arms full of food on the other side. Habibtie handed McCaine three plastic bags that contained, what looked like, tin take-out containers with cardboard lids. May did not even notice the containers were not the clear plastic bags that fuol was usually poured into, her heart still had not recovered from the day’s defeat. The sisters thanked Habibtie and asked her to join them for dinner. Habibtie’s smiled and said another time and left as quickly as she had entered.
The sisters opened the bags, to their surprise it was not fuol, but their favorite American foods. Freshly fried chicken, grilled chicken, french fries (unheard of in this city and country), and fried fish sit comfortably in their aluminum spaces. They began to cry as they each knew Habibtie’s gesture of kindness was a gift from the Father himself.
There hearts were deeply touched and minutely convicted. Was it not them who were there to love Habibtie and the others they encountered?
The Father had humbled them, as he always did. He humbled them with the gesture from a woman, little more then a stranger, who saw three girls discouraged after their first day on their own in their little apartment in a big city. As if her dinner gesture was not sweet enough, there was another tap on the door about an hour later. Rose, Habibtie’s house helper, stood on the other side. May answered the door and Rose handed her a thin, warm box and quickly left. May opened the box with the sisters. Its contents, baklava, still warm. Habetee had given them dinner and dessert. May did not try to hold back a second helping of tears. It was just like the Father, to send a dinner of faithfulness accompanied by a dessert of love.
Red and May headed to the local market to purchase dinner. They locked McCain into their apartment, seeing as there was only one set of keys and still a glimmer of hope the appliances would be delivered. Red discovered a shortcut, full of lose dirt and shards of broken glass, behind their house. Covered from shoulder to toe in bright cotton, the sisters bared the 115 degree temperature in search of fuol, the traditional bean mush meal the people of this culture ate for lunch and dinner each day. Red whispered to the Father, asking him to help them find dinner. They roamed the streets but came up empty. Hungrier, dirtier, and a little more discouraged, they headed for home when they ran in Levic, the friend who lived above them. The sisters shared their disappointment about not finding the most culturally common food. She gave them a tour of the next few streets, showing them all the small stands where fuol could be found. Hotter, hungrier, and a little more discouraged, they arrived back to the apartment to inform McCaine they would have more crackers or power bars for dinner.
While out, they were informed that foul was made closer to 7pm. The three sisters, exhausted and famished, left the apartment in one last attempt to find dinner. They went back to the three different shops Levic had showed them. They returned to the apartment, frustrated and saddened by their lack of success in their final attempt of fuol finding. The mute pink wall and door to the apartment stood in front of them. Each sister gave her best attempt at opening the impassive door. It would not budge. Defeated yet again, now, they could not even manage to get into their apartment. They were forced to find Habibtie, the owner of their apartment.
The sisters had met Habibtie earlier that week. They admired her for being an educated woman in a culture that does not value women for anything, especially not for their minds. She was kind, giving the sisters sweats or soda each time they met with her. They were thankful her fidgeting with the door as it led to the door swinging open to the warm dusty air of their apartment.
Habibtie and the sisters entered the sitting room, demoralized and damp with sweat. May was annoyed there was no place to sit because everything was either still covered from the Hahboob’s breath or the workers belongings. She was frustrated and she tended to be grumpy when she did not get enough sleep and when she was hungry. She walked straight into the kitchen and began looking for something creative to make out of crackers and power bars. McCaine and Red spoke with Habibtie for a few more minutes. The sisters entered the kitchen and informed May that Habibtie was on her way to the market to get fuol for the sisters as a house warming gift. May, smiled politely, still annoyed, she went to find her ipod. She was at a breaking point.
She washed the dirt off the table Red and McCaine had pulled out from the piles of dirt. They sat around the table and listened to music and praised the Father. Sweat and tears ran down their faces, leaving clean vertical tracks barricaded by dirt, down their cheeks. They closed their eyes, each one sharing their doubts and frustrations with their King. They praised and thanked Him for the day, regardless of its events. At the sound of a knock on the door, they stopped praising the Father and opened the door to find Habibtie standing with arms full of food on the other side. Habibtie handed McCaine three plastic bags that contained, what looked like, tin take-out containers with cardboard lids. May did not even notice the containers were not the clear plastic bags that fuol was usually poured into, her heart still had not recovered from the day’s defeat. The sisters thanked Habibtie and asked her to join them for dinner. Habibtie’s smiled and said another time and left as quickly as she had entered.
The sisters opened the bags, to their surprise it was not fuol, but their favorite American foods. Freshly fried chicken, grilled chicken, french fries (unheard of in this city and country), and fried fish sit comfortably in their aluminum spaces. They began to cry as they each knew Habibtie’s gesture of kindness was a gift from the Father himself.
There hearts were deeply touched and minutely convicted. Was it not them who were there to love Habibtie and the others they encountered?
The Father had humbled them, as he always did. He humbled them with the gesture from a woman, little more then a stranger, who saw three girls discouraged after their first day on their own in their little apartment in a big city. As if her dinner gesture was not sweet enough, there was another tap on the door about an hour later. Rose, Habibtie’s house helper, stood on the other side. May answered the door and Rose handed her a thin, warm box and quickly left. May opened the box with the sisters. Its contents, baklava, still warm. Habetee had given them dinner and dessert. May did not try to hold back a second helping of tears. It was just like the Father, to send a dinner of faithfulness accompanied by a dessert of love.
Tuesday, May 15, 2007
Chapter 9 "Second Floor Grace"
May thought, surely this place would kill a perfectionist. She was not a perfectionist but she did have a streak of perfectionism that ran through her. May liked things to be clean and well kept. She liked things to be done right the first time, done with precision. This streak flared in The Sandbox because nothing was done right the first time. Nothing was done on time. Doors were hung slightly crooked or with the tops being overly shaved and small cracks seen through the wood. Windows never closed correctly and a constant dust covered the apartment. Clothes were cut uneven and when bought new, had little holes in them or dirt on them. In the beginning this annoyed May terribly. She was forced to leave it to the Father, as it was out of her control. She could not control the door makers or the window makers. She could not stop the locks from jamming or the curtains from hanging slanted slightly to the right. She realized she was deeply annoyed at these small things because in some way, they were still easier to try to fix then the bigger problems that slept outside her window or limped down the road. She tried to wrap her mind around all of the small things that bothered her, until one day she grasped she was twelve feet of grace above most of the world.
The water in the apartment was not working. The electricity was on and off. May was dirty. Her feet were dirty, which bothered her more then just about anything. She washed her feet and walked out of the bathroom, leaving imprints of clean footprints on the dusty floor heading to the kitchen. Annoyed, she poured herself a cup of warm water, after-all, the refrigerator was broken. She let her mind criticize the entire city. Who was responsible for keeping the water running? The electricity? The dust? She had showered a half hour earlier and was sweating again already.
She opened a window, ready to scream and looked down. That is when she saw them. There in the dark of the night lay an entire family in the middle of a dirt field sleeping on two metal bed frames with no mattresses. Right of them sits a slide resting on a large rock because the ladder went missing a long time before they moved to the garbage filled field. May had seen the children happily climb the rock in order to go down the slide. Left of the family a broken tractor lays rusted under a few layers of dust. May noticed the family, now sound asleep, had no roof over their head and was surrounded by the wall of May’s apartment, and three roads. Time and time again cars wobbled right by their heads on their way into or out of the city. If that was not enough to break May of her perfectionism, nothing would. She looked up to the Father and thanked him for cracked windows, new fridges that did not work, thick heat that pasted dirt to her, and four concrete walls that at least kept the outside, out and the inside in.
The tears ran down her cheeks and she thanked the Father for the life she was born into in the US, for the luxuries she took for granted and the conveniences she never questioned. There was no explanation for why she lived at least twelve feet above poverty level her entire life. She was humbled to live on the second floor of grace rather then on the dirt ground. She went to bed damp from sweat. She did not care so much that her dirt embedded feet hung comfortably over her soft mattress because she realized twelve feet below a family shared the simple metal frame that held them slightly above the dirt, and they were thankful.
The water in the apartment was not working. The electricity was on and off. May was dirty. Her feet were dirty, which bothered her more then just about anything. She washed her feet and walked out of the bathroom, leaving imprints of clean footprints on the dusty floor heading to the kitchen. Annoyed, she poured herself a cup of warm water, after-all, the refrigerator was broken. She let her mind criticize the entire city. Who was responsible for keeping the water running? The electricity? The dust? She had showered a half hour earlier and was sweating again already.
She opened a window, ready to scream and looked down. That is when she saw them. There in the dark of the night lay an entire family in the middle of a dirt field sleeping on two metal bed frames with no mattresses. Right of them sits a slide resting on a large rock because the ladder went missing a long time before they moved to the garbage filled field. May had seen the children happily climb the rock in order to go down the slide. Left of the family a broken tractor lays rusted under a few layers of dust. May noticed the family, now sound asleep, had no roof over their head and was surrounded by the wall of May’s apartment, and three roads. Time and time again cars wobbled right by their heads on their way into or out of the city. If that was not enough to break May of her perfectionism, nothing would. She looked up to the Father and thanked him for cracked windows, new fridges that did not work, thick heat that pasted dirt to her, and four concrete walls that at least kept the outside, out and the inside in.
The tears ran down her cheeks and she thanked the Father for the life she was born into in the US, for the luxuries she took for granted and the conveniences she never questioned. There was no explanation for why she lived at least twelve feet above poverty level her entire life. She was humbled to live on the second floor of grace rather then on the dirt ground. She went to bed damp from sweat. She did not care so much that her dirt embedded feet hung comfortably over her soft mattress because she realized twelve feet below a family shared the simple metal frame that held them slightly above the dirt, and they were thankful.
Chapter 8 "The Arrival"
The sun was setting as the plane touched the small patch of tar between dirt fields of Africa. May thought for a moment, how beautiful the sun is, there was a peculiar sense of security in its’ consistency. She could travel anywhere at any time and one thing would always be consistent, the sun would rise and the sun would set. It just so happened, the sun was breaking the night’s darkness in America, as it succumbed to the moon her arrival night in Africa.
She left the baggage claim one trunk lighter then expected and thankful she listened to her Dad’s advice on the proper method of packing for such a moment as this. Relieved she still had clothes, food, and toiletries in the other three trunks she smiled inside, knowing this is Africa. She was thankful Mr. Chard was protective of the sisters and her in the airport and was happy to see the smiling faces of the Smith family waiting for them outside the airport. A half hour later the trucks were packed fifteen trunks high and the brother and sisters were loaded into another vehicle and brought to the Smith house for dinner and rest.
The first few days were busy with introductions, language, and rest. May struggled with the heat from the very first day when it was 115 degrees fareinheight. She would be thankful for 115 degrees once she felt the 125 degrees in the days to come. Wrapped in long sleeves and ankle length skirts, the sisters learned how to get fresh vegetables from the stand down the road. They were appreciative Mrs. Smith’s hospitality and kindness and they soon referred to her as Martha.
The girls lived with Mitch and Martha for the first week they were in The Sandbox. They were thankful when they were able to move into their apartment down the road. Unpacking their trunks and setting up their rooms seemed to bring roots to this time in their life. Soon enough those roots were covered by sand as the first “hahboob” hit them hard. The sandstorm seeped its’ way through the cracks in the windows, into their freshly cleaned apartment. Once the hahboob’s journey through The Sandbox was over, the sisters saw it left a thick coating of dirt and sand on everything from picture frames, pillows, and blankets, to countertops and floors. The cleaning of the storm took another three days.
She left the baggage claim one trunk lighter then expected and thankful she listened to her Dad’s advice on the proper method of packing for such a moment as this. Relieved she still had clothes, food, and toiletries in the other three trunks she smiled inside, knowing this is Africa. She was thankful Mr. Chard was protective of the sisters and her in the airport and was happy to see the smiling faces of the Smith family waiting for them outside the airport. A half hour later the trucks were packed fifteen trunks high and the brother and sisters were loaded into another vehicle and brought to the Smith house for dinner and rest.
The first few days were busy with introductions, language, and rest. May struggled with the heat from the very first day when it was 115 degrees fareinheight. She would be thankful for 115 degrees once she felt the 125 degrees in the days to come. Wrapped in long sleeves and ankle length skirts, the sisters learned how to get fresh vegetables from the stand down the road. They were appreciative Mrs. Smith’s hospitality and kindness and they soon referred to her as Martha.
The girls lived with Mitch and Martha for the first week they were in The Sandbox. They were thankful when they were able to move into their apartment down the road. Unpacking their trunks and setting up their rooms seemed to bring roots to this time in their life. Soon enough those roots were covered by sand as the first “hahboob” hit them hard. The sandstorm seeped its’ way through the cracks in the windows, into their freshly cleaned apartment. Once the hahboob’s journey through The Sandbox was over, the sisters saw it left a thick coating of dirt and sand on everything from picture frames, pillows, and blankets, to countertops and floors. The cleaning of the storm took another three days.
Saturday, May 12, 2007
Chapter 7 "The Countdown"
May flew through Florida’s warm sunset, thankful to land in Tampa’s inviting atmosphere. She lived slightly north of Tampa since she graduated from high school seven years earlier. She found the weather in April to be most welcoming for its’ warm, not yet humid, personality. However, May’s favorite times where those when the sun took the day off. She enjoyed sitting by opened windows, sipping hot coffee, while the cool citrus fragrance wafted through the screens to embrace the ink of whatever she was reading at the time.
After two months away, she was excited to see two of her sweet friends pull alongside the concrete curve in the dark airport loading terminal. May spent the next two weeks being pampered and loved on by these friends and a handful of others. She stayed with The Zellers, whom she commonly referred to as Mama and Papa Z and considered to be her Florida parents. She had been deeply and richly blessed by her freshman year of college when she was introduced to Mama and Papa Z who lovingly shared what the Great Book said about the Father’s sacrifice of His Son. She found meaning and purpose through the blood of the perfect man and her life changed forever during that time in her eighteenth year.
The last night consisted of laughter that ended with hugs goodbye after a sushi dinner and ice cream dessert. May despised goodbyes, she simply rather avoid saying goodbye to anyone and would rather pretend nothing would change in the lives of the one’s she loved over the next two years. She was almost as awkward with goodbyes as she was with first impressions. May knew she would miss these friends more then she could express so all she could do was hug them and say thank you to them for the way they had loved her through the years. Together for the last time, they gathered in a circle and whispered her up to the Father. She would rather no other goodbye then a circle of finger locked friends whispering protection, guidance, clarity, and thankfulness to the King.
Finally, the 19th of April had arrived. During the previous days, the weather in Tampa was indecisive. May had longed to spend a few days at the beach, her favorite place, before she left for two years but had few opportunities as the sun and clouds played hide and seek with the rain and wind. She found herself appreciating the smallest parts of creation before she left. As she drove through sweet smelling orange fields surrounded by lush green tress, May contemplated the other smells she would miss; fresh cut grass, tulips, the beach, and clean, crisp air. She found herself drifting too quickly into the future while she was appreciating the present. The airport came to view sooner then she was ready to approach it.
Mama Z helped May pull the four gigantic bags out of her Jeep and load them onto the wagon. She held May close and lifted her up to The Father. May tearfully embraced her and thanked The Father for the way he provided such an amazing woman in her life throughout the last seven years. She came to the ticket counter and found her bags were ten pounds over weight. A half hour later and ten pounds of Gatorade lighter, May met up with her friend, Reb, and they spent the two hour wait reminiscing about old times. The time passed too quickly, as it always does in final goodbyes. May left Florida in the arms of one last hug from a sweet friend and landed in the arms of heart felt embraces from McCaine and Red in Virginia.
After two months away, she was excited to see two of her sweet friends pull alongside the concrete curve in the dark airport loading terminal. May spent the next two weeks being pampered and loved on by these friends and a handful of others. She stayed with The Zellers, whom she commonly referred to as Mama and Papa Z and considered to be her Florida parents. She had been deeply and richly blessed by her freshman year of college when she was introduced to Mama and Papa Z who lovingly shared what the Great Book said about the Father’s sacrifice of His Son. She found meaning and purpose through the blood of the perfect man and her life changed forever during that time in her eighteenth year.
The last night consisted of laughter that ended with hugs goodbye after a sushi dinner and ice cream dessert. May despised goodbyes, she simply rather avoid saying goodbye to anyone and would rather pretend nothing would change in the lives of the one’s she loved over the next two years. She was almost as awkward with goodbyes as she was with first impressions. May knew she would miss these friends more then she could express so all she could do was hug them and say thank you to them for the way they had loved her through the years. Together for the last time, they gathered in a circle and whispered her up to the Father. She would rather no other goodbye then a circle of finger locked friends whispering protection, guidance, clarity, and thankfulness to the King.
Finally, the 19th of April had arrived. During the previous days, the weather in Tampa was indecisive. May had longed to spend a few days at the beach, her favorite place, before she left for two years but had few opportunities as the sun and clouds played hide and seek with the rain and wind. She found herself appreciating the smallest parts of creation before she left. As she drove through sweet smelling orange fields surrounded by lush green tress, May contemplated the other smells she would miss; fresh cut grass, tulips, the beach, and clean, crisp air. She found herself drifting too quickly into the future while she was appreciating the present. The airport came to view sooner then she was ready to approach it.
Mama Z helped May pull the four gigantic bags out of her Jeep and load them onto the wagon. She held May close and lifted her up to The Father. May tearfully embraced her and thanked The Father for the way he provided such an amazing woman in her life throughout the last seven years. She came to the ticket counter and found her bags were ten pounds over weight. A half hour later and ten pounds of Gatorade lighter, May met up with her friend, Reb, and they spent the two hour wait reminiscing about old times. The time passed too quickly, as it always does in final goodbyes. May left Florida in the arms of one last hug from a sweet friend and landed in the arms of heart felt embraces from McCaine and Red in Virginia.
Friday, May 11, 2007
Chapter 6 "Final Centre Memories"
The days at training came to an end more quickly then the brothers and sisters had expected. May enjoyed the final week at the Centre immensely. It was filled with basketball games, bonfires, and time spent singing to the Father.
One of the final afternoons the brothers and sisters headed to the gym to play basketball. May, Flex, and Cappy played “Twenty-one”. Red and McCaine cheered May on as she tried to keep game with the brothers. Flex, a more natural basketball player then Cappy and May, quickly took the lead. Cappy tipped a shot Flex missed in and brought him back to zero. As the game continued, May utilized all of her trickster moves, pinching and pushing her way up in points. After a small break in which Flex coached McCaine on how to shoot, the game continued. Cappy and May tried their best but after an hour of fun filled shots, laughter, fouls, and tips, Flex was the winner.
May’s family drove from Connecticut to Virginia to wish her well on her journey. May spent a day with them and was blessed by the conversations and memories of their time together. Her siblings and Dad gathered around a table outside Dairy Queen. As May’s favorite childhood dessert, chocolate cookie-dough ice cream with two extra pumps of peanut butter syrup sauce dripped slightly onto the table, she remembered the many times she ate this, soon to be frosty delicacy, with her siblings growing up. She thanked the Father for simple desserts and fond family memories. It would be a long time before she enjoyed either, again.
One of the final afternoons the brothers and sisters headed to the gym to play basketball. May, Flex, and Cappy played “Twenty-one”. Red and McCaine cheered May on as she tried to keep game with the brothers. Flex, a more natural basketball player then Cappy and May, quickly took the lead. Cappy tipped a shot Flex missed in and brought him back to zero. As the game continued, May utilized all of her trickster moves, pinching and pushing her way up in points. After a small break in which Flex coached McCaine on how to shoot, the game continued. Cappy and May tried their best but after an hour of fun filled shots, laughter, fouls, and tips, Flex was the winner.
May’s family drove from Connecticut to Virginia to wish her well on her journey. May spent a day with them and was blessed by the conversations and memories of their time together. Her siblings and Dad gathered around a table outside Dairy Queen. As May’s favorite childhood dessert, chocolate cookie-dough ice cream with two extra pumps of peanut butter syrup sauce dripped slightly onto the table, she remembered the many times she ate this, soon to be frosty delicacy, with her siblings growing up. She thanked the Father for simple desserts and fond family memories. It would be a long time before she enjoyed either, again.
Chapter 5 "Sailing"
Row, row, row your boat, gently down the stream, merrily, merrily, merrily, merrily, life is but a dream…it was a dream of a day, the day the brothers and sister went row boating and sailing at McCaine’s house. Cappy earned his name that day, as he was the captain of McCaine’s sweet little row boat. He rowed the sisters around the pond while keeping their imaginations attentive on his stories and the explanation of the art on his upper left arm. On the distant shore, Flex and McCaine were receiving instructions on how to properly put together the sailboat.
After Cappy parked the boat, he and Flex blissfully sailed around the pond reminiscing on past sailing excursions and of future ones. Meanwhile, the sisters had made their way up to McCaine’s bedroom. One could gather much about her life through the glossy memories held in wooden frames on her desk and the childhood artwork that hung on the wall. Dusty passes to space camp leaned up against Jane Austin novels and trinkets from childhood. The sisters danced around in McCaine’s tobes, long pieces of material women wrap around themselves in the middle east. Their excitement for their future endeavor swelled as they pictured themselves roaming dirt roads draped in bright colors near their new home.
May glanced out the window and was excited to see the brothers pull to shore. She and Red were anxiously awaiting their first sailing experience, and their first deeper conversation. Red’s sparkling topaz eyes glittered against the water as her red hair blew in the breeze while they sailed away from the shore. May was bundled in a sweatshirt and a little nervous that she had no idea how to sail. She was in charge of the sail and Red, in charge of the rudder. It was not long before May and Red ran into the side of the bank. Flex and McCaine came jogging over to assist them in their positions. After much laughter and a pep talk, the sisters were off again.
May confided in Red during that adventure. She knew Red was a loyal friend later, when Red could have offered some interesting information, but held it in her heart to protect a sister. With much laughter May and Red finished their sailing adventure and cruised to shore for dinner.
The brothers and sisters ate burgers, cheese balls, and beans. After the meal Flex stood and made a toast. It was a sweet toast followed by the clanking of glasses. Flex continued to make toasts, each one a little more uncanny then the last. The brothers and sisters conversed under the moonlight that seeped between the branchy fingers of the oak tree limbs above their heads. Later, they danced in McCaine’s living room and conversed over brownies and coffee.
After Cappy parked the boat, he and Flex blissfully sailed around the pond reminiscing on past sailing excursions and of future ones. Meanwhile, the sisters had made their way up to McCaine’s bedroom. One could gather much about her life through the glossy memories held in wooden frames on her desk and the childhood artwork that hung on the wall. Dusty passes to space camp leaned up against Jane Austin novels and trinkets from childhood. The sisters danced around in McCaine’s tobes, long pieces of material women wrap around themselves in the middle east. Their excitement for their future endeavor swelled as they pictured themselves roaming dirt roads draped in bright colors near their new home.
May glanced out the window and was excited to see the brothers pull to shore. She and Red were anxiously awaiting their first sailing experience, and their first deeper conversation. Red’s sparkling topaz eyes glittered against the water as her red hair blew in the breeze while they sailed away from the shore. May was bundled in a sweatshirt and a little nervous that she had no idea how to sail. She was in charge of the sail and Red, in charge of the rudder. It was not long before May and Red ran into the side of the bank. Flex and McCaine came jogging over to assist them in their positions. After much laughter and a pep talk, the sisters were off again.
May confided in Red during that adventure. She knew Red was a loyal friend later, when Red could have offered some interesting information, but held it in her heart to protect a sister. With much laughter May and Red finished their sailing adventure and cruised to shore for dinner.
The brothers and sisters ate burgers, cheese balls, and beans. After the meal Flex stood and made a toast. It was a sweet toast followed by the clanking of glasses. Flex continued to make toasts, each one a little more uncanny then the last. The brothers and sisters conversed under the moonlight that seeped between the branchy fingers of the oak tree limbs above their heads. Later, they danced in McCaine’s living room and conversed over brownies and coffee.
Saturday, May 5, 2007
Chapter 4 "Soldier Dancing Night"
Chapter 4 “Soldier Dancing Night”
The Sisters, including Jane, went out to dinner one night for some quality time together. They shared their fears and excitement about the months that were approaching and enjoyed each others company immensely. Had it not been for a quick excursion to pick up a few necessities from the market, they may have later missed Arab soldiers dancing the night away.
There had been few conversations about the roles of men and women in the area the brothers and sisters were traveling to. The brothers had a “pep talk” on how to care for the sisters during their times together and the sisters were lectured on what to wear and whom to converse with and on letting the brothers protect them. It was at the precise moment, the sisters were talking about this subject, that they passed by little boy soldier costumes on one of the shelves. At once they knew it was fate and grabbed four boxes, purchased them and made their way home to their brothers.
A couple hours later, Flex, Cappy, and Mr. Chard opened the boxes and the sisters were reminded of children opening Ch***mas presents. For a moment May could even taste sweet holiday apple crisp on her tongue as she breathed in a stream of the fresh evergreen scent in the air. The brothers tore into the boxes, placed plastic helmets on their heads and belts of armor around their waists. They began fighting each other with their flimsy swords and guarding themselves with their shields. The walls around them crumbled and there amongst the dust were Arab soldiers fighting and dancing swiftly in the night. All seemed sweet and right in the cool Virginia night and a beautiful memory was shared amongst the brothers and sisters.
The Sisters, including Jane, went out to dinner one night for some quality time together. They shared their fears and excitement about the months that were approaching and enjoyed each others company immensely. Had it not been for a quick excursion to pick up a few necessities from the market, they may have later missed Arab soldiers dancing the night away.
There had been few conversations about the roles of men and women in the area the brothers and sisters were traveling to. The brothers had a “pep talk” on how to care for the sisters during their times together and the sisters were lectured on what to wear and whom to converse with and on letting the brothers protect them. It was at the precise moment, the sisters were talking about this subject, that they passed by little boy soldier costumes on one of the shelves. At once they knew it was fate and grabbed four boxes, purchased them and made their way home to their brothers.
A couple hours later, Flex, Cappy, and Mr. Chard opened the boxes and the sisters were reminded of children opening Ch***mas presents. For a moment May could even taste sweet holiday apple crisp on her tongue as she breathed in a stream of the fresh evergreen scent in the air. The brothers tore into the boxes, placed plastic helmets on their heads and belts of armor around their waists. They began fighting each other with their flimsy swords and guarding themselves with their shields. The walls around them crumbled and there amongst the dust were Arab soldiers fighting and dancing swiftly in the night. All seemed sweet and right in the cool Virginia night and a beautiful memory was shared amongst the brothers and sisters.
Friday, May 4, 2007
Chapter 3 "The Rock"
The Father blessed the sisters with the sweet fellowship of Jane, another sister who would travel to Peru and spend her time dodging tree branches and wading through rivers in the Amazon. An elastic always secured her straight dark brown hair in a firm pony tail that swayed right to left when she walked. Jane had the best perspective on each of the sister’s stories. She was close with each one individually and was the finishing piece of their puzzle when gathered in a group. The sisters missed her before they even went their separate ways.
Jane accompanied McCaine and May on their picture taking trip to the river. The three walked over the rock filled path and came to the opening. May saw the perfect place for the individual picture she wanted to give her family and friends and instructed McCaine and Jane to stay where they were and to let her cross the river to sit on a dry rock near the surface on the other side. Little did May know, her new shoes were not up for the task of crossing over the wet, slimy rocks. No sooner then when she stepped on the first slimy rock and placed her weight forward on it, did the rest of her body fly in the opposite direction. Her foot came out from beneath her and her body flew backwards into the air. She landed partially on her back and arm and her head whipped backwards and smashed into the rock.
Once she awoke from a slight two second blackout she looked to McCaine and Jane, slightly confused, not quite understanding why she was laying in the middle of the river on her back with cool water and mud running over her body. She was fearful when she noticed their expressions. They were staring at her horrified. After the initial shock of what happened lapsed, McCaine and Jane risked the waters themselves to pull May out. They helped May sit up, the water still running over her, and insisted she sit still for a moment. May was between laughter and tears and chose laughter because she knew the tears would not stop running down her checks once they began. McCaine and Jane helped May up, each holding an elbow, and pleaded with her to let them take her to the hospital. May’s pride came to the forefront and she refused. They demanded she at least go to The Centre’s nurse’s office to be looked over if she would not let them accompany her to the hospital. May’s headache prevented her from arguing long and the sisters marched her back through the path.
May was horrified when she saw a group of six other travelers approaching them, including one attractive brother who she had been noticing from afar, long ago. She knew there was no way to hide her drenched, mud covered body. McCaine and Jane saw the humor in the situation and tried their best to help May not feel so humiliated. They did most of the talking and described the river encounter to the six in a way that made the river sound like it came alive to eat May. She was appreciative of their effort to make her not feel so embarrassed. The sister cordially wished the others well for their journey over the river and cautioned them about the slippery rocks.
McCaine and Jane escorted May to the nurse’s office where she was told she may have a slight concussion but she did not have to visit the hospital unless she began vomiting or wanting to sleep, or felt she should go. McCaine was determined to get May to the hospital and went to the cafeteria to retrieve directions from the information wall. May, quickly began walking in the opposite direction, a little fearful she was going to be tackled into a car and brought to the dreaded hospital. McCaine noticed Jane and May well on their way back to their quad, a little confused to why they were talking the wrong route back. May requested the sisters take the long route back to their quad in order to avoid other people at all costs. May was thankful for such sweet sisters who watched over her through the night…and for the shower that rinsed the mud away.
Jane accompanied McCaine and May on their picture taking trip to the river. The three walked over the rock filled path and came to the opening. May saw the perfect place for the individual picture she wanted to give her family and friends and instructed McCaine and Jane to stay where they were and to let her cross the river to sit on a dry rock near the surface on the other side. Little did May know, her new shoes were not up for the task of crossing over the wet, slimy rocks. No sooner then when she stepped on the first slimy rock and placed her weight forward on it, did the rest of her body fly in the opposite direction. Her foot came out from beneath her and her body flew backwards into the air. She landed partially on her back and arm and her head whipped backwards and smashed into the rock.
Once she awoke from a slight two second blackout she looked to McCaine and Jane, slightly confused, not quite understanding why she was laying in the middle of the river on her back with cool water and mud running over her body. She was fearful when she noticed their expressions. They were staring at her horrified. After the initial shock of what happened lapsed, McCaine and Jane risked the waters themselves to pull May out. They helped May sit up, the water still running over her, and insisted she sit still for a moment. May was between laughter and tears and chose laughter because she knew the tears would not stop running down her checks once they began. McCaine and Jane helped May up, each holding an elbow, and pleaded with her to let them take her to the hospital. May’s pride came to the forefront and she refused. They demanded she at least go to The Centre’s nurse’s office to be looked over if she would not let them accompany her to the hospital. May’s headache prevented her from arguing long and the sisters marched her back through the path.
May was horrified when she saw a group of six other travelers approaching them, including one attractive brother who she had been noticing from afar, long ago. She knew there was no way to hide her drenched, mud covered body. McCaine and Jane saw the humor in the situation and tried their best to help May not feel so humiliated. They did most of the talking and described the river encounter to the six in a way that made the river sound like it came alive to eat May. She was appreciative of their effort to make her not feel so embarrassed. The sister cordially wished the others well for their journey over the river and cautioned them about the slippery rocks.
McCaine and Jane escorted May to the nurse’s office where she was told she may have a slight concussion but she did not have to visit the hospital unless she began vomiting or wanting to sleep, or felt she should go. McCaine was determined to get May to the hospital and went to the cafeteria to retrieve directions from the information wall. May, quickly began walking in the opposite direction, a little fearful she was going to be tackled into a car and brought to the dreaded hospital. McCaine noticed Jane and May well on their way back to their quad, a little confused to why they were talking the wrong route back. May requested the sisters take the long route back to their quad in order to avoid other people at all costs. May was thankful for such sweet sisters who watched over her through the night…and for the shower that rinsed the mud away.
Chapter 2 "The Wall of Maturity"
By the end of the second week, each of the brothers and sisters had settled comfortably into The Centre. The awkwardness of first impressions had lifted and the group decided to break bread over conversations about their lives and what led them to dedicating this season to The Father in far away fields. However, before stories could be shared, Flex and Cappy were eager to play a game they had made up, The Wall of Maturity. May had expected such a game from Flex, but she had not quite figured Cappy out yet. Flex stood at about 5’9” with a slender build. He wore his medium length curly hair well. He was seen as the cheerful, life of the party and his smile turned gloomy rooms sunny. Flex was found to be candid and sincere in their first few interactions. The Sisters also noticed the joy he had for talking about himself. The “Wall of Maturity” was typical of Flex’s character.
A scale was constructed on the wall and each participant was obligated to place a post-it of their age in maturity somewhere on the scale. After each person proposed their age, the rest of the brothers and sisters would articulate their thoughts on the individuals age of maturity. An average would be tallied and written on a post-it on the wall. As one would imagine, a couple of the brothers and sisters were more then a little off on their thoughts of their age of maturity. Flex and Cappy were deep into this silly game as May noticed the clock ticking away and hoped the game would end in order stories could be shared. She found Lanky’s reaction to his brother’s game amusing, he went over to the couch and laid down waiting for it to be over, every now and again adding some insight to each person’s maturity.
May did not expect such a game to be Cappy’s forte. Her impressions of Cappy were only half accurate and his personality seemed to be more a mystery after the game then before. He was authentic with a vast taste in music and literature. He was intellectual and deep. May had heard of his ingenuous personality long before they had met. The Wall of Maturity game proved he was a little on quirky side and she found that charming. He was the tallest of the brothers. His long sandy hair brushed up against his spectacles, that left indents on temples of his slightly freckled face. At 22 years he seemed to have an aged, sweet, spirit.
May found Lanky to be quiet. He seemed the deeper type, the theological type, and full of wit and sarcasm when he spoke. The Father had not ordained many conversations between the both of them. Naturally, she was not sure what else to think of him. He, like the other brothers, was tall and slender. He was the first of the brothers to cut his strawberry blonde hair short resulting in his sharp blue eyes being revealed. He was musically inclined with a beautiful voice and exceptional guitar skills. He, like the other brothers, wore his pants low, tightened around the hips with a colorful belt most of the time.
A scale was constructed on the wall and each participant was obligated to place a post-it of their age in maturity somewhere on the scale. After each person proposed their age, the rest of the brothers and sisters would articulate their thoughts on the individuals age of maturity. An average would be tallied and written on a post-it on the wall. As one would imagine, a couple of the brothers and sisters were more then a little off on their thoughts of their age of maturity. Flex and Cappy were deep into this silly game as May noticed the clock ticking away and hoped the game would end in order stories could be shared. She found Lanky’s reaction to his brother’s game amusing, he went over to the couch and laid down waiting for it to be over, every now and again adding some insight to each person’s maturity.
May did not expect such a game to be Cappy’s forte. Her impressions of Cappy were only half accurate and his personality seemed to be more a mystery after the game then before. He was authentic with a vast taste in music and literature. He was intellectual and deep. May had heard of his ingenuous personality long before they had met. The Wall of Maturity game proved he was a little on quirky side and she found that charming. He was the tallest of the brothers. His long sandy hair brushed up against his spectacles, that left indents on temples of his slightly freckled face. At 22 years he seemed to have an aged, sweet, spirit.
May found Lanky to be quiet. He seemed the deeper type, the theological type, and full of wit and sarcasm when he spoke. The Father had not ordained many conversations between the both of them. Naturally, she was not sure what else to think of him. He, like the other brothers, was tall and slender. He was the first of the brothers to cut his strawberry blonde hair short resulting in his sharp blue eyes being revealed. He was musically inclined with a beautiful voice and exceptional guitar skills. He, like the other brothers, wore his pants low, tightened around the hips with a colorful belt most of the time.
Thursday, April 26, 2007
continued...
May and McCain had seen the “other three” around the Centre but had never spoken with them and labeled them, “the cool kids”, since it seemed as though they kept to themselves and it would be hard to break into their friendship circle. As the Father would have it, the second encounter with them played May on the embarrassed end and the brothers on the amused. Nervous about the predestined conversation, May felt there was no time like the present and mustered up enough courage through her shyness to walk over to the table to greet the brothers. Figuring wit was the best way to strike up the conversation, May greeted them with a cheery, “Hello, Nebraska boys,” confusing the Meadowlark state with Arkansas. The brothers laughed as May felt awkward, not realizing the blunder. May was relieved to see McCain walking her way and thankful the moment did not last long as morning session was about to begin. She had become accustomed to the Father forever allowing her to completely humiliate herself and that is precisely what she did.
May found she despised the initial minutes of ineptness in these kinds of socially dire moments. She had never been the most graceful of people but she learned to laugh at her maladroit moments. She also found these situations kept her pride at bay and helped shape her into a more humble woman. Little did she know the following weeks would mold her into a more humble person then she wanted to become. To say May disliked beginnings would be a substantial understatement. May would later learn how futile her preconceived notions of “the three” had been and how her thinking reflected a heart filled with insecurities that blared in new situations.
The first couple weeks at The Centre were harsh for Red. She felt worn down and sick from the many changes that had taken place. There was a change in the plan and her partner for the trip abruptly went home. Her partner handled leaving so well that it reminded Red and others of His Sovereignty. Throughout the next two years The Clan would learn that He does not twist anything, He is straight and always has been straight and His plan is perfect. They would see that as mere mortals, they view changes to their plans as “twists” in His plan. They would learn to trust The Father’s plan that does not change but stays constant. They would recognize the egocentrism behind the thought that The Father throws a twist into their plan and lean on His promises for trusting in His plan. Regardless of the twists, they would see His beauty in the curvature of their plans.
May found she despised the initial minutes of ineptness in these kinds of socially dire moments. She had never been the most graceful of people but she learned to laugh at her maladroit moments. She also found these situations kept her pride at bay and helped shape her into a more humble woman. Little did she know the following weeks would mold her into a more humble person then she wanted to become. To say May disliked beginnings would be a substantial understatement. May would later learn how futile her preconceived notions of “the three” had been and how her thinking reflected a heart filled with insecurities that blared in new situations.
The first couple weeks at The Centre were harsh for Red. She felt worn down and sick from the many changes that had taken place. There was a change in the plan and her partner for the trip abruptly went home. Her partner handled leaving so well that it reminded Red and others of His Sovereignty. Throughout the next two years The Clan would learn that He does not twist anything, He is straight and always has been straight and His plan is perfect. They would see that as mere mortals, they view changes to their plans as “twists” in His plan. They would learn to trust The Father’s plan that does not change but stays constant. They would recognize the egocentrism behind the thought that The Father throws a twist into their plan and lean on His promises for trusting in His plan. Regardless of the twists, they would see His beauty in the curvature of their plans.
Sunday, April 1, 2007
continued...
May’s personality, structured and organized, led her to make a list of things she wanted to accomplish at training before she left for the field. At the top of the list was meeting and bonding with the others going to the Sandbox. She found it difficult to determine the extent in which to socialize with the many people her age who had similar callings on their lives. She wanted to spend as much time getting to know those going to the same area, in hopes for deeply rooted friendships to be built that would survive on the field.
Through email, months earlier, McCaine informed May of a brother that would be accompanying them for the two year journey to Africa. She looked forward to meeting, Mr. Chard. May thanked the Father for another answered whisper, as she had been lifting him up months before they met at the Centre. All she knew about Mr. Chard was that they shared the Father of heavenly lights, and she did not quite care at all whether she had anything else in common with him or not because that was most important. Mr. Chard was older then she and he was the only brother who would be on their team. Knowing he would be with her brought relief to May’s heart. She knew it would be hard to be in the Sandbox as a single woman and she was thankful because the thought of Mr. Chard eased some of her fear about safety issues in a culture that was so different from her own. May would later realize what a sweet gift she and McCain had in Mr. Chard.
While it was not quite time for Mr. Chard to be introduced to their scene during the first few days, the time was perfect for an awkward encounter with the “other” three. Her first meeting with the three came during a meal in the dining hall, months earlier at the assignment conference. There sat Cappy, Lanky, and Flex. She could not formulate many opinions from the discussion during breakfast those days ago nor did she foresee the Father’s plan would be for them to break bread numerous more times. She was curious, however, to discover if the little she had gathered from that meal time dialogue was accurate.
She assumed Flex to be the jester of the three, finding amusement in the most mundane functions of life. Rather than sitting next to May or one of his friends, he chose to sit in the middle of three empty seats on the other side of the wooden disk. Mr. Flex made a game of guessing who would claim the empty seats beside him. The situation gathered humor as people glanced at the vacant seats and continued on to a different, empty seat, at a separate table. It rose to comical when Mr. Flex eyed a woman coming towards him to join the table for breakfast, only to find out she wanted to take one of the empty seats to an already full table. Long ago May had learned how to appear amicable through the intense shyness that overwhelmed her when meeting new people, she giggled and was thankful for his silliness because his lightheartedness brought conversation and laughter to the table.
The three friends, and May’s conference roommate, spoke of memories they shared from the university they graduated from in Arkansas and of the different areas they were thinking of serving. She never perceived the three would be along for this journey with Mr. Chard, McCain, and herself. Later she would be thankful for their friendships and for the perfect mishaps that would bring Red, the third roommate to the forefront.
Through email, months earlier, McCaine informed May of a brother that would be accompanying them for the two year journey to Africa. She looked forward to meeting, Mr. Chard. May thanked the Father for another answered whisper, as she had been lifting him up months before they met at the Centre. All she knew about Mr. Chard was that they shared the Father of heavenly lights, and she did not quite care at all whether she had anything else in common with him or not because that was most important. Mr. Chard was older then she and he was the only brother who would be on their team. Knowing he would be with her brought relief to May’s heart. She knew it would be hard to be in the Sandbox as a single woman and she was thankful because the thought of Mr. Chard eased some of her fear about safety issues in a culture that was so different from her own. May would later realize what a sweet gift she and McCain had in Mr. Chard.
While it was not quite time for Mr. Chard to be introduced to their scene during the first few days, the time was perfect for an awkward encounter with the “other” three. Her first meeting with the three came during a meal in the dining hall, months earlier at the assignment conference. There sat Cappy, Lanky, and Flex. She could not formulate many opinions from the discussion during breakfast those days ago nor did she foresee the Father’s plan would be for them to break bread numerous more times. She was curious, however, to discover if the little she had gathered from that meal time dialogue was accurate.
She assumed Flex to be the jester of the three, finding amusement in the most mundane functions of life. Rather than sitting next to May or one of his friends, he chose to sit in the middle of three empty seats on the other side of the wooden disk. Mr. Flex made a game of guessing who would claim the empty seats beside him. The situation gathered humor as people glanced at the vacant seats and continued on to a different, empty seat, at a separate table. It rose to comical when Mr. Flex eyed a woman coming towards him to join the table for breakfast, only to find out she wanted to take one of the empty seats to an already full table. Long ago May had learned how to appear amicable through the intense shyness that overwhelmed her when meeting new people, she giggled and was thankful for his silliness because his lightheartedness brought conversation and laughter to the table.
The three friends, and May’s conference roommate, spoke of memories they shared from the university they graduated from in Arkansas and of the different areas they were thinking of serving. She never perceived the three would be along for this journey with Mr. Chard, McCain, and herself. Later she would be thankful for their friendships and for the perfect mishaps that would bring Red, the third roommate to the forefront.
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