The kids rehearsing thier song for the fundraising event at the UN in New York, hosted by Gucci and Madonna





Me and Martin





Times Square





Me and the boys, lunch in NYC!

Barf Brigade

Today was eventful... not that we did so much, but yet it was still eventful... at least on the bus. We drove over two passes. On the drive, several of our kids got carsick. Somehow, I always seem to have to help clean up ralph on the bus, usually if we're lucky, it all makes it into the plastic bags, but sometimes the kids don't get them in time. today, Daniel puked all over his coat, and on the floor, as I was trying to help him clean up and some of it got on me... He puked three times in the five hour trip.... Washo puked twice, and several of the other kids puked... i counted 10, but i think there were more. in the process of me running up and down the bus, I earned myself the name "barf brigade" and "puke patrol" by some of the other aunties and uncles. They're thinking of making me a shirt... something might make up for all of my excersise back and forth in the bus...

About two hours in, we had to stop for a bathroom break, but being in the middle of the pass, there wasn't much. So, we pulled over at this tiny little stop. It was snowing, and there were two smelly outhouses. These are some of the pictures, it was hilarious! We had fourteen girls lined up for one little outhouse, and 12 for the other. Martin said "Auntie, it smells like rotten matoke". Sarah walked into the outhouse and walked out, crying. When Anna went in, she came out "auntie-- uh, i don't need to susu." "Yes you do!" "No, i don't." "Anna get in there!" Anyways, it was funny:)

Stories of Interest this week

The Hair Crisis
Today on the bus, we had a 5 hour ride, so I relaxed in my seat. A couple of the kids wanted to play with my hair. i sat there for about 45 minutes, relaxing as they played with it, combed it, I generally find that quite relaxing. At one point, I was so relaxed I shut my eyes for awhile. big mistake! I began to realize that something was pulling. As I put my hand up, I could feel Harriet's hand trying to pull my hair. Why, I wondered... Then, I realized why. She had used her small comb, the kind with the tiny teeth as sort of a curler. And weaver and twisted my hair to the point that one large chunk was completely knotted into the whole comb. This wasn't a small knot, no no, a couple kids tried to get it out, and I realized I needed help! It's ironic, Harriet has aspirations to be a beautician, and this was her first big break! Getting my hair stuck in a comb! We arrived at the church, with the comb still in my hair. It took Auntie Beth about a half an hour at least to get it out of my hair... yikes. That was with using my product knife to cut off pieces of the comb as we edged our way forward. By the end, there was one final grotesque knot. I starting having to yank my hair. The kids kept saying, "Auntie don't shave it!" They get thier hair shaved so they thought i might have to... I was afraid we were going to have to cut it too, close call. Anyways, we finally got it, and I have some new short layers on that side, but praise the Lord it's out!




Story 2 of the week: Most embarrassing moment on tour thus far
This week has been quite eventful, at least with things I'm pretty sure I'll remember, and this one I know I won't forget, probably ever! At the host family a couple days ago, the host mom mentioned that there was a little water coming up in the drain in the basement, but we didn't think too much of it. The next morning, I asked her if I should skip the shower in case the water might plug the drain, she didn't seem to think so, just take a small shower. Me and the girls used the sink, toilet, and I began my short shower. I didn't really make the connection that they were all connected... I had been in the shower about a minute, and i hear "quick! turn of the shoooower!!!" I slam it off. She says we've managed to flood the basement... Yeah, the sort of thing you don't want to do as a guest. When I went down to survey the damage, there was sewage water all over her floor, a lot. Even though we couldn't pinpoint whos crap (literally!) it was, I was soooooo mortified, that my shower had caused said flooding. I tried to offer to help, but she said that the plumber was coming and that he would do most of the work.... Ack, still i'm just embarrased. And the plumber can't come till 1... I help her move some stuff so that the plumber can work as well as possible when he gets there... but this was at 7:30 am, and it was already beginning to stink. We left the house like that, i couldn't believe it. Note to self: don't flood the basement, if you have any inclination towards a plug anywhere, don't shower! bad idea! but good story nonetheless.

Thoughts on Paul's Life as it relates to mine

During tour, I've kinda gone book by book, but skipped around, but read I think almost all the Pauline epistles among other books during my devotions.Right now, I'm heading through Acts, and I have found so many things in there that speak directly to my life, my ministry here, and just what I think I'm going through. Not that my work is even remotely close to the hardship that Paul went through, and in some ways, that helps give me perspective. This year has definitly had some hard points, points of lonliness, points of frustration, and exhaustion. But as i study Paul's life, all the hardship he went through during his ministry, I see that the trials I face could not even come close to the things he dealt with. But I can identify with Paul in some wierd ways most people couldn't. For one thing, he spent a portion of his life moving around from place to place doing ministry. My whole life is one move to the next right now. He would do some ministry in one place, and then either decide to move on when He believed God was telling Him to, or would be driven out of a place.
The thing in Paul's life tbat encourages me the most is all the trials He went through. and the way He continued to praise God, no matter what. He trusted God for everything, His decisions in where to go and His faith in God literally gave Him power to perform miracles, something not everyone can do that's for sure. God never ever abandoned Him. As he sat in prison, He was lonely, i'm sure, sad and discouraged. Life in ministry isn't easy, I'm learning this. Again, Paul's life is on a much higher scale then mine, but he inspires me to trust God so much more. God preserved his life over and over, and never let him go. What a gift that the same God who pulled Paul out of jail, saved his life numerous times from being killed, and gave him power to cure illnesses is with me.I'm sure Paul must have felt lonely sitting in jail, or just walking by himself. I try to picture his life, and can't really imagine how hard it was but God always equips all those He calls for one ministry or another. For Paul, he had a huge calling. And God always was with him. When i feel discouraged that same God provides for my needs and the ministry He's called me to. It's amazing, because as I sit here, and am pulled sometimes more then i would like God shows me Himself even more. Anyways, I think that Paul inspires me to lean on Christ for my needs. He's always been the only one there, it's just become a lot clearer to me in the last few months, how close He is. when i ask, He comes. Lord, help me to never stop asking.I think that's the worst thing, when I'm not so in need, i just stop asking, Lord, give me a heart that never stops wanting to ask you for everything.

Just another manic Sunday....

6:45 am- my alarm sings the familiar little song, and i let out a little sigh as i pull myself out of bed. i read some more in Acts about Pauls life and ministry, and as i read, i begin to thank God that the trials of my days are not like pauls. I then head upstairs for a shower, and wait 10 minutes or so for the host mom to get out, before taking my own. After my shower, I go into the boys room, wake them up, and to make sure they are all up, turn the light on. After they come in and use the bathroom, then i proceed into the bathroom to dry my hair. It's cold outside, sometimes up to -35 or 40 up here in Saskatian, so drying my hair completely is a must:) As I dry my hair, about half way through, I discover that I am not alone, but three curious heads are popped inside the doorway, a look of awe on thier faces.

They watch with interest as I dry my hair:) then, one gets a little embarrassed that I have caught them watching, and leaves, but I tell them it's okay, i can't help but smile, they are so fascinated! Mzungu hair isn't like anything they're used to and they've definitly never seen how a girl styles it. They continue to study me as I turn on the flat iron, and then apply make-up. This is true for the girls as well as the boys, and the girls in particular are intested in my methods of make up application! After the finished product is done, Charisa says, "Ahh auntie, you are smart" a term that means you look nice! I tell you spending the days with these kids make me feel loved and appreciated:) they always tell me when i look smart!



After I send the boys to the breakfast table, I grab my pound of Starbucks Christmas blend from the top corner pocket of my suitcase, and run to the coffee maker to brew some coffee. I've discovered that some host families don't have coffee, something I could never understand, and the only means of solving this potential crisis is to bring my own, and Starbucks beats Folgers any day! I then finish packing my bag, and throw on some shoes, just in time for the host family breakfast. K, how do I sidestep eating this heaping portion of quiche, with waffles and OJ without offending the host family? It's only 7:30 in the morning, and my hips can't handle another meal like this! I'm not much of a breakfast person anyways! So I politely ask if I can serve myself and give myself a tiny serving of each, as the host mom says, "oh honey, are you sure? you need to make sure you're eating enough!" I say it's okay, I'm fine, and continue on, declining her relentless offers to give me more.
After breakfast, we haul my suitcase, computer bag, purse and the three boys bags into the car, and head to the church. It's Sunday morning, we have a service. After arriving at the church, we load my bags and the boys onto the bus, getting them into thier appropiate places. After that I run to the back, and throw on my skirt and blue shirt ready to manage the product table
At the church, there are countless questions about who these kids are, where the money goes, and all that goes into sales. But finally, it's time to watch the kids perform! The minute that everything becomes worthwhile, when the kids get up there and do yet again what the came here to do... perform, share God with America, and be a voice for thier friends at home... and it is, a great performance. I ask GOd to give me the strength t run the table again, and by 12:30 we are having lunch, preparing to head over to another church to set it up and do it all over again that night! Woooo! After the Sunday evening concert on to the next host family to start it all over again! How blessed I am to have work to do, that God has called me to such a great opportunity to serve these kids, and impact them directly! Thanks Lord, for manic Sundays!

The last few days have been kinda wierd, as what could be the beginnings of civil war are breaking out in Kenya. Half of my kids are from Kenya, and the riots are happening in the Nariobi area, where many of my kids are from. As I sit here and think about this, I'm realizing a few things. First, I don't know how in the world I'm going to tell any of my kids if a family member of thiers dies. I think as selfish as it is, I love these kids so much, the idea of breaking thier heart sounds like too much for me. As I sat back, I realized that in one way, God is showing me on a much clearer level what thousands of faceless, nameless children and adults throughout Africa have dealt with thier whole lives. I cannot say I have experienced even close to what they have,but for the first time in my life, I know personally people who are directly affected by it. God is giving me a tiny glimpse of the hurt and pain that genocide causes. The idea of telling one of my kids breaks my heart.It makes me want to just weep for all the hurt in the world. All over the world, war, genocide and genuinely just loss of hope abounds.My heart aches for the hundreds of people in Kenya who have been driven out of thier houses, lost loved ones, and are sitting tonight without a meal because of the food and gas shortages there. God, have mercy on them, Father, give me the strength to endure this. Lord, give me wisdom in how to best encourage my African sisters and brothers. Lord, I pray that I would be another vioce for all the voiceless children there who have no chance. Lord, please give me perspective, allow me to glean what I can learn from these things, and I pray taht you would cover all of it. You have a purpose in it, although I can't really see it right now. As I sit here, I can hear my kids singing about how the Lord is the shepard and how they belong to Him. God, break my heart for the hurting, and give me perspective and wisdom in doing what I can, here with the kids you have put under my care.