Harmony

Today I want to write about ships. Every day I watch them coming and going. At first they are hardly recognizable. Glimmers of white on the horizon. And then the small guide boats go out to guide them into dock. Most of them are cargo ships; stacked high with boxes of who-knows-what. And they all have names. I have a notebook page filled with those names. The Defender, Hansa Catalina, Caterina, Lauritzen Bulkers, Bianca, Greta, Harmony. Perhaps there is a kind of novelty in the fact that each name speaks of something different than just a cargo ship in Africa. Their names speak of high adventure and romance. Some sound like great warriors returning victorious, or fair ladies from far off lands. Some have stories, like the Blue Atlantic. It came in with a ship load of cocaine. They are currently holding it in port waiting for the owner to claim it. And people ask what they did with it all. Sarah decided that the government had a huge party.
Harmony is so far my favorite name. It's so peaceful sounding. She carries her brazen sailors safely through the storms and winds. And they love her. They love the wooden rails, whose luster has worn to a dull grey under their rough hands. They love climbing high into her mast to squint out at sea, hoping for a sight of land. She was once beautiful. On her maiden voyage, in all her glory. But now she is worn from salt and storms and sun.

OK, in reality, most of the ships are metal and don't have wooden rails, or masts, but their names still speak of their ancestors. And long forgotten adventures.

Big Alligators

We were gazing at the thousands of people below us, leaning over a white balcony, sipping waters from tall glasses. It was serene, and it was Tuesday.
We were at Water Side Market, (Ellen and Amy and Sarah and me.) After much fabric shopping we went to the Bamboo restaurant which overlooks one of the main street and the thousands of heads bobbing up and down and the men pushing huge bundles in wheelbarrows up the hill, and the people selling things on the side of the streets and the run down buildings and the babies tied to their mother's backs. On the way down we examined the mural near one of the stairwells. It was filled with vibrant colors and showed the huts and lakes and people working and then in one corner it had this surprisingly large and slightly out of proportion alligator. We all had a good laugh when we saw it. We were able to get a taxi back to the Love restaurant where we ate at three and then headed back to home sweet home and air conditioning.

We watched a Nooma video called Kickball. It was about how allot of times we are just like little kids. We ask for something we want and we feel like we need it and when God says wait, we wine, "But I thought you loved me!" We are like little kids convinced that a small hand ball will satisfy us, unaware of the huge kickball our Father plans to get us. We discussed how as Christians we often find ourselves thinking that if we could just get something or just get to a certain stage in life...then we could really be used by God. In reality he wants to use us now, where we are, as we are. It was really thought provoking.

Thursday was full of scheming for Sarah and Amy's going away party. While Ellen and I were at work the others baked a cake and cookies. Cindy hid the cake in the safe at her office:) And we made hot cocoa. They saw the cake and cookies she was very surprised. It was funny. And then of course we made them give speeches and Janeen video taped it. And of course they both came up with a funny, clever speech on the spot: Many laughs.

Friday we went to the Love Restaurant once again as a kind of closing to Sarah's stay. The food was delicious as always and we listened to snapshot memories from on board the ship. And then, sadly, she left. :( We took many last minute pictures.)

Janeen and Ellen and I all went to Bonje town. It was so good chatting with the mothers and telling them that Sarah was on a plane back to Wales. The sweet couple in the room next to us, came to paint the birthing house. They painted the floor green and Martha, the woman in charge, was very excited. It was good to see William again. He has such a passion for learning and really wants to go to high school, but he needed writing and reading books. I had purchased a notebook for him in Waterside and was able to give it to him. Since Sherry is only sponsoring the grades up to sixth grade, she told me to just present him discretely. I wrote him a little note to go with it. He read it to me.

Later when we were singing with some of the children and they were teaching us hand clapping games, William ran over to me and asked if I wanted to play football with them. I was honored. They took me to this patch of dusty ground towards the edge of the village. And thus I commenced at making a fool of myself running around desperately trying to block and kick with boys half my age, twice as good at soccer as I. Here they call if football.
On the way back we purchased sweet bread and meat sticks from the women by the road. It was only when I reached our cabin and was wondering why my feet were aching that I realized that I had blood blisters on both my feet. But you know what? It was worth it.

OK your about half way through this post. I'm catching up because, it's been a whirlwind September...in a good way. So to say it all in one sentence: I am alive and well and loving Africa.

Sunday, we went to The United Liberian Inland church...with Grey and Takpor. Takpor invited me over lunch and Grey's from Ghana and felt like he just had to go to church this Sunday. We went to the adult Sunday school first. It was uplifting just sitting there listening to their insight on the Bible passage. And then they sang. It was beautiful and rich and melodious with the harmony rising and falling in grand crescendos and diminuendos. It was actually a very large church and they even had pews and a choir with uniforms. Women came in dancing and singing with the food offering. One of the lead women wanted to keep the microphone until they reached the back of the church on their way out. That was rather funny, one of the pastors had to run back and get it from her. And then there was a baby dedication. "Wow, thank you for making such a beautiful little girl." Her name was Favor, "and she looks like one to." The congregation laughed. The message was about being faithful, approachable and teachable. Back at port we said goodbye to Takpor at the gate.
Sunday night we went to the International lounge for Sunday night worship service. Then we heard this amazing sermon on communication. OCCC. Open, Constructive, Clear Communication. It makes sense to be honest and sincere so our communication doesn't get warped and perverted by selfish ambitions or judgemental opinions.

Monday devotions were led by Peter, the head food service manager. He gave this great talk on how we should never get tired of serving God, but should be tired from serving God at the end of the day. Peter wants to put a new, more professional face on the food service department..so right after I leave in January they will be getting uniforms and we got weird rubber black shoes for over normal shoes so we don't slip. If I can serve Jesus by wearing silly shoes than that's the least I can do.
I only become miserable on the job when I get bogged down with other's expectations. I need to simply focus on doing my best with those expectations in mind, but letting God take care of the rest. And I can feel that spiritual growth, it's rolling out of a warm bed in the morning; it's serving that person that comes in asking for lunch at 1:30 when lunch ended at 1:00. It's smiling at the person who frowns at the food. And God's been revealing His heart to me through the people we serve. Like the random person that decides to help us fill up the drink containers. It's the person that always says thank you. Sometimes it's hard and sweaty and stressful working 11 hours a day, but we all encourage each other and share laughs and at the end of the day, it's worth it. And if we can serve better by being more professional than I say let's do it. It's been...for lack of a better word...healthy.

Sarah called. She got back to Wales safely and sounds like she's doing well. It was funny. Amy described how she had been getting more and more nervous because she was leaving Wednesday and she just wanted to call Sarah to be told that everything is OK when you get back. They live twenty minutes from each other. And at the very moment when she was about to pick up the phone, Sarah called. It was really good to talk to her. She called, "just to say everything's all right when you get back." That night we had a going away party for Amy. I am so inspired by her. She really has a heart for Africa. It's been so amazing hearing how God brought her here. We all had tea and sat out on the dock and eventually headed in to one of the mid ships lounges. It was nice.

Wed: Amy left. A Bible verse and a very sweet note on our wall. We all miss her. We invited a bunch of girls over to our cabin and chatted and ate trifle. Paul writes about how God instilled in each of us a different conscience. And we've all had different experiences leading up to this point in our lives. It as good for me to struggle with that and just to remind myself that we're all here for the same reason; to serve God.

Thursday; Yay! Community meeting! I was hosting two people from the Young Life group in Monrovia. Tim asked several people to be hosts so the Young Life group could come. That's what the offering went to. It was so good to hear him talk about how it's changed his life as well as the lives of others. And it was good to see them again. They invited me and Ellen and Jackie to come to their first YL club. It turns out Jackie, one of the girls from our neighboring cabin, used to be a YL leader.

If you've actually read all the way through this then you're crazy, and have way too much time on your hands...or maybe I have too much time on my hands. In any case, I miss you all and love you ~Corina

Reality

This last Sunday I and Sarah and Geneen went to Bonjeh town so Sarah could say goodbye to her namesake. After an extremely bouncy ride with Cherrry driving once again, we finally reached the town and parked by the church just as before. It was so good to see the children's faces again they remembered my name. I think I'm realizing just how true it is that a person's favorite word is their name. When someone knows your name it's like they recognize you as a person and a friend and an individual. And it means allot to me. We all went and visited her namesake who appears just as grumpy as before, but content to let Sarah hold her. Then we all stood in a circle and played duck duck goose. It was so hilarious. As soon as someone was tagged as "goose" the children would simultaneously yell to that child to run and then the circle would implode and we often ended up with several children chasing each other around the circle.

They asked me to draw a butterfly again.

We went to the birthing clinic they have there and we met Martha, the woman that runs it. I got to hold one of the babies, it was so precious. I suppose for every beautiful moment there is a moment of reality. I got baby slime all over me. He had been sleeping and drooling every where and my shoulder was all wet by the time we left. We arrived back in time to work the evening shift.


Monday: We helped paint the clinic. It had been white washed, but not painted. For the first bit I painted the columns and hall walls with a roller. I found my self peering closely at these walls. Sometimes it was difficult to see the difference between the whitewash and the cream colored paint. Around 2 we had a delicious African lunch and met some of the children. I never fail to be impressed with the strength of these people. Those little kids could probably woop my brother. I was impressed by the size and it was fairly light due to the many windows. Oh those windows. They seem to be made of cement block like everything else, but they are cut in almost lace-like designs. In this section of the wall each individual "pane" has a small square attached on each side to an large square, resulting to a total of thirty four tiny sides requiring a proper coat of paint. I felt like I was working in slow motion. But it was rather surreal in a sense. I found my self humming or singing as I dipped the small paint brush into the paint over and over plus I was probably rather woozy on the fumes. I became one of those radio stations that plays the same songs over and over.

Tuesday: We went to Water Side market with Ellen and Amy. Both Amy and Sarah had wanted to go. Both of them are leaving soon, so it was one of those things where they were going to enjoy the things that they've grown to love about Liberia. Like piling into a taxi, and eating rice with palm oil, and bartering with the women who sell lapas. We took a fairly long walk there and then walked up and down the streets. We stopped at many of the places selling run by the Lebanese. Ellen started feeling faint and for good reason. It was her first outing in the African heat. We bought doughnuts and a few cokes. It made me remember the first time I went out to the market. I suppose you just get used to being all sweaty...becoming slightly less prone to exhaustion from the heat. We went back to some of the shops Sarah and I had gone to and I got these amazing butterfly earrings and a gift for Dad. I think he'll really like it. Oh, and I got my "baby-fix" for the day. The other's were bartering over and choosing some fabrics at a nearby stand. I had wondered over to a stand where a couple stood holding their tiny baby. I couldn't resist asking how old, boy or girl, name. They were very sweet and all smiles and let me hold that little bundle. Some of the children here are afraid of white people. They run and hide or simply scream. I wondered if that child would be terrified of me in later years, or if holding it made any difference. So before long we were all clustered around taking turns holding this tiny baby.
And then we got a taxi ride and ate lunch at the Love restaurant. Love greeted us and we had palm oil with casava and fish over rice. It was really delicious. I think Ellen really enjoyed it. She seemed genuinely happy about the entire trip. I loved it. And then we went back...home. There I said it. I keep thinking of it but not saying it because I'm scared to get too attached.
Too Late
I guess there's nothing wrong with having two homes. When I look at these people, it's like I'm seeing humanity as it really is. Harsh and cruel and beautiful and fighting for life. No escapade or masquerade or covering up how it is. Maybe reality is wherever you're at, so for me it's right here.

Things just happen

Today I learned that things just happen.

Things that I can't control.

Things that hurt.
Like one of my friends whose life seems to be crashing in around her.

Things that make even the most upbeat people dissolve in choking tears.
Like the always smiling face of my boss wet with tears.

Things that make me feel as overwhelmed as the people experiencing them.
Like seeing someone lying helpless in the road and screaming for somebody to help you and not even one would. Sometimes I feel like I am seeing through other's eyes. And I start looking around the room and wondering how many have had the cruelty of life here staring them in the face. It's so easy to preach the good Samaritan when it's not staring you in the face.

Things happen.

Things that are in God's hands.

Sometimes I 'm so busy running around dealing with these things that I forget to look up and see His fingers working even here.

God made prayer and faith.

For things like these.

Poetry and Chocolate

There is something poetic about scrubbing that three inch piece of white concrete that acts as the support for all the warmers and heaters for the dining room. I suppose it is in the fact that when you are scrubbing it your face is only a few inches away peering intently at each and every spot which you intend to remove. You begin to admire your work. There is something gratifying about seeing that smear of dirt slowly come off, and then you look up to see strange faces looking down at you as if you were some alien just dropped out of space. But my mind was stuck on poetry. It could have been the fact that I napped during each break, thus remaining in a happy state of warm sleepiness throughout the day. It was rather surreal.
We've started putting out this chocolate sauce, for lack of better words. But this is no ordinary chocolate sauce. It's actually in some other language but I think it's called Nutella in the US. Well I've been using it as a spread. I suppose I was savoring the sheer happiness of being alone at a table and even though people were talking all around me, it was like I had found my own silence and I was secretly trying to close my eyes with every bite without being conspicuous. And I was trying to describe that heavenly taste in my head. The way it was smooth and rich, but it didn't taste like chocolate fudge and the way the taste seemed to get better with each bite until it filled all my senses. And I could smell and feel and taste and see and touch that heavenly chocolate. And the only word I could think of to describe it was poetry. So today I decided that if poetry had a taste it would taste like chocolate. I suppose it's a rather romantic thought in a way, or absolutely ridiculous if you're like my brother.