Sappy Birthdayversary

Birthday Cake (Photo credit: Will Clayton)

Here is an update on our prayer needs. We still need a place to live. The electric company is still harassing people. They have not picked on us, yet. We have a new team member, Emmanuel, who is adjusting to life here and working in the hangar with David.

Today marks four years that we have been with MAF! I never forget our MAF anniversary because it falls on our oldest son's birthday. Last week our daughter had her first birthday ever without her big brother. Today is the first time Josh will have had a birthday away from us. Next month, our youngest will have his first birthday away from his brother. I knew when we joined MAF, on Josh's 15th birthday, that one day there would be thousands of miles between us and our children. I told myself that would be ok, that God would take care of them. Even if we were still in the states, they would still have to grow up and leave the nest, right?

Mail box (Photo credit: Mark Sardella)

But I didn't realize how hard it would be. I can't just run to the nearest store and buy a gift and a greeting card and pop them in the mail. There is no postal service. No shopping mall. Between the time zones and the slow connection, we can't usually get skype to work. And right now, he has no phone service so we can't call him even on our phones. It isn't just birthdays that bother me either. I couldn't send him goodies during his finals. I couldn't go to his rugby games. Someone else has to drive him to the doctor or the store. There is no one to bake him a birthday cake.

So the prevailing mood at our house has been rather melancholic. We all miss Josh even more than usual. While I was in my self-pity mode I wrote this "letter to my children." It's pretty sappy and not very good, but oh well. It's the thought that counts.


My Mother Heart

I have two hearts. One is my human heart. The other is my mother’s heart. And they are sometimes at odds with one another.

My human heart knows you were never mine. You were a loan, entrusted to me for a time to love, nurture and train. I always knew I would one day have to let you go.

My mother heart will always think of you as mine, and will always long to have you near me.

My human heart knows that you will make mistakes along the way and prays you will learn from them, becoming better and not bitter.

My mother heart wants to protect you from even your own mistakes.

My human heart knows that you are learning to take care of yourself and make your own decisions, and that this is how it should be.

My mother heart wants you to need me, just a little.

My human heart knows that God has you in the palm of his hand. He loves you more than I ever can and is faithful and trustworthy.

My mother heart sometimes fears for you anyway.

My human heart knows I don’t deserve you. You are incredible, precious, and amazing. You give me joy and laughter, and yes, some tears. I love watching you: as you interact with others, as you learn and play, as you grow in your faith. I am proud of you and will always love you.

My mother heart feels the same way.

When the Bad Guys are Also the Victims

photo taken in Kinshasa by Thomas, used under Creative Commons

Last week our team had the pleasure of meeting with Jon Lewis, who previously served here with MAF. Jon wrote a blog article about the changes he observed in Kinshasa and Congo since he was last here. I highly recommend his article Congo's Clock.

Two things Jon mentioned stood out to me, one because our family had recently made the same sad observation. On our recent drive to the interior for a camping trip, we passed numerous villages with mosques and only a couple with evangelical churches. The Muslims are fighting for the DRC, and they are doing it with a weapon that the national church here does not have – money. Because of that, they are gaining converts at an alarming rate. Other cults that spend a ton of money here and have an increasingly strong presence are the Jehovah’s Witnesses and the Mormons. One of the things we discussed at the meeting with Jon was that there is a discipleship void here. Even in the Christian churches, pastors are often untrained and believers hold on to their old beliefs in witchcraft and magic, trying to make them mesh with their new faith. Pray for the Christian churches in Congo, for strong faith, for discipleship, and for the Lord of the Harvest to send more workers.

Money is a powerful motivator anywhere, but here especially. Which brings me to the second point. Jon spoke of a “myriad of mini dictators who use the ‘Wild West’ nature of this country” for personal profit at the expense of everyone else.

Here is a recent example. The higher-ups in SNEL, the electric company here, decided there was not as much money coming in as there should be. That is true. Many do not pay their bills unless they are threatened with losing their power. The result is that SNEL workers have been on a rampage for a week and are still at it. SNEL doesn't really even know how much power people use, so thThey don’t even have accurate records of payments because half the time they don’t have electricity in their own office and can’t enter the information in or print a receipt when someone makes a payment. They show up, seemingly randomly, at people’s homes or even confront pedestrians in the street and make ridiculous demands. They went to the home of one of our MAF families and demanded receipts for every month back to the 1990’s, when this family has only been here since about 2006. They came back later with a soldier carrying an automatic weapon and a big cable cutter to cut their power and it took some persuasion to get SNEL to give them more time to get receipts together. Their house is actually owned by MAF, so there is a paper trail to prove the bills have all been paid and eventually this should be straightened out, though they might be forced to pay some money. I just learned this morning that another MAF family is now being harassed. The electric company is even cutting power to people and businesses for not paying the supposed debts of previous tenants!

Will any of this money actually go back into repairing and maintaining the infrastructure? Or to pay the SNEL workers who aren’t at the top of the ladder? Probably not. The SNEL employees have little or no training, no uniforms or even ID badges, no proper tools. When there are repairs made to our line, we have to pay for the materials and labor. When will it end? When they finally upset someone who has more power and clout than the head of SNEL.

SNEL is not the bad guy though. Well, ok, they sort of are. But they aren’t. SNEL is only one piece in the puzzle of corruption and love of money; pawns in the hands of the real enemy. I know God can use this ugly problem for his glory. One missionary friend, when they went to her house to confront her, invited them in for a drink and presented the gospel to all of them in their own language. I don’t know how well it was received, but I know they heard it and the seeds have been planted. As I was thinking about all the people being forced to pay the debts of others, God reminded me that Jesus voluntarily paid my debt, and the debts of the SNEL officials. Please pray for them, that they will come to understand Who Jesus is and that He paid their debt, if they will only accept Him.

Gifts are meant to be enjoyed!

We still haven’t found a place to live yet, but I have been trying to motivate myself to at least go through stuff we’ve accumulated since we came here, get rid of the garbage and unwanted items, and organize the rest so that packing will be easier. This includes going through our storage bins. When we came here, we brought with us items that others had told us either cannot be found here at all or are exorbitantly priced. For example certain spices, pecans, dried fruits, cocoa and chocolate chips. While we can certainly survive without them, they add a sense of “normalcy” to our lives here and make holidays, birthdays, and other days more special. 

In theory, as our 32 months here go by, we would take items from the “stash” as needed, hoping to space it out enough to last the entire term. 

The week since we found out we have to move has caused me to think a lot more about what is worth packing up and hauling around and what is not, what really blesses our family, what ought to be blessing someone else, and what is really just “baggage” that no one ought to be burdened with.

Since coming here 21 months ago, I have noticed something I rarely saw in the states but seems much more common here. Unfortunately, in addition to observing it, I have also been guilty of it myself. Unintentionally, even unconsciously, the “supply cupboard” or “stash” becomes a hoard –  added to enthusiastically whenever someone visits from the U.S. and can bring items in or when someone here is leaving and has a “yard sale.”  Then because we might run out of something, we hesitate to use it or share it, especially if we are running low on something. I would never admit to believing that God has a limited capacity or desire to provide for us and bless us, but I have acted as if I did. 

I find it interesting that while I was pondering this, I found a post that my friend T had recently written about the same issue in  Lessons From My Chocolate Chip Stash.  Because of our travels and busyness I didn’t find her article until today. Her post has some good insights, comparing our stash of supplies to our finances. A smart person plans for the future, but there has to be a balance. Whether it is our chocolate chips, our money, or anything else in our “stash,” it has been given to us by God to be used, shared, and enjoyed. I don’t want to be like the man in Luke 12:13-21 who filled silo upon silo for himself and shared it with no one. I would much rather be like the ravens and the wildflowers in verses 22-34.  I want to take joy in what God has given me, enjoy it, and invest it in the lives of my family and those around me. A wise investment yields good returns, whether in the short term or the long term. Sharing some nuts and cocoa or baking a dessert for someone might not make chocolate chips fall like rain over Kinshasa (imagine!), but there is no way to measure the unseen earnings. The simple items in my stash can be used to encourage someone, to make someone feel valued, to brighten someone’s day or maybe even their future by giving them a little "clin d'oeil", a wink from God, that helps them persevere. 

From Ocean Front to Battle Front

photo credit: Amber Derocher

Our week at the MAF family conference was amazing! Here are some of the highlights.

photo credit: Chris Steiger

Sessions/studies about: the dangers of ego, God speaks our love language, forgiveness, unity, spiritual warfare, and more

praise, prayer, and worship

Meeting fellow MAF missionaries who serve in Congo with us but whom we never see, and seeing friends we'd not seen in a year or more

Date night: the Rose Drive team entertained all the young children so all the couples could have dinner dates

Pampering: ice cream with real American toppings like Heath Bar bits and Hershey's syrup, real chocolate, door prizes of things we can't get here like Ranch dressing mix and Starburst candies, s'mores! (no graham crackers, big marshmallows or Hershey bars in Congo), shower gels and lotions for the ladies, and hand-written notes from the team leader (hand-written notes are a lost art and a real blessing anywhere!)

Fun activities: pool, beach, volleyball, snorkeling, kayaking

Electricity and water: in abundance!

Cooking and cleaning: none!

Now about Snorkeling.  Forty of us signed up for a snorkeling excursion out to the coral reef.  I have had a fear of deep water since childhood that even after learning to swim did not go away. I like to swim only if I can stand up and still breathe. But I figured I would probably never get another chance to snorkel in the Indian Ocean for only a few dollars per person.  It was a learning experience.  The first thing I learned was not to assume things.  I had assumed that the snorkeling adventure was one of the many activities offered through the resort and would therefore be handled by professionals and come complete with a lesson on how to actually snorkel. Um, no. It was two dudes with boats for hire. Here's a photo of our boat. It was called the Millenium, I think because that's how old the boat was.

photo credit: Sandy Francis

(That's me in the brown striped swimsuit coverup and David is the cool looking guy in the grey shirt and sunglasses. Daniel is up on top. Emily was in the other boat with her teen friends.)








There was no lesson.  No safety lecture. Not enough snorkeling equipment to go around, requiring us to take turns. AND: no life jackets, giant noodles, styrofoam dishes, or other flotation equipment was offered or available. Each boat had one life preserver that was tied to the boat and floated in the ocean. The thing about irrational fears is that those of us who have them know they are irrational and yet there they are. And they are powerful. I prayed. I talked to myself. It took some time, but I finally got up enough nerve to get out of the boat. The water was choppy and the snorkel tube did not have anything to prevent water coming in so I quickly got a big mouth full of seawater. Panic and dread ensued and I immediately got back in the boat. I was angry with myself and decided to try again, only to repeat the first experience. I was so disappointed in myself.

photo credit: Sandy Francis

(Daniel having fun and me either getting in the water or climbing out - I did lots of both.)





Then another girl who was a weak swimmer told me that she had swum out to the life preserver and snorkeled while holding on to the preserver with one hand.  I thought, "I can do that!" So, I tried a third time. I swam out to the life preserver, grabbed hold, and snorkeled away. It was incredible! I was having so much fun! David swam out to where I was just to say he was happy for me that I had found a way to snorkel in spite of my fear.

Next, I learned about currents. At some point I lifted my head up and saw that I was quite a bit farther from the boat than when I began. I told David he had pulled me out too far and he said he hadn't done it. No problem. We just grabbed the rope to pull ourselves back in. Except that the rope had come untied from the boat. Naturally. We started swimming but were really not making any progress against the current for our efforts and it wasn't long before I was tired enough that I knew if I didn't have that life preserver I would have been in trouble. We could see the boat but couldn't get to it. Eventually, one of our friends saw us fighting the current and swam out, got the rope, and pulled it in. Enough water for me for one day, thanks.

I am very glad I went. I had a great time and saw cool stuff! And I was only a little embarrassed over my ridiculous fear because everyone was kind about it.

After we came back to Kinshasa, we took a couple of nights to go camping and have some time alone as a family, away from videos, internet, phones, etc. We cooked over fires, played in the river, hiked, played games, saw cool bugs

and crossed this bridge.

On our way home, Saturday, we were about five minutes into Kinshasa, stuck in a traffic jam, when someone hit our car from behind. The police held us there and let the person go who had hit us. Then they tried to fine us $100 for "being in the way" of the other driver.  This is actually a common occurrence, especially if you are fair skinned. If you don't pay, they put a lock on your wheel until you do. We talked them down to $20, drove about fifty feet, and got pulled over again, and once again it was because of our skin color. David told them we had just paid the police behind us and they let us go.  No kidding, fifty feet later we were stopped for a third time.  This time we had to talk a while before they let us go. 

Our welcome back to Kinshasa was further "enhanced" on Sunday by a 14 hour power outage and the news that our landlady is finally planning to repair the plumbing issues in the house and the wall that is about to fall into the road. She also plans to raise the rent, so we have to move. She wants us out by end of September.

A friend recently said to us "any battle front is not an easy place to live and work." There is sometimes the temptation to feel a bit disillusioned, especially after a mountain top experience like the conference and then coming back to Kinshasa. But this place really is a battle front. A person can't enlist in an army and go off to war expecting it to be a bed of roses. My snorkeling experience reminded me that my God is big, bigger than the ocean I was so afraid of, the ocean He created.  He was with me there and He is with me here.

A Shout Out to My Team

photo credit: Nick Frey

We are back from Kenya! I will write about it. I will! But first I have to beg photos off my teammates because I hardly took any.  I got a little frustrated with my camera. I will give you a little summary now though.  We feasted! We were spiritually and physically fed in abundance. We rested. We played. We met fellow MAF missionaries for the first time even though we all serve in the same country, and came home with lots of new friends and memories. We are incredibly grateful for all the people who made the conference possible. There are lots of missionaries who are now returning to their ministries with their "batteries fully charged." Within a few hours after we returned home we had already encountered a bad leak in the bathroom toilet, a power outage, and someone asking us for money for medical bills. There's just no place like home!

In the meantime, I just want to publicly say that I appreciate my team here in the Congo and the MAF team in the U.S. that makes it possible for us to be here. Many of you know that our internet is sometimes less than fun. Since that is our primary means of communication, bill paying, doing homework, etc; not having it can be stressful. Our IT guys work hard trying to keep everyone on the team in contact with their loved ones and they do a great job amid some challenging circumstances.  Matthew Lind has written a blog post about our most recent project, with lots of photos and explanations for those of us like me who are not engineers or IT people. MAF is known for aviation, so there are lots of great pilot stories out there.  We also have full time mechanics, IT specialists, learning technologies people, base maintenance folks, and countless behind the scenes people who perform tasks that I probably don't even know exist.  Matthew's post is a great story about the IT side of MAF, but it's also a great story about team work, since we had pilots, IT staff, base maintenance staff, and national staff all working together. You can read Matthew's article HERE.

Some things God has taught me here

The first ever All-DRC family conference is now underway and so far is going great!  We left Saturday and had an overnight layover in Nairobi.  We stayed at the Mayfied Guesthouse, which is run by the Africa Inland Mission.  There I enjoyed the best hot shower I have had in a very long time.  Water pressure makes ALL the difference!  The climate here is cooler, so I can honestly say that the only bad part of our stay at Mayfield was that the toilet seats were cold, painfully and shockingly cold.  Toilet seats aside, I would recommend Mayfield to anyone.

Several of the team from the east side of DRC were also at the Mayfield so our flight to Malindi on Sunday morning was almost entirely made up of MAF families.

We are less than 24 hours into the actual conference, but we are already incredibly glad we came and grateful for this experience.  It’s difficult to describe, but the release of stress and tension that we weren’t even always aware we were carrying has been almost tangible.

This morning our family had breakfast with Greg Prickett.  Greg is the missions pastor of Rose Drive Friends Church and leads the team that is doing our conference for us.  Greg asked us what God has taught us in our nearly two years here.  At first I had trouble answering but as the morning progressed, I chewed on that question and a few things came to mind that God has shown me since our family came to the Congo:

wall near our room at the conference

1. How “soft” I am.  I am a bigger pansy than even I thought.  But at the same time He has shown me that when I am not strong enough – His strength is made perfect in me.

2. I thought as a single income family that home schooled and lived without debt that we knew what it meant to make sacrifices.  Then I came here and He asked me to give up other things that I had taken for granted: my rights as a citizen (I am a guest here and have no rights.), convenience, steady elcectricity, clean and ample water, choices, access to news as it happens, frequent communication with family in the states, security, etc.  And I realize now that there are plenty of others who sacrifice much, much more.


3. I thought I trusted God – until I had to trust Him for more than I ever had before and the possibility of living in my own strength became less and less.

4. Realizing that I cannot live here in my own strength, let alone be involved in ministry work here, has made Phil. 4:13 mean more to me than it ever did before.  I can do all things through Christ, and nothing without Him.

5. People look at the outward appearance, and God looks at the heart.  There are two Congos.  The Congo we see when we only look at the surface, and the Congo we see when we look at the hurting and lost hearts of the people.

6. It’s not about me.  The more I focus my attention outside of myself, the easier I have found it to be content.  When I focus on myself, I open the doors to selfishness and discontentment.

7. My team needs me, and I need them. We are each other's family here.  They've extended a lot of grace to me as I adjusted to being here and they are priceless!

The Announcements Song

photo: public domain (www.reusableart.com)

I probably couldn't list all of the benefits I received from being involved in the Baptist Student Union during my college years at Truman State (formerly NMSU): Christian friends, discipleship, accountability, fellowship and encouragement would be at the top of the list. But there were other, less obvious benefits as well. Joining the BSU gave me lots of new potential victims for my practical jokes, and I took full advantage of it. It gave me a chance to learn leadership skills and disciple others. Many of the precious friendships I made during those four years still survive today, over twenty years later, in spite of the different directions we all ended up going.

AND! The BSU is where I learned the announcement song:

Announcements! Announcements! Announcements!
A terrible death to die!
A terrible death to die!
A terrible death to be talked to death!
A terrible death to die!

The announcement song is sort of like "It's a Small World" and the Barney love song.  They are nonsensical and irritating, yet they somehow permanently etch themselves into one's memory. I think they would be better combined into one song.

"with a great big hug and a kiss and a kiss from me to you - a terrible death to die! a terrible death to die!- but it's a small world after all!"

Okay, maybe not.

I promise not to talk or write you to death, but I do have some announcements!

1. I have made some changes to the blog and now I am shamelessly drawing attention to them.  As you can see above, just under the title banner, I've added page links for our newsletters and for media.  For now only our four most recent newsletters are up because MAF only keeps that many up on our web site and I haven't yet learned how and where to store files out there in cyberspace to link to. The media page contains links to articles, blog posts, and videos about MAF, especially in relation to where we serve here in the Congo. You should definitely go check out the new video if you haven't yet. We got to have the guys who created it over for dinner and then I took one of them with us to the orphanage.  They are neat guys, a father and son team, and they did a top-notch job.

2. We are going to Kenya! MAF missionaries live in challenging conditions 24/7 and MAF takes member care seriously. We can't be effective in ministry if we are "running on empty" spiritually or physically. Each year we have a family conference, sort of a concentrated sabbath rest.  We spend time in worship, discipleship, fellowship, building team unity, and de-stressing. Normally each team holds their own conference where they are located. MAF has missionaries in three different locations in DRC: Kinshasa, Lubumbashi, and Bunia.  Because of the nature of our ministry, serving people in remote places, the folks from these three bases haven't even all met each other.  This year we will get to meet our fellow workers in DRC because the three groups are pooling resources and combining for this year's family conference and meeting in Kenya next week.  A team from the U.S. is coming in to lead the conference. We are looking forward to meeting our fellow MAF missionaries, having a few days of steady electricity, getting some rest, having a little fun, worship time and Bible study.

3. I don't know how much free time I will have or what kind of internet I will have, so I might not be posting on the blog before we get back.

4. Please pray for the missionaries attending not just our conference but all of the MAF family conferences this year. The conferences really do make a difference and give us sort of a "recharge." They provide times for healing, encouragement, and affirmation. Pray for the volunteers who give up so much to come and minister to missionaries. And pray for the MK's, the missionary kids. They need rejuvenation and encouragement too and the conference will include programs for the kids and teens.

"Ho Hum" or "How Cool?"

Yoghurt granola (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

When I write posts for this blog, I have a lot of freedom because it is mine. I don't have deadlines. I can think of it as a journal and literally just write whatever is on my mind. I can focus on anything that matters to me whether it's current events, ministry, struggles, bragging about my kids (They are awesome!), or even food. If I don't feel like writing or don't feel "inspired," I have the option of waiting.

I really enjoy the blogs of others, including the MAF blog. I am honored to be included as one of their writers! Sometimes when it is my turn to write though, I see that deadline approaching and I begin to feel panicky. I want to give my best, but I can't think of anything interesting to say. Then because I am one of those dramatic people that other people roll their eyes at, I make a mental leap to "what if I never have anything else cool to write about?" My family rolls their eyes at me and I come back to reality.

Suzanne Lincon's post on the MAF blog yesterday really encouraged me. One reason is because it was a bit of a relief to know that I'm not the only one who sometimes has a writing deadline looming with no clear direction on what to write about. But another reason, the really important one, is because I can totally relate to her thoughts about most of her life being "mundane" and not  "blog-worthy." Even if you don't blog, I bet you can relate. Some days our most exciting event is throwing caution to the wind and adding both fruit and nuts to the granola.

Suzanne's wise conclusion is that even if our life is mostly spent doing "the mundane," if we are living it in grace and faithfulness, it is noteworthy to God. Check out Suzanne's post "The Mundane" and feel free to leave her an encouraging comment!

Life can seem mundane at times, but God never is! I want to practice seeing life through the eyes of my loving and creative Father so my heart will say "how cool!" instead of "ho hum."

One girl's scraps are another girl's cool beans!

If Jesus were once again in human form and visited the orphanage in Kimbondo, I wonder what He would do there.  Would He walk straight to the infirmary and begin healing all those kids with HIV, tuberculosis, ringworm, scabies, and malnutrition? Would He walk to the gardens and make them grow bigger and better vegetables? Would He send all the staff on a much needed vacation, saying "you go on and get some rest, I've got this covered?" Would  He teach in the chapel?


Would He play with the kids? Tickle their dirty little feet and kiss their ringworm laden heads? Pick up the crying ones and sing to the sleepy ones? I think He would!

We've been to the orphanage a few times since I last wrote about the kids there.  Yesterday while I was there, I mentioned to Nori, one of the volunteers, that the kids were unusually subdued.  She said it was partly because some of them had colds and partly because she had managed to get the key to the toy closet and they had toys to occupy them. They weren't subdued, they were calm.

That's Nori on the left, holding Emmanuel.  Emmanuel is almost always happy and easy going, but he was crying because Nori was trimming his fingernails, which he really dislikes.


That's Charmande sitting on my lap.  She peed on me that day. She peed on me  yesterday too. I still love you, Charmande.




People donate toys to the orphanage fairly often, but the toys are quickly loved to death.  It takes a tough toy to stand up to forty or so preschoolers.

Recently, someone gave to me a couple of big bags of scrap fabric.  Another friend brought me polyfill from the states a while back. Another friend (yep, I have lots of friends, lucky me!) found a pattern for me to make a plush ball. This morning I managed to whip out this prototype in half an hour, from printing the pattern and rounding up supplies to getting it all put away afterward. It's far from perfect, but the kids won't care, the ball is too soft to be made into a weapon (important) and it's washable. I probably won't take it to the orphanage until I've made several more so that there will be plenty to go around.


This is very cool beans!  Toys here are poorly constructed and cost a fortune. This cost me very little, just some thread and my time. I often have to take away tiny parts of broken toys, that I find in the toddlers' mouths. These should hold up pretty well and there are no buttons or anything for them to pull off and stick into their mouths.

Give Me Back My Ziplock Bag (and other things people say in Congo)

The above photo is of our pet chicken.  She literally was washed into our yard by a thunderstorm one night and we couldn't find the owners so we feed her and she stays.  She follows us around like a puppy.  I asked our guard the other day if she ever lays any eggs and he said no.  He said chickens only lay eggs if you feed them "people food." We already were feeding her people food: vegetables and grains.  Unless he meant "people food," as in food made of people.

I often hear people say something funny or absurd and think I’d better write that down or I’ll forget it. That led to a small collection of quotes. These are all statements I have overheard here in Congo. Some were spoken by missionaries and some by nationals. Names of original speakers have been withheld to protect the guilty and/or clueless.

Most of these are just funny, especially if you don’t know the context from which they were spoken and just overhear them from another room:

“I have to speak slowly when I talk to myself.” (my favorite)

“Don’t lick those wires.”

“I wet myself every time I do dishes.”

“Do you want your trash bag back?” (used, that is)

Other statements were made in the context of Congo and the life and climate here:

“Wow! That gift is wrapped in REAL wrapping paper.”

“He painted it a couple months ago. We don’t know why it’s sticky.”

“You can have these cinnamon rolls if you give me back my ziplock bag.” (ziplock bags are like gold here)

“Hey, does this smell bad to you, or just nasty?”

Some, though, are serious and reflective rather than funny. Often life here is challenging and exhausting on all levels: physical, spiritual, mental and emotional. We try to make our home a safe place to “vent” and be honest about how we all feel and at the same time hold each other accountable for bad attitudes and encourage each other to press on. These next two quotes came from some of those types of conversations and pretty well sum up why our family is here right now.

“We live in a dung heap!”   “I know we do, that’s why we moved here.”

 “Of course, if you aren’t going to heaven, Kinshasa is a beautiful place to live.  Consider the alternative.”

Steve Camp has a song called “Run to the Battle” that goes like this: “Some people want to live within the sound of chapel bells, but I want to run a mission a yard from the gates of hell.”  The first time I heard that song I knew nothing about Kinshasa or the Democratic Republic of Congo.  This city, the entire country, is definitely a battleground.  I can't say I always wanted to run a mission a yard from hell's gates, but I sure can relate to another line from the same song: "We may not be many, but we serve a mighty Lord!" And I can't even put into words the way this line affects me "look around you as you hesitate, for another soul just fell."  How could I listen to that song and then tell God that I would not suffer a few inconveniences for the sake of those souls? Pray for all of  God's workers here, that we may not hesitate but be always ready to give an answer to everyone who asks us the reason for the hope that we have (I Peter 3:15).

Why this post has no pictures

It takes several times longer to post to the blog from here than it would from say...almost anywhere else, and I need time to work on our newsletter this weekend, so I'm changing things up a bit. There will be no photos and less writing.  (All the articles I've seen about being a good blogger say that not having photos means death for a blog. Hope not.)

 Here is a little bit more of the good and bad about Congo. I hope you will take a look at these. But first, a story that didn't make international news, or news anywhere, even though it affects thousands of people.

When we came back from our weekend trip to Nkara, things here in Kinshasa had changed. The commercial center was barren. All the "shade tree vendors" were gone. Driving home one evening, we passed a group of at least a hundred police officers who were moving on foot in the opposite direction. In their wake were up-turned metal "buildings", broken plastic chairs and tables, and fires. Lots of fires. The wooden kiosks that the sidewalk vendors had been using were ablaze. The officials had decided it was time to "clean up" the city. Instead of doing something about sanitation or crime, they went after the vendors. Admittedly the vendors cause congestion and make it difficult to walk about. They also provide produce and bread to a huge population of people who don't have transportation or cab fare to get to the stores. But now these people have had their inventories burned or destroyed and have no means to support their families. I wanted to jump out of the car and yell at the police "These are your people!" To better understand the corruption here, you should know that the vendors in the military housing neighborhoods were left alone to continue business as usual.

I don't pretend to fully understand the conflicts that occur here.  Often their origins go way back and are complex.  I do know that a general named Bosco Ntaganda is wanted by the International Criminal Court for alleged war crimes.  Soldiers in the DRC army who are loyal to Ntaganda have deserted and now there is conflict between this rebel group and the military.  The UN has evidence that Rwanda is sending troops and supplies across the border in support of the rebels. Doctors Without Borders, whom MAF partners with here in DRC, has posted this article about the impact on the region. Read more HERE from the BBC if you want to understand Rwanda's role in this better and HERE for more about the history behind the present conflict.

Now for the good part I promised you. The climate here is tropical, a nice word for hot and humid.  The equator runs right through this immense country.  But did you know that the Democratic Republic of Congo also has glaciers? They are in a mountain range that borders the DRC and Uganda. Project Pressure has information and some amazing photos HERE .  I did have a good chuckle at the quote referring to the Congolese porters under the third photo: "Their experience on ice is limited." Of course it is.


Please keep this amazing, troubled country in your prayers.

A God-given Connection

"Women in this country are so downtrodden. I wanted to leave them with something meaningful, but what would encourage these lovely women who face so much difficulty on a daily basis and still readily smile and laugh with me?"


Remember in my post about the school for women in Nkara (Destination Nkara: part 4) that I said I would post more later? The rest of the story is now up on the MAF BLOG. I don't know if God used me to encourage them or not, but He certainly used them to encourage me! Please check it out and read about these precious ladies that stole my heart!

A Lesson from Snow White

Photo used under Creative Commons from reachupforthestars

I was washing dishes while my kids watched a movie in the next room. I could hear Snow White singing:

“I’m wishing, I’m wishing, for the one I love…
To find me, to find me, today.”

Next I heard the handsome (at least in Disney’s opinion) prince-later-turned-hero, jump in and boldly echo: “Toooodaaaaay!”

Snow White became frightened and ran away, not realizing at first that she was fleeing from the very thing she had wished for.

It made me wonder how often I had done the same thing.  How many times have I asked God for something, for Him to show Himself, to speak to me, to use me – only to become terrified and flee when He granted my petition?

Other than the obvious reason that a strange man jumped out of the woods and started singing, why was she afraid? She didn't know yet that he was what she wished for, the one she loved. Why am I sometimes afraid? Do I fail to recognize my God's handiwork in me and around me? Or do I lack the faith that having begun a good work, He will be faithful to complete it?

How would the movie have been different if Snow White hadn’t initially fled from the prince and instead had trusted him? I wonder.

Shoes are optional.

Lately it has often seemed as if our family life revolved around Emily’s end-of-school-year activities. This morning as I type this Emily is getting ready to go take the SAT exam. She still has to help with the graduation next week. THEN we can all take a deep breath and maybe we can get through a day without a major event to go to or a major homework project taking up the entire living room. The day after we returned from Nkara, she was part of an art/music show at the U.S. Ambassador’s home here in Kinshasa.  She had three art projects on display and also played in the band.

The Ambassador’s home is super nice! Daniel summed it up when we arrived home and he told David, “I got to go to America for a few hours!”

That was on a Tuesday. The following Saturday was prom night. The theme this year was “masquerade.”

Since we had to fight traffic and go downtown to get the kids to the prom, we rewarded ourselves by going out to eat with our friends and fellow MAFers, David and Sandy Francis.

This past Wednesday, TASOK held a benefit concert and art show. The entry fee was a donation of food or cash for the Kimbondo orphanage – the one I visit! Emily’s art was once again on display and she played in the band, along with several other MAF kids.







The older kids at the orphanage have a choir, which was invited to participate in the benefit.  This was a highlight of the evening.  My French isn’t that good when someone is singing rapidly with an African accent, but I did make out these lyrics to one of the songs: “He has come to save humanity and to give us life.  He has come to save sinners.” TASOK is an American school with a very international flavor and students from all over the world, but not a Christian school. So on this night, a humble group of Congolese orphans were witnesses to an international community!

Thursday evening the youth group held a party to honor the seniors. It was very emotional, and she had a major project due in school on Friday so this was a long night for Emily.

For the most part, high school concert band here is just like high school concert band in any U.S. school. Black and white dress clothes are required at performances.

Shoes, however, are optional in Africa.*

*Edit: After I posted this I learned from the band teacher that shoes are NOT optional. whoops.

Destination: Nkara, part 4

This is the fourth part of a series.  For the whole story, see PART 1, PART 2, and PART 3.  

Originally our plan for Monday was to spend the morning at "Ecole des Femmes," the school for women, and in the evening we would go with the Smiths to a village to do door to door evangelism. We had to change our plans because of Emily's school obligations, so our return flight was rescheduled for Monday. I was terribly disappointed at first, because I had been longing to learn more about the literacy center and the work that Nancy Smith is doing with the women since I first learned of it a year ago and I thought that we would not be able to go to the "school," but Nancy knew I wanted to go and she arranged for it to happen!  We would have to leave early and wouldn't get to visit for an entire school day, but we would get to go and meet the women and learn more about the ministry. I wish we could have gone on the evangelism trip, but I am very grateful that we still got to visit the school.  

After greeting the chief of the village we joined the ladies, who were already waiting for us. They began by singing a song of welcome to us. They invited Nancy and me to share a message with them. (More about that in my next post on the MAF blog!)

The school is about much more than teaching women how to read. It is not completely free. They pay a small amount by bringing manioc, which is then used to feed the students in the Bible school. In this way they are investing in their own lives as well as in the lives of others. They study the Bible and if they don't have one, they can buy one from the school with manioc. The instructor asked them review questions over what they've been studying so they could show me what they've learned. Even though most of them don't own their own Bibles and can't yet read and write proficiently, their knowledge of the Bible and their desire to learn more would put to shame many a Western Christian who has an education along with numerous Bibles and resources.

Alongside of Bible study they also learn about having a Christian home and marriage. This has had a profound effect on the families in the area. Women have told the Smiths that their marriage is happier and that their children no longer run and hide when their father comes home.  

They study basic math and how to count money so they are less likely to be cheated at the market.

They learn to cook new foods and proudly told me that they can make donut holes! 

They learn to sew, knit, and crochet. (The sewing machines are hand cranked, not electric.) This way they can make clothing for their families. They can knit baby layettes and sew things to sell to help support their families. The school is in the village, but the sewing machines are in a building nearly 8 miles away and can't be moved because the road is so bad it would tear up the machines. On sewing days, the women walk to where the machines are. Once they graduate from the school, they are still allowed to use the machines on Fridays so they can continue improving their skills and helping their families. 

From start to finish, schooling lasts for three years! 

This program reaches women for Christ, but it also gives them increased dignity and self-esteem by teaching them new skills they can be proud of and use to support themselves. It completely changes their lives in many ways. It brings God's Word and influence into the homes. The men in the villages are asking for a school for men because now they want to learn to read and write and how to be spiritual leaders in their homes! When Jim Smith's father came to this country, it was still under Belgian rule. The Belgians were ravaging the women of this village and others in the area without any consequences. When the village chief tried to defend the women he was put into prison. The people were sacrificing their babies and practicing cannibalism to "the spirits" in a vain attempt to atone for their sins. Desperate men from the village walked over 70 miles to the village where Laban Smith was ministering. They had heard that he was teaching people about a God who can forgive sins without the sacrifice of children, and they begged him to come and tell their village about his God.  What a radical difference it has made!

 All too soon, it was time to leave. David Francis flew us home in the Caravan, "Mike Oscar." We stopped in Vanga on the way and picked up Dr. Friedhelm, a missionary who works in the Vanga hospital.  

MAF encourages us to visit the interior and calls these excursions "vision trips." Being at home nearly 24/7, or in the hangar all day every day with your nose in an airplane, we usually don't see or hear how God is using MAF to make a difference here in DRC. We don't know what life is like for those who live outside of the city if we've never been outside of the city ourselves. There are missionaries, hospitals, schools and mission stations that rely on MAF and could not continue to exist here without the airplanes.  Knowing that, and SEEING it are two entirely different things, I've learned. Trips like this help us keep or renew our vision and passion for God's work here. I hope my posts have shown you the beautiful people, the dedication of God's laborers, and the amazing things God has done/is doing here. More than that, I hope you have a vision and that God will enable you to passionately pursue it.

Destination Nkara: part 3

This is part 3 of a series.  For the rest of the story, see Part 1 and Part 2.

Sunday morning we went to church in the village.  People were already singing when we arrived.  We were escorted to the front and seated facing the congregation.  That is the place of honor, and they were very happy to have Jim and Nancy in their presence again after several months in the U.S.

Nancy and Jim explained a lot to us about the culture and the way the people worship.  There are music groups, sort of like small choirs.  The day we went, there was a men’s group, a women’s group, and a young girls’ group. Each group is limited to two songs, but the processional song and the recessional song do not count, so really you can get away with singing four songs.  On the way to the front of the church (and back again), a music group will proceed slowly, regardless of how fast the beat of the song is, and they sing all the way to the front.  They told the Smiths that if a king or a very important chief came to visit, they would not dream of just walking up to him.  They would approach him with singing, dancing, and rejoicing and do their best to make him feel truly welcome in their midst.  I tried to let that really sink in and thought a lot about the way we worship in our churches.  Not that our worship style is wrong, but maybe we don’t always do our best to make God feel truly welcome in our midst.  He rejoices over us with singing, but how often do we approach Him in the same way?  

Of course the music style was also different.  The music groups stood in a circle, so some of them had their backs to the congregation.  At first we thought this was odd, but then we thought about Who are they really singing to?  Not to the congregation! All of the songs were sung from memory, which makes sense in a place where few can read or afford a song book.  There were men playing the drum (very cool!).  Some beat sticks together.  Some beat car parts together.  Some had shakers made out of carved wooden handles nailed to tin cans with seeds inside. Here is a wee sample.  It's less than a minute and I had to save it as "low-bandwidth quality" in order to upload it, but I wanted you to get to hear a little bit.  This is the group with the younger girls.

Another way the service was different for us was the way the offering was taken.  Baskets were placed at the altar and music played while people came forward to give their offering.  The men and boys sit on one side of the church and the women and girls sit on the other so there was a basket for each side.  People who did not have money brought manioc or corn.  What would happen if someone in our church placed something they had grown or made in the offering plate in lieu of money?  At this church, people sang. Giving to God was a blessing and a privilege!

The pastor introduced Jim and Nancy to the church as “our spiritual father and mother.” He invited them to share anything they wanted to with the church so each spoke for a couple of minutes.  Then our family was introduced and David and I were invited to share our testimonies.  Since we don’t speak their local language, and many in the congregation did not know French, we used an interpreter.

After church, Jim and Daniel played Frisbee with the children.  Everyone gathered around and if someone dropped it or made a bad throw, the crowd gave a collective “OH!”

Sunday afternoon we drove to the radio station to take a look around.  This is a Christian radio station out in the middle of nowhere, and people have really responded to it.  Scripture is read morning and evening, and whole groups in the villages gather round a radio to listen for their devotions.  This is a huge blessing since so many cannot read and do not own Bibles. A critical problem is that the station went off the air a few weeks ago and no one can figure out why.  It will cost a very large sum to get technicians out to look at it.  The Smith’s have had many people tell them that they miss the radio, that it is like someone died.  It’s their lifeline to hearing the gospel, getting the news, and not being isolated from the rest of the world.  We stopped and had a time of prayer for the station before returning to the house.

To be continued...   Part 4

Destination: Nkara, part 2

fence between the Smith home and the road

This is part two in a series.  For part one, see Destination: Nkara, part 1.

When we arrived on Friday and saw the lake, Daniel asked if he could go fishing.  None of us had a pole, but Avi, one of the Smith's employees, said he would see what he could do.  On Saturday, Avi presented Daniel with a fishing pole that his son had made for him.  It was literally a stick with about six feet of line tied to it and a tiny little hook.  For bait, there were several options.  At first we went out to the taller grass and caught grasshoppers for Daniel to use.  Later, Avi gave Daniel some sort of wormy critters he dug out of a dead tree.  These were gross.

Daniel fished most of the day, and finally caught a little fish just before supper.  Avi was almost as excited as Daniel was and promised to bring a larger hook on Sunday so that Daniel could catch bigger fish.

Avi has quite a story.  During the upheaval and violence after Indepence in the 1960's, Avi, like many others, hid in the forest.  He estimates he entered the forest when he was about 7 years old and spent five years in hiding.  When it was safe to come out, the UN dropped clothing from airplanes so that all the people hiding in the forests could come out.  Avi had not had a hair cut, or even a mirror and comb, in five years and had grown quite a bit, so when he came out of the forest his own mother did not recognize him and said he was not her son.

Nancy Smith, Emily, and I decided to spend our Saturday morning in the villages nearby because it was "market day." This was my first visit to a village and I noticed many differences between the villages and the city of Kinshasa.  The first one I noticed was the lack of garbage.  In Kinshasa, it is literally everywhere, strewn about the streets and sidewalks.

As you can see in this photo, the housing is also different.  Homes are constructed out of sticks, reinforced with mud, and have grass roofs.  The white stuff on the roof of this house is manioc that is being dried before it can be ground into flour.

Manioc is a staple food here.  Here it is being weighed before it goes to market.

Nancy Smith with a village chief.  The "balls" on his hat indicate that he is a chief of more than one village or group.

This is how you shop for clothing in the interior!  Certain thrift store chains in the U.S. send their surplus to African countries.  They are supposed to be free, but obviously aren't.  I could probably write a whole other article about the good and bad impacts that donated clothing has had on the economy and social structure here.

Jim found an inner tube for the kids.  We all swam in the lake during the afternoon.  These are all the photos I was able to take before a group of about a dozen naked boys from the village came to swim on the other side and I had to put my camera away, or rather chose to.  They were friendly, but completely at ease with walking about in the buff, so we were grateful that they stayed on the other side of the water.

At one point on Saturday, a fitting broke in the plumbing, causing the upstairs bathroom to flood and water went into one of the bedrooms and down the stairs.  The fitting was a new one, and had been done incorrectly.  David discovered several other newly installed fittings and sure enough, by the time we left on Monday, he and Jim had repaired nearly all of them, one at a time, as they took turns rupturing.

We ended our daylight hours with a walk up to the runway. This is actually a pretty good stretch of the road. The Smiths told me that to get to Vanga, which is roughly 75 kilometers, it is a 9 hour drive - longer if the river ferry isn't working. The road is so bad that no one can drive more than 10 miles per hour, even slower in some spots. We flew right over Vanga on our way to Nkara and it was less than 20 minutes from one to the other. That's why people like the Smiths need the services MAF provides.

To be continued...   Part 3