Stranger Danger

Growing up I was well aware of 'stranger danger'.  You know: don't take candy from strangers, don't get into a car with strangers, don't talk to strangers.
Now a'days stranger danger takes on a whole new meaning with the word wide web.  When I get email from someone I don't recognize it almost always gets deleted immediately.  When someone asks to be my friend, or sends me a message on Facebook, I always check their profile and our mutual friends first.  If there are no mutual friends I'm especially careful about accepting friend requests, and 99% of the time I don't.
But.
On Wednesday we drove an hour to the Kilimanjaro International Airport to hug a lady & her husband passing through from California.  I'd never met her before in my life, but her hug was the warmest, most sincere hug I'd never expected to experience.

Sleep, Sweet Sleep

After a long day of helping friends move, I came home with the bear and since it was well past his nap time, we agreed to watching a couple episodes of Mickey in bed to rest.  At 4:15 his show was over and he came over, laid his head on my chest and wrapped his arm around my waist.
I was in heaven.

The Poison Apple

"We played a game at play time today, the Poison Apple Game."

Oh yea?  How do you play that game?

"Well, Joe* had an apple and he gave it to me and I ate it and then I fell down."

You ate a poisoned apple? And then you fell down?

"No. I didn't eat a poison apple!"

No, no, no I know you didn't eat a real poison apple - but in the game you ate a pretend poison apple? And then it killed you?

"Yea! It was just pretend."

Oh, okay, so then what?

"Joe prayed for me and I got up!"

Wow! So Jesus healed you?

"Yep. He prayed for me and Jesus got me up!"


// Let me never take for granted that my child, at three years old, thinks miracles of rising the dead and supernatural healing are such a normal part of life that it becomes a playground game. //


*name changed for privacy

A New Normal

Honored to be guest posting on Rachel Pieh Jones' blog this week!  She's an amazing writer and fellow missionary I've gleaned a lot of wisdom from over the years. 


The majestic Mount Kilimanjaro looks over me, appearing so giant and crisp in the early morning it looks like a cardboard cut-out God plopped near this small, dusty town.

As I meander through the market watching carefully where I place each step, I barely notice the layer of dirt that covers my feet. I pick through heaps of shoes and clothes as the owner of the stall sits atop her loot, having a casual conversation with me in Swahili. Driving down the road it's nearly second nature to swerve for potholes, pedestrians, bicyclists, motorcycles and busses. Driving three cars wide on a two lane road is not uncommon, nor is stopping along my route to buy bananas for six cents each from a Mama that's carrying them on her head. My three year old son asks anxiously, “Can I pay the worker?!” when we pull into the petrol station. He hands the money through his open window and says, “Naomba receipti tafadhali.” I never thought this would be my normal.

... continue reading over at Rachel's Blog:  Djibouti Jones 

On Being Okay

Last weekend we had the opportunity to go to a church in the village to lead a time of ministry, prayer and worship.
Just the thought of it made me squirm in my seat and start going into the fetal position.
Normally, I would totally jump on it.  Yea, the village is hotter than all get-out, dusty, dirty, and usually not a short trip, BUT the ministry is SO worth it.  Worth every minute and every liter of sweat lost.
We've seen miraculous healing on the spot, demons cast out, and hope rising in so many people when we take the time to do one-on-one or small group prayer and ministry in the villages. It's a time full of joy and it is amazing to be a part of.

But last week: no.  Nope.  I just didn't want to go.

And then I felt bad.  Kind of really bad.

I Want to Get Away

All I can think of is that song from the 90's - you know - the Lenny Kravitz one.
I want to get away
I want to get away
I want to get away
I wanna fllyyyy awaaayyy

Last Friday afternoon a friend reminded me about the hash that was taking place that weekend, only this time it would be Saturday instead of Sunday afternoon, because there was also an option to camp overnight.

I immediately thought, "Yes. Doing it."  I was so ready to get away from Moshi.  I just wanted a break, a true get-away.

But then my brain battled with my heart and gut because the reality of getting ready for an overnight camping trip with such short notice was daunting. I told Bill about it that evening and he was all for it too - except we knew absolutely zero details.  Location.  Cost.  Primitive-ness. Nothing.  We decided "Yes, if we get enough details by Saturday morning."
Saturday morning we did receive enough details to make our decision, and we just did it.  With about 3 hours to pack, run to town and grab food, make a batch of muffins for breakfast, run to our friends to borrow a cooler & some foam to sleep on, and make & eat lunch with some other friends, we did it.  Even arrived at the site early!

When we arrived to the little 'cove' that was the 'campground', just about an hour outside of Moshi, we pulled up next to the last of three tents in a row... only to discover we had pulled into a swampy marsh.  Whoops.

It's Time // To See What Heaven Sees

The stars to numerous to count.

The almost-full moon bright enough to light up the white sand and cast a beautiful blue glow over us.

The waves crashing gently as they brake.

The wind blowing steady and strong.

A dozen or so lights, hanging from boats, bobbing on the water in the horizon. 

Perched behind the group on a side-ways-growing beachy-looking palm tree.

Not Quite Yet

The outpouring of love and support we've received via email, text, facebook and in person from the community here in Moshi has been absolutely overwhelming.  We've heard from people we haven't talked to in months, even years, as they offer encouragement, love and prayers.
The community here has blown us away with their love and kindness. 

Christmas isn't Merry for Everyone

Being outside of one's passport country during the holidays can be rough.

Sure this is home to us, we love Tanzania, we love the community here in Moshi. But it's just something about the Christmas holidays that brings on a bit of a dark cloud of depression. Part of it is being away from our family back in the states. But part of it is that there's no chill in the air when you step outside, there are no mini marshmallows to top your hot chocolate with, there are no real Christmas trees anywhere, no sparkling lights adorning homes and twinkling in the night as you drive through the neighborhood, not a snowflake to be seen, minus the few left on top of Kilimanjaro.  It just doesn't feel like Christmas.