wok 'n woll at Wheelies

The music was throbbing, pouring through the doors we opened.  As we stepped into the huge complex (seemed to us), we were directed to the cash register at the side.  We could barely hear the man's question, "How many skaters?"....well, there were seven of us, our family and two of the boys friends.  I was clutching a box of Flaked Yogurt Bars, for the kids as a little snack later.  The man pointed  to it and yelled gruffly, "Their will be no outside food or drinks!  Absolutely not!"  Steve looked a little chagrined and turned to take them back to the car.  No doubt at "twoony" night, they make their money on over-priced drinks and snacks....We made our way to the skate desk and the 13 -year old girl with tight jeans handed over a pair of mismatched brown limpy skates.  It has been at least 20 years since I rollar-skated last and looking at those skates, I wondered that they were probably older then I was, since rollar skating was invented far earlier then my tight-jeaned days!  Steve got the boys set up, then off we were hand in hand, our legs stiff and ankles wobbly...the perfect couple under the disco ball and lights.

I looked around and realized that we were skating on a basketball court, bamboo floor and nets up ahead.  The DJ for the night was a bearded tatooed gentleman, whose persona seemed to lend to the surroundings.  Everything seemed worn out, loud, dusty and "chick" oriented.  As I seemed to find my former rollar skating rhythm though, I was kind of enjoying it.  My boys were skating with varying degrees of wide legged, arms flying or steady persistence.  We'd link hands and laugh.  They would crash into the wall and laugh.  Their frightened friend actually got off the bench and made his tentitive way on the floor.  We watched the little girl (about 6) skate like a pro, and a dad at the side dance with his daughter, careful not to endanger both with an errant roll.   When the last song came, we couldn't believe that the time had ended and we all survived and even really, really liked it.  As we finally rolled into our driveway, I knew we had a family time we'd always remember.  Thanks Wheelies  for working your wok n' woll  wonders!

minus thirty

I couldn't believe the freezing temps outside as I stepped outside this morning.  I wore layers upon layers, plus made sure Cyclone was wrapped up in a scarf too.  She kept trying to shake it off, but I think it helped.  She is getting used to the cold, only occasionally holding up a paw and looking mournfully at me, walking on her other three paws.  "Oh, get used to it you wimp!"  I was thinking, in my layers, boots, long underwear and mitts.  Nate and I walked past Maryland, on the way to school and noticed the blocked off street there.  Seven patrol cars, an ambulance and yellow tape.  We heard earlier on the news that the police had surrounded an apartment block, a man inside who had a gun.  When I got home, the radio announced lock down "at two schools" in the area....no names used but I knew John M. King was one...its just across the back lane from the action. 

I was there at the school yesterday, helping with a robot project in my son's class.  I love the learning and spunk, creativity and personalities.  I looked on at one girls attempts to follow the instructions and told her that she must have a mathematical brain to get it so easily.  "Oh, but I have a grade 1 math level!"  She's in grade 5 or 6.  I told her that she wouldn't stay at that level with her kind of skills I was seeing.  She told me she has someone in the neighborhood helping her to get up to speed.  I pray she does!  Knowing a little about her background, she comes from a transient, single mom home.  She comes to our church sometimes, had even been recently dedicated there with 2 other siblings and her mom.  She smiled and went back to her project.  That little look of hope warmed me inside, a 10-yr old defying the odds.  Something us grown-ups need to try a bit more at.  Defying the odds.

First Contact Part 4

I was sitting there, waiting....the Tuesday we had arranged.  Waiting for 45 minutes and Rachel didn't show up.  I was thinking, "I don't have her number!  I should have gotten her number! Maybe they are all sick, have H1N1 in hospital and here I am sitting here, I can't help...."  I had made this glorious appointment with the neato African lady (Rachel, from Sudan) who had intrigued me all fall with her long stride and white on black smile when we shook hands.  "Well, I'm NOT going to blog this failure" I thought miserably.  So I didn't.  It's now been about 4 weeks or so when I saw her last.  She hasn't come down that sidewalk for that long!   Did she move?  Felt embarrased about not showing up and is staying away, avoiding me?

I gave up looking for her.  This morning I thought I'd drift by the preschool she drops her kids at.  "One less person for me to be responible for.  Why do I feel like that?  Does God just want me to just pray for her? " So many questions, but not as many as at first.  Even if I saw her, would she be too embarrased about the missed appointment and just nod a 'hi' and move on?  Oh man, there she was!  I'd know those legs on any African plain, or Manitoba sidewalk!!   As we came closer, I saw her smile of welcome and happiness.  It's ok!  "Can I come now?" was her greeting.   "Of course!"  was my reply.  She explained she is now taking the bus because of the cold.  After walking home together, we had tea, her English isn't the greatest but she isn't shy.  Her dad was killed by militia in Sudan, his two wives and 7 children fled to Uganda and then Kenya.  I learned more about her, she heard how we were in Burma for 6 years and the military government there.  As we were chatting, it just floored me to believe she was in my home, drinking my tea....after so many weeks of praying, wondering.  She asked if we could pray before she left.  My whitey hands, in her dark ones.   We are sisters, friends.  And guess what?  She invited me to her home.  Cool.  But I forgot to get her darn phone number again!!

X-Ray Eyes

There's a curious statement in the book of John.  I shared it with a group of people this week, I don't know if it made sense to them but it shocked me enough to feel real squemish...down to my Jesus-believing toenails.  It was after this Man, Jesus, had overturned the money changing tables, whip in hand and drove out the hundreds of animals, sellers and "loan sharks".  He cried out in a crazy voice, "Stop turning my Father's house into a shopping mall!!" (paraphrased of course!)  These entreprenuers had set up shop in the part of the temple that was supposed to be the place where the non-Jews got to pray, meditate and seek the One Living God.  Instead of a orderly,clean, quiet place, a Gentile coming into the square would step on cow poop, get jostled by money changers screaming in their ear and probably see a few dirty looks from the religious crowd.  If it were me, I'd turn right around and find the nearest gate out of there!  But what Christ yelled out wasn't the thing that gets me, it is the last lines of the story....it says that many entrusted their lives to him after that but he didn't trust them..."he knew them inside and out, knew how untrustworthy they were.  He didn't need any help in seeing right through them."   Remember when the disciples left him in a panic when  they arrested him in the garden?  They hid in shame, as he was nailed on the cross.  He knew them, does he know me?  Yep, sees right through me, sees the shopping mall I've made of His Temple...we're talking, get ready for the shake down.   Hey!  I think, I don't do drugs, I make my kids good meals, I pray for the poor,....I'm told I'm a trusted servant of Christ.  Trusted?  Ha!  Jesus wouldn't trust me, he doesn't!!  What this is saying is the only one he can trust is his Father and He tried to knock this into our heads that we need to do this too.

I am becoming increasing frustrated with a society, a Christianity that is totally me-centered and that creates a shopping mall out of every free space (internally and externally).  A new Tim Hortons there, a new restaurant here, a craving for chocolate, get another Bible...it's a "Chicken Soup for the Soul" Bible, I must have that!!  Over half the world is living in war, or poverty, or oppression, or sickness and we seriously think we can spend that extra dollar on a doughnut and it doesn't matter.  I continually forget that the Father made this world, there is enough for everyone but our greed, like those in the Temple that day, has made a shopping mall out of something that was supposed to point people to God.  Would you put your trust in such fickle, wayward humanity?  I wouldn't.  Neither does He, and paradoxically, that is our salvation.  Looking to , embracing, clinging to the One Who Doesn't Trust Us.

Rainbow Glasses

The girls ran up to me as I hustled my boys into our fellowship for Sunday School.  Long hair frizzed and curly, Eden pointed to her face.  She just stood there pointing and I marvelled.  She's 5, is beautiful and as open and transparent as a kid can be, and she had new glasses!  Her eyes looked 2 sizes too big as they gazed at me through the lenses.  But man, was she happy.  I oohhheed and aaahhhed in appropriate tones and then turned to Lily, her little sister, who also sported a pair.  These were "wainbow glasses", as Eden told me, pretend ones to be sure, but oh so grown-up.  Lily has always been the shyer of the two, but I found that these glasses must have had some kind of magic in them, to give her the confidence to give me a run down on her whole weekend and her memories of baby-hood.  "I used to pull my daddy's hair when I was a baby.  And I would make such a mess with my spoon when I was a baby.  My mommy said it was all over my face.  I didn't know how to use a spoon when I was a baby...."  On and on her memoires rambled till she decided that was it and went quiet.  She just gently blinked and looked at me through those fakey glasses, rainbow glasses.  She skipped away to join her friends.  I sauntered away to mine, musing how amazing it is that a special pair of glasses could help a little girl find the confidence to share her inner workings.  Maybe, I should ask her mom where she got them......

FKJ 152

It sounds like a rap song,  "I'm F-K-J, 1-5-2, talk'n at 'cha in the 'hood" .  It's a license plate, I tried to memorize it on my way home from my walk with Cyclone Friday.  Wondering if I should call Crime Stoppers, or some police info. line.  Walking past the back of our church, New Life Ministries, I saw a white Catillac parked that had some serious violence done to it.  Walking closer, I was amazed at the battering this car took.  Windows smashed, dents and scrapes, tires blown out...I picked up Cyclone to get a better look inside.  I hope there wasn't any blood, or bodies....ugh, the thought turned my stomach, but it was empty. Looked like a crow bar had done its dasterly deed, the person holding it a gang member getting someone back for whatever.

So this was in the back of our church, so I knocked on the door to see if our friend and staff lady was there.  She opened up and when I pointed over to the car, she instantly said "I'm sorry, I don't want to get involved...I'm a single lady working here most of the time.  If Harry was here, he'd find out right away, but don't expect me to do anything!"   'If Harry was here....", hmmmmm.  So I asked her if I should call the police, she said no.  "Well, I'm a normal concerned citizen walking by, don't you think I should call in anything concerning to me???"  She said, that if I felt that way, go ahead, but don't include her.  

I did call somebody after that (my hubby!) and it was taken care of.   The day before was a book launch for a book just published about Harry's life.  Instead of making me super sad, like I thought it would, it confirmed everything we are doing here and actually gives me the courage to "get involved" and not fear the ones who create the fear and posturing (and car-smashing).  Harry was different because he did not sweep these upsetting circumstances or images under the carpet hoping someone else would deal with it.  He dealt with it, his Christian community learned to deal with it and now it's us that have to deal with it.  Paul Boge, the author was asked that night, what was the secret to Harry's success?  The answer, 'never give up'.  I would also add, 'do not give in to fear', and 'call if there is a  gang induced smashed car behind your church'.  Living here in the West End that is a huge message, one that I hope I can live out radically more and more.

 

Flying Leg

I first saw him literally "flying" down the aisle at City Mart, the only "foriegn-like" grocery store chain in Yangon, Burma.  He had a hop to him, a swing of one leg, a determined look, looking straight ahead, aiming for that particular product he was focusing on.  "Wow!" I thought, "wonder which family he's from?"  If a person saw another whitey that looked like a new comer, they were targets...like a magnet they would draw us other whitey's to them, curious with why they are in Burma and for how long.  I looked down the aisle to where he had come from and there was a lady, with long blonde hair surrounded by four kids, African?  Man, my curiosity was now reaching its peak....did he belong to her?  Later, they were all checking out at the cashier, yes they were together and come to think of it, I think I had seen her before at the end of our lane where we lived.

Later that week, Steve, myself and my kids were introduced to the most wackiest, wonderful family we have ever, I mean ever come across.  Alex (aka "flying leg") was one of 12 in their family...10 kids and their parents, all adopted from different countries.  Their dad is a ex-Vietnam vet who had lost his legs in an explosion and was now in a wheel-chair.  Each child had a special need, physically or mentally, and it made for some wild adventures.  Alex has lost his lower leg, below his knee, so he has a metal leg and hard plastic foot that our guys found so much fun stomping on and laughing as he howled in false pain.  Josiah, the oldest has hands and feets that are like pincers but that has not stopped him from getting honors in highschool and a scholarship in a university in Texas.  Nicolai, Valentina, Faith, Edwin, Yannah, the twins and now 1 1/2 yr old Jedidiah (Thai baby...an adoption-in-progress)   from 20 years old down to 1 years, this family lives and breathes kids, homeschooling, orphanages all in Chaing Mai, Thailand.  They needed to leave Myanmar because of the tremendous expense for visas for all those passports but we'd keep visiting them in Thailand when we'd need to go get our own visas. 

I just talked to Alex on the phone last night.  Nicolai and him are going to start their jobs soon (in Virginia), living on their own and enjoying "State-side" time, after so many years in Africa and Asia.  He's still flying, excited about this next stage in life and having so many friends around the world.  I'm glad we are still part of their wild and wacky family, he said as he was about to hang up, "we love you'all so much, you are so much part of our family" (with his U.S. southern drawl).  We love you too, Flying Leg and embrace you'all as a huge wild and wacky family that likes to dream big while serving the least of these.