A matter of life and death

You can hardly escape the fact that today, as much as in any other day and age, there is a lot of suffering in the world. The news is full of stories of unspeakable horrors from Iran, Iraq and other places. I have just been checking out my cousin Elwyn's blog from Ukraine with stories of suffering alongside tales of amazing courage and self-giving.

Much - though not all - of this suffering is being endured by Christians as a result of persecution. Again, among the horrific happenings, we hear stories of incredible courage and self-sacrifice. I remember many years back someone, who was enduring persecution, asking that we pray for brothers and sisters undergoing persecution. They asked, not just for prayer for deliverance from suffering, but for the grace not to deny Christ and the grace to die well.

Some years later when I was living under threats and warnings from terrorists in Peru, at a time when several Christian missionaries had been put to death, I remembered those words, and my prayer then was that Jesus would give me the grace to die well should the time come. I don't speak much about those times. 'Normal' life had to continue in some way. They were frightening days, and even now when I think of them, and when I hear or see the sort of  things that are happening today in other places, my stomach churns and I still feel something of that fear.

But what I learned was this. We all die, and we will die well if we live well. I didn't die in the 1980's, but I learned a lot about the importance of living well. I learned a lot about how precious life is; how brief life is; how vitally important it is to live well as in living every moment for Christ. While the manner of dying for some hits our headlines, and is often truly horrific for victims and for family and friends of those killed, the manner of our living  is what should concern us. To live is Christ; to die is gain.

Humanly speaking, of course the manner of my death crosses my mind from time to time - though not as much as those bad old days (which were actually great old days!) - but the manner of my living concerns and occupies me more. 

Go on - give us share!

Been thinking of ideas for a Harvest sermon. I was remembering how my mum used to talk about harvesting time when she was growing up in the countryside; how it was a community event when farmers and growers all turned out to help each other, and how they shared machinery and man-power, and how at the end of it all they shared a meal together. There was a lot of sharing.

Today's Harvest themes are also full of sharing. Especially for us city dwellers there is much food for thought on food banks and sharing what God has given us, especially in these days of credit crunch and recession. We may be a step or two from the fields, but as we 'harvest' in the supermarkets we have the opportunity to share some of what we have with others.

Being in Africa certainly takes us closer again to the earth and to where things grow. Especially as we travel outside the city we are surrounded by those lovely green hills that Rwanda is renowned for - 'Land of 1,000 hills'. We step outside someone's little home to see avocado and bananas and mango growing on trees so close you could reach up and touch them. We see people - most often women - bent over in fields digging, planting or gathering maize, potatoes and maybe even rice.

It all looks good until you learn that although this food might be growing right outside within reach, or that although someone spends back-breaking hours in fields - the food is not theirs to take. The food belongs to landowners, and those who live by it or work to grow it don't see or taste the benefits. There isn't much sharing going on.

But one of our greatest joys in Rwanda does involve sharing. We take what is generously given here, change it for food and share it with those in greatest need. It is a huge privilege and amazing blessing to be those who get to share, but we are always conscious of those who have shared already so that we can share with others - thank you!

What is  really lovely is that the sharing continues. We know that as we leave a home, those who have received that day will share with family and neighbours, because some other day when the tables are turned they themselves will benefit from sharing.

I read this the other day from Paul in his letter to the Corinthians - 'they gave offerings of whatever they could - far more than they could afford - pleading for the privilege of helping out in the relief of the poor'. 

Sharing is good. Can we afford not to?

Who do you think you are?

I am by birth a wee Scot; a wee weegie born in Glasgow. As a child I was very proud of my Scottish birth because it made me different. I already figured I was different anyway, and being Scottish born just added to the mystery that was me! I left Scotland for Ireland at a very young age, but not before, apparently, I took my first steps there and performed my duty as little tubby flower girl at my Uncle's wedding - and no, you are not seeing the picture!

A few years back, on a trip to Glasgow, I went on a mission to find the place of my birth, and how chuffed was I to find the house where I was born - still standing. Unfortunately there was no one at home, so I didn't get a look inside, but just seeing the house and standing outside was very special indeed. It was a lovely link with the past. 

I have a very mixed heritage - a Welsh mother, an Irish father and a Scottish birth - and during these last days and weeks my thoughts have been with Scotland as they made their big yes/no decision about their future in the UK. As I said earlier today, I am glad in a way that Scotland stayed with us, but there is that little rebellious part of me that says - well done Scotland for giving it a go - for making the bid for freedom!

I suppose much of what has gone on recently is about identity. 'Who do you think you are?' is a popular TV show which helps famous people trace their roots. According to the title its purpose is to help people figure out who they are; who or what formed them. Lots of things shape us, including place and circumstances of birth and upbringing, as well as those who have gone before us. No doubt there are things and people in my past that have shaped me.

I thank God for much of that, but I am me and who I really am is being shaped and formed by God. I am a one-off, unique individual; a child of God.

In a word.....

The reason we still go to Weight Watchers, apart from trying to ensure the lost 3 stone plus is never found again, is simply because it is just such good fun. This morning was no exception - full of jokes and laughs and funny stories. Of course we're there to commiserate with each other when things don't go quite right, and encourage one another when targets are reached. Over the years we have made some good friends. But the thing that keeps us going along as often as we can is simply the fact that it is such fun.

One of this morning's funny stories was one Sally shared about an episode during our latest trip to Rwanda. We were visiting some friends, sitting there engaged in polite conversation, when Justine said to Sally - 'Sally, you have become fat'! Remembering where we were this morning, the reaction to the story was a unique Weight Watchers' blend of shock/horror and much amusement!

The thing is, Justine meant no harm. Regardless of whether what she said was true or not - and I'm not going there! - Justine was being complimentary. She was saying that Sally looked well and healthy and prosperous. In her culture a little weight - not saying a word, Sally! - is a good sign. It means you are prospering - to put it bluntly - you are not going without food. Her words in her context were good words.

All this made me think about how we use words. Along with the funny stories this morning were also some horrible stories of cruel words spoken to people which had obviously hurt. We fire words around often very carelessly, forgetting that they can never be taken back. I often cringe at words people use on Twitter or facebook especially. I can 'hide' these words or remove them from my view, but they've still been said - they are still out there.

It's little wonder the Bible has some strong words of its own to say about the tongue -

 'No one can tame the tongue. It is restless evil, full of deadly poison' 

James 3

Thankfully though, it's not all bad news. James also tells us that from the tongue can come blessing. Our words can bless. 

My word for today - 'Bless you!'

Family matters

Today is my little Great-niece Lola's 6th birthday and shortly I will head to Lisburn to see her. I don't have much by way of immediate family and I don't see them that often. Family life is often complex - people say moreso in this day and age. I'm not sure that's true. I think family life has always been complex - I can remember back from childhood when rumours abounded now and again about who belonged to whom in a family. Maybe then we were just better at keeping the 'secrets'.

Family life in Rwanda can be very complex. We have children brought up by siblings or grandparents, uncles and aunts. It often involves splitting children up, and we have a few cases where the children in a family have been divided among uncles and aunts following the death of parents. One boy in particular comes to mind as I remember him saying how much he would like to be reunited with his twin sister. He gave us a photo of her for his sponsor to see. Sometimes children are sent off to other family or friends because a mother can't afford to feed them all, and in some cases children are sent off to work in another person's home for that same reason.

It is hard for us to get this and understand. We want to label everyone; list brothers and sisters; know who's who in a family. Yet confusion reigns when in one house a child calls a boy there her brother when we later discover he is a cousin or another extended family member. In any home everyone is brother and sister - indeed I was told it was disrespectful to see it otherwise. Your grandmother or aunt, if she reared you, is mama or mother. It's like she has earned that right. For us, going in from our neat little family units, complex is the word!

At the core of it all - though at times, like our own families,  far from perfect - is the desire to look after children and give them home and family and

belonging. This last time in Rwanda we came across one remarkable lady. She is bringing up several grandchildren, including one little boy abandoned by his mother. What sets this woman apart, though there are others like her, is that in addition her home is open to any child she finds on the street. Going into her home with our notebooks and name lists is a total waste of time. All we need to know is that everyone under that roof is family. End of story!

I am honoured and humbled to be 'family' in a place or two in Rwanda; to have my picture there (yikes!) and pointed out to visitors as 'family'. It is a precious thing and reminds me that we are indeed one big family. Maybe in our part of the world we need to push out our walls and let some more 'family' in? it might be a bit mad and chaotic - but that's family for you!

What's in a name?

I have a dreadful head for names. I never was much good - facing a new class of up to 40 children when I started teaching was a bit of a nightmare! I had to invent all kinds of tricks to remember names, and make sure that for quite a number of weeks no one moved from her allotted seat. Strange how quickly I learned the names of the trouble makers though! Recently things have not improved - if anything, it gets worse and more embarrassing as it's not only new names that cause the problems, but I find myself struggling an odd time with a very familiar face or two. The good thing about that one is that I'm in the same boat as friends my age and we all attribute it to the wonderful era of 'senior moments'!

I have always wanted to be better with names as I know how important it is and how special it can make someone feel to be known and remembered by name. I am at present putting together a presentation, along with information sheets, for people who sponsor children with us in Rwanda. We try hard to learn to recognise all our children each time we visit, and doing the presentation is a great opportunity to test myself on names. When we go people are often surprised that we know the children by name, but we do try because it's important.

Names are special in Rwanda and carry special meaning. This last time we visited a girl, once on our list of sponsored children, who herself has had a baby. The circumstances surrounding the baby's birth were not easy and not as one would have wished, but she is a beautiful, healthy, special wee creation. She has been born into a life of extreme poverty, her future and that of her mother are full of uncertainties. She is born into struggle from day one. And her name? Irabizi Vanessa. 'Irabizi' means 'he (God) knows'. That name stays with that child forever and is a reminder that whatever the circumstances of her birth, however life goes for her - God knows. He knew her in the womb, knows her every step and loves her. Meeting her, it certainly seemed the most appropriate name ever.

So, I may forget or stumble over your name - sorry - but God won't. I may even one day forget my own name - wouldn't surprise me! But God will never forget. He knows!

Sunday lunch

It'll soon be time. I think it's Indian today. Sunday dinner is waiting. For many there's a whole tradition surrounding it still. It involves family, a roast and a sleep afterwards. For lots of people today it involves eating out. For others it's no longer the traditional big spread, but a day to chill, away from the busy-ness of the working week.

Being not long after my latest Rwanda trip one image stays with me when I sit down to eat. One Sunday we gave a party for sponsored children. It certainly wouldn't fall into the Sunday roast category. There was - among other stuff -  potato, greens, beans, matoke, chapati (the nicest I've ever tasted I think) and the big treat of a little chicken. Plates were piled high, and for this day at least children and adults would certainly not go to bed hungry. There was even cake!

The image that stays with me is of Jimmy. He lives with his mum and brother in some of the worst living conditions we've come across. His mum is a genocide survivor who bears the scars, both physical and mental, of that time. She has bad episodes when she can't leave the house and she certainly can't keep down a job. She is often at the church center, where she joins some other women in cleaning in the buildings and grounds. The church help her with food. Gloria is the best mum she can be, but I know both she and her children go hungry.

Last year we started sponsoring Jimmy. He has special needs educationally and neither boy was in school. Jimmy now goes to school and has the opportunity to at least go as far as he is able. The image that stays with me these days is of Jimmy enjoying his party treat dinner. I have rarely seen a child take such pleasure in food. I could hardly take my eyes off him, and it was a joy to see. But what really moved me was that after he'd cleared his own plate, he finished someone else's. He was one very hungry little boy and ate like he wasn't sure when his next meal would come. 

For Jimmy and many like him, uncertainty, including about food, is a daily feature of life. it can lead to hopelessness and despair - or it can lead to the most amazing trust in God and in his provision. God provided for that Sunday 'party' dinner. Some of you enabled that. And because of it - because Jimmy ate that day - he will grow to trust the God who always provides - even in those scary, hungry moments when it simply doesn't look that way.

Well, I think it might just be time to eat. Indian sounds good! Eat well today Jimmy!

Limbo Land!

Well it's back to this blog, as Rwanda 2014 has been and gone. That's not quite true as I attempt to settle and make sense of all the experiences I've had over the 3 weeks away. Then there's the follow up, and even the beginnings of plans for 'Rwanda - the next time'! This will all keep me very busy for some time to come.

Not unusually for me, at this stage of 'just back' I'm feeling a bit in limbo. There's lots to do, but I can sit and stare at my desk or laptop for ages, not quite sure what to do. There are places to go, but I can't decide where, so stay put. There are people to see, but who? It's a strange, unsettling place to be and I don't like it much.

The journey out of it begins with small steps. I broke my foot back in April and know all about the small steps needed to walk properly again. I know I have to go gently with myself; not rush; not run before I can walk. But I also know I have to step out. I'm not entirely sure what I'm stepping into, but God knows, and that is all that matters.

I suppose I need a kick start again - I know one or two people who might offer to help out there - no thanks! I know God will provide that, and actually even as I write this I'm getting a wee bit excited about what form it might take. 

For now, routine is helpful, and the regular Saturday visit to the chippy has helped!