Monday, May 23, 2011

Random Musings

I was out for a walk the other day enjoying the beautiful spring weather in Michigan.  It has been two years since I have been able to enjoy spring and I am loving it!  I absolutely love talking walks, it is my time to talk to God, think, sing, day dream and just be.  While living in Sudan my walks were in short supply and if I decided to brave a walk it was rarely peaceful.  Normally I would be questioned non-stop "where are you going" followed by a blank look when I told them I was "hovo haga" (walking just because).  No one in the Hills walks just to walk, no, they are going to a friends, to the field, to the grinding mill, on a journey.  But never just to walk.  I can walk for miles here and not see a soul, but if I happen to be walking down the road a quick wave is all that is done or rarely a stop to say hi.  In Didinga I would probably see 30+ people who would all say something to me... it sure is a different world...


Anyway... I was out for one of my walks trying to enjoy myself, but I kept being interrupted by this deep worried feeling and thoughts that said; "Oh my goodness you only have 2 months until you leave"  So much to do, so so MUCH" "It is never going to happen, Tianne, never" along with other thoughts until my head was spinning. The desire to just "settle" followed these thoughts.  Lets face it most women my age are married and have children or close to it.  They seem to have a pretty steady life.


 I, on the other hand, am a ways off from settling.  Since I turned 18 I have not lived in one place for longer than two years.  


 My quick timeline:


Age 18:  moved in with my Aunt and Uncle for the winter, that summer took a 2 month trip with my cousin followed by moving to Montana
November of that year moved back home, worked and went to college.  That summer spent 2 months on a short term mission trip in Africa 
Age 21: moved to Oregon to attend college for 2 years, graduated from college, moved to Wyoming for the summer and fall, moved home in November then spent December in Honduras  
Age 23:  lived at home and worked at nursing home (and other odd jobs) to save money and support raise for moving to S. Sudan
Age 25:  moved to S. Sudan
Age 27 (almost 28):  moving to the Philippine for 2yrs 


I can honestly say that I am ready to live in one place longer then 2 years.  I am wanting to nest a bit, put down some roots.  I would like to stop hearing "this is probably going to be the hardest thing you have ever done" (Canyonview told me that, TIMO told me that and now Newlife has told me that).  I am ready to stop saying goodbyes all the time...


I am confident that God wants me to spend 2yrs in the Philippines studying midwifery.  But it is my prayer that  for my 30th year and beyond I get stuck in a bit of a rut.  I am praying that God leads me to some place in Central Africa where I can share His love for more then 2 years, more like 5, 10, 15 or 20 years!  But of course since I do feel called to a place the is war torn and full of unrest, well, who really knows how "settled" my live will ever be.  God is faithful and He will give me strength to do whatever it is He calls me to do.

"Go in all simplicity; do not be anxious to win a quiet mind, and it will be all the quieter.  Do not examine so closely into the progress of your soul.  Do not crave so much to be perfect, but let your spiritual life be formed by your duties, and by the actions which are called forth by circumstances.  Do not take overmuch thought for tomorrow.  God, who has led you safely on so far, will lead you on to the end.  Be altogether at rest in the loving holy confidence which you ought to have in His heavenly Providence. " ~ St. Francis de Sales


Monday, May 9, 2011

Unexpected friendship


When I shut my eyes and remember I can feel the brush of the warm June air on my face and the smell of horse manure drying in the sun.  I was just 14 that spring and loving my job working at a riding stable.  The owners had brought home a few wild mustangs from the Bureau of Land Management sale in Lansing the pervious fall and one of them, a shy strawberry roan mare was expecting a foal. 
Her udder had bagged up and formed the waxy tips on her teats that meant her foal would soon be arriving.  I sat hopefully outside the mares’ pen on a Thursday afternoon along side my cousin Candace, talking softly to each other and trying to will the mare into giving birth.  We wouldn’t have been so eager to have her deliver this day, but my brother was getting married in just two days and we would be busy with wedding activities and unable to come again before the wedding was over.  Unfortunately we were unsuccessful at willing the mare to have her foal and we down heartedly had to leave. 
Early the following Monday morning Candace and I bounded from the car eager to see if the new baby had arrived.  As we walked toward the pen the owner informed us that the shy mare had indeed given birth to a colt.  I can remember walking up to the fence and coming face to face with a leggy chestnut baby with raccoon rings around his eyes.  The new colt had been named Romeo in honor of being born on his owner’s anniversary.  Quite the opposite of his shy mama, Romeo was inquisitive and friendly, eager to be loved on.
On a cold January day seven months later I had finally talked my parents into letting me buy a young foal to raise and train.  Eagerly I called the riding stable to see if they would be selling any of the foals that had been born the past spring.  I was secretly hoping they would tell me they were selling a pretty tall dark bay filly that was born just before Romeo.  I was only slightly disappointed when it was Romeo that ended up being for sale.  Being so impatient to have a weanling foal I didn’t even have to think twice before I handed them the $300 dollars and brought him home.
He had a shaggy long coat, pot belly and was pretty scrawny.  My farrier asked me straight up why I had bought a horse that would surely be too small for an already 6ft tall girl.  I shyly smiled and mumbled that I liked him, in truth I hadn’t really thought about it.  In my dreams I had always pictured a tall beautiful spirited horse that would be my best friend.  Romeo was just a mutt in the horse world and quirky not spirited; in the back of my mind I thought I would probably sell him once he was trained.  After all he couldn’t possibly be my dream horse, could he?
Looking back I can see God’s perfect plan in giving me Romeo.  He brought me through the tough teenage years.  His stubbornness matched mine, if I lost my temper with him I had to earn his forgiveness, which he would eventually give if I was patient.  He taught me perseverance with his ungentle man habit of giving a playful nip when your back was turned.  He taught me trust as I swung my leg over him for the first time.  Romeo didn’t even flinch; he was ready and eager to go for a ride!  He was my shoulder to cry on many on occasions.  He taught me how to let go and say goodbye when after 12 years I finally had to let him go.  
Now when I am having a hard day I close my eyes and let my mind take me back.  I am running through the woods, arms outstretched, feeling one with him.  I am laying in a field as the sun beats down, his nose lowering into my face I can feel his whiskers tickling my nose. My face buried in his coat, I breath in deep his smell.  Life may have taken us apart, but the memories stay.


I had to part with Romeo because of my call to serve God overseas.  The girl who has had Romeo for the past year is unable to keep him and I will be getting him back the end of this month.  I am looking forward to having him for the last two months I am home.  I do however need to find a new home for him by the time I leave the end of July.  If anyone is interested in Romeo or knows of someone who may be please let me know! 

Monday, May 2, 2011

I remember Regina

I remember Regina... her smile, her deep happy laugh, her hugs...

I remember her running bare foot along side of me, 
slapping mud on a hut as we worked side by side,
washing each others backs and
bringing a shirt to me that I had forgotten by the stream.

I remember Regina working along side Kim in the garden with her younger brother and sister, her sitting in our house
sipping chai wide eyed as she looked around her in awe of
the strange things we had in our house.




I remember Regina's hard work as she helped her family with

daily tasks of working in the garden,
grinding corn, watching babies,the list goes on...

I remembering seeing her laying 
unconscious on the dirty clinic bed, 
the veins pounding on her forehead, 
rubbing Vaseline on her cracked lips, 

hugging and crying with her mother... 
I remember watching as they laid her
in the ground, the prayer being said, 
her mother throwing in the first hand
full of dirt,  placing a rock on top of her grave.

I remember Regina as she rests in the arms of the loving Saviour

Regina died last December, we think of cranial malaria, 

she is missed, but not forgotten.