Retreating women

One of the worship leaders at our women's retreat this weekend was a man, who said that the song, "Let My Words Be Few" was the perfect theme song for a women's retreat! This is why men shouldn't be allowed in such places!

We had a fabulous if exhausting time this past weekend. The retreat took place in town, at what used to be the Baptist hostel (dorm) for Hillcrest students. There were about 75 ladies from many different missionary and church backgrounds, not to mention countries (France, Switzerland, Australia, New Zealand, Hungary, England, Ireland, the U.S., Canada, Korea, Malaysia, Nigeria, South Africa, etc.). Our ages ranged from about 22 to over 70. So you can imagine we had quite a diverse time! We started Friday afternoon at about 4, and even now there are still people there, taking advantage of the card-making supplies. One of the highlights was the special treats we got from Canada: ingredients in our group meals including chocolate chips, herb crackers, and Caesar salad dressing; beauty products (which I'm afraid I'll never use); card-making supplies; tea; gum; and a wonderful lady named Sue!

Friday night we had some mixer games after a garden supper, for which we had live entertainment--a string trio! What a treat! It was a night of laughter and fun. My team almost won Scattergories by coming up with unique words that started with "S" for forty different categories. (We had 32 in the end and lost to a team with 35. Rats!)

Saturday morning we had a lovely breakfast outside under canopies in the garden, had a time of worship, and then spent an hour or so listening to our pastoral care coordinator bring us truths from God's Word about Jesus' love for us. It was so refreshing! After the speaker finished, Sue, who'd come from Canada just for the retreat, showed us how to make some Christmas decorations, including frosted fruit ("You mean you put glue on grapes and apples instead of eating them? Are you kidding?") and candle centerpieces. I'm not big on crafts, and we're pretty low-budget when it comes to decorations, but it was interesting to see what other women think of for decoration!

After lunch, we had "workshops" in different groups. Downstairs, there was card-making, with extensive (and expensive!) supplies brought all the way from Canada for the occasion. Upstairs there was a coffee bar with flavoured coffee, several kinds of tea, snacks, and coffee add-ons (whipped cream, cinnamon, etc.). There were couches and magazines provided for perusing. Outside on the upstairs patio, there was a do-it-yourself spa, where ladies could give themselves manicures and pedicures and could get their makeup done. Mom and I both won free massages from an Indian professional, so we enjoyed those to the full! I had a rough time doing anything at all with Timothy, who was hot, tired, and pretty cranky (for him, which by average standards is probably still very agreeable). But I managed to make two cards (for my sisters) and enjoy a cup of decaf French vanilla coffee and a foot soak. I'm not really a spa kind of person anyway. I've had a pedicure once in my entire life (thanks, Aunt Pamela!) and have never had a manicure. I can count on one hand the number of times I've worn make-up off the stage. So I had no idea what to do!! Fortunately, the other ladies were helpful and supportive. :)

That evening we had a nice supper and then listened to a few powerful testimonies. These weren't your run-of-the-mill "I was a drug addict/alcoholic who'd been divorced three times and then met Jesus" testimonies. These were real, down-to-earth stories of Christian women who had suffered and been redeemed. God is so good! We came home exhausted but moved.

(We heard this morning that some ladies had stayed until 3AM working on cards!! Dude! The funny part is that the power was off, so they had to share the cost of running the generator that whole time.)

This morning we had a simple, yummy breakfast and then were led in worship and again listened to God's Word about Jesus' love for us. We had a time of sharing in small groups, which was very therapeutic, and prayed. Then we ate a delicious brunch and came home. Altogether, it was a delightful weekend. Timothy kept me on my toes, and I'm now exhausted (as an introvert) from all the socialising. And the retreat reminded me that I have no close girl friends, so I often felt very alone.

But God is faithful. And His love never quits. Right, Cari?

Left behind

David's gone again, this time for two weeks. I've been dreading this time for a year now. I knew even before I married him that about this time, he'd have to travel down south to take his Part I fellowship exam. But actually, he would have left this coming Tuesday if not for a workshop he was told a week ago that he should attend. Since it was a holiday, however, he couldn't put in his letter for permission to miss work until Tuesday (Nigeria observes Easter Monday), and he didn't find out until Thursday morning at 6:30 that we would be allowed to attend the workshop that started Friday morning, 13 hours away. He packed Wednesday night just in case, and when I saw him Thursday morning about 7:15, he came in, said, "Okay, we're going, and we're leaving now," grabbed his luggage, kissed me goodbye, and left for two weeks. *sigh* The joys of living in Nigeria. As my family says, OINK!!

The fact that eases this parting is that the ladies' retreat is this weekend. Maybe I'll blog more about it tomorrow, but it's been good and exhausting. I'm glad I could go (thanks to generous donors, whoever they are, who paid my way!), but I would sure have felt guilty going if it had been right before David traveled. It's easier to be gone myself when he, too, is gone.

But I hate his being away, just hate it. I don't know how I'll make it through the next 11 days...

Lament

Heart pounding.
Feet pounding.
Hammers pounding nails through human flesh.
Oh God, what have I done?

Legs fumbling.
Hope crumbling.
Silver coins tumbling to the temple floor.
Oh God, what have I done?

I don't want this blood-stained money! It can't buy back the life I've taken, the life I ripped away from the only decent person I've ever met. I didn't know. I didn't know. Why didn't I understand the darkness I was plunging headlong into? Oh God!

Oh God! Where can I hide from your eyes? I expected you to be angry, to pierce my heart with arrows of fiery hate. I thought you would curse me. You knew what was coming, and yet you let me kiss you. Why? I don't understand. You looked me in the eye, and all I saw was love and grief. There was no anger there, no hatred. I should have known; you've never shown hatred before.

But how could you love me? I betrayed you to those who wanted you dead. I took money for your life. I led them to your place of sacred prayer. How can you love me? How?

And yet I know you do. I saw your eyes, brimming with tears as you let me kiss you. You love me! You--the Teacher, my Master and Lord--you stoop to love me in my wretchedness, in my deceit and malevolence. Why? Why, Lord?

Oh God, what have I done?

In my anguish, God, I cannot even hope that you will forgive.
I can't go on. With your relentless love haunting my black soul, how can I live?

Oh God, what have I done?
It is I who killed your son!

Why I'm not a vegetarian

The word of the day from my daily word email is "vegan," and so I thought I'd spout off a little on vegetarianism. Don't get me wrong. I'm not against it at all! And I respect people who are vegetarians for health and/or religious reasons. And goodness knows I respect people who are vegetarians by default, just because animal products are costly.

And maybe all the others are right, that animals are mistreated. I read a great book a few years ago that spoke on the subject to some extent in a fictional way: Oryx and Crake by Margaret Atwood.

I don't know anything about meat production in the U.S. But I wish people wouldn't use the word "inhumane" because these are, after all, animals, not humans. I'm not saying we should go out and abuse all animals. But I think Americans often take things to extremes regarding animal rights activism.

But I digress. My real point is that these animal rights activists would look pretty silly in this part of the world. Animals here are treated like...well, like animals. But we don't get meat from huge meat farms, either. All our animals here--and yes, there's an exception to every generalisation--are raised for food. But they're almost all raised naturally--free range--whatever you want to call it. It's pretty organic. So I could never complain (even if I did worry about animal treatment) about the animals not being raised properly. And meat is a rare treat for many Nigerians, who can only afford to eat it at holiday time. I can't even imagine how most people would respond to a vegetarian, especially as a guest. It would be just like in My Big Fat Greek Wedding: "He don't eat meat? He don't eat meat?? That's okay. I make lamb."

But in any case, I can't afford to be vegan. I have a baby to nurse. I need protein especially, and calcium from dairy products (or animal bones if milk is unavailable). I can't get tofu here, and if I eat beans, poor Timothy will suffer.

So bring on the meat!!

Melancholy

It's been one of those days. I had a hard time getting any work done. My "editing" of these Sunday school lessons is actually mainly rewriting, and I have next to zero gifts with writing Sunday school lessons, especially for teens. And I have to work on one lesson that I remember being extremely irked about when we discussed it at our writer's workshop back in September. Oy. And I was expecting someone to come by today, but that person never showed up. And I'd hoped to get a nap, but when Timothy was sleeping, I just couldn't fall asleep. And I found out there's a céilidh (Scottish dance) at Miango on Sunday night, but of course I can't go (between having no transportation and no money to spend the night there--you can't travel at night here). And I didn't get to go to the last one because no one thought to invite me.

...which makes me realise just how alone I am here. Who are my friends? David - who's gone much of the time these days, between work and studying for his huge exam coming up next month. My parents - who will be out of town all next week. Sara - who moved to Abuja in February. Marc - who teaches at Hillcrest, so I never see him. Besides, he's a social butterfly and is impossible to keep track of. And that's about it. Everyone else is at least a mouse-click away.

Yes, I know, I'm just feeling sorry for myself. I know that life isn't really as bad as all that. I have so much to be thankful for. But I'm extremely lonely. I long for real friends who understand me and will love me even when I wear jeans out of the house and don't put socks on my baby, even when I admit I don't cook pounded yam for my husband every day.

I just want a friend. Is that too much to ask for?

Some of everything

The dust today may just be the thickest it's been all season. You'd never in a million years have guessed that it rained last Saturday. No way. I hate this waiting period between seasons. I just want the rains to begin.

Today is the beginning of spring break at Hillcrest. Of course, I'm not at Hillcrest, and I don't get a spring break. But my parents are going out of town for a week of retreat, so things will be pretty lonely and quiet for awhile. Plus we won't have access to a car while they're gone. Some of our missionary neighbours have gone to Paris for the vacation, sponsored by one of their supporters. I couldn't believe it. Paris?? A whole family of five, too! Wow. I sure love my parents' supporters, but I darn well wish they could have paid for us to go to Paris! Sheesh!

We don't have any holiday at all. In fact, David's on call on Good Friday and Easter Monday. Plus we won't have a car, so because I'm a stickler and insist on Timothy's being a carseat, we're stranded.

Yeah, life is good.

Fourth Trip to Abuja

Yesterday morning, we left about 7:10 to drive to Abuja for what we hoped would be the last time of petitioning the U.S. embassy for Timothy's passport. The trip was a huge success in that respect, and we have a receipt saying we can get the passport in two weeks. Woohoo!! The next step will be getting the receipt to my friend Sara, who lives in Abuja, so she can pick up the passport. Then we need to get Timothy a re-entry visa, since we looked into getting him a Nigerian passport, and the new process is an absolutely nightmare. Even worse than getting an American one!! Good grief!

But along the trip, I took notes in my new "blog notebook," so here are some of the things that interested me along the way:

• rocky hills through a haze of powdery red dust
• roadside market stalls, all identical and selling the exact same produce
• 9 gutted filling stations and 8 working filling stations
• fields littered with plastic bags of all colours and sizes
• brown plains atop the plateau, with hardly a tree in sight
• stick shelters--four sticks at the corners and a roof of more sticks--makes me think of Jonah
• a barren concrete foundation abandoned in the middle of a field
• red mud brick houses with corrugated tin roofs
• cacti surrounding little farm plots
• black charred fields--remnants of slash-and-burn
• goats, including the one we almost hit while it crosses the road
• lots and lots of Fulani cows
• 19 chuches and 6 mosques (I'm not sure if this is because I wasn't paying attention or because churches are just easier for me to spot than mosques. The fact is that the number of mosques and churches should be about equal.)
• people making mud bricks in a streambed
• concrete houses with tin roofs
• trees--flame, mango, eucalyptus, papaya, lots I don't recognise
• a nice-looking house with no windows, blue walls visible inside, and a missing roof
• primary school children playing in the schoolyard at recess
• young boys at the railroad crossing selling cabbage
• young men playing pool at an outdoor pool table on the far side of the railroad tracks
• turkeys for sale
• 12 wrecked cars
• a "no passing" sign when we descend the plateau
• 5 signs that eloquently ask you to slow down (Ironically, we were going too fast for me to read what they actually said.)
• "PDP" written on rocks in white paint
• 2 skull & crossbones signs along the right side of the road along a steep dropoff
• bougainvillaea
• bundles of drying hay leaning against buildings
• mud brick houses with thatched roofs
• forest of teak trees growing in rows
• road checkpoint with men in t-shirts and orange vests
• police checkpoint
• palm trees once we're off the plateau
• a small flatbed truck full of men
• government schools with shuttered windows
• a pick-up truck with blankets piled 4' high on top of its roof
• a bright pink concrete house
• a tree with bright yellow flowers overhanging the road shoulder
• a man in a long white kaftan and red cap riding a bicycle
• white cassava drying alongside the road
• high school boys out running in a huge pack
• a woman carrying a large bag of water on her head
• a 3' high termite mound
• 4 adult men on a motorcycle
• a woman backing a baby and carrying 3 calabashes on her head
• a gate standing lone in the midst of a barren field
• 42 filling stations on the inbound Keffi-Abuja expressway (in 34 minutes)
• cattle crossing signs
• big white bags of charcoal for sale on the side of the road
• a tarp-covered truck with a fluorescent yellow cab
• a black chicken surrounded by white chicks all pecking in a garbage heap
• 2 beggar boys come to bless us in Hausa when we stop for a moment in a small town
• 2 women carrying large metal bowls on their heads, topped by long sticks of wood
• dry brown fields of furrowed earth waiting for the rain
• 4 men sitting on the ground under a mango tree
• 2 red Mack trucks
• women washing clothes in a stream
• colourful clothes spread on bushes to dry
• a white van with its back doors open and 5 men standing on the bumper, hanging onto the back
• a blue canvas tent held up with strings

The first rain

It rained yesterday, our first rain of 2008!

Not just a pitiful first rain of the season, either. It was a hearty rain, the kind that will make all sorts of green things sprout in about a week. I know it's not really rainy season, that it will only rain a handful of times before May. But still, it's the beginning. It's cleared the dust out of the air if nothing else!

There's nothing like a good African rain to rejuvenate the soul.