They Cried Out in Hope

14 October 2012

Fort Street Presbyterian Church

Detroit, MI

Job 23:8-17

Psalm 65

Hebrews 4:12-16

I have a million memories floating in my mind of the time I spent in South Sudan.  Some are glimpses that raise their heads from time to time.  Others are indelibly etched in my soul and have become a part of the fabric of my life.  One of those moments is a night in a tiny village called Renk.  It is on the border between the north and the south.  I was privileged to be invited to be a part of a Women’s Leadership development conference.  There are many moments of that weekend that I remember, but one, in particular stands out for me…

The room was beginning to settle for the night, the women around me were sharing stories, gentle laughter and the humming of songs were combined with one, sitting on her cot next to me, reading out loud from her Bible.  Slowly, the room began to quiet, and in the quiet, we heard the sounds of boot steps on the road outside our window and a sense of fear was felt in the indrawn breaths of the women around me.  The candles were quickly extinguished.  The women settled in their beds and a dark silence filled the room, along with the feel of breaths being held in in a complete stillness I have never felt before. My friend Annie, who experienced such a time as a child growing up in Africa, describes it as “fear beyond fear”. The boots retreated down the road and were quiet, and in the silence we heard the sound of gunfire in the distance.

Not a sound was heard in our room.  Not a cover ruffled. I have never understood the term, “black silence”.  I do now it is a silence that is so dark and so thick and so filled with fear it can only be described as black.  “Black silence” permeated the room. We all waited for what would come next.  In the darkness, the boots came closer until they stopped right outside our window.  They were followed by the muffled sounds of voices and the sounds of bodies hitting the ground..  We lay in the dark, holding our breaths, afraid to move, waiting, praying.  Waiting for what would come next, praying for the safety of whoever was out there, praying for ourselves and praying for each other.  You see, death comes in the night to their villages.  They are the lucky ones, they are the ones who survived.

 The boots retreated and disappeared into the night.  A collective breath was felt.  A cover ruffled across the room as tensions were released and from the bed next to me the gentle voice of one of our leaders began to quietly sing out in a simple praise to God for his protection. A quiet voice that calmed the fears that permeated the room and silenced the muffled tears from women around us; prayers rose throughout the room and we were surrounded in them and in the presence of the Holy Spirit who was with us throughout those long moments of black silence. In the silence that followed, they cried out in hope.

In those moments following the sounds outside our window, I understood for the first time the words of Job as he cried out “If I go forward, he is not there; or backward, I cannot perceive him; ⁹on the left he hides, and I cannot behold him; I turn to the right, but I cannot see him.”  I could feel the women around me reliving their fears of the recent past. Memories were bouncing around the room as they remembered times when “crickets” – helicopters -  in the air had shot down friends and family as they tried to flee the battles of war.  A time when soldiers crashed through their villages kidnapping their women and children, stealing their cattle, destroying their crops and burning everything in their path.­   The next words of Job cried out in the darkness, “¹⁶God has made my heart faint; the Almighty has terrified me; ¹⁷If only I could vanish in darkness, and thick darkness would cover my face!  I could picture them reliving the many times that they had cried out in hope for family, for friends, for loved ones.

I could picture them, fleeing in the dark of night, not knowing where they were going or even if they would survive the night.  How many times did they wish they could vanish in the darkness and that the darkness would cover their faces and hide them from what was to come?

Slowly, they began to offer words of comfort to each other and wipe the tears of those that had been strangers a day ago.  I heard the creak of the bedsprings as one climbed from her bed and joined another to hold and comfort her until her sobbing ceased.  Slowly, the room settled into sleep and as I lay there I wondered what memories those sounds outside our window, had conjured up for the women around me.  God had blessed me, in those few short moments, with a brief glimpse into the fears these women had faced for years.  I wondered, as I lay there, what memories those sounds had conjured up for them.  Memories that you and I will, hopefully, never be able to understand or comprehend.

The morning came and life returned to “normal”, a day filled with celebrating God’s love and provision.  Those women had come through the eye of the needle and never lost their faith that God would protect them.  They had cried out in hope to their God and were saved.  As we joined in morning prayers and worship I could hear the words to 

Psalm 65…

¹ Praise awaits^[b] you, our God, in Zion;
    to you our vows will be fulfilled.
² You who answer prayer,
    to you all people will come.

They are the women who taught me so much about faith.  On the last night of the conference, I was telling a group that this was not good bye, I would see them again.  Once again, I watched them pass through the eye of the needle, reach out in complete and total faith in God’s provision.  They understood Jesus had been their first, suffered their pain and would be waiting for them on the other side.  The one who could speak English told me, “No, don’t say that.  We will take what we have learned and go back to our villages in the Nuba Mountains, in Abei and when I go to Khartoum.  We will go.  We will teach what we have learned here.  We will die.  But we will go.  God is with us.”  They go forth in hope.  Hope that the lessons they had learned could be shared and hope that they will survive to continue to share them..

I don’t have their kind of faith.  How many of us do?  But there is hope and there is promise in her words.  There is hope and there is promise in their waiting in the dark of night for what is to come next.

There is hope in the words of Hebrews as it says “ we have a great high priest who has passed through the heavens, Jesus, the Son of God, let us hold fast to our confession. ¹⁵For we do not have a high priest who is unable to sympathize with our weaknesses, but we have one who in every respect has been tested as we are, yet without sin. ¹⁶Let us therefore approach the throne of grace with boldness, so that we may receive mercy and find grace to help in time of need.”

Those words remind me to face the days and challenges that lie ahead for me in South Sudan with boldness.  They remind me that Jesus was there first.  He faced whatever hunger, fear, longing, lonlieness, frustrations that lie ahead as I make my way in a foreign land.  But the challenge is not only there for me as I go forward with this mission that God has called us to.  It is there for you as well in all that you do.  Go with boldness, Go in the grace of Jesus Christ who has been there before us.  Go in God’s mercy that promises to be there as our help in times of need. 

The life that I experienced in South Sudan is not always a life of fearing lying in the unknown darkness.  It is lives lived in complete joy and trust in the Lord, our God. They understand the words of Richard B. Gaffin, Jr., in Kerux: The Online Journal of Biblical Theology (Reformed).

• "It doesn't matter how complicated, how desperate, perhaps even hopeless your life has become. No matter how overwhelmed you may feel by your problems, if your trust is in Jesus Christ, you can be sure that he is praying for you now and through that prayer he will provide for you the resources to bring you relief or enable you to carry on."

That is the joy they have found in their survival. The joy they celebrate every day.   Jesus Christ has provided the resources to bring them relief and enabled them to carry on in face of obstacles that are completely overwhelming and unimaginable to you and me. 

They laugh with an abandon we don’t find in our stress filled life as they live with limited or none of the resources that we take for granted – food, water, shelter.  They relish the food that God provides even if it is meager rations that come through the hands of the UN, WFP and others.  They are grateful for the simple, discarded piece of plastic and the few sticks that provide their shelter in the night.  They understand the gift that fresh water coming from the local well really is.  They celebrate the life of the man sitting in his hospital bed and not in the arm he lost in a fight.  They stop and watch their children play with a joy in their living that we cannot comprehend as they have lost other children to illness, death from war or kidnapping by maurauding soldiers and rival tribal members. 

These are the people who have survived all the atrocities that life can throw at them.  These are the people who have cried out in hope in their moments of being overwhelmed by their losses, in their desperation to provide for those that have survived along with them.  They are the ones whose faith and trust in God allowed them to cry out in hope to a God they trust will provide the resources they need, the Jesus Christ who will bring the relief they need and the Holy Spirit that will be with them as they pick up the pieces and carry on. 

They cried out in hope.  It is my hope, that when life is overwhelming to you that you will remember their stories and the stores that have been passed down through the ages in the words of scripture,  … ⁵ You answer us with awesome and righteous deeds,
    God our Savior, the hope of all the ends of the earth  and of the farthest seas,

I pray, that you too will cry out in hope.  Amen

Charge and Benediction

I invite you to stop for a moment, hold out your hand.  Look at it.  Turn it over and look at the other side.  This is the hand of Christ.  Now, look at your neighbor’s hand.  It is the hand of Christ.  I invite you to raise them in the air, look around, these are all the hands of Christ.  These are the hands that leave all behind and follow Christ wherever he leads, to the food pantry, to the office to answer the phone, to sing in the choir, to visit the sick in the hospital, to reach out the homeless down the street.  These are the hands that will be with you wherever God calls. These are the hands of Christ that extend to those who cry out in hope. May God be with you all wherever you go. Amen.

Sermon - Jesus Calling

Jesus Calling…

St. Philip Presbyterian Church

Hurst, TX

August 12, 2012

·         Psalm Psalm 130:1-8

·         Mark 1:16-19

As we begin the Gospel reading today we find Simon who is called Peter and his brother Andrew tossing their nets into the sea.  They had accompanied Jesus on at least one journey and while Jesus was temporarily residing in Capernaum he had allowed them to return to their old occupation.  Jesus issued an invitation for them to follow him and listen and watch him work.  They walk a little further and he saw James and his brother John sitting in the boat with their father mending nets and called out for them to join him too.  Listen for the word of the Lord as we hear him call to the out to ordinary people, just like us, going about their daily business. 

¹⁶ As Jesus walked beside the Sea of Galilee, he saw Simon and his brother Andrew casting a net into the lake, for they were fishermen. ¹⁷ “Come, follow me,” Jesus said, “and I will send you out to fish for people.” ¹⁸ At once they left their nets and followed him.

¹⁹ When he had gone a little farther, he saw James son of Zebedee and his brother John in a boat, preparing their nets.²⁰ Without delay he called them, and they left their father Zebedee in the boat with the hired men and followed him.

This is the word of the Lord…

Let us pray.  Oh Lord, we come before you with grateful hearts for this day you have given us, this time to gather and worship together and for the time we spend in your presence.  Open our hearts and minds to the words you have for us today. Amen

There are moments in time that can’t be caught by a camera’s eye but they stay in the eye of your brain long after they have passed and call out to you again and again.  One such moment is a day in the market in Akobo.  It was just a split second flash that has stayed with me, resurrecting its view from time to time when I question why Jesus called me to Akobo.

"Thousands of child soldiers are now 

running in South Sudan anxious 

for their future - (wishing) to trade

 their guns for games, their bombs 

for 

books and their hurt for hope" 

says Mr Ali Mahdi, National Director 

of 

SOS Children's Villages Sudan.

Photo courtesy of  

http://www.soschildrensvillages.org.uk

It is the flash of a young boy, long and lanky arms and legs, thin as a rail body as he skitted through the market with an AK47 strapped to his back.  Our eyes caught and held each other for a brief second as he tipped his head in surprise at seeing me there.  Then he was on his way and I never saw him again.  I shook my head, as I realized he was no older than my grandson Alex.  My Alex, marching his way through his first year of high school, full of fun and life and excited by all the adventures a freshman football player can experience.  I was stunned by the contrast between these two boys from worlds so far apart.  Alex, reveling in the joy of life in the US and the possibilities that lay before him; this young boy, with a look of fear on his face, and blank eyes that had seen too much for one so young and had lost all hope, racing through the market with a gun strapped to his back, his face indebilbly stamped in my memory.

There are words on a page that reach out and call to your heart strings and like the image of the boy in the market, they stay in the eye of your brain long after you have read them.  This is the story of an independent NGO working in South Sudan, bent on redeeming people, not in a spiritual sense, but to buy them back and set them free.  People who have been conscripted by the Arab Muslims from the north against their will and held in slavery.  The story is of a young girl, an ordinary girl like many in our congregation, working at the local mall selling clothes in the GAP, who heard the call of Jesus and answered the call to raise money to buy the slaves back from their captors, made a trip to South Sudan and recorded some of their stories as they were freed…

Photo courtesy of 
http://www.oxfamblogs.org/eastafrica/?p=4364

From a young mother… My father was running away.  He didn’t go far.  The Arabs were on horseback.  They shot my father.  They shot my husband. His name was Keul.  He tried to defend us, but he had only his shield and fighting stick.  The Arab’s bullets went through his shield.  I saw him shot down in front of me. Everyone started running, but the Arabs shot anyone who ran, so I stopped running.  I was separated from my little daughter. I have not seen her since.  The mothers of our congregation have their children to love.  She longs for hers.

Photo courtesy ofhttp://www.twylah.com/UNICEF/tweets/221306131350433793 

From a twelve year old boy…Everyone from our camp, who wasn’t killed, was tied to a long rope.  I saw the Arabs kill four older boys who tried to flee.  They tied them together and chopped their heads off with pangas.  The Arabs said we would be killed in the same way if we tried to escape.  Our boys play with their friends, track mud in the house and leave things in their pockets for us to wash.  He watched his friends die.

Photo courtesy of
http://worldrelief.org/page.aspx?pid=2100

From a young girl… Muhammad beat me with a stick and broke my nose we were brought to a camp and   made to study the Koran and those who were slow in learning were denied food and water.  Five girls tied to horses. I slept outside with the cattle, my bed was cattle dung every night for three years. Our girls worship freely, sleep warm and safe in their beds at night.  Her bed was cow dung.

The story goes on to say the leader of the group told her “It hits me sometimes. Like this is an evil that screams to be crushed.”   If we open our eyes and look we can see Jesus calling through their tears and their suffering and their stories.

Photo courtesy of 
http://images.allmoviephoto.com/2010_The_First_Grader/2010_the_first_grader_001.jpg

Sometimes it is the images on a movie screen that call out to our souls as the images play across the screen.  As I watched scenes of the Africa I have come to love play across the screen I watched a story of determination unfold as well.  It is the story of an 84 year old Kenyan man determined to do whatever it took to learn to read and receive the education the government promised.  As the story unfolded images of the Africa that calls to me filled the screen interspersed with an old man’s memories of a harsh time in Kenyan history when the Mou Mou tribe rebelled against the Brittish Colonists.  Scenes much like what the people of South Sudan are suffering today…No matter what obstacles they threw at him he persevered. Not only standing strong for himself in the face of adversity, but setting an example of fierce determination and never dying hope to the young students he learned with, not only learning, but teaching about their history and culture as well. 

It is also the story of a young teacher who defended his right to learn. She stood strong in spite of opposition from local people, government officials, in spite of false accusations that threatened her marriage and standing as a teacher.  She stood tall and proud, and reached out as Jesus called her to defend the rights of one man. Our elders have built prosperous lives because of their education and live in places like Parkwood.  At 84, he studies by candlelight in a mud hut.  Our teachers teach in freedom, she fought for his.

Mogue, the 84 year old student, taught the school leaders the day he left his remote village behind and went to Nairobi to fight for the teacher that fought for him, trading his only goat for a ride.  He hobbled into a government meeting and demanded to address the leaders.  He stripped his jacket and shirt, turned his back, held his head high and slowly raised his arms to expose the scars that stripped his back.  He stood there as he told the education leaders these are the scars of fighting for freedom.  They whipped me until I bled.  They chopped off my toes.  I had a wife and two children I watched massacred before my eyes.  These are the scars of a generation that fought for the right for you to be here.  Bring her back.

A thought crossed my mind as I watched the scene unfold, an image really.  The image of Jesus on the night before his crucifixion, the whip marks across his back streaming blood, as he answered the call of God to save us all. 

 And between the scenes of the film and the history it records, there stands Jesus holding out his hand, calling them all to never give up hope and reminding them they are never alone.

Many of these stories of these horrible atrocities are our stories as well.  They have been lost in our freedom, our peace and in our prosperity, but they are the stories embedded in our history. They are stories of families running in fear in the dead of night, escaping marauding soldiers and “wild Indians”, and they fleeing from “us”.  Stories of people captured, removed from their homes and families, sold into slavery.  Stories of men who watched their families murdered before their eyes.  Stories of women who had their children ripped from their arms.  Are the stories of our past so different from the stories being played out throughout the world today?

 Many of you in our congregation have fought them on foreign lands.  Chidren of this church fight them today in Afghanistan,  Iraq and other places throughout the world. You and they have seen Jesus calling and answered.

Fredric Buechner tells us "the place God calls you is the place where your deep gladness and the worlds deep hunger meet”.   That place does not have to be the wilds of Africa, Afghanistan, Iraq.  That place is where Jesus is standing with his hand out, calling you.  

He may be calling you down the hall to answer the phones in the office.  He may be calling you to serve on a church committee that you hadn’t considered.  Jesus calls many in this church to visit the hospitals offering his hand of love, care and compassion.  To me, that is answering a far greater call than me going to Africa. I can’t do it.

We have a white flower on the table this morning to  honor the life of Jim Mc Gwiggin.  Jim heard Jesus calling and answered when he answered the call to serve as a deacon.  Many others, down through the ages in our church history, have heard Jesus calling and reached out, grabbed his hand and answered the call.  From the founding members who risked all when they took out mortgages on their homes so that we can worship here today.  A few others come to mind, and I am sure you can add many others to the list as well.  Louis Bradley and his beautiful cards and words of inspiration that reached half way around the world to a remote village in Africa, who not only lifted me but others around me who came to recognize his envelopes and waited for the beautiful pictures to come out.  Nancy Hilger and her gentle teaching, Kay Lynn and her pantry, Hal Shane and his nurturing, our Stephen Ministers and those who have answered the call to serve on presbytery staff positions and committees.  Those who teach VBS, Sunday School, open their doors to small groups and volunteer in the office.  The list is too long for me to mention, all have reached out to Jesus calling and answered. You are the ones writing the legacy that will be carried down through the years in our church’s story.

Jesus stands with his arms out calling you to provide food for the hungry, clothes for the poor, pray for the needs of the world, or to drop a check in the offering plate to support the works and missions of this church and his church as a whole.  And some, do not yet know where Jesus is calling, and that is ok.  The important thing for all of us is to reach out.  Reach out through prayer and discernment.  Stop and listen and learn where he is calling you. 

There is a point on the road to Granbury, just before you enter the town, where, the hill rises to meet the sky and for a split second, the world before you disappears.  You hang, for a moment, not knowing what lies ahead.  Yet, you keep going, trusting the road will continue on the other side. 

It is like that when you hear Jesus call. That is the point, where the road meets the sky for you, that moment, you are suspended in time, where you reach out in faith and trust the road will lead to where Jesus is calling.  One more turn of the wheels and it is all laid out in front of you and the road becomes clear.  That is the point where in the blink of an eye, the turn of your wheels where you meet Jesus. Reach out and touch his hand. Trust him to lead you to the place, to the work he is calling you to.

It is easy to think, I can’t do that, I am not qualified. I don’t know how.  Who me?  Are you kidding?  But think again.  Ponder for a moment, just who has been called since the beginning of time.

Many of you have known me for years.  Many were surprised when I first talked about being a missionary.  I know the only time I ever heard Steve Jester completely speechless was the day I called him up and said, “Hey Steve, I want to be a missionary.”  You’ve heard my stories before, but there are no words to describe the feelings.  The doubts, the fears and just like Moses and others down through the ages, I said, “Who me? Are you kidding? I’m no one special, I don’t have the education, heck, I don’t even have a job right now.” And the list went on.  No matter how many objections I could come up with Jesus kept calling.

There was a cartoon on facebook this week,  Jesus telling someone, where there was one set of footprints that is where he carried them.  Those long grooves over there? That is where I dragged you.  Sometimes we go willingly sometimes we are dragged, digging in our heels.  The moral of the story is Jesus doesn’t call the extraordinary he calls the ordinary to extraordinary things. I can relate to that cartoon.  There are grooves that reach from here to Ethiopia as I kept asking, “Are you sure?”.  There are one set of footprints going to Akobo and back.

In Genesis God called out to Abraham, a successful rancher and shepherd, an ordinary business man of his day. Abram didn’t know where God was calling, he just trusted and answered and allowed God to lead him.

In Exodus he called Moses, also a shepherd. David the youngest and smallest of his brothers.  Mary, a young girl, looking forward to her wedding day.  Joseph,  a carpenter.  Jesus called the disciples - fishermen, a tax man, a physician, a tent maker, and in the words of Warner Bailey a few weeks ago, “Judas a self-proclaimed rat fink”. … down through time and history God calls the ordinary person, just sitting there doing their job on an ordinary day.  Down through time and history when Simon Peter, Andrew, James and John were cleaning their nets Jesus has reached out his hand and called. Down through time, ordinary people like me and you have answered.

This is a great time in the history of our church and I believe Jesus is calling us to do great things.  It is time to carefully and prayerfully discern where Jesus is calling us next.  It may be time to throw out some of the old and make room for new works and new missions.  It is time to open our hearts and our minds and our doors to the new and exciting things we are being called to do, as individuals and the church as a whole.

The Rev. Neal Presa, was elected moderator of the 220th General Assembly (2012)  Presa,  said he “brings a pastor’s listening heart and a non-anxious presence” to his new role as moderator, called for the whole church to be missional, which he said “at the very center and circumference is to be gathered and sent where God is at work, in the church and in the world, meeting people eye-to-eye and face-to-face and to see Jesus Christ alive in them.”

Jesus calls us from the words of John 13.  In this chapter we find Jesus raising from his last meal, removing his outer clothing and wrapping a towel around his waist.  Taking on the role of a servant.   He washes the feet of each of his disciples and pats them dry.   Then he tells his disciples, and down through time, us as well, to go out and do the same for others, and if you do you will be blessed.

Remember the young girl I told you about earlier who traveled to South Sudan to redeem the slaves?  I think she describes the feeling of answering the call of Jesus best.   “The thing she was doing no longer struck her as bizarre but seemed perfectly natural, something she was meant to do.  A gusher of joy sprang from her stomach into her throat, and for a second she thought it would fly right out of her mouth in a birdlike cry, like lyrics that made you so happy you could not contain them inside yourself but had to sing them out loud.”¹

I invite you to prayerfully consider where Jesus is calling you, to reach out, grab his hand and let your heart sing with the joy of knowing you too are answering his call and receive the blessings that are being offered to all of us. 

Amen

Community Building...

The Journey

07.20.2012

Earthen Hands Community

It has been almost a week now since we all came together and already a community has formed.  We were talking today about how building a earth bag house is more than the sand, gravel and clay that the structure is built from.  It is the community that forms in the process of working together.

 It is the silly moments, the times that we work together to overcome obstacles, the shared work and meals, the laughter, the singing and dancing.  Each one brings a piece of themselves that contributes to the whole.  Each one has a strength, where someone else has a weakness.  When one is tired from working long hours in the hot sun, there is another to take his place. There is the sharing of our pasts and our dreams for the future; our history and our cultures.  And in all of that, there is the bonding that forms a community.

That is what I will take from this experience that I hope I can carry to Akobo with me.  That sense of community that is growing along with the foundation and walls.  I remember the day the elders and I met to discuss the location of my new house and the women’s center and the great sense of hope and excitement that went along with it.  I remember the day I left and the expression on the builder’s face as he showed up with beautiful crayon drawings of what the house/office would look like.  The community building that has happened here is my dream for building our place in Akobo.

Just as the sun broke the top of the mountain across from me, I woke to the sound of wild horses calling each other, voices raised over the sound of the waterfall outside my tent. One from the right calling, the one from the left, answering; one leading the other through the underbrush, with a simple call of his voice.  A simple call that leads through the unknown, that is what has me anxiously awaiting my return to Akobo.

Besides learning to build a house, I am learning to build a community here.  The basis of our community is the respect we have for each other in spite of our differences in lifestyle and beliefs. Our finding ways to work around things that could be potential conflicts by taking time to listen and understand where the other is coming from.  Respect for each other’s joys and sorrows and worries.  A coming together to pray, each in his own way, offering up thanksgivings and praises, prayers for healing and wholeness for those we know who are hurt, sick, injured or hurting; praying together in spite of our differences in faiths and beliefs.  It is my prayer that some of that goes with me and the stories I can tell about our time together will help lead others to put aside their differences and come together in peace.

Part of building a community is storytelling.  I can’t wait to hear the stories that can be told in Akobo.  One person made a very good point when he said the problems in America are due in part to not listening to our elders and what they have to say.  The past is a good guide to the future.  The elders know the past and that is a good guide to the future.  As we were having one of our lessons about how to orient a house using the sun and the direction of the prevailing winds I had a flashback to the day that the elders were choosing the location for my house and their discussions about which way to orient the house and where it should go on the place they had chosen.  There were great discussions about how it should face in the dry season to catch as much breeze to keep it cool.  Then there was another discussion about where it should go because of the rainy season and how to avoid too much water as the rains come down and to keep the rains from coming in the windows.  There were discussions about the veranda placement to keep it shady during the parts of the day when the women would gather for lessons and fellowship.  There was much to be learned that day from the elders and I pray that I can continue to learn as we go forward.

So, as I go forward into this new day, I wish you well my friends and I will write when I can.

Peace,

Sharon

I don’t have time to write much today.  We have driven 30 minutes to the closest town.  Does that tell you where we are?  In the middle of the wilderness!  I spent the first night in Denver at an interesting hotel.  The next day I met Laura at the airport and we took a cab to the bus station down town and headed for Salida where we were met by Zia who drove us to the build site.

It is an interesting group of people here, very diverse…me, a missionary.  Laura, a university professor teaching Spanish translation.  Roche and Zia, a couple who have just sold everything and are moving to Equador.  Mike, and his family, a mixture of cultures who are panning on moving back to the Carribean, Pontious  and  his family who are interested in living a more back to the earth lifestyle and Luke, an 18 year old dynamo.  Luke is building community gardens through out his town and the surrounding area, working with half way houses and homeless.  Already he has helped create a garden that has grown into a market run by local people who are benefitting from the income generated by the market.

All are vegetarians who only eat organic food so the meals have been interesting – rice and lentils the first night, cabbage, onions and eggs for breakfast, beans and lambs quarters (lambs ear to me) that Zia and I foraged from the grounds around us for lunch.  And the leftovers from all of that along with the gooseberries and currents that we foraged along the creek for dinner…

Zia is a permaculture instructor and her vast knowledge of natural foods and growing methods is an added bonus to what we are learning in the build process.

Day 1 of the build we learned about soil testing and why it is important and started digging the foundation for the house we are building for Tutuksuma (I think that is right) a Tibetan Buddhist elder whose dream is to build a peace and healing center on this site.  A dream she has held on to for 20 years.  He message to us was never give up on your dreams, have the courage to wait for them to happen.  And blessed us all for being a part of her miracle.

In addition her, we are a very diverse group, religiously and spiritually – me the Christian, a Muslim, some who believe in a spiritual connection to the earth and some who haven’t said.

Day 2 – we tested different sand/clay mixtures for making the adobe bricks that will become the roof of the Nubian vault, the walls will be made of the adobe and hiperadobe bricks.  The rest I will show you in pictures.

The foundation begins with about a six inch trench we used the large rocks we had filtered from the dirt to make the base, for stability and a place for the water to go when it rains to pull it away from the foundation of the house.  Then we filled and tamped in gravel to make it stable.  Today we will begin to make the adobe bricks by mixing sand and clay and pressing them into forms and laying them in the sun to dry.  120 a day is our goal – we need 1,000, just for the vault.  We will also begin filling bags with gravel to make the bricks for the foundation.  Once that is complete we will begin to mix the earth bags and lay them in place.  I am excited to see those processes begin to take place. 

We planned to have a ceremony to celebrate laying the first bag, however, we were hit with a major thunder, hail and rain storm so I assume that will happen this morning.

I will write more when I can.  I don’t know when our next trip to town will be…

Blessings to you all!

Sharon

Blessing ceremony

preparing the build site

I can chunk rocks to form the base of the foundation...

working on the foundation

A typical meal - polenta, white beans, lambs quarters,
purple cabbage with onions and eggs
(polenta & cabbage, breakfast left overs)

dish washing station

filling the foundation with gravel

foraging gooseberries for lunch

my home for the next 18 days..

first bricks

foundation level complete

God Laughs...

The Journey

07/13/2012

God Laugh’s…

they come in all shapes and sizes, but this gives you an idea...

It has been a crazy few weeks getting ready for this workshop I am headed off to – learning how to build a dirt bag house.  Really, that doesn’t sound right, but that is exactly what we will be doing; building a house out of bags filled with dirt for a Buddhist monk in a remote part of south western Colorado.

Remember all that equipment I bought to take to South Sudan last summer?  Well, I have had to buy a lot of it again.  No hotels where I am going!  Camping under the stars in the wilderness!  And, everything I own is still in South Sudan!!  What is a girl to do?? Go shopping of course!  And every time I hit a website looking for gear – I could hear God up there laughing!  She has a tent, but let’s help her buy a new, light weight one.  Sheets, blankets and pillow, all in South Sudan?    Flashlight, dishes, silverware? Clothes??  “I know, they are all in South Sudan, too”. No problem, that is why I invented Wal Mart. (snicker, snicker!)

And, as God sits up there on His throne snickering at me, he said “Let there be electricity and let her test it in Colorado”, so he provided me with a link to what looks like is going to be a great solar system and the opportunity to field test it in Colorado before lugging it half way around the world.  God may be laughing, but He is good about providing opportunities to grow and learn new things!

God laughs???  I know he does.  He is laughing at me today and all the stress of getting to this workshop over the past few days.  You know, nothing is ever simple when I decide to travel!   I remember back to the days when I had a “real” job and people would be waiting at my desk on Monday morning to hear about my “adventures” on a weekend trip.  Some things never change I guess.

Everything was going so smoothly I should have known a glitch would pop up at the last minute.  But the eternal optimist in me always hopes that it won’t.    It all started on late Wednesday afternoon with a phone call from Scott (who is leading the workshop) saying he wouldn’t be able to pick me up in Denver after all.  It is a 6-7 hour drive from where he is to Denver.  I have to stop here and explain that Scott is from Portland, OR, so when he made these arrangements several weeks ago, he probably didn’t realize the logistics of it all.  He did have the name of a girl who was driving down from Denver that could bring me.

After a conversation with her it became obvious that option wasn’t going to work.  In order for me to get to her, I would have to take public transportation to downtown Denver.  Yes, one armed me plus two almost 50 pound duffle bags and a back pack!!  Back to Scott – any other options?? Yes, there is a bus that leaves from the airport that can get you to Salida,  3 hours way  and he can pick me up there. He did a great job of sending the link.  The bus leaves at 2 PM, I arrive at 1 PM. IF the bus had left from the airport, that might have been a great option.  It doesn’t!  It leaves from the Greyhound station in downtown Denver – 45 minutes away!! 

Logistically, it is impossible for me to land at 1, collect my luggage, pulled by one armed me to the public transportation location, load it and board a bus that will drop me ¼ mile from the bus station and get to the bus in time to load by 1:30!  Back to the drawing board (internet) to see what my other options are.

And God is sitting up there in his throne, poking Jesus in the side and laughing "Look at her!  Doesn't she know we already have this worked out?"

The best option is to spend the night in Denver at a hotel that has shuttle service to and from the airport – they load my bags!  I checked into getting a hotel downtown close to the bus station – not only do they not provide airport pick up they are twice as expensive as an outlying hotel.  So after hours of researching every conceivable and least expensive option, I landed on a hotel that could pick me up.

Enter a phone call from Scott:  Better news!  A last minute person is coming, her flight arrives pretty close to mine and she is renting a car.  He’s given her my number, we can hook up and ride down together.  Great news!  Until I talked to Laura, that is.  She hadn’t booked her ticket, it didn’t look like she would be able to get a flight until Saturday, and she hadn’t planned on renting a car!! 

By this time I had already researched renting a car and just driving – 18 days = $1200!  No, I did not leave out a decimal point!  TWELVE HUNDRED DOLLARS was the cheapest rate I could get!  It seems, after searching every car rental option at DIA (Denver International  Airport) website and by countless phone calls, that you cannot rent a car at DIA and return it any place close to where we are going!! GRRRR!!! 

I figure about now, God and Jesus are breaking out the popcorn as they say "this is going to be a long one.  She's never going to trust us until she's tried every thing else" snicker, snicker...

Next option – take one of the mountain shuttles – least expensive one of those is $245 per person – one way!!!  That hotel room and bus were sounding a lot better!  $85 for the hotel and $67 round trip for the bus is still cheaper than any other option I had come up with after about 10 hours researching various options!

So, my daughter and I are on our way to the airport this morning when Scott calls…Guess what?  If you can catch the bus to Boulder then someone has room for you!  At this point, I decided just to stick with my latest plan.  It is way too late to figure out how to “catch the bus to Boulder”!  

I have to admit, in spite of the hassles of the last few days, it was a beautiful flight...

Now, I am sitting in my hotel room and wishing I had taken that bus to Boulder!!

From the outside it is a typical Comfort Inn, from the inside it is not!  I have always had good luck at Comfort Inn and that is why I chose it.  The reception area is small and old looking, although the people were really nice.  The “business center” is a snap together computer desk shoved against a wall in the reception area.   When I walked down the hall, pulling my cart full of 120 pounds worth of luggage,  (including the carry on backpack), dodging room cleaning carts and maids (no bell boys here to help!! The carpet was so dirty I was grateful to have my shoes on.  It was the kind that makes you want to go “euww-euww”!  Then I got to my room and it smells like damp moldy carpet.  It’s clean, just stinks!  Kind of that three teenage boys in the same room, dirty sneakers, kind of odor.   And as I sit here typing, I am entertained by the sound of the traffic flying by on the highway and the man next door’s tv.

That was the inside.  

Now on to the outside…the grounds are beautiful!  The closest place to eat is a McDonald’s or Denny’s, both attached to gas stations, across two six lane roads, right off the highway in an industrial area.  I was hungry – one small airport yogurt and a bottle of water does not fill you up – so I made the trek to McDonald’s.  I made a very important discovery along the way – I am no competition for 18 wheelers and I am entirely too light complected for this neighborhood!  That is going to make going to dinner a lot of fun!  Don’t worry, Mom, I will be back before dark!

So, being fortified from my double cheeseburger, I made a decision, I was going to change hotels.  There had to be something better, closer to edible food, and safer to get to where I might be able to see a little more of Denver than the inside of a hotel room I don’t really feel safe leaving.  So I sucked it up, the me who never likes to complain, and called Choice Hotels customer service to see what they could do to help get me to another hotel.  By the luck of the draw I found myself talking to someone who was familiar with Denver.   VERY nice lady!  VERY helpful!  The best she could do was advise me where I didn’t want to go and to let me know my best option was the Comfort Inn downtown.  For an additional $60 for the room and a $35 cab drive, I put on my big girl undies and sucked it up and stayed where I am. 

Free shuttle back to the airport tomorrow morning where I will try to lug my bags across three islands in the commercial pick up/drop off area where I will meet up with Laura and take a cab direct to the Greyhound bus station for the next leg of this great adventure!

Lessons learned:  Use Google Maps to check out the location of the place you will be staying.  That little yellow man on the zoom bar is a wonderful tool!  Just pick him up with your curser and move him to any place on your map and he will give you a picture of where it is.  Go up to the arrows and click on the right one and it will take you on a panoramic tour of the location.

TRUST GOD!  He has it all worked out any way, so why get all stressed out?

Well, my friends, it is off to dinner…wish me well! 

Check back often.  I don't know how much internet service I will have, but I will try to update as often as I can.  But after reading this description, I just might decide to stay a while longer...


Life moves at a much slower pace here. The roads are gravel and dirt. No one is in any particular hurry. People wave at each other on the road. Neighbors watch out for each other. Coyotes howl in the morning while owls hoot at night. You might hear an occasional car or see the lights of an airplane. Satellites move across a sky brilliantly lit with stars. Even on a dark moon, the stars are bright enough to take a midnight stroll. Traffic jams consist of hay wagons and potato trucks, with an occasional herd of cows. 
(description and photo courtesy of www.ghostmineranch.com)

But then again, it sounds an awful lot like South Sudan and I can't wait to get back there...