painting the town red

I am not really the domestic type.  Nor do I really get into interior decorating.  But for some reason I had the urge to repaint the house.  Perhaps it was the mildew yellow color.  Or perhaps it was the fact that it looked like chalk on a cement slab (because it is).  Whatever the case may be, Alayna* and I made the executive decision to paint the house.  Well at least the bedrooms and hallway.  Not that it was really our decision to make.  Because it is Tommy's house.  But, he is in America right now.  I still haven't told him.  He'll like it. Right?

Painting in Ghana is not like painting at home. You can't just go to Sherwin Williams and whip up a batch of fabulous paint and go home with all the accessories to paint like a pro. 

Step1: The Friday before paint day we took the 1 hr tro-tro ride into Kasoa market to find a little paint stand to buy the first oil based paint we could find.  Turns out you have to mix turpentine in with it.  Then we had to find a way to get the 4 cans back to the VOH along with our other market purchases. 

Step 2: Pull a Tom Sawyer and pretend like painting is great fun and find some recruits.  Thankfully it worked.  Shaibu, Asuo, Dana, Francis, and Sualesu joined in the "fun."
Step 3: Sandpaper the walls.  Now, what should have been step 3 is take all the furniture out of the room. Because suddenly everything in my room was CAKED in yellow chalk powder.  Including my body. 

Step 4: Without the blue painters tape, drop cloths, or anything besides a brush, paint, and a pan dominate the walls.  Turns out that beige color does not look like the sample.  Thanks a lot paint man.

Step 5: We ran out of paint.  So...while I am covered in paint splotches I have to put a skirt back on and make a three hour trip to get more paint from Kasoa.  As if they don't stare at me enough when I go into "town" I had to add some paint marks. 

Step 6: Spend all afternoon repainting the ceiling white.  Turns out those boys have never painted before and let the roller of beige paint hit the ceiling on every stroke.  Or so it seemed.  Without any ladders, my perches were precarious as I made my way around the room fixing the ceiling lines in the bedrooms.

Step 7: Repaint the bathroom.  The beige looked like puke.  So it had to be re-painted white.  Finished around 1:00am.

Step 8: Sleep out in the hall with all the doors to the rooms closed, because the turpentine was about to give us cancer with the fumes. 

Thank goodness I did this all the day before I left on vacation. Let's hope the smell is gone when I come back.  Its amazing what a fresh coat of paint can do to a house.  And new curtains. Did I mention that we had new ones made? Hope Tommy doesn't mind. 

*I met Alayna in 2008 at VOH.  She is currently in Ghana implementing a new curriculum  project and is stayed with me for a couple of months.

Knocking

Jesus looked at him and loved him.  Go, sell everything you have and give it to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven.  Then come, follow me.

Mark 10:21

I took the weekend off to celebrate the completion of the school year and to just chill for a bit without the persistent shout of "knocking" at the door accompanied by "madam chelsea!" (In Ghana, knocking is a statement you make at the door not something you do to the door)  I dearly love these children. I'm sure you all know that. But sometimes one has to take a chance to breathe, reflect, and rest. Since school vacated on Thursday the children are free--and are therefore continually wanting attention for one reason or another.  I tried to get some cleaning done a the house on Thursday and failed miserably for the steady stream of interruptions. 

I read the gospel of Mark this weekend.  I was struck by the constant demand for Jesus' attention.     I know there is no comparison between my life and the ministry of Jesus.  There are not thousands of people following me from town to town wanting to be healed or expecting to hear me preach.  My small glimpse at endless needs makes me more in awe of his patience and compassion that he displayed for the people.  In Mark 6 it recounts how Jesus had tried to sail away in a boat to a solitary place.  But the crowds beat him there.  Instead of responding in exasperation in verse 34 it says that Jesus had compassion on them because they were like sheep without a shepherd. 

Often times Jesus tried sneak away at times to pray, or to teach his disciples alone.  It rarely worked, the people found him.  It amuses me at the kids' ability to find me wherever I am on campus.  One little boy came to interrupt girls devotional Thursday night because he wanted batteries.  How he knew we were meeting at a different location that night is beyond me.  I need to learn that practice of sabbath and solitude.  Taking time away so that when I am working I am working from the fullness of God's love within me, and not my own strength. 

In chapter 10 of Mark, the author tells us the story of the rich young man who thought he had it all figured out.  He thought he had figured out how to follow God's laws, be righteous, be rich, and get to heaven.  Until Jesus rained on his parade.  As I was reading this morning I just stopped at smiled at verse 21.  Jesus looked at him and loved him.  Not because he had it figured out.  But perhaps because he was so naive to think he did.  I think it must be similar to how I reacted when a student asked if we grew the same fruits in Oregon as they do in Ghana.  When I showed him on a map that most of our tropical fruits come from Florida.  He asked if we had been going to "the down there" to get our fruit.  I couldn't help but smile at his precious innocence.  I wonder if that's not how Jesus felt.  Looking at the rich young man and thinking. "oh my friend, you have a long way to go." 

I'm quite certain that he must do the same with me.  I hope he looks at me and loves me, despite my naive attempts at serving and loving in Ghana.  I'm sure he looks at me and thinks, "oh child, you have much left to learn."  But I sure am thankful that he is able to look at us and love us inspite of it all. 

C-L-O-S-I-N-G PLEASE!

At long last our school year has finally come to an end.  I am used to the September-May/June plan.  So this school year has been a stretch.  It hardly seems like the school year is over because it did not end with the usual fanfare and bang that accompany many American classrooms. There were no class parties, no awards assemblies, field days, etc.  They did spend the last day cleaning the school compound, and they simply won't come tomorrow.  At the end of every school day the bell ringer ringer clangs the bell several times then yells, "closing please." Except every sound is drawn out.  Wednesday I heard it for the last time. 

The teachers have been frantically entering grades into the report books.  Grading was never so menacing as it is doing it by hand.  You also have to wait in line for each classes record book.  I finally finished my last class late Wednesday afternoon. 
We had a teachers seminar this last week with a group of teachers from the Prestoncrest Church of Christ in Dallas, TX.  The teaching staff here was surprised when I showed up to the meeting the first day.  Sometimes they think because I am an American I am exempt from such meetings and trainings.  I try to present myself as just one of the staff.  I admit sometimes I fail to follow the regular teacher's procedures.  Such as the chain of command when requesting a leave of absence.  I think it was very important for me to be a learner right beside the other teachers during the seminar.  The fact that I am just one of the team is slowly setting in. 

I have started thinking about the new students that I will have next year, and the repeat students.  I am really excited about teaching the same material as last year-only better.  Second year of teaching has got to be so much better!  In the meantime, I have plenty of programs, activities, and preparation to do during the short school holiday! School reopens the 6th of September.

Like Father, Like Daughter

There is something unspeakably wonderful about sharing experiences with those you love.  For several years now my parents have been hearing about the VOH and the children whom I have grown to love so deeply.  My mother had the opportunity to visit last fall, and my dad just spent the last two weeks with me.  I have settled into my role and the community since my mom's visit, so it was a great time for dad to come.  I knew that he would grow to love the community here as I do.  He quickly won their hearts. Everyone kept saying how much I "resemble" my father.  One of the teachers even went so far as to say that I should have been a man.  Thank you for that.  But, I was honored that the house parents commented on our similar work ethic and character.  It was so fun to listen to them sing his praises after he the various classes he taught. 

He doesn't sit still real well.  I wonder where I learned that from?  He kept telling me he did not come to sleep and that he wanted to serve in any way possible.  So, he helped in doing review games with my social studies classes, read with my reading groups, played kickball in p.e., taught primary devotion each afternoon, helped with reading program, taught a parenting class, fixed broken library chairs, preached a sermon, played with kids, and everything else in between.  He discovered just how insufficient words are to describe the experiences of the heart here in Ghana.  I am so thankful for who he is, and the way that he serves.  I am so blessed by he and mom's support of my work here and their examples of faith.  I know sometimes they have a hard time with me being far away, but I told them it's all their fault.  They taught me to love Jesus.  And I'm thankful they did.  I think he left thoroughly exhausted, but with a full heart.  I wish you could all come visit.  This children, this place would capture your heart.

One Step at a Time

I have written several times about my dear and devoted Ebenezer.  There are moments when my heart hurts I just love him so much, and moments when I want to cry with exasperation over him.  There are times I am so frustrated by his behavior and disrespect because I want better for him, and know that he knows better.  There are also days when I am overwhelmed with his ability to love and learn.  For many months I have been counseling him on his behavior, and monitoring his progress.  He is constantly at my side, so I spend a lot of time with him each day.  He is preciously loyal.  There are days when I get discouraged that we are back sliding and that his anger is overcoming him.  Not too many days ago I had to physically restrain him from entering a house where he was trying to beat up a couple of girls that had been teasing him.  But today I praise God for baby steps.  I praise God for a heart that desires change.  Transformation takes time.  But it is beautiful to see small steps forward. 

Of his own initiative today, Ebenezer gave me a prayer he wanted me to type for him so that could read it every morning.  I almost cried as I read his words.  I will share with you just one part of it:

God please help me to be respectful to my parents and the people around me.  God bless me and guide me to forgive my brothers and sisters.  God please help me to stop becoming angry easily.  Thank you God for what you are doing for me and my family.  Father bless my family and bless the Village of Hope.  Thank you for the food that you have been giving me.  Thank you for the water you have been giving me.  I love you God and I know that you will help me to be a good boy.  Thank you God for sending your only son to die for me.  Thank you for listening to my prayer.

I praise God that it is in his heart to overcome his anger and disobedience.  I love that his is thankful for having clean water to drink and food to eat each day, as so many here do not.  God please answer his prayer.  Today and everyday.

Love

Love one another.  As I have loved you, so you must love one another.  By this all men will know that you are my disciples, if you love one another.  John 13:34

I have decided that life is a lot more simple than we often make it.  God created us with such love and desires that we share it with each other.  Everyone.  Period.  Whether we think they deserve it or not. Whether they love us or not.  Whether they treat us well or not.  We have got to stop talking about it, reading about it, and do it.  If there is one thing I am learning from the ministry here it is how to love more fully, more deeply, more sacrifically.  Don't just love when it feels good. Love when it hurts.  Love when it is uncomfortable, awkard, dirty, costly.  I challenge you to just love with all you have got, and then some.  And see if God won't fill your heart.  Today my heart feels like it could bust with love for these kids.

Nkugami

Matthew 10:42 And if anyone gives even a even a cup of cold water to one of these little ones because he is my disciple, I tell you the truth, he will certainly not lose his reward.


It is not often that I share with you the background stories of our children here. I sometimes forget that these boistrous, joyful, passionate, children have such tragic stories. Their histories are incredibly powerful, so today I would like to share with you the story of a sweet young lady named Nkugami. Her story speaks for itself about the importance of this ministry, and the redemptive beauty of God's love. I am continually amazed at her maturity, selflessness, and joyful heart. She spends much of her time caring for a young girl named Christie who has physical and mental challenges. She never complains that she misses out on activites and leisure time to care for Christie. It is precious to watch Nkugami love and care for her. My heart just swells when I see the two of them together. Here is her story in her own words:

My name is Nkugami Takpando from Yendi, in the northern region of Ghana. I am 14 years old and in grade 6.
This is why I came to the Village of Hope:
One afternoon, my mother called me and this is what she said to me, “Nkugami, very soon you will leave here for another place. Promise me that you will be a good girl.” Just after she said that she laid down on the bed and died. My father went out to buy a coffin to burry my mother. My father returned with the coffin, and put it in a room. When he was asked to go and bring the coffin from the room, looking at the coffin alone in the room, he also fell and died instantly.
Life became hard. I was like chaff that the wind blows anywhere it wants. Besides my parents death, there were several other deaths in my family sequentially. The only hope was my grandmother who moved me from my town to a distant land with the fear that I may also die.
I was five years then, I had to work on people’s farms for daily bread. Hope was lost, no future for me. I was always weeping and mourning. No education, clothing, and shelter was VERY hard. My health matter was horrible because there was no proper food and proper balanced diet. As a result, I almost died of sickness. I couldn’t read or write.
One day the Village of Hope came to my aid. My mourning turned into dancing and laughter. Now I can write and read. Village of Hope has given me everything- including shelter, education, health, clothing, etc. My vision is to become a trained teacher to help others who may have happened to go through such problems. God help me. Amen.