Four amazing years

Four years ago today, I got on a plane bound for Liberia. I'd signed up with a group of people I barely knew to attempt the impossible.

We had raised a whopping $3500, and with it we hoped to make a huge difference in the war-torn nation of Liberia.

We had no idea. But we saw that seed money multiplied like fish and bread all around us and, in time, we began to notice orphans looking healthier, acting like kids again. Buildings sprang up and became loving homes. Swamps were deserted in favor of shiny new wells with sweet water.

I had the idea that I would teach, serve, and inspire. Turns out that the other side of the world is upside down, and I returned a changed man: healed, devoted to God, married.

Today is my last day full-time with Orphan Relief and Rescue, though I'll continue to work part-time for a few months more. It's hard to put words or even a finger on how to feel about it. My heart is full and grateful. I'm eager and excited to see what's next. Though I don't know, I'm not afraid of the future anymore. I'm interested and experienced in so many things; it's such a big world; there is so much to do.

We'll see!

Soli deo gloria

Catching up: 8 months in photos

Brenda meets her new parents over poutine. At the zoo.

Spenser J. Tyler

Our gorgeous 2nd wedding cake @ family reunion/reception

Our noble steed for The Great Western Roadtrip

New home in Seattle

Un-wallpapering and painting our new apartment

World's deadliest croquet players

Rainier -- which I hope to someday summit

Stunning summer sunsets from our new living room

It's been the Year of Pies. Those newlywed pounds never tasted so good!

Trying to get our new puppy to pose for a respectable Christmas card

Libby on Christmas morning, sporting her new adventure pack. (I think that means she likes it!)

New Year's Day atop Mt. Erie, overlooking Puget Sound and the Cascades

My ladies

Snowshoeing with new friends (and Libby's beau, Townsend)

Libby was all spirit for the Superbowl

Moving on

Tomorrow I leave Liberia, this time (more) permanently. I expected this to be a melodramatic time, but it really hasn't been. Am I sad? Not really. Going to miss it? Sure, absolutely. Ready to go? Definitely. An excerpt from my journal last night sums up my mood:

tomorrow's my last full day--

end of an era feelings

are finally setting in.

it's easy to see and cite

all the ways Liberia's changed--

what i hope is just as plain

is all the ways i have, too.

in many respects i've gotten

everything i came for

and so it's time to go--

adventure, service,

discomfort, spiritual straightening-out,

not least of all my partner for life.

but in every respect

i'm only now beginning

and so it's time to start.

Just one sign of the times: my next door neighbor, in July of 2007 (l) and 2010 (r).

You call that a plan??

Most of you know, some of you don't: Brenda and I are moving to the Seattle area later this summer, as I'm continuing to work with ORR there. As such, I have to immigrate to the U.S. -- quite a process, but I'm thankful to say it's been much smoother so far than I'd feared. Until now.

There's one last document I need before I can leave: my police clearance from Canada. To process a clearance from overseas (ink prints), the website says it takes four months. I'd hoped, initially, that meant up to four months. Turns out, it means at least four months. Which would mean I'm stuck in Liberia until early October, or two and a half months beyond when I'm supposed to start work in Seattle.

The alternative: electronic fingerprints taken in-person, in Canada: three business days.

Am I really considering flying for 60 hours to be on the ground in Toronto for just a week? Yes. Am I made of money? No. (If you're reading this and you are, please get in touch. :)

Nothing's for sure yet, so please hope and pray with us that some simpler, cheaper way presents itself. I'm going to price out a ticket this week, but I'm expecting $1600-2000. How much is it worth to me to get on with the next chapter and not be separated from my wife for two months? At least that...

Thursdays

Sometimes there seems to be nothing to write. Other times--now times--there's too much, it's overwhelming. Or--no, let's be more specific: it's not that it's overwhelming, it's just that it doesn't all seem to link up into one cohesive thought--read, blog entry.

However, without resorting to bullet points, I'll give it my best shot.

I'm married. That's a good start. And married life, I'm here to tell you, is good. At the risk of sounding like a love-struck honeymooner, it's just fun. Brenda and I are having a great time being domestic and dorky and generally ridiculous. If there's a downside, it's only that I don't make as much time to write as I used to. But sometimes it's good to put down the camera and make memories instead of recording them, right?

Well it struck me just now as I was trying to fall asleep that the very name of this public journal has a lot to do with my getting married.

Or at least, it did...until I got married.

For my entire life, as long as I can recall, getting married has been my number one. (I don't know what it was so early in life that made me idealize marriage so, but I confess I proposed to my first girlfriend when I was five. Yep, it was so much fun I did it twice.) Not that marriage was ever just something to accomplish or check off the list, but more like I was away from home, eager to return. And so I've arrived in that sense. But I'm still

arriving, and I plan on constantly arriving...but never stopping. There's always the Next, right?

I don't need to remind you of all those too-true clichés about the journey, not the destination. I'm all about that. But I want to be careful to cultivate the discipline of discomfort, too.

I remember I had this neighbour, a sweet old widow, maybe eighty years old. She told me she does one thing every year that absolutely terrifies her. How fantastic is that? Some years that meant bungee jumping, others picking up the phone and calling so-and-so. (There's another blog entry here about the correlation of marriage and bungee jumping, but I'll save that one for a rainy day.)

To that end, in the spirit of dear Edna, I'm committing to write every Thursday. There may not be a blog entry every week, but I'm going to keep the pen moving at least. And to go along with that, I'm going to try and develop a train of thought through the course of the week. I feel so scatter-brained lately, it's driving me nuts. So as I'm driving, as I'm not sleeping--both of which I seem to be doing plenty of these days--I'm going to try and focus on a problem, a question, some sort of trajectory. And then I'm going to write about it. This goes hand in hand with a broader intentionality across the board. Like not leaving my dirty clothes on the floor. So far so good.

Hey, speaking of which, I was just reading something really interesting about intentional socializing this morning... See you next week.

Meet the future Mrs. T

Brenda Pigeon, the future Mrs. T.

...Along with two more of my favorite people.

...And she loves my kids too!

---

So there aren't many details to report yet, but I didn't want to wait to tell you all that I proposed to my beautiful Brenda last night, on a certain bit of beach that already meant the world to me, under a gorgeous panorama of stars and lightning. And (after asking REALLY? about a dozen times), she gleefully said yes, making me the happiest, luckiest guy I know.

Mina

This isn't one I want to write. Nor do I know where to begin.

Last week I was waiting to pick someone up from the local hospital when I was approached by a man reading the side of the car--"Orphans?". He worked at the hospital, and told me about a little ten year-old girl inside that he and his wife had informally adopted as their own. Mina, he told me, was "a true orphan -- no ma, no pa. HIV positive." The orphanage at which she'd been living dropped her off at the hospital but didn't come back to check on her. So he would visit her when he had the chance, and asked me to look in on her too.

This was one of those times when I'm tempted to be too busy, to brush it off. Then I thought, Well, why not. Maybe I can encourage her a little. And so I walked into the paeds ward and immediately saw her way at the back, sitting hunched over on her bed. Her face didn't brighten when she saw that I was coming to see her, nor did she respond to me except to murmur. The head nurse came over and asked why she wasn't eating, why she wasn't talking. Nothing.

I've never seen such a discouraged child, no matter how sick. And Mina was definitely sick. So I consulted the American doctor handling her case, to see what her outlook might be. I was told she'd be in the hospital for a good long time, but that she needed to start eating and taking her meds. The doctor's biggest concern, though, was her attitude--that she was severely depressed.

Got a call that little Mina, with no parents or siblings, died over the weekend. She just gave up.

This is Africa. This happens. There was nothing that could be done. All of these are inappropriate. No, ridiculous. No ten year-old should, for lack of love and care, no matter what the prognosis, give up like she did. It was staggering.

I'm not angry or sad about this, I'm just...disappointed. And I'm trying to leverage that disappointment into a new commitment. I don't expect more than a handful of strangers have even noticed her passing, but now you can join me in remembering her.

What's next

Back in June of 2007, getting to the end of my first four-month stint in Liberia, I had a one-on-one with our president, Tim. I had joined the organization before it had really gotten started, which was great because I got to be a part of its formative stages. But Tim and I had taken a big gamble on each other, and we were meeting to settle our bets, in a sense.

For him, he'd taken a big chance bringing in a non-Christian he hardly knew to help start this faith-based organization. For me, I'd agreed to six months in close quarters with a bunch of Christians I hardly knew, or didn't at all. Were they going to try and convert me? Judge and condemn me? Both of us had to trust that we were pursuing God, pursuing truth with passion and abandon, and that we were willing to learn from each other. We'd had some mind-boggling conversations, really challenging each other's core beliefs, and over African chicken chow mien, celebrated that day how those first months had gone.

So he asked me for a three-year commitment--to the organization, and to Liberia. I agreed, almost as quickly as I had agreed to drop everything and move to Africa in the first place. It just seemed right; I had found the job, the lifestyle, that fit.

Well, those three years are almost up, and Tim and I had another meeting not too long ago. This time it wasn't so easy to decide--I'm getting a little older, I'm thinking of other things. Not that I don't still love my job and life here in Liberia; I'm overwhelmed on a daily basis by how spoiled I am, despite the lack of 'little' things. I just didn't want to stay automatically, because it had become familiar or comfortable. I wanted to make sure I was still 'called' to be here.

After about two weeks of tormenting myself with the question, with the angles and the implications, I've renewed my commitment to ORR without a time limit. However long I need to be here, here I shall be. These last three years have been, hands down, the best of my life--where they haven't been the happiest, they've without question been the most fulfilling. To watch this nation grow, these children grow--and looking back, to see all the ways I've grown!

The most important thing, however, the most important reason I'm here, is to grow closer to God. I realized the other day, in the midst of a conversation, that if I hadn't joined ORR and stayed with ORR, I wouldn't really know God today.

That's a powerful statement on many levels. Let me try and unpack for a moment all that that means to me.

A small group of committed Christians gave me the space to be un-Christian, to look for God irreligiously. They demonstrated a key distinction I'd never made for myself, in all my years of looking for God in different ways, different world religions: the difference between abiding by, investing in doctrine and practice, and building a genuine relationship with Deity, allowing Creator to also become provider, friend, father. I still have some personal hang-ups with labeling myself Christian, to be honest--not because I'm ashamed to follow Christ, but because of the stereotypes (some justified) and abuses and jerks and utterly human foibles that have also been stamped with the same label. And the more I learn about God, the less I know. I still don't have all the answers.

And that's precisely why I'm sticking with ORR, my family and my friends, my mentors and confidants and partners in crime. I'm continuing to pursue God most of all--the best and most important thing I can do, the thing which, undone in a day, makes it a waste.

What's next? Who knows! The future is wide open. I only know that I need and desire more than ever your love and support along the way. All of you. I long--and I suspect you do too--to know and be known, to love and be loved. Come and challenge me, too--and let me challenge you.

I hope, most of all, that you'll seek and find the Root of Joy, the one that allows us direct access to a real, personal, interactive God.

Operation Waterwheel

I'm going to be out of touch for the next little while. A bunch of us are leaving Sunday on our most ambitious up-country venture to date, an epic 1,000-mile journey covering eight counties via the worst (read: most fun) roads in Liberia. The plan is two days down, five days in Harper, a beautiful old city isolated near the border of Côte D'Ivoire, then two days back.

Have a merry Christmas, everyone, and a joyous new year. I hope you get plenty of time, plenty of family and friends and FOOD. Remember the reason for the season, and I'll be back with stories and photos soon. Love to all!

Crash course on orphan politics

Last week I tweeted my way through an all-day workshop hosted by Liberia's social welfare department and UNICEF. The goal was to validate a framework for a three-year program to de-institutionalize 50% of the more than 5,000 children living in Liberia's orphanages.

I got some questions from my tweeting, so this is my attempt to provide a brief overview. [Disclaimer: If you're not interested in the drier, more politico-technical aspects of orphan care, I'd consider skipping this one.]

First, some context in point form:

• Liberia endured 14 years of civil conflict from 1989 to 2003.
• Before the war, there were ten orphanages. Now there are at least 142.
• Before the war, orphans were cared for by extended family (kinship care) or the community at large (foster care), making orphanages almost obsolete. This intrinsic cultural safety net was degraded by the conflict. While it is still present, it has been overshadowed by a mean entrepreneurial spirit that's noticed the international aid and attention that an orphanage can attract.
• Among groups like ours, the generally accepted number of actual orphans in orphanages is 33-50%, the rest having either been recruited away from their families up-country, or residing at the orphanage under a boarding school arrangement (but under the false pretense or being an orphan).
• This huge proportion of non-orphans diverts aid and attention away from the real orphans, and relieves parents' responsibility to care for their own children. This program is predicated on the finding that children thrive under individualized attention that they simply don't receive in an orphanage setting.
• The goal of the program is to reduce the total number of non-orphans, then reduce the number of orphanages by closing those homes with abusive, neglectful, trafficking, and profiteering directors. This will allow the government and its helping hands to focus resources on the remaining orphan(age)s with excellent directors committed to raising healthy, successful children.

So that's the situation, more or less. Now, the solution is complex, multi-faceted, and gradual. Much as we'd all love to scoop ALL the children out of those poor, broken orphanages and get them into safe, loving, dry, clean homes... Well, we have to prioritize: the worst orphanages closed first.

Top to bottom: Introduction to the framework by Ina, the consultant and spearheader; Breakaway groups to identify and address gaps; Group presentations to the plenary.

The first step is to reunify as many children as have families -- immediate or extended -- able to provide care. This is incredibly difficult and time-consuming, and never really ends. Assessment and follow-up monitoring are needed to ensure children are welcomed, safe, and don't become domestic servants to their own families. Likewise, there will need to be a fine balance struck between providing a "welcome home" package and creating expectations of continued external assistance.

The second best option would seem to be foster care, though this requires intense pre-evaluation and monitoring. In this scheme, government would be expected to share in much of the financial cost of raising these children--particularly school fees. Still, growing up in a home with one-on-one attention, discipline, and love is almost always better than growing up in an institution.

Where children are found to have no living relatives and foster care isn't possible, it's left to place them in the best institution available -- either another, better orphanage, or a boarding school.

The other consideration is to move the children as little as possible, to reduce the trauma of multiple relocations. So while we need to act urgently, we also need to be sure-footed, as confident as possible in the safety and durability of the end situation--whether it's a family or foster home, boarding school, or another orphanage.

Finally, I'll just say this: I've been sitting in government meetings for almost three years, repeating many of the same planning meetings without ever getting around to the implementation. This one, I hope and pray, is actually going to fly--thanks mostly to financial backing from UNICEF. My role within this process is not at all central, but to be an active participant in the process, to provide expertise and momentum, resources and accountability throughout -- essentially, to do whatever I can to ensure it actually happens.

There you have it--my crash course on de-institutionalization. Questions? Comments? Recommendations? I'd love to hear them.

The bright side of hectic

I picked up some colleagues from the airport the other day whom I'd seen just two weeks ago in Texas, yet it feels like it had been months. Such has been these last two weeks--hitting the ground running, raising the bar for myself, and (well above and beyond all that) watching God line up mini-miracles each day.

I'm explosively happy to be back in Liberia, home, after three and a half wonderful months with, well, the rest of the world. With many of you.

Last night I was telling a friend what I want in life -- roots, community, love and support. And that led me to realize how much life has changed in the three years I've been here. My first trip here, it was just four of us camping out in a big empty house, sleeping on the floor -- didn't have much to offer, didn't know many people, just learning and doing and growing each day. Now, I have roots here. Real community. I have my people. My team is great at what they do. I have a immensely (and equally) challenging and rewarding job. It's still life on a submarine, in a sense--everything in common, no secrets, the good/bad/ugly--but it's become my real life, and I love it. I really love it.

Now, I hesitate to say this; it's not to glorify myself, I just don't want you to misunderstand me: this is hard. Children are sick, skinny, robbed, given away, used, exploited, abused, all but crushed. Adults are lazy, corrupt, mean, hotheaded, selfish and greedy. The country is broken. The healing (while substantial) is still so superficial. They fixed the roads, sure, but there's still the crooked cop cheating a taxi driver out of $0.17 to get through his pylons.

Corruption is called friendship, and everybody's friendly.

What I love is the deep and abiding satisfaction of being right where I'm supposed to be, and that I get to do it with vibrant, deeply loving people. So many of you have been asking me, recently and for three years now, How long are you going to do this? The answer I'm not sure of. I'm thrilled that God called me here, where He knew I'd thrive; but I hope I would go wherever He called me next, Africa or Canada or Space. All I know is, when I follow Him, it always seems to get better...so I can't wait.

Finally, I just have to celebrate two amazing facts: Elena (an old high school friend recently rediscovered) has joined ORR full-time, and just got to Liberia. (Check her blog here) And secondly, another couple, both very close friends from elementary school, are coming in February! I've finally managed to export Huntsville to Liberia, the best of both worlds!! :)

Back to the grindstone

After a crazy and fantastic three and a half months criss-crossing North America (11,000km / 7,000 mi of solo driving!), I'm finally back home in Liberia. The roosters, the roar of the diesel generator, the heat: it's good to be home.

Even before getting on the plane, but especially since arriving, I've been overwhelmed once again by the privilege of being here. Working and sharing life with such incredible people, serving such joyful children, the isolated beauty of this place.

The year ahead will likely be difficult: there is an enormous amount of work to do in a short time, and in the midst of many transitions. But my gut says it's all going to work out, and fly by, and be blessed.

Liberia's still broken but healing, corrupt but optimistic, unhappy but joyful. Back to work.

Sure, the beach might be the national bathroom. But somehow, 'unspoilt' is still the only word that comes to mind!

Vacation, Episode II

On to September: In an effort to reduce all the traveling I did last year, I split my month in Canada into three. Part one was Huntsville, my little hometown in the woods. Apparently I brought with me the best weather of the whole summer, and I capitalized with backyard BBQs and sunbathing by the river, just like the good ol' days. Part two was camping and then marrying off my best friend, Braden. It was a pleasure to spend a week with him and Melissa, and a great privilege to stand at his side as he took the plunge. Part three was all about family, and I had an amazing time staying with my sister, brother, and finally with my parents.

The whole family (minus Scott--missed you, Bro) even opted to have Thanksgiving a couple of weeks early on account of me. Man, I forgot how good turkey and cranberry is!

Seriously, though. I have SO much to be thankful for. Family and friends, health and strength, a job that's also a calling. There's only one word for it: I feel downright spoiled.

Thank you to everyone that dropped what you were doing to make time for me. I thoroughly enjoyed catching up. I miss you all so much through the year. Thanks for your gracious approach to adopting an hour-a-year friendship with me. Wish it were more. (Oh, and if you have photos of our time together, I don't -- send 'em over!)

Vacation, Episode I

Ok, here goes. So much to tell, so few photos to tell it with! Let's begin at the end of August, when I had a huge dream come true: I got to visit Gifty and her amazing family. Now, they had warned me that I wouldn't recognize my little monster -- but WOW, she is enormous. So big, so healthy -- so much like a child her age. When she left Liberia, she was a one-hander. She could balance quite happily with her giant belly, though she lacked the strength to sit up or crawl, let alone stand. Well, I arrived in her second week of walking, and it was absolutely heartbreaking to see her screaming around, boss of the world. What a thrill.

It took me back to that first night with her in the hospital. Understand, I'm not a baby person. I wouldn't know if a diaper's inside out or not. So here's this eleven-and-a-half pound, 20-month-old girl, by all accounts just a few days from her end--not even enough strength to cry. No idea what to do--so I did what everyone does in a situation like that. I began bargaining with God. I paced the halls of the hospital for hours that night, singing to and praying over Gifty, promising God that if only He would heal her, deliver her, I would do anything.

Fast forward eight months, and there I am trying to lift a 27 pounder out of her crib. She's looking at me with a scrunched up nose, and I'm wondering if she remembers. She's experimenting with sounds, and she's fluent in all the sign language she needs. Most importantly, she's got a very loving extended family, and really the entire town -- anywhere I pushed her stroller, people would lean out of their cars to ask how she was doing. Amazing! Just look at her now:

Gettin' gone

I'm back!! My week -- or almost two -- in the monastery in Virginia was fantabulous. Absolutely amazing to live among such humble, hospitable people. Amazing to learn some classic disciplines in a very liberating environment, while also experiencing the structure (and the freedom therein) of liturgy, as we met three times a day as a community for prayer.

I had no idea what to expect, going in -- but it was exactly what I needed after eleven months in the field.

Last day in the office today. Leaving in the pre-dawn for Wisconsin -- I'll be visiting first with churches and friends in Wisconsin Rapids and Appleton and Madison, then spending a few days catching up with Gifty's family. (YESS!!!) Please pray for safe travels!

September I'll be all over Ontario--in Huntsville for Labor Day weekend, in Ottawa for my best friend's wedding, then in Toronto and London with as many of my awesome friends and family as I can pack in. (Here's to couchsurfing!)

October, I've pushed back my return to Liberia to allow me more time to travel and share the stories of all the craziness that God is doing through ORR. So in October I'll be in Georgia at first, then in Texas and Louisiana -- BUT I do have a couple more Sundays if anyone out there would like me to come and share!

It's been really fun being back, I have to say. Re-entry has been easier this time, and I'm told by close friends around me that I seem calmer and more at peace than on past returns. The thing I notice most is that I'm less anxious, especially about future stuff. I feel great; I feel free.

Hope with me

One last thing I forgot before I disappear. Please pray for Gifty's potential live donor; they're flying down for a big day of tests coming up next week. Gifty's healthy and happy and heavy, but she still needs this liver. Please pray that the tests would go well, that they would both be healthy and a great match. Just pray that God would throw down one last miracle in this crazy story. 

And with that, here's my girl...

Disappearing awhile

I'm leaving today for a week-long retreat in a monastery, a much-needed re-focusing exercise. Then, out of the blue, this poem landed in my inbox this morning. Enjoy, and see you later.

Flickering Mind

Denise Levertov

Not for one second
will my self hold still, but wanders
anywhere,
everywhere it can turn. Not you,
it is I am absent.
You are the stream, the fish, the light,
the pulsing shadow,
you the unchanging presence, in whom all
moves and changes.
How can I focus my flickering, perceive
at the fountain's heart
the sapphire I know is there?

On the road again

Eleven months is a strange stretch of time: long enough, apparently, that time no longer flies or drags, just is. Maybe that's a sign I'm feeling at home--when I stop thinking of seasons in Liberia as trips, but vice versa. It seems more like I'm leaving home to go on an extended trip.

I was chatting last night with another guy leaving today (he for good), and we found we've experienced the same progression: a month ago, we were both dying to go -- great food, summer weather (less rain, that is), and of course family and friends. But as the time has wound down, I've been given little treats of home so I'm less eager to leave. It's a conspiracy. To start, it's been the sunniest rainy season on record. The other day I had a real bona fide backyard BBQ. I even got to go hiking.

Well, I won't be dissuaded. Time for a break, and time for refilling my tank among loved ones. Maybe three months is a little longer than I'd like, but most importantly of all, I just want to be where I'm needed most. If that means bouncing around the US for an extra, sign me up.

Thank you and apologies to those of you waiting on me to announce when I'll be where; I'm sorry that my schedule is still so up in the air. Once I get back to Texas, the state of my car (and its response to repair and prayer) will be the first domino. After that, I'll let you know--but for now:

August: Texas, Virginia and Wisconsin. September: Canadia. October: All. Over. :)

Kindergarten graduation

There are all sorts of things I get to do in Liberia that are totally ridiculous. Hilarity is a fact of life in Bizarro World. But one of my favourite times of year (and which I missed last year!) is Kindergarten graduation season. The pomp and ceremony that is rolled out for these kids is beyond funny, it's actually touching. They really make them feel like a million bucks.

Here's to you, graduating class of 2009: only 12 more to go!

(Yes, Moses just graduated from K-2 and is almost as tall as me.... *sigh*)

Home time!

Summer's on its way which means I'm on my way home--or at least to Canada and the U.S. At this point it looks like I'll be in Virginia Beach for a one-week retreat in mid-August, then to Texas for a week or two, then up to Canada for September.

Throughout September I'm available to speak at events (bbq's, concerts, churches, dessert nights), and for most of October I and the rest of the team will be available around the U.S. -- PLEASE contact us if you would like us to come and speak in your area!

Thanks-o!