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!! :)