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Tiny things - a source of resilient joy
In Kenya when I was a child, as I mentioned earlier, each year our family spent several weeks just down the coast from Watamu near Malindi. In 1968 the area was made a marine park. No molluscs or fish could be taken. I had no interest in killing anything. However, I did love looking for a shell in the very narrow window of time between the natural death of the mollusc before it was damaged by sand and tide. Not long after the area was made a marine park, I found a beautiful and empty leopard cowry and brought and showed it to dad with great excitement. He said I had to put it back. I nodded but I wasn’t happy. I hadn’t killed anything! Then I learned something from my sister. 
Bilgewater thoughts on wonder and freedom
All through my life, God has given me access to places of great beauty. It’s funny that the one with the least beautiful name was of such central importance. The family of Kenyan British friends of ours had a vacation place, on the coast of Kenya that they shared. They also had a twisted sense of humor.
Apparently after driving past 20 other places romantically named things like “Whispering palms”, “White sands,” and so on, they went to the dark side and called their place Bilgewater. Bilgewater is the filthy water that collects in the bilge, the lowest part of the hull, of a ship. It usually has wastes and old oil in it, and almost always stinks. In slang, bilgewater also means worthless nonsense.
Starting from when I was about ten, for the next several years, Bilgewater was my happy place. It was near
Between the Mountains
Five of us girls were at Jen’s house playing Rook when her dad, Unkle Frank, came home from Nairobi all excited about climbing Kilimanjaro the next day with his boys. Not sure how it happened, but we were soon begging to come. Aunt Marge said maybe we could come to Oloitokitok with her, the mission station at the bottom of the mountain, and she’d hike a way into the forest with us while the guys went on up. We wouldn’t need cold weather gear for that. Instantly, we bolted for home to beg for permission. In my mind this was epic!
Like trees, mountains were to me individuals. There were two that loomed especially large, Mount Kenya and Mount Kilimanjaro. Both were massive free-standing volcanos that shaped the landscape and the weather. They dominated the distant skyline and my imagination.
In reading CS Lewis, I’d gained a less reductionist view of things in natures. He seemed to explain that
Be palm and katient; some Mumbuni memories
Coming back to Mumbuni from RVA was a return to comfort. I remember diving onto the living room rug with such joy, loving the home feeling. We always had spaghetti on the first night home and it was so good! These stories are not in chronological order and depend on the way I remember things. Apologies to those who remember differently. I deliberately haven’t used many names so I don’t impinge on the way others would tell their stories.
The missionary families who lived at AIC Mumbuni in those years were mostly from the US, the UK, or Canada. We often did things together. On Easter mornings we all would often go before dawn to a kopje on Mr. Button’s ranch about half an hour away. A lovely and relaxed time of worship, singing as the sun rose over the African plains.
It was hard to be home for only a month at a time. Mom was a thoughtful teacher. She worked hard at getting all the teaching in that she could in the time we were with her. She was prone to rather fun spoonerisms. Once
5th and 6th grade boarding school adventures, misadventures and foundations
I think this photo is us heading for boarding school the year I was in sixth grade. We had sold the VW bug when we went to the states. When we got back Dad got a Peugeot 304.
During the years of fifth and sixth grade, I remember a bad stomach-ache, feeling sick, the day were to go back to school. In the photo, mom and my sister are holding
Mom almost died on the ship
In 1965, as I understand it, going by ship wasn’t much more expensive than going by air. It just took longer. Mom and dad were tired from all the traveling and stress from raising support, sleeping in many different beds. They had planned to travel on ship to have a kind of vacation. We travled on the SS Independence from New York to Italy, and we were to take a ship from the Lloyd Triestino line from Italy to Kenya.
It turned out mom was more tired and stressed than we knew. Perhaps she thought she just had a cold when we left, but on board the ship, it became clear to my father that she was seriously ill. Dad said later
A different home, but not really home.
We were in the states from the summer of 1964 until school was out in the spring of 1965. Mom and dad had a very busy travel schedule since their partner churches were widely spread across the country. Usually, we stayed with mom’s parents so we wouldn’t miss school. I liked that. For me, it was much more comfortable than long car trips, staying with strangers and all. It was beautiful and interesting at their place. Their house was built around a core that had been built soon after the Civil War when Northwestern Pennsylvania was settled.
Above is a photo of the house and my school photo from 1964. What was outside the house war far more interesting to me than the house itself. They had about 300 acres that included
Hugged by strangers
The four engine propellor plane rattled and buzzed with waves and ripples of sound. That flight seemed to last forever. It was a chartered plane; I believe a DC 6 very like the one in the photo above. We were headed for New York with other missionary families going on leave to their home places to rest and raise funds. My sister and I were
Blue Beetle Adventures
When I was a kid, mom and dad and the others working with them were mostly in Kenya on five year “terms” with one year “furloughs” back in their sending country. During our first “term”, from when I was four to nine years old, we had a blue Volkswagen beetle. The picture isn’t our bug, but it is a 1959 very like ours. Take special notice of the roof rack 😊
Like all beetles in those days, the engine was in the rear, and the battery was under the back seat. Once when we were, I think, going to visit a remote church, sparks started coming out from under the back seat
Love, fun, and thorns
The word we used for breaks from boarding school was holiday. Days at home for me really were Holy Days, set apart for joy, hugs, love and home!! Hugs when mom and dad came, and hugs at home. I even remember tying to hug the carpet, our gray rocking chair, our cozy house. We almost always had our favorite meal of spaghetti the first night home, and I would eat more than my dad.
There was spiritual nourishment too. Here we are in
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