Shifting day...

It's evening now and my earthly belongings (well, those which reside in Uganda) are about 99.9% shifted in to the new house (in Uganda you don't 'move', you 'shift').

I'm not sure what I was thinking, but for some reason I thought that if I spend the weekend organizing my stuff, drawing maps of the old house and the new house, assigning a code to each room so that the movers would know which stuff was to go where, and even tagging the doorknobs of each room to make it clear WHERE THINGS WERE SUPPOSED TO GO, for some reason it would go off without a hitch. I had this far fetched idea that my organizational skills would prove so epic that I could stay at the office all day with only occasional check ins, during which time I would simply congratulate the movers on their skill in interpreting my codes and doorknob tags.

Alas, this was not to be. I went to the house first thing in the morning, only to see room #2 being loaded in to the truck with room #1.1 before Room #1.2 was loaded! No! The next thing I know, a truck loaded down with Room #4 rumbled past, leaving Room #3 untouched. Heartbreaking. Why did I even try? No, seriously. Why did I even try? It's like I just forgot every single experience I've ever had. I've learned nothing.

In the end I spent the whole day moving. No probs. It was hilarious. Particularly humorous was the transfer of the cats to the new house. I commented on needing to come back to get the cats and my housekeeper said, 'The kitten is in the truck already.' I was confused. Why was the kitten in the truck? Did she climb in of her own volition? Has she been watching reruns of The Beverly Hillbillies while I'm at work and was struck with an undeniable desire to channel Grannie? I inquired further.

'I saw that she was in one of the bags I put in the truck,' my housekeeper informed me.

"Yes," added my driver. "She is in the truck...and maybe she has been crushed."

Cue me frantically calling for the kitten who is allegedly stacked somewhere in the back of the Land Cruiser. There is no response. I slump my shoulders and go to open the door. I reckon I might as well drive the truck full of belongings to the new house before beginning the cryptic task of locating my potentially deceased kitten. Thankfully, when I opened the door she literally fell out of the truck- just as pot bellied, cute and alive as usual. She's actually sleeping on my lap right now. It's been a long day for her.

So, here was are in the new house. The floor paint was still wet and we didn't have water in the kitchen this morning, but there is water now and the paint continues to dry. I know it is. I'm watching it.

Shout out to the plumbers who finished installing the toilet just moments ago. At the moment it appears that there is an elaborate web of rocks and sticks bracing the tub, so I'm gonna go out on a limb and assume that I should not try and bathe there this evening. Looks like I'll be sneaking back to my old tub! Technically, we are renting it for two more days...

I should go. I also found a gecko painted in to the floor in my room. Literally. A living gecko was painted over and is the middle of my floor. I need to find a butter knife and dislodge his unfortunate little corpse.

Haha. Weep. Ha.....ha.

I spent most of the day in my apron, cleaning and packing up my house. I'm moving- just two compounds over, but still- moving. This will be the third house I've lived in during the 14 months I've lived in Moroto. It's always a bit of a process, primarily because I seem to attract stuff the way a magnet attracts metal filings, but I don't mind too much. It's just life at the moment. A bit transient.

I like my transient life for now. It's exciting and hard and always full of the unusual and I don't get the sense that this season will end any time in the near future. I'm okay with that. I get to be a part of amazing things and see so, so much. The pattern of moving-->engaging-->uprooting of the last (what? 5?) years has definitely made me a better and stronger person.

But I can't help but hope that one day there will be a season where I can stay. In my  home. In my apron. Picking flowers from the garden for the supper table.

Mercy

A lot of people here think my name is Mercy.

It would be really touching if this was a name people gave me because I was just so especially merciful, but really it's just the fault of some cultural differences and my accent.

Here in Uganda people put their surname first when they introduce themselves. So, for example, if your name was Paul Yates, here in Uganda you would say that your name was Yates Paul.

I still introduce myself with my first name first and my last name last (old habits die hard, I guess!) so people assume that my last name is my first name. With my thick, nasal North American accent, Massey comes out sounding like Mercy.

Still, it's a good name to aspire to.

One community made me a welcome sign with their interpretation of my name on it. It's the thought that counts! I told the women in another community that my name meant "cow horn" and that made things much easier. The Karamajong certainly have a word for cow horn!

Stronger

A year ago today I was slinging my duffel bag into the trunk of our rental car to head to the airport, unexpectedly en route to South Sudan. I flew from Charlotte to New York, and then on to Amsterdam. Somewhere over the Atlantic, I woke up suddenly with the words, “love is stronger than death” burning and rolling over and over in my mind. I heard them almost audibly, and when I heard them I knew that Brian had gone to be with Jesus.

This is an awkward story to tell people because if sounds fake and overly sentimental, but that is what happened. I checked Facebook in the Amsterdam airport and found his wall filling up with words of love and grief and hope. A life well lived is mourned in a beautiful way. When someone leaves us, and one of our primary emotions is thankfulness- thankfulness that we had any time with them at all- that is beautiful. Brian lived his life beautifully, and the world is poorer without him.

 

I feel like I hardly have the right to miss him, so let me mark the anniversary of his passing here on this little blog that hardly anybody reads. I miss you, my one in a million friend. So thankful for your life. So thankful for a Love that conquers the grave.

Auld lang syne...

Favorite photo of 2012, taken in Yida, South Sudan.

Bye, bye, 2012. I would never have thought that I'd be sad to see you go, but I am. For better or for worse, I think it will be a good long while before I see the likes of you again.

Thirst...

I've been walking through a particularly painful season for many months now and the strain of it is bringing out all the worst in me. This has been hard, but I am learning not to put my hope in the idea that my circumstances will change, but rather to put my hope in the truth that I will change- for the better.

Thirst

Another morning and I wake with thirst

for the goodness I do not have. I walk

out to the pond and all the way God has

given us such  beautiful lessons. Oh Lord,

I was never a quick scholar but sulked

and hunched over my books past the

hour and the bell; grant me, in your

patience a little more time. Love for the

earth and love for you are having such a

long conversation in my heart. Who

knows what will finally happen or

where I will be sent, yet already I have

given a great many things away, expect-

ing to be told to pack nothing, except

the prayers which, with this thirst, I am

slowly learning.

-Mary Oliver-

Happy Valentine's Day!

....from South Sudan.

(Kissa, this is especially for you and Phil and the godchildren, of course. When are you going to get Facebook already? Just kidding.)