Fear the Blade

I watched many wide eyed children with club feet get carried into a hospital in the big cit-AY of Niamey (land with lettuce and an air conditioned restaurant!) this week.

I was given The Job of helping hold down the shrieking child.  Easier to do when there's not a vibrating saw (that apparently only cuts the cast and doesn't amputate off the limb) coming at their legs! I don’t blame any of the cuties for their attempts to flee because I too would have feared the blade. But dang, kids are fiesty!...and show hulk-ulous strength when they're trying to run for their lives.

Except for one little guy. He hopped right on that bed and started talking to the assistant. I’m assuming he said something like “what up, doc, looks scary…bring it”…but I know like five words in French so just a guess. I’m pretty sure my mouth was hanging open as he not only didn’t scream but sat up, wanting to watch that roaring saw-devil cut off his cast. Who says having a club foot stops you from carrying a cargo full of courage?!  Break me off a piece of that. Thank you Lord that it’s not always our circumstances but our reactions to them that make people’s jaws drop. 

                

I also turned the corner to find faces full of repaired cleft lips! Best smiles I've ever hung out with.

Lots of servant warriors have been going home these past couple weeks...
(Don’t ask if I’ve been emotional about it…we all know the answer to that already).

Remember when you see a missionary coming home broken in body and weary in soul, it isn’t the privations or dangers or things he’s done that leave a deep hurt; it’s the things he couldn’t do that break his heart. 
-“World Shapers”

Only Jesus has all the answers for this culture and my own culture...Don’t forget to listen, encourage, and intercede for all the missionaries right next to you and all the ones overseas, ya saints!

The jelly is out of the doughnut...

...The chickadees have left the nest. We came. We taught. We conquered. ...The students have started summer break.

I’m kind of sad my schoolhouse season is over (at least until God pulls something else out of His sleeve).

When else will I get to say ‘take out a piece of paper and pencil and do whatever I tell you‘ and have someone listen??  I just don't see other schools allowing “Love Bites” or “Joke Pokes”. No more hearing squeals just because I pulled out the paint or watching a kid do the robot over to get his pencil. No more stifling my laughter when the answer to the question of “what are the main dishes of Antartica? is “you know, plates and forks and knives and stuff"?

And kids keep you in check! They ask how to spell “lanta” as in ‘oh my lanta’, and then you try to convince yourself they must know someone else in the world that says that and they're not just repeating you.  Another time, I slid across the floor in my matted flip flops and screamed THAT WAS TOTALLY WICKED (I know, I’m five) and lost the next ten minutes trying to pull the kindergarteners back into their chairs. I’m pretty sure you’re supposed to live in a way that's worthy of imitation anywhere, but kids are good at showing you the horrifying reality of influence.

There are some things you only get from students. I’ll probably go off the deep end or catch the crazy train without them.

But hey, WE MADE ITTTTT!! Students fluttered away and Auntie Barb and I were left with a triumphant one room school house high-five.