Tip of the Week-- May 28, 2015

(In lieu of a tip this week, I'm posting something of a tribute to my team and, specifically, my buddy Jason.  Jason leaves Monday to return to the States and will be dearly missed.)

The other day, one of my friends, Bakary, walked into my house, sat down in a chair, and murmured something to himself.  As I sat down across from him, he looked up and said, "Is there anything in your life that you need?"  The question was obscure, but I understood immediately what he was driving at.  He had, after all, just sat down in one of my new chairs. 

He wanted to know if I lacked anything materially.  I don't live in opulent luxury--at least according to American standards--but this young friend could not imagine what else I would need to be happy.  This question is extremely difficult to answer, as it provokes a myriad of questions in me.  How do I explain the reduction in earnings and lifestyle that I've already gone through?  Should I be striving for even more simplicity?  Are these new chairs a bad choice?  Could he, would he, believe it if I explained that with my current resources, I'd have a hard time restarting life back home? Some other blog post perhaps, I'll wade out into the deep waters of what it means to be materially privileged in a culture like this, but for now I'm turning our focus, just as I did with Bakary.

I decided to capitalize on the ambiguous nature of Bakary's question.  I responded that just like everyone, I need my friends.  He seemed to accept that, but his face revealed that I had indeed avoided the real question.  I freely admit that I dodged his question with the most expedient response I could come up with, but on later reflection, I decided I rather like this answer.

First, the response acknowledges the reality that no amount of material wealth can make us independent.  We've been hardwired for human connection and friendship.  Second, I hope that in some small way, it helped bridge the gap between my friend and I.  I need him in a way that money cannot solve.  Also, that answer fits quite accurately with my current reflections on life.

You see, the new chairs belonged to someone else until I inherited them just recently.  We expats do something a little morbid when a teammate leaves.  Since one can only return to the States with suitcases, most possessions go up for sale.  In the days leading up to departure, we divide our teammate's possessions and cart them off to our own homes. (Maybe this helps the leaving party feel more like Jesus. "They divide my clothes among them and cast lots for my garment.") Other than my clothes and some books, everything in my house has come from another expat that has left. Like a patchwork quilt, my house--my daily life--is made up of bits and pieces of other people's existence here. I could take you on a trip back through our team's history just by pointing out pieces of furniture.

My new chairs were from my buddy Jason, who leaves Monday to move back home.  Jason came five years ago, and he turned out to be an answer to prayers I wasn't even smart enough to pray.  The likelihood of two single guys ending up at the same hospital in Africa has to be incredibly low, and yet God placed us here together.  Jason has been a huge part of my journey here--someone to hang  out with, someone to vent to, someone to vacation with, someone that just gets me. 

I've learned over the years that I can't emotionally anticipate loss.  Loss has to happen and then turn around and smack me in the face before my emotions actually match what my brain knows is true.  So I find myself in that weird place of knowing that this is a big deal, and yet feeling kind of numb.  This is often a bit distressing, since it leaves me strangely inexpressive at times when I'd like to communicate better and coldly mechanical in moments when the warmth of emotions seem much more appropriate.

However, the emotional breathing room does provide for some clear reflection.  Lately, I've been reflecting a lot on friendship.  This life that God has called me to has simultaneously brought me into countless more friendships than I could have imagined and yet put more physical distance between me and dear friends than I would have ever feared. 

I'm slowly learning to view my friendships as that patchwork quilt--pieces coming from various places and various people but all contributing to my whole.  Like my house with its history-lesson-furniture, their contributions to my daily life are notable, recognizable, and nameable. 

So yes, Bakary, I need your friendship on this life journey.  I'd jettison these possessions in heartbeat if they were keeping me back from friends.  Team, yes, let's keep making our houses into little shrines of memory to our friends and teammates. It honors their contribution and tells them they still have their place here in our lives. We'll stay grounded and connected to them and to each other as we face each new wave of crazy.  And yes, Jason, the chairs were a great choice.  I'll leave them set prominently in the living room as a memory and an invitation--a memory of times passed sitting there shooting the breeze, times of griping, times of deep discussion, times that mark out the reality of friendship; and an invitation to all who enter that living room to join me in this journey of friendship.  May they, too, feel free to come, sit, shoot the breeze, vent, and discuss.

Prayer Requests

1.  Please pray for Jason as he transitions.  Pray that the Lord would go before him and prepare his way.  Pray that these last couple days would be filled with sweet goodbyes.  Pray for us as a team as we feel his loss.

2.  Pray for me as I continue to lead the team through each new wave of challenge.  I want to be wise, but recognize that I need wisdom that I don't have.

3.  Update on Amadou (young man with strange muscle loss).  He came for a check-up on Friday.  He is gaining weight and some strength.  Please pray for his complete healing.  Pray that we'd have wisdom to know how to effectively treat him. 

4.  Please pray for upcoming outreaches to the villages of Tarasso and Tiere.  These will take place the second week of June.