Dear Cherished Interested’s,                                                                                         November 07th, 2023

Two Sundays ago I was so heart sick I was sick in body too.  I missed early service entirely but drove Hilda to The Children’s Village and Makumira Secondary and she did it all, even as she also was sick.  I crashed in the truck.

Sunday, two days ago, Hilda was still sick and I left her to sleep.  I was an Elder for the annual Men’s service at The Cathedral in Usa River.  I read the announcements and the first half of the first Chapter of Job.  My fellow Elder read nearly the entire second half of that chapter.

The message was given by a fellow congregant and grandfather intimately familiar with the polyglot tasking required to read, a sermon provided by the diocese in Swahili, out in English for the English service.  I was still called upon to speak extemporaneously about Job, fathering, prayer, and what Christian fathering in particular may entail. 

I was not run out on a rail.  I did have my simple raiment on backwards with the Cross on the back.  The Cross hanging from my neck falling to the front.  Not one robe yet found here fits enough to zip and snap let alone look like anything right, but the Elder raiment is a square of embroidered and edged white fabric lain on the bias across the shoulders to drape, head through the middle.  I did not feel any more ridiculous than usual with that feeling going away when required to share.

-----------------------------------------

May have found a place to help get the truck working more fully.  In one day the ABS system reports as working.  This has not worked ever in our time with the truck.  Hoping to be able to give that shop the two days with the truck they have requested soon.  Five generations of Hindu family from India living and working right here in TZ. 

Father, probably younger than us, of that clan is a very hard-nosed businessman but straight.  His father died when he was 18, so he has survived and done well learning his ways along the way.  The young son took his training in the UK and Canadian Maritimes and does his father proud while understanding North American enough to be comfortable with and for me.  We will see if they can understand a white person who is not full of cash but must plan.

--------------------------------------

Hilda got a consult with Mohamad our pharmacist yesterday while waiting for the truck in Arusha.  She slept fairly well for the first time in almost a month last night.  Hilda is no quitter.  She’s a little groggy today, maybe we’ll try breaking one of those pills in half. 

We also went to the Cultural Heritage Museum while in town.  The Islamic family who owns it keeps it open for free.  They are building another museum for Jane Goodall right next to it.  When the headman sees us he remembers us.  As we are remembered, the pride for his gemstones and jewelry gets set aside with those things. 

He then really lights up as he shares about what his family and the families of his large life-long staff are doing in support of community development right here in Tanzania.  Most of these folks are wealthy enough to live anywhere in the world but as a group have chosen to stay and turn serving into something so joyful it looks like.. determined play.

We, the strange poor whites, are not shamed but accepted and even wanted.  Wild.

This Cultural Heritage Museum is huge.  It is stunningly appointed and curated full of artwork changing slowly with time but simply breath-taking.  I can’t do too much at a time, even the few abstract pieces are amazing.   The faces, physiognomies, places and animals are familiar to me from my brief time serving among them so my connection builds connection that can be overwhelming given the artistic veracity within artwork of extremely high character and quality.

--------------------------------------

It has been two weeks of predominant silence.  Silence from the University and my diligent helpers.  I have been assured of an update today.  Assurances are often unable to be fulfilled. 

This seemingly contemporary paradigm of unfulfilled assurances is difficult for me.  It is not a paradigm I was raised to exercise in my times.  My patience is imperfect.  I have not yet been run out on a rail.  Nor have we dusted off our shoes.  I hate having to dust off my shoes.  When personal conviction and the peace of God brings you into striving sincerely in love, nothing hurts more than having to leave its outpouring. 

Face that every day.  Sometimes every minute.  Still playing the worldly fool praying to be heaven's tool. 

God’s sense is better than mine.  Obedience is easy to say but hard to live in the face of all the reasons not to. 

Yes, classes have already started for the year, two weeks in.  Awaiting assured for signature of Vice-Chancellor.  Latest theory being that as the last hurdle.  Again, my helpers doing their best for this to happen without money changing hands in inappropriate ways. 

At home, if you are seen as part of the one percent, you are expected to contribute things too.  Those expectations have very little to do with what my sense of call is.  I wonder how many others get drawn into those expectations here or at home without question.  Is that a fair burden to lay upon any church they are to come to serve?

---------------------------------------

Had a bunch of little ones run up and throw their arms around me last night before sunset.  This was a community over on the mountain, about seven little sets of arms all at once.  Then off with smiles and waves and laughing.  Not one request for anything.   

---------------------------------------

Yes please …

Relationships here on the ground in addition to my imperfections and mistakes are being used to try to drive us away from our striving.  Each day is a sincere struggle.  Hopefully that means we’re on the right track.  Please pray for those around us.  Please pray for the local faces which fearlessly now smile and greet us as we walk.  

Please keep crumpling us up and throwing us at God.  That is where we need to be.  God will sort us out.

One day at a time.  Just like how you each live.  Just one day at a time. 

Thank you, each of you.

              -------------------------------------------------------

What to Pray for:

Our armed forces families, our leadership, our people, whole world round, all of Gods kids -

All the tough and blessing expressed above –

The love of folks –

Whatever is on your hearts and minds for us –

For our children and grand-children who miss us.. 

For Makumira Secondary School looking to share stories and partner in some way with a foreign school, Great leaders, teachers, students, programs, strong backs, minds, and hearts –

For our health to stay ahead of whatever is before us –

For those who have braved the donate button to discover Kajun Crofton, our daughter who helps getting each one of your donations to us and every blogpost to where you can read it -

For each and every one of you –

Each and every one of your prayers, your precious conversations with God –

Prayers, Your Prayer, Even your groaning prayers makes all the difference..

Vern W

May life be as Music to your Heart – May Music be as Heart to your Life – May Heart be as Life to your Music