And finally, a word from Noah

Noah is off for a service project this week in Holland, Michigan but before he left he sent me his blog entry, which is below. I think, if you read it closely, you may well hear Bob's sense of humor coming through....
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Hey all, I guess it's time I write this blog and get it off my back. I have struggled with what to write about for a while and I have decided to talk about this camping trip I went on last weekend. It was an awesome camping trip, although it was very tiring. The Steenwyks (the family with whom I am staying), their strange dog/who-knows-what, and I went up to Mackinaw. We camped in a site in the Upper Peninsula. On day one (Saturday), we traveled to Mackinaw City and walked around all day looking in shops and going through different historical places, like old lighthouses and forts. The next day (Sunday if you're not entirely sure) we went up to Tahquamenon Falls (thank goodness for google so I can check my spelling) and wandered around there the entire day. The waterfalls were stunning. It was an awesome place to be. By this time all of us, including the dog, were wiped out but there was one last place we wanted to go to on our last day. Mackinac Island. We got on a ferry at 8:30 am and drove? (dunno the word for being boated to different places...) to Mackinac Island. That place was awesome except there was tons of walking and dodging horse poop and climbing hills. But seeing the awesome old forts and rocks and what not definitely made up for it although the dog thing had a tough time with all the walking. But enough talk, here are some pictures I took. I would have more but the camera I have doesn't have much memory space left on it.

We finally arrived in Mackinaw after a four hour car trip.

Fort Michilimackinac, where we would spend the next few hours wandering around.

Matt Steenwyk, the oldest child, messing around in some uniforms we found in the fort.

A picture of Mackinac Bridge from the top of an outpost in the fort.

Out of the fort, we went to an old lighthouse and climbed up to the top of it.

The view from the top was spectacular.

On the ferry, traveling to Mackinac Island.

There it is! Land ho!

Mackinac Island, only horses and bikes.

Entrance to an old cemetery. Oooh spooky.

Arch Rock, a really cool rock in the shape of an...uh...arch.

Another awesome view of the fort, overlooking Mackinac Island this time.

In the fort, a view overlooking a beautiful area of Mackinac Island.
Tired from all the walking, it seems Ben, the youngest male child, has gone insane and is wearing...an octopus hat?

Back on the ferry, tired out from walking, we head back to our camp site.

The dog, named Daisy (huge misnomer here), extremely tired and did NOT want to be bothered. Well, that's just too bad, Daisy! Muahaha...

Bothering the dog, it seemed to have just died...

"Noahhhhhhhhhhhhhhh, lemme alone..."

FUDGE!!! Mine...all mine!!! No...I wish.

Almost back...one last picture of the Bridge.

And so that was our camping trip. Lots of fun! Sorry, I did forget my camera when we went to Tahquamenon Falls so I have no pictures of that sadly...oops.

Stress and Grace

As you know, I have been spending my time in Liberia for the last week or so. While this blog is being posted, I'm actually in Cote d'Ivoire without Internet access, so I trust this is being posted on time.

I have realized while being here that I have begun to forget some of the stresses that comes with living in a post-conflict environment with extremely high poverty and unemployment. The stress of living in Ghana is higher than in Michigan but lower than Liberia. A couple of days into my visit, I began to make some notes of things that Allen Gweh, the National Director for LEAD, was sharing with me as a matter of course or that I happened to observe just by being here. These things would have been significant stressors for me (and I think for many people) but Allen worked through them with ease and grace. I don't believe I would have heard of these issues had I not been here to observe them or be in casual conversation. I asked Allen if I could share a little about them and he said that would be okay. I hope by sharing this that you will get to know Allen better and can pray for him, for all the staff at LEAD, and the work here in a new way. Here is a picture of Allen, wearing his winter coat because it is a very cool 75 degrees Fahrenheit and has been raining for several days. The following picture is a more typical picture of Allen as he holds a staff meeting with about twelve staff persons and seeks to make things very clear to them.

The first thing happened on Friday morning, as we prepared for our trip to Grand Cape Mount County. I overheard Allen on a phone call, talking about notifying the police and asking the caller to get back to him soon. After asking him what was going on, he shared that the LEAD motorcycle of the Program Manager in Nimba County had been stolen that morning. Pressing him for a few more details, he shared that rogues had entered the home of Mr. Daniel Nya-Konah during the night; they locked him in his room and emptied his house of items, including the motorbike. When he was finally able to free himself and locate a phone he could borrow (as his was stolen), he notified Allen as well as the police to be on the look-out for this bike. I immediately assumed that this bike would never be seen again (at which point Allen would have informed me of the incident). About three hours later, Allen received another call in which Daniel informed him that the bike had been located en route to Guinea and due to the police trying to stop him (police have no arms or vehicles to pursue, so that is not easy to do), the rogue ended up deciding it wasn't worth it and ditched the motorcycle in a hole. A passerby noticed the bike in the hole and decided to turn it in to the police. Very surprising ending.

The second stressor occurred some time ago, as LEAD was establishing its new office in Grand Cape Mount County. There was a microfinance institution (MFI) located in the same town who had been there for some time. [There are a number of differences between LEAD and MFIs - MFIs mostly give very small loans at high interest rates without other supports like training, mentoring, or advocacy, to name a couple.] This MFI (I won't mention the name even though I would really like to) decided to post the picture of LEAD's new program manager for this county, Harrison Dorbor, in their office, claiming that he owed money to them for a loan he took and hadn't repaid. He had never taken a loan from them nor had any interaction with this MFI before. This was done to "spoil his name" (as they say here) so that people wouldn't trust him or LEAD. It didn't take long for Harrison to hear about this, at which time he went to this MFI's office, removed the paper with his picture, and promptly filed a lawsuit against them. Since this involved Harrison and not LEAD, Allen did not need to get involved. However, this MFI receives a good amount of funding from large places, and before long, Allen was contacted by Central Bank and asked to settle this matter between these two organizations.

The third stressor occurred shortly after my last visit in February, when it was decided that it was time to let a certain staff person go who had not been performing well. This staff person did not take this decision very well, which is understandable as jobs are not easy to come by in Liberia. He ended up bringing a case of wrongful dismissal to the Ministry of Labor and Allen had to defend his case. Thankfully, Allen keeps great records on all staff and observes protocol in terms of warnings and evaluations, so this blew over shortly. Additionally, Allen is in his last semester of law school and he actually likes to argue cases!

The last one I'll share relates to politicians seeking out LEAD's constituency. As you may know, next year is an election year in Liberia, and those running are seeking votes wherever they can. Some politicians have realized LEAD's numbers are growing in their county and are beginning to pressure Allen to have LEAD endorse them. LEAD is not in the business of politics but this is a stress that could come with money attached in order to buy votes, so there is temptation wrapped up with it as well.

And so it goes. I was very pleased to give Allen his evaluation while I was here. He has been the National Director for 1.5 years and I think he is doing a great job. He is a natural leader, fair in his decisions, clear minded, a quick thinker, and has the gift of being able to juggle many things at once. As he mentioned in our evaluation meeting, this past year was very challenging for him but very encouraging as well.

On Monday we did a Training of Trainers for the LEAD staff. To break up the day, we worked on achieving another goal of bringing new business ideas to Liberia. I gave a demonstration on how to make recycled paper with very simple materials and low overhead. I learned this in Ghana from the Art teacher at Hannah and Noah's school.
Here the new Education Coordinator for Margibi County tries his hand at making the recycled paper.

I spent some time in Thinkers Village. Here is a picture of small Renita and her friends, having a good time, laughing and playing.

Small Renita and Patience with big Renita. She will be three this fall. Hard to believe she has gotten so big! But she looks great and was not too shy with me this time.

Why not me?

One of the books that was recommended to me over and over again after Bob's death is called a Grace Disguised by Jerry Sittser, written by a man who lost his wife, mother, and daughter in a car accident, in which he and his other three children survived. While I found this book difficult to read in the first few weeks, since then I have read it several times and have found it very helpful. One of the chapters is entitled, Why not me?

Too often, when something bad happens, we wonder, "why me?" I have certainly spent some time there, wondering why Bob was taken. However, as I have alluded to in several blog entries, living in Africa doesn't allow me to stay in that place very long. "Why not me?" seems to be a more much appropriate question. With all the suffering in the world, with all the wars and killings, natural disasters, accidents, not to mention sickness, divorce, unemployment, and so many other tragedies and difficulties, who am I to think that I can go through life without loss?

The fact that I lost Bob unexpectedly at a young age (although he certainly met or exceeded the life expectancy of people in most West African countries) hardly qualifies me for coming to know a side of life that the most people around the world know far better. I still have a life of relative comfort. My children are healthy, will finish high school and go to college. I am still American, white, employed, well loved, and part of a community that has lavished me with support.

What I like about this chapter is that the author goes on to state that he wasn't so sure that he deserved having those loved ones in the first place. He says, "Perhaps I didn't deserve their death; but I did not deserve their presence in my life either. On the face of it, living in a perfectly fair world appeals to me. But deeper reflection makes me wonder. In such a world I might never experience tragedy; but neither would I experience grace, especially as the grace God gave me in the form of the three wonderful people whom I lost...The problem of expecting to live in a perfectly fair world is that there is no grace in that world, for grace is grace only when it is undeserved" (pg. 126-127). A fair world is a scary thought. Who would dare to want to live there, knowing their sinful selves?

Thank God for mercy (not getting what we deserve). Thank God for grace (getting what we don't deserve).

I know that at the age of 21, when we got married, I didn't know who I was, who God was, and certainly not who Bob was. The fact that we had a good marriage, were able to have two healthy children, were united in following multiple calls from God to do radical things like moving with two small children to the inner-city, losing a solid job to send our children to a closing school, moving to Liberia, then to Ghana...cannot be attributed to my good sense. What a cause for celebration!!

Now, don't get me wrong. I still feel sorry for myself and get angry and wonder how I'll go on. But deep inside I know there is this truth.

I am now in Liberia and will be traveling to Cote d'Ivoire on Wednesday. The day I left Ghana we celebrated the first SME graduation with Hopeline Institute. The picture of the group is below. I was also able to watch the game between Ghana and the US on Saturday and celebrated with West Africa (and actually all of Africa) the success of the Black Stars into the Quarter Finals of the Fifa World Cup. Go Ghana!

On Thursday, we traveled to a new county office in Grand Cape Mount County - we are now in six counties! This is a picture of the building as well as the new jeep that LEAD was given by USADF. We thank God for His provision and the partners that allow for this progress to take place.

The purpose of the trip was to get some uninterrupted meeting time with Allen (in white), the National Director for LEAD and Moses, the Finance Officer (in yellow), as well as to deliver a new safe to this county office. In this picture, the Education Coordinator is being given the passcode, while the Program Manager has the key. Many safety nets are put in place when working with money.

After the training on how to use the safe, the Grand Cape Mount staff present Allen with a gift of a chicken. Yum!

One Teaspoon of Feces per Day

(Warning: you may not want to read this over breakfast:-).

As I mentioned a couple of weeks ago, I am working with Hopeline Institute which serves the greater Accra area. In addition to business development, Hopeline also does community development and focuses specifically on heath issues in a large number of villages and communities. I was invited to attend their Health and Sanitation training on Thursday where 24 community leaders had gathered from different villages to learn about how to teach about heath within their village; I had been asked to share information about the Sawyer Water Filter, a filter that can last a lifetime and is very simple to use.

While there, I had the opportunity to hear the Community Health speaker from the government talk about hygiene and sanitation. She stated (correctly, in my opinion) that so many people want to improve the health of people in developing countries but often that ends up only looking like water, water, and more water. While she acknowledged that clean water is very important, she pointed out that when it does not go along with hygiene and sanitation education, there may be no point. If a family has a filter, or water tablets, or a bore hole, but doesn't know how to keep the containers from getting contaminated (i.e. dipping a drinking cup into the bucket), the clean water doesn't really matter. Additionally, if a family doesn't have proper bathroom facilities, the same diseases being avoided through clean water will still present problems.

The speaker then went on to give two statements that go everyone's attention: "The average Ghanaian eats on average one teaspoon of feces every day." The second statement was, "The reason why some people don't use latrines is because they believe it is taboo to poo-poo - no, we are adults here - to shit on another person's shit. They would rather go anywhere than use a latrine." Well she certainly got my attention. Maybe that is why I've seen so many abandoned latrines.

She then went on to explain how it is that feces are consumed with what she called her "F" diagram, which looks roughly like the diagram above.

The problem of course with sanitation and hygiene is that it's difficult to get excited about it or to show results. Counting wells that are drilled or filters that are given out is tangible; teaching hygiene is more nebulous. Here are some pictures of open sewage in the area.








Children playing alongside dirty running water, surrounded by trash is something that happens all to often. The speaker mentioned that often rural villages are much cleaner than the urban sprawl areas where fewer people take responsibility for living conditions.












Open sewers running through heavily populated residential areas. These sewers often overflow during the rainy season.











An open sewer in Accra.

Father's Day 2010

Today is Father's Day as well as the three month anniversary of Bob's death. Hannah and Noah have been blessed to have had a father who loved them deeply. Who Bob was to them continues in them every day. I found an audio tape that we made for Father's Day in 1999 and decided to combine that with some video in our celebration of Robert Allen Reed as a great father.

We love and miss you!

When God is Silent

Weather: The rainy season has definitely arrived in Ghana, with rain falling fairly regularly and the temperature about ten degrees cooler, around 85 F for the high, with humidity around 75%. Makes for more comfortable evenings and sleeping. This morning was a cool 78 F which of course meant I needed a blanket during the night.

This week has had its highs and lows: Hannah and Noah made it safely to Grand Rapids and have begun to spend some fun time with friends; I'm dealing with some lonely times in Accra but trying to figure who Renita is by herself; I had an enjoyable Sunday with some friends and then drove through some serious post-Ghana win traffic, right after they won their game at the Fifa 2010 World Cup. I enjoyed driving through that traffic more than the game - it was great watching everyone celebrate, sing, dance, and be unified together. Pictures are below.

Underlying all these changes and events, continues to be grief. Next week Sunday is Father's Day as well as the third month anniversary of Bob's death. Hannah wrote the following in the airport on the way to Grand Rapids, which she agreed that I could share with you:

Bad stuff happens. It happens to everyone, in varying degrees and in different situations. We have all experienced crisis. Many times, a response of ours is to question God. And many times we find that God is silent. After the earthquake in Haiti, I had questions about God’s love and justice. For most bad occurrences, I could usually find a satisfactory conclusion that allowed God to remain good in my mind, despite how bad the situation was. For example, the situation could test a person’s faith, make them a stronger person, allow them to touch lives with a story, or things like that. However, after the huge earthquake in Haiti killed thousands and destroyed the homes of so many, it was a lot harder for me to find the good in the situation. I prayed about it, wondered, and was very confused. God didn’t provide me with writing on the wall, or a page in the Bible that randomly appeared to appease my curiosity. But as time went on and the incident faded from the front of my mind, I stopped searching for a reason and settled into the idea that I would never know and would just trust God’s goodness through this storm in Haiti.

It’s funny how when something happens to you personally, the questions take on so much more power then when something happens that is so far away. When Daddy died, the questions that began forming were absolutely overwhelming. I didn’t understand where God was when Dad was sick, didn’t understand why He would allow such a strong, smart, kind man to die when there was still so much good that could be done with his life. I didn’t understand why God would allow my family and me to hurt so badly. I didn’t understand. I couldn’t see the good in such situations as this.

And God was silent. I couldn’t hear Him. He didn’t give me a logical answer, didn’t write on my wall, and didn’t give me an epiphany. He felt distant, and I felt abandoned and alone in my grief, with just my family around me. The all powerful God that I served and loved was gone. I felt that there was a wall up, one that I couldn’t demolish and didn’t have the energy to climb, that separated me from God and His love. I was frustrated and angry about His silence and about the peace of mind that eluded me. It didn’t seem fair or right or just or loving or any of the things that God promised to be and give to us as children that He professed to love. It felt so hopeless. There was no way out of this ditch that I was in, no one could help me, and I surely couldn’t do it. So I stayed in the ditch. Even when the ditch didn’t seem so deep, I had become used to the darkness and didn’t want to move.

Thankfully though, God gave me the will to move, to begin to scale the ditch and work myself out of the hole that I was in. I am not out yet. I don’t know when I will be out. Each day I take slowly, sometimes I make progress and other days I regress deeper. I have begun to accept that I will probably never know why my Dad died. I will never know why innocent babies die of illness before having a chance to live. I will never know why innocent people die in a natural disaster that could never have been predicted. I won’t know. I can hypothesize to keep myself sane, but the knowledge will have to wait until I meet my Father- both earthly and heavenly- and ask him the questions I have. It is frustrating and hard, and some days I just wish I could curl up in the ditch, not exert any effort, and not attempt to move on in my grieving. But I also realize that this is my own stubbornness and elephant and devils that tell me the opposite of what I need. There’s a lot more I could say here, I could go on and on about my feelings and emotions regarding God and suffering and grief, but I think I’ll stop now before I write a book.

Yesterday (June 6), in church, I ran across a verse in 1 Peter 1:6-9. It says “In this you greatly rejoice, though now for a little while you may have had to suffer grief in all kinds of trials. These have come so that your faith - of greater worth than gold, which perishes even though refined by the fire - may be proved genuine and may result in praise, glory, and honor when Jesus Christ is revealed. Though you have not seen him, you love him; and even though you do not see him now, you believe in him and are filled with an inexpressible and glorious joy, for you are receiving the goal of your faith, the salvation of your souls.”

Bad things happen, often to the ‘good’ and ‘innocent’. I think the point is we are fallen, and this world sucks (excuse my language, but this is true). It doesn’t seem just that people die to test our faith, and most of us would testify that joy is NOT the immediate response. But when we look back on trials, we can hopefully see that God was working even when He appeared absent. We may not see it for a long time, but the point of faith is not that it is made easy all the time, but that when it gets hard, it endures. If our faith wasn’t tested through trials, it would be almost nonexistent and easily destroyed. Suffering seriously sucks, but I couldn’t live without it.

Kevin Prince-Boateng (right) and Asamoah Gyan celebrate the penalty shot
that gave Ghana the victory over Serbia (picture from the Associated Press). Driving through Madina, the streets were packed with people celebrating and cheering...

...and wearing fun celebrative Ghanaian colors.

What Do You Do?

How many times do we hear that question in our life? How many times growing up do we think about ways in which we would like to answer that question? Recently, I have heard a new word thrown into it when the question is directed to me: What exactly do you do?

I love what I do so writing about it is easy. The problem is that it is so intertwined with what I believe that I will have to work at not preaching as I describeJ.

The short answer to this question is business development. I write “business consultant” on my immigration cards as I travel from country to country. The actual title for my position is West African Regional Facilitator for Partners Worldwide. What does this mean? Well, to understand that you need to know a little bit about Partners Worldwide (www.partnersworldwide.org). The mission of Partners Worldwide is “Business as ministry for a world without poverty.” The vision is to “encourage, equip, and connect business and professional people in global partnerships that grow enterprises and create sustainable jobs, transforming the lives of all involved.” This is where I imagine people thinking, “That sounds good, but what does that really mean? What exactly do you do?”

Here is an image that illustrates the work. The foundation of this structure is the belief that God is the Maker and Creator of business. The first enterprise was the Garden of Eden, and Adam and Eve were the managers (God is always the owner). God’s plan included setting up a working enterprise – in this case a farming business, an environmental exploration business, and a management firm, through which humanity’s needs would be met. And just as a reminder, this was set up before the fall! What would this world look like if we behaved in a way that showed that God is the owner and we are the managers. How would our ethics, our stewardship, our care for employees, customers, suppliers, and competitors change? What type of evangelism could take place if we viewed ourselves as evangelists in the workplace, a natural setting for people of all faiths to come together? You get the point – I am passionate about this and could go on about Business as Mission, a core component of why we do what we do. On this foundational belief, we build partnerships between groups of people in both the developing world and the developed world. Each country in which we work has a partner group, most of whom are from North America, for the purpose of mutual transformation and growth.

These two groups then join together to work through the four pillars of the actual work: training for small and medium size entrepreneurs, teaching business as mission and all key components of running an effective business; mentoring which is done through a tiered approach using local, regional, and international mentors; advocacy, working to right economic injustices by appealing to our Father in Haven through prayer but also governments, sectors, and other groups; and access to capital, making sure businesses have the access necessary to build their business, usually through loans that match the savings done by the business owner. The old adage is, “If you give someone a fish, they will eat for a day. If you teach them to fish, they will eat for a lifetime.” I like to add the question, “But what if they can’t get to the pond because the rich owners won’t let them pass? What if they can’t buy a fishing boat or fishing nets?” That is where access to capital plays an important role; doing it through loans instead of grants or gifts accomplishes the goal of allowing the individual to maintain their dignity by doing it themselves, as well as allowing for a loan fund to revolve, blessing people over and over again.

The goal of these four pillars is job creation which then will result in poverty alleviation.

So what I do exactly is work with our partners in Liberia (LEAD INC, www.leadinliberia.net), Cote d’Ivoire (ACLCP, http://dealieu.blogspot.com), and Ghana (Hopeline Institute, www.hopelineinstitute.org) in fulfilling the objectives in these areas and assessing the progress we make. Check out their websites if you want more info or to see video stories. And, of course, since each in-country group has a North American partner, I also work with folks from various states in the US, as well as individuals in Canada. I view my position as a bridge between two worlds, making it easier for people to walk across, to get to know each other, arching toward God as they pass. Much of my time is spent in meetings (mostly on the phone since I am in Ghana), writing reports, writing grants, and training. I spend about 50% of my time on Liberia, 20% on Ghana, 20% on Cote d’Ivoire, and 10% on Partners Worldwide, although on a week to week basis this changes based on need.

What I find so exciting about this ministry is the empowerment aspect that work provides. When people work, they can take care of their own children (lowering the number of social orphans in orphanages), pay their own school fees, medical treatment, buy food, clothing, etc. thereby significantly reducing the need for outside aid and dependency. Creates a healthier world.

By the way, if I may have a moment to brag, both of my children finished their school year on the honor roll. Noah’s grade point average is a 3.9, Hannah’s grade point average is a 4.0. This was despite missing two weeks of school in March for Bob’s funeral and fighting depression and exhaustion for the remainder of the school year. I couldn’t be prouder of them and I know Bob would be very proud of them as well. Here are some pictures from the awards ceremony and graduation.

They left last night for the US to spend some well deserved rest time with family and friends. I miss them already. Hannah and some of her friends from school: next to her, Wylee from Cote d'Ivoire; Sonya from Ethiopia; Elisamuel from Puerto Rico, and Daichi from Japan.
Noah and his good friend, Armand from South Africa; in the middle is Olivia Korum, Hannah's good friend who just graduated.

Award ceremony at the school - Hannah receiving the Distinguished Christian High School Student award for outstanding achievement in Academics, Leadership and Christian Service.

The American International School of Accra High School Graduation 2010. Only three graduates - Hannah is at the podium reading one of the biographies of the graduates. On the right is the principal, the Minister of Education, and other dignitaries.

Why Stay in Africa?

Since Bob’s death, many people have asked whether or not I will stay in Africa. My response has pretty much been, “I will stay in Africa until God tells me differently.” The calling that we had to Africa was one given to both Bob and myself, as a couple and as individuals. Because I believe I still have work to do here, I will stay. But as with any good question, it does make me think. Beyond feeling called, why do I want to stay in Africa? Why do I not want to live in North America? Additionally, I have recently had a number of people ask me what exactly I do in Africa. I will address that question next time.

The truth is that I like Africa better than North America (and Bob did as well). Our plan was to stay after the kids go to college, but be able to move away from the capital cities that we find ourselves in due to schools or Internet needs, to more remote areas. My hope has always been to be able to move to a village and learn to live very simply. I don’t know if words or even pictures can answer why I like it better. The first time we landed in Liberia in 2004, it didn’t take me long to turn to Bob and say, “I feel like I’m home.” I don’t know where that came from. Obviously, not everyone who visits Liberia feels that way or there would be a population explosion. So what is it?

I would have to say that the predominant reason is that life feels so real here; the struggle for survival is palpable and in your face. I am reading a book called, The Blue Sweater by Jacqueline Novogratz who talked about what struck her when she visited Uganda, “I couldn’t recall ever feeling so fully alive getting ready for a day…there was a rawness and a beauty here that brought every emotion right to the surface, and I loved the feeling, loved being in this place where the best and worst of everything seemed to coexist…I was stunned by the resilience of everyone I met…and was awestruck by the Ugandans’ ability to endure suffering and still embrace great joy.” I certainly resonate with her words. I love driving down a road that is packed with human beings involved in so many aspects of life – conversing, selling, buying, cooking, doing laundry, bathing, arguing, crying, and laughing – so many people laughing. I often can’t believe how many people I see laughing. The best and worst coexisting – poverty, struggle for survival, and yet laughter and a seeming contentment.

I love living in a community with open windows - all the time, everyone, 24/7, 365 days per year. You hear life around you constantly, you smell what others are cooking, you hear which baby is sick by the crying, you hear children laughing and arguing, adults conversing, dogs barking, roosters crowing. As I drive into more remote areas, I look with curiosity and longing at the villages, wondering what life is like for them, wanting to experience what they do - the closeness and struggles that they face.

I remember when we moved back from Liberia to the US, pulled into the garage of the rented house we were using, closed the garage door behind us and entered the home. The silence was deafening. I remember how Bob and I looking at each other, wondering at the silence and how empty it was. Driving down the streets in Grand Rapids, there were very few people out. Everyone in cars. No wonder we turn so much to the TV to get a sense of community.

I feel more alive here. I feel closer to God. I feel closer to my neighbor. In fact, it’s easier for me to figure out who my neighbor is here. I am less tempted by my own wants and desires. There is less to do and therefore more opportunity to be. Every day, as I go about my work and my natural sinful nature wants to complain, within seconds I am reminded of how blessed I am. I can’t feel sorry for myself here for very long, despite the difficulties in doing the simplest of tasks. I am more grateful for life, for health, for food, for water.

Sometimes people tell me that they think I’m strong for living in Africa. I often think that I am too weak to live the way God has called me to live in America. This place is easier for me.

I don’t know if this makes sense to anyone reading it. These pictures might help. Take time to look at the faces.

These children are hard at work with palm nuts. Not an easy job. Yet they laugh freely.

These children are carrying babies on their back yet still finding joy in play.

Women working together.

These children don't appear to have much but look at smiles and the laughter.

In the Valley of the Shadow of Death

I always thought that the verse from Psalm 23,

“Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death…”
was meant for the person dying.

I felt bad reciting that psalm to Bob about an hour before he died

because I didn’t want him to think he was dying.

I didn’t think he was dying.

I now realize that the verse is intended for those who are grieving.

We are walking in the shadow of his death.

The shadow of that death makes the valley very dark.

A valley is already dark. The sun doesn’t stay long.

The shadow makes it darker.

The shadow is depressing, oppressing, heavy.

It’s difficult to breathe.

It’s difficult to move forward without tripping, stumbling, faltering.

There are puddles, low hanging branches, rocks in the path.

I am muddy, scratched, bruised, and bleeding.

I tumbled into the valley, with no warning signs…

No gradual decline; it was like falling off a cliff into the valley.
It was light and then suddenly dark.
There was no map provided; no trip planning.

I hear the voices of people on either side of the valley, at the top,

rushing here and there, going on with their lives.
I wonder how they can.

Don’t they see me down here? How can life go on so quickly?

But it’s dark down here. I’m in the shadow.

I realize that when I die, when anyone dies, it will be the same.

A blip of people remembering and then rushing on with their lives.

What is the point?

We struggle, fight, try to do the right thing,

day after day after day, hour after hour,

and it vanishes in an instant.

Seemingly meaningless.

Stop. Don’t give me platitudes. I’ve heard them all.

Most of them start with the word, “Just”.

This valley I’m in is nothing new.
King Solomon, the wisest man, said “Everything is meaningless. All go to the same place; all come from dust, and to dust all return.” (Ecc. 3:19b-20)

Psalm 39:5 says, “Each man’s life is but a breath.”

I want to curl into a ball and rest

But the air is so thick that it’s hard to breathe.

And I hear the voices of Hannah and Noah.

And I see those suffering around me to a much greater extent.

And I hear the voice of my Master saying, take the next step.

If it’s a valley, there should be a time when I begin to climb out.

But for now it’s dark. And I’m tired.

[The pictures below were taken by Bob in Liberia. Note how dark the shadows are in comparison to the brilliant light above it.]

Switching from Elephants to Grasscutters

We thought it was time to take a brief break from filling you in on our grief work to bring you an update on the other work that is going on at the Reed household. Although it has been difficult to give our full attention and concentration to other work, it has been a necessary distraction at times from the grief work.

Hannah and Noah are finishing up 11th and 10th grade, respectively. Exams start in two weeks and then they will fly back to Grand Rapids on June 7. Thankfully, we happened to book the same flight as another missionary family (the same family who was so helpful after Bob's death - Jeff and Laurie Korum), so Hannah and Noah will fly with someone they know. Noah will spend a few weeks with long-time friends, the Steenwyks, and have the opportunity to work on their farm. Hannah will stay with her aunt and uncle, Janette and Dale VanderVeen, do some volunteering with the Grand Rapids Public Library, and hang out with her Potters House friends. I will finish the class that I am teaching in Ghana, spend a week in Liberia, and another week in Cote d'Ivoire, then join the children in Grand Rapids for a little rest and relaxation. We will return to Ghana on the first of August. It's hard to believe Hannah will be a senior and Noah a junior. Hannah will be making decisions soon about college.

In the meantime, my work has continued with Partners Worldwide in Ghana, Liberia, and Côte d'Ivoire. In the five weeks since I've returned, there have been various projects that I have worked on for each of our partner countries. One of the more major projects was to finish something that Bob and I had started prior to his death - the delivery of grasscutters for a demonstration farm in Côte d'Ivoire. What exactly are grasscutters? Not lawnmowers as some people have guessed, but an animal, known also as a cane rat, from the genus Thryonomys. Grasscutters are valued as a source of "bush meat" throughout West and Central Africa. Our partner in Danané, Côte d'Ivoire, with Director Dea Lieu, was working on re-establishing their demonstration farm where they had produced hundreds of grasscutters prior to the 2002 war. While they looked at options to buy these in Benin, we realized that it would be much cheaper to buy them in neighboring Ghana. With Bob's agreement to help me (since he's the animal lover), we started meeting with grasscutter farmers in the greater Accra area. That was then interrupted by Bob's death, and the team in Danané patiently waited until I returned to Ghana.

Once back in Ghana, it didn't take long for me to realize that I needed to get moving on this project on my own. Thankfully, a Ghanaian from the affiliate with whom we are working, stepped in to help me, and before long we had arrangements to buy six colonies (4 female, 1 male), the boxes constructed for transport, the medical certificates from a vet, and in the process I also had to become certified as a "Wildlife Exporter" with the government of Ghana (yet another strange thing I can add to my resume). Déa and I agreed to meet at the border town of Elubo, about 150 kms from Abidjan (750 kms from Danané) and 350 kms from Accra. Early that morning, as I prepared to leave, I needed to feed the grasscutters before getting on the road. As I reached in to put a second bunch of grass in one of the boxes, to my horror, one grasscutter got out. As I froze, in a split second, a second one escaped. I quickly recovered and shut the gate on the box, all the while yelling for Noah (at 5:45 am) to get out and help catch them. The dogs (all three) very quickly decided to "help", caught and killed one within seconds. Hannah got out of the house first and tried to hold all three dogs - not an easy task to do when they are on the hunt - while Noah and I tried to catch the other grasscutter. Noah eventually caught the other one and it was returned safely to her box. In hindsight, it was probably quite a comedic sight as we chased dogs who chased grasscutters; then we chased grasscutters while the dogs were trapped inside the house. The grasscutters are now safely in Danane where we hope and pray that they will bring the needed protein to the people there. Danane is still in rebel held territory and the people of Cote d'Ivoire continue to be a nation divided as they wait for an election (since 2005). Poverty and malnutrition are on the rise in this country and we ask for your prayers.

The black line indicates the road we took from Accra to the border town of Elubo.

Here are the cute little rascals, looking all innocent while mischievously plotting their escape.

The road going through Cape Coast.

The road to Elubo, the border town between Cote d'Ivoire and Ghana. Note the great shape the road is in - the road was good almost the whole way, only about 20 miles were a little rough.

Déa Lieu, the Director of ACLCP, giving direction to Pastor Dah, the Chairperson for ACLCP, on how to place the grasscutters. Delivery is complete!

The Elephant in the Room - reflections from Hannah

[Weather: The rain has begun to fall several times a week in small amounts. The weather today is 91 degrees F, with a humidity of 89%.]I have an elephant. I carry it with me everywhere I go. The weight of my elephant is immense, it’s almost unbearable at times, and yet I can’t put it down. It’s huge and it’s amazing to me how it can go everywhere I go. But what is even more stunning is how nobody seems to notice it. Every day, I go to school and I expect someone to comment on it, to talk about it or ask me about it. When the weight gets heavy, I wait for someone to notice the pain this elephant is inflicting, but they usually don’t. They avoid the topic, when all I want to do is talk about it. I don’t want their sympathy, because the thing is, I don’t need sympathy. It won’t help me. All I want is for someone to acknowledge my burden, to talk to me as an equal, not as someone who is so crippled by this weight and pain that I need what sympathy they can offer. I don’t want their sympathy- though there is a time and place for it- but I also don’t want them to avoid the issue entirely. People walk by it every day, avoiding it or maybe so consumed with their own issues and lives that they fail to notice it. Maybe they have forgotten that it’s even in the room. I don’t want my elephant to be all people think about. I just don’t want it to be ignored.

Grief is crippling. Not entirely in the physical sense, but very much in the emotional and psychological sense. The elephant is just as much that of the mind as that of the body. It is the burden of everyone, and everyone has their own elephants; be they tremendously big or very small, our elephants are key parts of our lives. They shape us and help us grow, and if the weight of the elephant doesn’t kill those on whom it inflicts pain, it certainly makes them stronger.

My elephant has become a part of my life. I don’t think that I’ll ever get rid of it. It will always be present in my life, no matter how old I get, or where I live, or who I marry. But after time, it will get smaller. The weight will decrease and become less crushing. It will help shape me and will integrate itself into my lifestyle. It will become my pet instead of my burden. But until then, I must press on. The weight feels unbearable right now, but in time, it will lessen. Day by day, the weight will slowly decrease. In the meantime I will focus on the goal- that is God and all He has to offer. He sometimes feels distant, sometimes His voice isn’t as loud, but I can’t wait to see what His plans are for me, and how He will use this elephant to make me into a child of God and a servant of others.

A brief ‘us’ update. School continues to be a challenge, as all high schools are, but now with an added burden. Each day is hard to face and each night I fall in to bed completely exhausted. Depression is present, and though its strength comes and goes, it is always there. I’m having some anxiety when it comes to school and when I think about the work I have to do. My mom has been amazing, though she would never say so. I admire her strength and her abilities more than ever, as she takes up the challenges of each day with grace and a certain strength that blows my mind. There are people supporting her who I deeply appreciate- they have given her great peace of mind and have helped her work through many a problem, such as lack of sleep, how to deal with the stress that Noah and I are experiencing, and finding time to grieve in days that are so hectic. Noah is doing similar to how I am- sad, grieving, still in shock and very stressed. We’re all holding up as good as can be expected. Which is not that great, but we don’t really expect much else.