HUngrY HeArTS

color-wild-culture shock- streeeeetch

2007-04-29T16:03:00.000-07:00

This land, these slopes of Mount Kilimanjaro, this peoples and their culture, is uniquely it's own- made of the same dirt, water, wind, fire, sugar, and spice as the rest of His most perfect creation... but in a form not seen anywhere else... so brilliantly it's own that it feels as if you've departed from planet Earth, roamed the galaxies not knowing what you're looking for- at one point pressing the button marked "color-wild-culture shock-streeeeetch" and flop boom crash bang the door opens to Moshi- Tanzania-Africa, a whole new world.

It is red dirt so present in thin-skin form on all surfaces in the dry season and in 'one inch thick on the soles of all feet, flip flops, tire flops, wabo wabos' form in the rainy season.

Moshi- Tanzania- Africa is bugs that fly into me, all around me, onto my food, swim circles in my drinks, climb up my legs, fly over my bed as i prepare for and act out sleep, and bite me (not so much anymore, but i did just heal from malaria which results from a mosquito bite soooooooooo maybe im still being nibbled a bit). However, in all their uninvited, rather bothersome, very dirty- im sure- efforts, they are nearly invisible to me now- having become "just part and parcel" to this adventure.

It is maconde, peelow, banana and corn fritters, rices with spices, potatoes in every form imagined and not, and meat that i dont eat because im pretty sure that it's the same mbuzi i named 'flower' and fed yellow buds to moments previous... but then, every once in a while, I do eat it for the sake of necessary nutrients and really enjoy every bite- all tender and succulent and spiced nice- because the mama who cooked it knew how to do what she did.

Moshi- Tanzania- Africa is mamas who cook- yum- and clean- mopping dirty floors with a dirty cloth and dirty water causing the needed "wet floor" look of a just cleaned floor, but really only more evenly distributing the dirt, mud, and muck already present. But it's Africa and dirty is easily accepted (and quite possibly even advertised) as part of the charm of the nation.
(One quick aside... I was shopping for mens African shirts in a shop called Expeditions and I asked the kind Indian business owner to "please" pull down a very cotton, very hand sewn, cream-colored shirt. It had caught my attention and was now enticing me to buy it(self) but it was dirty... as in filthy and so I asked "did this once belong to someone?" and in kindness and humor, the owner responded with "No, it's... ummm, it's... Moshi. Moshi is dirty." (now read it again but with an indian accent.) Moshi is this region, this town, this land, this home of Kilimanjaro. It was the first time I had heard a local so honestly peg it as such... in such... truth- "Moshi is dirty."
and Moshi is dirty...
but it's truy not a big deal and only obvious when held up against the sterile white back drop of my American experience.

Moshi- Tanzania- Africa is awe-somely beautiful women. There is little affirmation from one to another and even less face to mirror-reflection talk of beauty and worth, but Tanzanian mamas, dadas, young girls, and babies all radiate a beauty.... one much different from every other created woman. They are as different, one to another, as are all females within one given culture and are each complete in their beauty.

They are "black" but really brown, with reds, oranges, and hot pinks blended to perfection.
Cheeks that display the sun's tatoo, in all it's deeply penetrating orange-reds
Lips, painted dark by Beauty, Himself, with tints of hot pink in thin lines, speaking of femininity and romance, conjuring up thoughts of "pretty"
Noses perfectly proportioned to their faces
Eyes, huge and deep and dark... sometimes reflecting the darkness in their hearts, produced through pain and disappointment leading them to anger, mistrust, and bitterness. It brings up, in the on-looker, feelings of sadness and empathy for a lost heart. Most often, however, I find "karibu" (welcome) in these sockets to the soul, sparkling with joy, light, love, and true interest in me as a "rafiki" (friend).
These women are caring, incredibly hospitable- "karibu karibu karibu", wanting of wisdom, hungry for knowledge, searching for "it", and longing for new-ness. If one listens carefully, all of this can be heard as these women speak, with a voice and in a language parrallel to their outward beauty. Swahili is the local tongue here, and it is spoken, as I hear it, in song.

Tanzanian women wear second-hand America teeshirts and jeans, wrapped in kongas. The purpose of the konga is to sheild the "fancy" American clothing from the swirling whirling, ever-surrounding red dirt... but it is in these wraps of colors and shapes, messages in design, rainbow-brilliant bouncing culture-defining fabrics that this dry, even when soaking wet, red dirty (yes, the 'y' is on purpose) land and it's people becomes even more beautiful. Wrapped within the wrap is Africa... color, land, myths, beliefs, drama, design, vegetation, the Mountain, ladies dancing, Mosai tribal warriors hunting, fruits, food, flowers, brilliance, bounce, life, innocence, innocence lost, darkness, and freedom. Truly, all in a fabric... all in a konga!

Tanzanian men also wear second-hand America clothing. Imagine shopping at Salvation Army for every piece of clothing you own- no other options. These things are bought off of street carts and at Kiberloni, an area just outside of town, set up as a huge thrift shop. The style of dress here is similar to men in the Western world... tee-shirts or polos and jeans much too large but, somehow, made to fit. The men always match, where as the women do not. It's no matter. They've made the non-matching into a style all their own, and who they are stands to define their beauty, over-riding any importance placed on the clothing they wear.

There is importance placed on quality of dress on two occassions: trips to mjini (town) and Sunday services. The African is seen in only his/her best. For the women, this means, self-designed dresses made from kitangaes and kongas or dresses, second-hand from America. I digress for a moment to explain the dresses from home-sweet-home. Ladies, go to your storage closets and pull out, both, your mid-eightees, full ruffle, pastel colored, lace trimmed dresses and your high-school prom gown(s). Men, flash back to that night from ages past, think upon that pretty girl you escorted by the hand (or the one you really wished you had gone with... whichever one you most noticed), and remember her dress. These are the dresses, gowns(, costumes) made available to Tanzanian women. It's all they know and is fully understood as very beautiful here (and it is quite beautiful.)

Kongas are not worn as wraps to church. (I was just told that this is only true of the "rich" churches- woman from the villages wear kongas to service.) I repeat, kongas are not worn as wraps to (rich) church(es)... except by Caitlin Joy Pritchard. To me, they are beautiful and add more rainbow-color-Africa-ka pow, to my very me, but, reflective of America- style. It was Sunday, a few weeks ago, when I discovered my faux pas. I was standing outside of Maskani Yake (His Dwelling Place), the church, with Goudencia, my roommate and one of the most beautiful women I have ever connected hearts with. We were discussing after-Word plans when I felt eyes in the back of my head... and all over my being. I mentioned this to the beauty in front of me and she responded with "no, Cait-a-lin, it's not true... well, maybe... ummm, because... you are wearing kongas." She then gave me a look similar to one you give a child who has just done something completely pure-hearted yet so rediculous that even you feel embarrased... followed by a huuuuge smile. I said "What! Why?.. is it wrong to wear kongas?" The Beauty's reply was "No, it's not wrong, Cait-a-lin,... well, you see, the women wear kongs when working to keep nice clothes clean. On Sundays they dress up. Not kongas." I thought about this, pondered it, rolled it over and over in my mind and decided... I am going to rock my kongas when I want to rock my kongas! It is not offensive, it's just not understood.

Moshi- Tanzaniana- Africa is trips to mjini (town)-
As a mzungu, I dont feel the need to dress up like my Tanazanian dadas and kakas... so it's teeshirt or tank and jeans for this girl. Im there to sit at the coffee shop and/or to get some things done... post office, eats, other assorted errands. Sometimes Juma takes us everywhere, door to door. Othertimes, I walk it- just me and my Roxy flops. As I walk, I try to stay conscious of my surrounding. It's so easy to just watch my feet the entire time- noticing rad soda bottle caps that have been lying in that same spot for ages- wondering what I could make of it if I were to grab it up- but realizing how so dirty it is and imagining who, with what had their hands and mouth on it... so I leave it. I get lost in this, I do- but then I get hit with "oh my, I am in Africa. Look at it- Notice it- See it- Take it with you, Caitlin" and I do... all of that. As I look, notice, see, take the surroundings- I am inundated with Tanzanians- everywhere- working, walking, begging, talking, some smiling, most very serious-faced... all surviving! It is very much about survival here- little joy, little pleasures, little ease of heart... too much ease of action... acceptance of non-action. I look at each, taking in their details- God's smoothing out of this ones cheek and His lifting of that ones nose- truly, they are beautiful! I want to photograph them all, but it's a delicate action- not always welcome. Anyway, I look, notice, see, and take them with me as I pass by each. I think about them and their day and their future and their hearts and their dreams. I know, almost for certain, what they did that morning, what they are doing now, and what they will do later that night. There is not much creativity in mixing it up. They dont grow up being told to "dream" or go after anything bigger than what they see directly in front of them- farming the cows, collecting taca taca (garbage), cleaning, cooking, street vending. They dont have access to our dream makers- machines or communication devices or transportation to get someone "out." It is easy to quickly feel lost and broken and hopeless over their situation... but then enters Jesus and His hugeness and His plan for them and their lives.... and the Urgency for the reality of Eternity. Wow!

If the he or she's surrounding me aren't Tanzanian or Indian, they are Mzungu. I am so completely drawn to the mzungu. It's wild because, I am one and yet, dont really ever thing about that fact... until I see one. I get as excited as the little Tanzanian children who call out "mzungu mzungu" everytime we pass by. It is unknown to me why they are here and where they are from and what treasures lie deep within them. They are here for a season and a reason... self discovery, growth, to give of one's self, exploration. I wonder "Is Jesus the reason for this season in their life?"-- "Are they aware of His administrative hand in their lives or are they lost and wondering?"
Each is from a distant, far off land, one on which I have, most likely, not yet tread... but long to. They have stories and accents, new and foreign, but delightful, a tickle to the ear. Each is beautiful... representing well the slight differences God put in each different groups of peoples. Each wants to know more, discovering new in them and the world as they venture through this land. There is something innately in some people- actually, I believe it is most people, but not everyone listens to and goes for it- that cries out for adventure and discovery, seeing and touching all of God's creations, treading new lands, making an impact as opposed to just a footprint. The mzungus you meet in Tanzania have all listened and gone for it. The 'yes' in their spirit put them on a plane and flew them here. The few I've spoken with are fascinating- from England, Australia, New Zealand, Holland- missionaries, mountain climbers, backpackers- here for months or years. I get so much from these interactions... brief shared- heart moments, always increasing my faith and my "yes" to GO.

My prayer is "Lord, let me leave with each those peices of me which You know will bless You in them... and let me grab at, fist, and punch into my heart that which You know will bless You in me."

Isnt Jesus so yummy!

Moshi- Tanzania- Africa is warmth and light and vibrant life. It is beauty beyond the dictionary definition. It is hearts- beating, searching, bleeding- some loving Jesus, some needing direction-- needing Jesus.

Moshi- Tanzania- Africa is a greatest gift, a most precious prayer closet, a blessing which has blessed me beyond Beyond.

Moshi- Tanzania- Africa is in my heart, forever a part of me and to be remembered as a most precious season in Our Love Story... The King's romancing of me and me of Him.

Thank you all for sharing in this with me. Your hearts kept beat with my heart throughout the entirety of this. I have been blessed beyond what I could have imagined.
Love Love LOve

move it or lose it

2007-04-29T16:02:00.000-07:00

Africa lives by rules... non-rules... no, Africa lives... but sometimes i ask, "how?"...
As Ive traveled, Ive noted differences between America and the new lands. One super interesting happening in each country is the crossing of roads, streets, highways and biways- whether dirt or concrete, made of stone, grass, or wood, it is happening. It is simple, basic, and occurs trillions of times every day, everywhere. It is people doing the crossing, humans, flesh and bone, slightly different skin suits-facial features- and body builds but, by and by, all the same. It is also people (humans, flesh and bone) doing the driving of the cars, bikes, dala dalas, carts, and buses that drive on these roads being crossed, who must work together with the walkers, the runners, the crawlers- the people crossing. However, though all flesh and bone, though all "by and by the same"... the people occupying the different lands abide by different crosser/worker with crosser rules. In America, the pedestrian has the right of way. Some of you disagree. Okay, what I mean to say is, if you hit someone with your car, you are in big trouble, Mister. It concerns more than the law too in that when one American hurts another- in such an awful odd way- they feeeeeel it. It's an inner ouch (and possibly an outer one if the person hits back). Almost sympathy pains. There is remorse and a great desire to make it right- to make their hurts heal (and then your hurts will heal too). Anyway, I digress so exageratively because Im now going to tell you about the African crosser/worker with crosser.

"HONK HONK HONK HONK HONK HONK HONK HONK HONK!" Enough said... no, it's not. It's not enough said because right now, you assume that the "HONK" is an annoyed move move move... please but not really please thing... but it's not. It's "HONK!" Ive honked, you may or may not have heard me, but keep moving and you just might die and I dont care. It is scary at first... as the crosser and as the passenger of the worker with the crosser but after a while of not seeing anyone die it becomes funny. Truly, Juma, our taxi driver picked us up this morning for school and on the way into town, I heard the expected "HONK" here and "HONK" there and "HONK" everywhere... and I laughed... out loud. As an American, these are rude sounds so blatently and basically and nonchalantely sounded from each and every moving vehicle towards (like an dart shot at a bullseye) each and every moving skin body- be it animal, vegetable, or mineral. "HONK HONK HONK HONK..... HONK......................HONK..... HOOOOOOOOOOOOONK!" and everyone is okay with this. Those aboding here, abide by this law. It's our well known, but differently defined "move it or lose it."
Fabulous!

loving everyone... really

2007-04-28T16:07:00.000-07:00

loving everyone.... really
The Lord, Jesus Christ in all His amazing Loving of me is opening my eyes wide to His beauty in allllllllllll peoples. Physical, yes... What a perfect, most creative, visionary, molder, smoother outer, "a little more here", "a little less there", tweaker, bender, blender, detail oriented, beauty maker, creator, artist our God is. He has made such wonders in us all. We are so fabulously beautiful having been made in His image. There arent words and though you know I want to try some out... I choose to not. God made us... "enough said."
Also, our inner things... we are each whole beings... as in full of goo and bones and blood, a soul, a spirit, emotions, feeeeeeeeeeelings, drama on occassion, hopes, dreams, love love love, loves (right ones and wrong ones), art, ideas, brains (full of what we fill them with), hearts and hearts desires. Though the same ingredients are contained within, we each are made from a different recipe-- i may be a bit saltier than some (ive eaten it by the handfulls since childhood) where others may be full of sugar. Im losing you, I think. What I mean is, that God used His dirt, His clay, His hands, and His breath to create us all, but He made each of us as different from each other as the snowflakes and raindrops and stars are from one another. I am completely unique. You will never ever ever ever ever ever ever find another me. I will never ever ever ever ever ever ever find another you. Fabulous... it's perfect... perfectly God.
Class was over and everyone was outdoors running and sunning in the sun and Son. Six of the boys had begun a game of football, but soccer to us. It was hot hooooooot and I had planned to walk to town with some of my friends (which meant more hot hoooooot and sweating and feeling sweaty) so the appropriate now action was to sit and stay cool, but I so itched to run the field with the boys and the ball. I decided to resist. I resisted. stillll resisting. stilllllllllll reeeessssssiiiiiisssssssttttiiiiiiing... "I dont have the power"... I gotta play. I played forward for a bit but longed to be keeper and quickly recieved this desire of my heart (it's was more a desire of my ego and sweat glands)... I can do keeper- I pretty much rock at body blocking- it's my place in the game. For me to play keeper, Micah had to take the field. Oh wait, back up... the now remember truth is that I could see that Micah wanted to play the field (the other boys usually stick him in goal) and so I stepped in to relieve him. RIght, that sounds better.
So Im in goal- keeping it- and from there I have a really good view of the game- the jumps and jives, the side steps, the swirly feet thing that Michael does, the headers, Toma's big-footed kicks, the body blocks, every smooth move, every blunder (few and far between), and every .... somersault, butterfly chase, and flying of invisible kites (imagine the eyes to the sky whirling as though following site of a huge rainbow colored kite). These latter scenarios describe my Micah and my gift today was being able to watch and really see this beautiful boy, as he performed perfectly the role God has given him... as him. He is Tanzanian. He is "black" but brown with reds, oranges, yellows, and hot pinks blended to perfect beauty. He is round and full... of so so so much heart, love, desire to please, willingness to learn, want for growth, potential, smarts, and hope- He is a boy and he plays the part well. He is full of surprises. Truly, watch him in football (soccer). One minute he is somersaulting, chasing butterflies, and flying invisible kites... which is fabulous and fun and childlike. These are things he should be doing in that they are carefree, mindless, adventurous, imaginative discovery of life... the pretend things and the real things. He is here and there and everywhere in his mind and yet, the moment that his team needs him and the ball is in his box (where ever the butterfly has led him for that moment), he is the man with the plan and the moves- full on body block, face-stomach-arms-legs- full body involvement, fully functioning, fully skilled, fully successful. I cant seem to find the words to satisfy what my eyes behold as I watch this kid wonder... but let me just say he can "bend it like beckham." Does that even mean anything? The point is that he is wonderful. He is fully child and fully himself, full of potential and gifting and talent and purpose and life. He is beautiful and leaves me gaping and, better yet, smiling and laughing while silently speaking "what!?!" and "really!?!" and "wow!"
I am here for three months, which, now that only five weeks remain, feels like very little. God has introduced me to this Micah, this boy, this specially-designed-by-Him part of His great plan, this heart so in need of love and yet so capable of giving it away in heafty portions... with ease. "Missee Cait-a-lin" "Missee Cait-a-lin". I couldnt ever leave that except that I trust God to forever provide for him hearts to love and be loved by. I am blessed and honored, brought to tears over the heart-to-heart realness between this superstar, this Micah and me. Watching him today in all his... him, touched my heart and deeper still, somehow better connected my heart to God's own Heart. Wow!
The Lord is giving me insight into His creation of us- wholly individual, wholly perfect, wholly Him and therefore Holy. He is beautiful and so we, created in His image are also... beautiful.
You all, you all, you all, you, you, you are so beautiful. I began to think on each of you as He spoke to me of the many different ingredients He placed in us, differently in each... and it broke me. Thoughts of you broke me. Your beauty- beauties even, in Him- 'physical' and 'inner things'- are so beyond what you even think them to be or hope them to be. I laughed... and laughed and laughed and laughed full rejuvenating, life giving laughter. I smiled... a huge, cheek to cheek, red-faced (because my heart exploded and the blood flooded up to fill it), life healing, hope giving smile. I am not deserving of the hearts that I have been given... as friends and just-one-moment-knowings and life long loves... but I readily accept the gift of you all, you all, you all, you, you, you in all your beauty. Please pray for God to open your eyes to you in Him and others in Him. My words could never do it justice, but seeing it for the mili-second I did, changed my heart, and thus, my life forever.

4-03-07

piki piki

2007-04-20T13:07:00.000-07:00

Piki piki
"motor cycle"

Sights
-Trees trees trees trees
-Green green green green green
and their other-than-green growth- foods and florals
-coffee plants in browns and assorted greens sprouting in abundance- in rows, extending as far as the eye can see
-gardens, the livelihood of the lovely lived-long-looking, looking-on locals
--many-colored laundry hanging on lines or laid, drying on large river rocks
-Rainbow colors, as seen in-on-over-under
the beautiful locals adorned in khongas and tees and top wraps, carrying
fruits and vegetables in baskets, balanced on heads
living in and meeting at metal and wooden shacks painted in turquoises, reds, browns, oranges, and lime greens.

Sounds
-vrooooooooom
only piki piki
and I love it!
-in the quick- lived silence of the piki piki,
one hears
many waters- brooks, streams, short falls- birds, songs of Swahili shouted and spoken,
and that sweet silence that only nature can accomplish so silently and perfectly…
the whisper of the Holy One

Smells
-the freshest of air, lived-alone and then mixed with
burning taca taca as it wafts through the forests of banana trees, then
coffee bushes touched delicately by the sun and it’s rays, then (but really at the same time)
the red-brown Africa dirt
and mud and,
lastly, completely complimentary, is the scent of
something new,
newness,
unknown and not to be labelled or described to any degree of accuracy
and so
enjoyed to the uttermost,
grabbed at-
tightly fisted-
and pushed hard into my heart-
never to be forgotten.

It’s how I most prefer Africa. The wind all over me, touching any part of my face I allow it to (having put on a helmet and goggles, a shield against it)… blowing up and around everything on me that is not securely tucked, threatening my flip flops with being thrown over the edge and lost forever in some bubbling brook laid under bridges the piki piki flies me over, and providing me with forever renewed moments of the freshest of air- swallowed then circulated throughout my entire being (heart, mind, body, soul) conquering all bad and negative and transforming it immediately to new and clean and pure and good- God good!

As I relax into the ride, handing all power and control over to the piki piki (which Im only able to do out of great trust in God and His protection of me), my body becomes one with this land, Africa- this Tanzania, this Moshi, this Kilimanjaro and the red brown dirt/mud that covers it all. There is a beautiful, wild, funky texture to this land. It is raw and undone and not to be conquered or dominated. As I ride, submitted to ‘come what may’, I am blended into and become one with this texture. It’s as if running a hand across and over a large, wildly ridged oil painting- except it’s your whole body being run over this painting- except the painting becomes real life and it’s now red brown Africa dirt laid across mountain trails climbing up Mount Kilimanjaro.

is there anything more perfect!!?!!

As I am run across this textured painting, as I ride with this land, beautiful brown (but really reds and oranges and hot pinks all blended to perfection) locals pass us (rather are passed by us)- walking their bodies uphill towards home after a long day of farming their crops, sitting on tables at small shack-side ‘bars’, carrying laundry or fruit or chickens in baskets atop their heads, riding bikes- sometimes with two or three bodies at once, herding and hitting goats with long sticks, crossing rivers from forest to dirt road with collections of proof-of-pickings.

Some wave, some smile, some stare blank-faced, some yell, some follow us with their eyes until we fully round the bend. I wave at as many as I can and am most often received with such great joy- widened smiiiiiiiiiile, enthusiastic response-wave… other times, I am looked at with …. Ummm, not joy. These hearts we fly past are purposeful creations exhibiting such raw perfect beauty, each gifting me with a just-this-one-moment connection of eyes and heart. Yum! I am thankful!

Uhuru: Freedom- freedom- freedom- freedom- freedom- freedom- freedom

For me, it is freedom-
heart escape-
heart re-fill-

crazy-beautiful joy! Again and again, I tuck my click click away and, holding my arm outstretched and my palm wide open, I grab all the smells and sights-
quickly fist them all into a ball of perfect moment memories and then press them into my heart!

"Lord, Holy Spirit, dont ever let me forget this-

embed it deep within and bubble it up to the surface every now and then,

for a smile and a 'my God is an awe-some God' heart flutter!"

Wow Wow Wow Wow Wow Wow Wow Wow Wow Wow

I feel differently now than before

more African

more awed

something changed in me

something was added to me

phillip and me
peter (phillip's twin) and mary, his fiance (and so much more!)- beautiful beautiful beautiful

piki piki 2

2007-04-20T04:31:00.000-07:00

piki piki: part 2

different day.

different see-ns, scenes

same yum...

fabulous old church built by German missionaries ages ago...

and the cemetary where those missionaries buried their bones.

each stone used to construct the church

was pulled from the river bed below the mountain,

carved into smaller peices and then hauled up the hill by hand(s).

wow

B: london to moshi

2007-04-15T13:06:00.000-07:00

air
British Air
men stuards- with fabulous accents and very attentive behaviors towards me and my every need.
it was odd...
for men to serve me
food
and comforts.
what does that say about me and America?
comfortable flight... comfortable enough
London...
hmmmm
Elizabeth
warm, recognized heart
and hugs
Four Seasons
walking w/
italian dinner
"take away" confusion
underground
sleep
wet goodbye
sleep
wet wakeup
rush
walking
free bird... flying solo
Trafalgar Square lions - photo
Decaf coffee at the gallery
city streets
alleys
shooting
fitzroy st vs. fitzroy sqare... oops and wow
hetty and heichee (sp)
pub
walking

leaving London for Africa, I was as shagala bagala (discheveled) as I was when leaving Boston and walking the streets of London. Where was I going and why was going by myself? Because Jesus said so. That was enough, but still my flesh, weaker than ever, was not quite as cooperative as I would have expected of me and my independence. I spent my morning emailing at a very old, very sweet library down the way and then walking through small London streets accomplishing small tasks, such as mailing letters home- mail from far away places is pretty rad to send and recieve! Shooting photographs all along this mini mission, I met friendly faces- my favorite belonging to a man walking his cat. He walked and the cat followed rubbing himself up against brick walls and gate-posts
mowing...
mooooooooooowwwwwwwing.

I pre-arranged a cab ride to the airport. It was the cheapest and easiest route (taking into consideration my huge (beautiful) suitcase, which was not underground-proof.) My driver, Benjamin arrived to Primrose Hill at exactly the scheduled time (which had I any understanding of the next three months and "Africa time," I would have treasured and tried to photograph.) He helped me with my goods, loaded up his very cool London taxi with all of me that was present, and sped off down London streets- around London corners- past London peoples- towards the London, Heathrow airport.
All along this path, we conversed. My man, Benjamin loves Jesus! making the ride more enjoyable. oh, and by advice I mean life and love advice. Benjamin dug a bit, asking questions about me and mine, and my answers led to more questions and then many suggestions. I smiled and laughed and defended myself, as a girl who thinks like a girl (vs. thinking like a boy) and recieved what wisdom he offered-
all the while shooting his every angle and facial expression.
Truly, "click... click... click.... click click click click click."
nonstop.
He was very accomidating, even turning and smiling or doing "serious face" when I requested it of him.
I was in love with the concept of his eyes in the rear view mirror beside his live profile.
Our conversation was alive and fun and full of "Jesus" and "Jesus" and "Jesus!"
When we arrived at the airport, I was even more filled and encouraged with the reality that Jesus truly had set up divine appointments all along my adventure. As we arrived at our destination, Heathrow Airport, and our "goodbye", I was actually sad to say this "goodbye" to this new friend. I took one last photograph, hugged him, told Him "God Bless you, Benjamin", gathered my goods and wheeled off into the distance
(well, that would be his perspective- me growing more distant- as to me, the newly covered ground would be where I was and therefore not distant from me- yet still distant from where I was when I first began wheeling.
hmmmm.
Selah- pause and think on that.)

The distance led into the airport and, though, at this point in the journey, Im a bit less drama you can just re-read my "My taking flight" and apply it here. (Please do remove some of the drama because at this point, Im shagala bagala inside but more submitted to Jesus' will.)
Fast- forward to the "beep beep" of the security beepers. Of course, I set it off again. Having grown a bit smarter, however, I did wear fewer layers this round. With little effort, I was cleared but my stuff did it's own "beep"ing, requiring a thorough inspection. I awaited my trial- with much patience. I was quite early and had the time.
The woman inspecting the bags of the people representing "possible in-security" was courteous, careful, and beautiful. From my totally untrained, and usually incorrect eye, she was indian. She gently placed my red backpack on her examination table, wiped all edges with her danger- detecting white cloth, and then opened it. It was filled- to- overflowing with me: books, IPOD, photos, food, a sketch book, and markers galour. One book of interest to this Beauty was the big black one, specially wrapped in a rainbow print, elasticized belt with two metal snaps. She eyed it, handled it, eyed it more, and then handed it to me, asking me to unlatch it and... "what is this... a Bible?!" I said "Yes!" (I love talking about Jesus- questions are a total open door! and here was Jesus again, with more of Him through hearts met along the way.) She asked that I flip through it- fan the pages for her so that she could be sure I hadnt hidden blades or bomb ingredients inside (she didnt say all that, but Ive seen the movies- I knew what she was looking for.) I gladly obliged and to both of our delight, nothing challenging security was found. There were, however, many papers stashed in the back. She inquired as to what they were and I said "Oh, those... they're mostly Jesus writing."
She kept moving, as is her practice while at work. To watch her, one observes that she is in constant motion, bag to table, white danger- detecting cloth, open, look, hand to items- out of bag, search, hand to items- into bag, bag to owner, smile, repeat. In this moment, however, she stopped all motion and standing still, looked at me- cheek to cheek smile. Did you say "Jesus writing?!" I laughed at the simplicity of my statement and smiling a similar, yet all my own, cheek to cheek smile, said "Yes!" She said, "Are you studying?" and I said "Im headed to Africa as a missionary... and I love Jesus so He (and His Word- refering to the big black book wrapped in a rainbow print, elasticized belt with two metal snaps, which began this whole heart connect) comes everywhere with me." She smiled at me, one of those Jesus smiles, and said "He is everywhere with you, isn't He!!"
She knows Him!
SHE KNOWS HIM!
My sister in Christ!
I said "Yes, He is!"

I had passed the security test, was marked as "perfectly secure" and needed to move on.
She had work to do and so did I.

2007-04-14T15:32:00.001-07:00

hello hearts

for those of you who read it, the "love actually" blog was not supposed to be posted. that was an oops... a not ready for posting, not ever to be posted "oops." i woke up the next morning and found it posted and was mortified. i know some of yáll read it because ive gotten comments.
the part of that poem that was intended for all eyes was posted at the bottom of "My taking flight."
truly, im in a beautiful place... inside and outside...
no heart break here, except for the type of heart break that comes through falling in love with Jesus and His people and His heart cry.
i believe that everything happens for a reason and i cant, for the life of me, figure out the purpose of this "oops" but all will be revealed in time.
i guess im feeling sort of out there now that you've read me (as i was then- in January, at a very vulnerable point). it's all good because He turns it all to good... and here am i, a little more humbled.
i love love love you
me

A: my taking flight

2007-04-09T13:05:00.001-07:00

My departure, my take off, my leaving, my exit (for the time being), my"goodnight" not "goodbye", my taking flight.... yes, my taking flight- up, more upward towards Him, into His arms of Love, His growth for me, His wisdom, HIs understanding, His Judgement, His truth, His Light, His LIfe, His will for me. Yummmmm to all of it-

Okay so my taking flight... involved much motion and commotion. Beginning with the drama of me... oh, the drama of me. I was in heavy warfare over doing what He was calling me to... my spirit willing, my heart weak. then there's all the normal moves involved with international travel... money, tickets, visas, flights, cabs, hotels, free spots to slumber (?), walking alot alot alot, more flying, more walking, lots of inner commotion- emotional commotion, and destination (then more and more and more).
As my trip was beginning, my wings practice flapping, I remained in a place of "God, I know this is You. I need your great Grace... now!" I was in Boston at Logan Airport. Mama had just dumped me on the curb and driven quickly away... Im kidding, Im just trying to deeply pound into you my then feelings of "NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO." Mama was actually perfect- driving me, hugs, kisses for Kissees (that's me), and words of Love finishing with "Ill see you right here in three months!"

I dragged my huge- beautiful (but what does that matter in the grand scheme of things) suitcase into the HUGE, sterile, rather blank, bustling (with people who i didnt know and most certainly didnt know me) (drama drama drama) transportation station- paid to ship me to some far off lands! Not cool (but soooooooooo cool!) I found my British Airways ticket station, waited, was paid attention to, gladly handed over that huge (beautiful) suitcase, and walked off- just me and my backpack and me and just me and just me. Through the security pass points... beep beep beep, of course. I always beep! always! maybe it's the metal plates in my head (for real, there are some) but that's rediculous and so not the reason. I just always manage to forget to remove my belt from around my waist or nail clippers from my pocket (which are, of course, taken from me for security sake. I lost a treasured set of nail clippers this way in British Colombia-- pink with a rainbow and unicorn- I think Im not quite over it yet!) So beep beep beep... I had already stripped off all layers- waaaay too many layers... jacket off, dress off, belt off, shoes off, pockets emptied, remove necklaces and earings and rings... left with only a thin layer of fitted white turtle neck and my fitted jeans- I passed the beep test and was admitted through. Now a part of the "safe" ones entrusted to travel our skies- deemed "not a threat" to country, all I had left to do was wait. Mama wanted to make sure I was on time... early early early. This is a mama thing and she's pretty much the best mama ever ever ever. So, here I am, on the "safe one's only" side of the HUGE, sterile, rather blank, bustling transportation station- though it is less bustling on this end bc those present are seated, drinking coffee, eating their new-bought treats, chatting (face to face or via cell phone), or reading something... in other words, kept busy- lazily busy.

With my spare time I decide to take the advise of my brilliant step mom, Elizabeth, which was to trade my USD for pounds in the states, before arriving in London. I set off to find a currency exchange. It took only moments to find, but I remained there for well over an hour. The young man opperating the station was indian and very friendly. He carried himself with confidence, had much to say and many questions. Our conversation began with dollars and pounds but quickly shifted to weighter subjects (did you pick up on that clever wording, "pounds" to "weight"... yeah, it's all for flow!) He asked where I was going and why and I told him that I was to be in London for five nights but that the marrow of this mission was my treading on Tanzanian soil- as a missionary. "Oh, so you're going to convert people?!" I smiled... huuuuuuuuuge, and even chuckled, I think... "ummmm, yeah, well... I've never had someone say it so blatently. Yes, that is why Im going. My job will be to teach young boys, but Im in Love with Jesus and I plan to share that with others and if they are open to Loving Him too then that's amazing... and the point. So, Yes." From there he told me about his best friend who was also a strong believer who shared his Love for Jesus with him often. He asked questions and I let Jesus answer him through me. It was pretty rad! Jesus came and I got to experience one of those light-as-air, Light-on-my-face, joy-to-overflowing moments. He heard the Lord, I beleive. He grew up Hindu but is not practicing currently. He sort of flows with everyone flowing in which way they feel is right for them. He commented that "everyone thinks their god is God. How can one know? How can just one group be right? Id rather not associate with any one religion."

I told him that "I, also, believe that my God is God. Im too smart to waste my time living my life for a God I dont really believe is real. I believe what I believe not because mom and dad and pastor say i should but bc I have lived this believe. I know this God, my Jesus. He has shown Himself to me." I then went on to say that "when the end comes... and it will come, this world will pass away, and only one of us will will survive, remain,be right, will continue on and not go to hell." I suggested that this young, lost heart, "check Jesus out. Give Him a chance to show Himself to you. If He's not real (which I promise you He is) then nothing will change, but when you experience that He is real, your entire life will change. You will know true Life."
He was open.
Seeds.
Do not despise small beginnings.
Seeds.
No plant, no beautiful flower, no magnifiscent tree becomes what it was intended to be, without first starting as a seed.
Seeds.
This divine appointment was a seed for me, too.
In all my willing but weak, God was ever present, revealing to me His greater purpose for this mission.
Seeds.
I left this heart contact all elated and bolder...
Amen...
Bolder...
Amen!
But it's so rad, bc it's all Him... my mouth opens and stuff comes out but it's only all good when it's all God!
I am saved by Grace through Faith- Him Him Him... so good when it's all God!
It was an hour before my take off...
but, in Jesus, I was already in flight.
flap flap flap floooooooooooat
flap flap flap floooooooooooooat
action action action Jesus
action action action Jesus
...
I sat down, bolder but still feeling left, dumped on a corner to await being swept away.
I brought out my Sharpie markers and began to draw my feelings... with words.
Okay so they were sad, sappy, drab, dribbles- sort of formed like love poems to Jesus-
inspired by and through my lonely, willing but weak heart.

... sample below...
(remember the state of mass trama and drama i was in. oh, and also that im a girl)
...
Love, Actually
I am God's.
I choose Him over and over... Forever.
I see life as moments given to me to give back to Him in service, love, touch, words, sacrifice...
to the point of even pain, even joy, even tears of pain and joy--
I am a missionary, in this season, for such a time as this.
I love this.
I am so honored by this title- this marking of me as the King's servant- His.
I can imagine my whole life going to the nations, doing His will.
I am willing.
I am in love with Love.
I am also in love with love.
I want so desperately to be in love and in loved.
I ache for it. I cry for it. I hurt over it not being right now.
Purhaps this is my sacrifice.
For now, for sure.
... January 24, 2007

recap:
all is true,
but my heart has been adjusted.
I still love LOVE just all the more
and
I still love love but now submitted all the more under His will.
... April 13, 2007

lions, elephants, monkeys... oh my

2007-04-02T17:18:00.000-07:00

Slow riiiide...take it easy...

k, but this is freeeeee ride... take it easy.

When we dont have rides, we call Juma or Lewis, our taxis...

but that life style is a little rich for our blood...

so our new move is "free ride"... or hitch-hiking.

totally safe... for the most part-

dont worry, Jesus is always with us...

This is today's "free ride" adventure...

most likely, more fun for us than for you... but welcome to our zoo

my sitting backwards and the wind's up-do of my do, enlivened our imaginations and began us on our animal imitations...

the lion is brought to life by Caitlin Joy Pritchard's hair... roaaaaaaaaaar

the elephant is played by Imkia Postma... she is famous for this

beautiful Isabella Bertoni is the monkey more shots from the day... no words, just photographs

chameleon

2007-04-02T11:04:00.000-07:00

This is a chameleon... we think. Someone reading this is definately like "no, that's not...",
hence, the "we think." He or she is pretty much fabulous. I dont have much to say about him/her.
This was someone else's adventure, I was just priveledged(sp) to shoot it.

My friends were driving home from Sunday lunch and found him/her on the road. Fearing his/her imminent (sp. again) death, they rrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr the car and scooped him/her up. He/she was pretty much terrified by the time they got him/her to the house. After a lengthy photo shoot, he/she was placed in a carefully chosen tree in our yard (which sort of stresses me out bc what if he/she had a family, a wife/husband where he/she lived before. Yes, "just an animal" but lets have hearts and realize that these "just animals" are usually monogomous- which says something- have families and probably feelings on some level." It was a mercy mission- full of heart, however, and we'll just have to believe that the Lord is as in control of this as He is our lives.
Me... a bit drama, yes... but totally real too.

Mozambique

2007-03-29T10:24:00.000-07:00

I have decided to not attend the Holy Given School of Missions... as in I am coming home in early May and have begun to plan my summer. However, as with everything, I remain open and willing to have my plans changed. For now, my peace lies with coming home and getting some things in order. I love love love your prayers towards me and this situation. You have blessed me beyond words through your prayers and words of love. Thank you for standing by me in whatever decision I make.
Love love love
CaitLin

Eli plus plus plus... plus

2007-03-29T08:20:00.000-07:00

Meet Eli, I did... on Monday, 26 March, 2007. He is thirteen. He speaks remarkable english... says his father taught him before his death- he cannot remember how long ago the death was. His heart is to go to school, but here in Tanzania school costs much more than any child can afford. When asked what he wants to be "when you get bigger... when you grow up... when you are a man???" (this was a complicated concept for him to get but once he understood...) he says he wants "to be a doctor." I said "that's perfect! Go for it. You be a doctor!" He sleeps outside on the street, on top of any broken box he can find. He eats anything compassionate people feel like feeding him. He wears these same shorts and this same shirt (with his name on it's shoulder) everyday.

"Caitlin, we are supposed to get one more boy into the house... well, along with the two others I told you about. Guess what his name is? ..."
"No way... Eli!!!?!!!!"
"Margarette was like, Jill, there's one more boy. His name is Eli."
"Praise Jesus! I knew it was Him."
Praise God, from Whom all blessings flow. Tears. It's so real. It's so God.
"We arent sure because we are already two boys over what the house is supposed to hold... but we're going to do what we can.
It's cool because in the... it doesnt make sense ... but He'll take care of it."
"Yeah, in the natural, it doesnt make sense, but that's so God!"
"Yeah, it's cool. God is cool!"

So God, do Your thing! Praise You.... oh God, praise You... and bless Eli as he cuts his box open to create a surface large enough for himself to lie on tonight...
"Sleep sweetly, Eli"
the next day...
I just got back from the center- teaching, meeting and photographing the new boys, and a very Tanzanian lunch (rice, beans, meat, greens, and cooked banana).
The boys are beautiful! They are four very close friends.
When children live on the streets it is because their families have forsaken them. For protection and companionship, they make their own families.
At first meet, the boys were quiet and watched me very closely. I had some walls to break through. After class, however, I went out to meet and greet all over again. It was slow-going at first and then I brought out my magical black 'click' clicking box that always seems to make me rafikis (friends)... and the doors flung wiiiiiiiiiide open. Immediate posing, singing, balloon music, smiiiiiiiiiile, nani nani- who who... let me see it! let me see it!
By the "bye" but really, "kwaheri", the black clicking box had done it's do and I was a rafiki... huuuuuuuuge smiles, high fives and handshakes all around... "badae"- later and "ndio"- yes!
It was a total demonstration of God's mercy and glory and great Love to see these boys safe, running, playing, acting like children, eating, and smiling really real smiles.
"We're off to our new life!" is what they shouted from the truck to passers-by as Jill, Imkia, and Margarette took them from the streets, towards their new home... towards their home... home.
Awe-some power of God!
I Love this God... who LOVES these boys, his boys!
When I arrived in Moshi, the Emmanuel Center boys were already in place... in home, dressed, bathed, fed, and educated. I've spent much time in town, but experienced little of the street children. After yesterday's divine appointment with Eli, my eyes were opened... and after today, with our four new brothers- saved from the streets, welcomed into a new home, a safe haven, a hug of love... I was finally- after exactly eight weeks- introduced to the saving grace of this place- these missionaries, these hearts, this center, which I am blessed to give into and grow my heart through.

Update: Today, Thursday, Eli came into the center! Praise God! Praise Him for the power of prayer and faith, in His Name! So now, our numbers have been all sorts of messed with. There are six new boys... which is glorious... but brings a need for a new center. We are now four over capacity. Pray pray pray and believe believe believe that all needs are met and His will is done.

The stud to my immediate right (your left as your looking at this) is Atanas. He was given to me as my fourth pupil... student... heart. The two boys to my left (your right) are two more of the four. Yellow shirt with truck below is Richard. He's the fourth. The only one missing is Eli... But I have faith for him to come. a few more introductions...
This is Isabella (below)... a new volunteer, teacher. She arrived two weeks ago from England... but she's Argentinian. Twenty years old, incredibly friendly, looooooooooves africa and all it's newness. She is adjusting beautifully, learning the language at least one trillion times faster than myself. Im not jealous... Bless her, Lord.
She is a welcome addition to the house and the center.
Coolest part is that God is streeeeeeeetching her....
it's like watching a bud blooming into a most beautiful flower...
in His time...
as it should be!
Yeah, she really is super beautiful!

This is Kev. He teaches too. He's American and super rad! ... maybe twenty years old-- came to give of himself and to get to know more about the world. I love seeing his face every morning. You know how some people just make you smiiiiiiiiiile... well, Kev makes me smiiiiile.
and we all remember Fwank, right. Fwank is pretty much his...

vroooooooom

2007-03-26T10:26:00.000-07:00

vrooooooom vroooooooooom vroooooooooom ...

another big happening in Moshi...

a race car rally (not Nascar)

cars... of any make, model, color, size, style... drive really fast (but actually seemingly slow-ish, if you ask me)in the red Africa dirt.... and it flies- the dirt it flies, it scatters, it spreads, it coats, it filthifies, it tints, and paints red-brown the entire surrounding world.

I shot some short video clips that ill youtube....(cjoypritch)

what's here is not much but it's all that i click clicked.

a little bit of me and my africa friends... ummm, watching a rally

...............................................................................
me -caitlin, and my beautiful africa bff, lis. suuuuuuuuuuper dusty. dust everywhere... and this is why kongas rock! i love love love my kongas... today it served it's purpose perfectly.

this set of photographs is about attempting to capture a moment ...a race-car-rally dust wind africa-hot africa moment, while avoiding dust in my eyes and the wind's insistance on taking control of my konga.
ngomi. he has a very shaved head and forgot his hat... not good for direct contact of afria sun. davin made him a box covering. he's ngomi so he rocked it.
Philip's legs... feet... toes. as he watched the vroooooooooom pass by.yup, some cars- vroooooooooom, some dust, some africa hot, wind wind wind, more dust, ngomi and his box hat, phillip's legs feet toes, and .... yup, that's it!

President Jakaya Mrisho Kikwete

2007-03-25T04:46:00.000-07:00

President Jakaya Mrisho Kikwete was in town today to celebrate WATER IN TANZANIA. Water is available (not for consummption) in most houses, but not at all in the metal and wood huts that a majority of Tanzanians live in. It is made available to everyone, however, gathered out of wells and transfered by buckets.
A huge occassion is the design and construction of fountains on a round-about in town. There are four fountains, three small structures surrounding one large central structure with a big-*** soldier, posed to shoot-and-kill, adorning it's top. (please forgive the ***, I deemed it necessary to make my point). It's... well, an odd choice of visuals. There was an attempt at making these fountains beautiful with the addition of blue-tiles as their outer layer, and then, of course, water shooting from their centers. It's... ummmmm, not like exactly like what you'd see at home, but it's a big step for Moshi... and thus, President Jakaya Mrisho Kikwete (barely distinguishable, sitting behind the blue table, in the blue suit and sunglasses.)

2007-03-21T04:09:00.000-07:00

miss cait-a-lin, kelvin, and micah.
these are two of my three boys... pupils... students.
they are perfect and yes, i am in love!
this was yesterday
after class
i hugely promote art in life... and very much so in the classroom...
"be creative... let it flow... release the inner you" and so on and so forth...
apparently im rubbing off...
as they take the initiative to tatoo the "teacha"s arm.
my boys

hemo

2007-03-17T03:24:00.002-07:00

Another Sunday- it followed another Saturday and introduced another Monday, but other than that, it was like no other Sunday Ive experienced before. I was asked to join the Holili ministry team as they were scheduled to love Jesus with another village church. This time we went to Hemo. Again, we drove down the "paved" roads, to the dirt roads, to the partial dirt/ partial air roads- this to imply that the holes in the road were so deep that much of the time the right tires tread dirt as the left tires tread air. At this point, this is expected and depeding on my chosen attitude- even fun... that's a stretch though! We pulled onto a street located way off of the main road, next to a house serving as a church. Worship had begun and as we entered, we danced our way to our seats at the front of the room. This room was much smaller, but full of about the same amount of people (thirty, maybe thirty five). Worship was alive, the instrumentals provided by the pastors 12 year old son. He was pretty rad and the scene was photo worthy, in that he was so little and wearing a super cool 80's stripe tee, standing against this rather large silver keyboard- rocking out. He was great! truly! I had not yet asked permission to shoot though so I respectfully click clicked with my heart instead. The voice to the worship was provided by a 27 year old man, who did what he had to do. His love for Jesus was eminent and as he pursued Christ, everyone else was influenced to do so also. At one point a beautiful lady in red grabbed the mic and her voice plus her passion plus her smile exploded the worship. Truly beautiful. I danced and worshiped along with my Tanzanian brothers and sisters, minus some of the freedom they were dancing in but I was shakin' it for Jesus. Another special something for me from Him- a gift I readily accepted and whole heartedly appreciated- He loves me, y'all!

As worship was winding down, Mama Alice grabbed the mic and told the congregation that the Lord's healing was in the house. She asked that everyone in need step up. Many did, but there was one special one that my heart leapt for. She was the first one prayed for, about nine years old. She had a shaven head (as many African women and children do), she wore a purple shirt and skirt outfit that was much too large for her, and black shoes. She was unable to move her legs and her right arm on her own, yet she stood and waited on the Lord. I ran to join Mama Alice in prayer over the young girl, Beatrice. I was told to by my King. I stood with her, laying hands on her... her hands, her arms, her feet, her legs, her head, her heart... until long after the prayers for healing ended. It was whispered to me by the Bishop who pastored this church, that Beatrice had broken her leg while playing out in a field with friends. That night as she lay in bed, she began to speak in an unknown language with a new voice. Her family knew that she was possessed by something. At this point, it had been months since the occurance and the mother had moved herself and Beatrice to Hemo to be close to this church. She was determined to stay until Beatrice was free. FREE. I cried out for her freedom and I believe for it.
As service began I sat with Beatrice, still in tongues, not wanting to cease prayer. Service was filled. The message was timely and reached hearts. One thing was said that broke me and challenged me... "if you arent contributing to the salvation of your nation, you are contributing to it's death!" wow! My heart heard that loud and clear. What is my impact on the nations... but more so, on my nation- America!? What is my contribution- Life or Death?! At one point, I crossed the room back to my seat... and my water. I was so thirsty! After service, there was more worship.... awesome worship! The seats were moved and everyone stepped into the center of the room and rocked out. Mama Alice moved throughout the room, swinging and twirling all the mamas! It was free and alive and fun! Everyone smiled from ear to ear.... and the Lord recieved the most beautiful praise and worship.
Before leaving America, a most beautiful woman (Paula) gave me a prayer shawl ,which she and some other beautiful women had knit- "each stitch stiched with prayer." She asked that I pray and give the shawl away as God leads. I had brought the shawl with me to this service and I knew that I knew that I knew that it was to be gifted to Beatrice. When worship had ceased and entire congregation had been kissed, hugged, and high fived, Alice and I approached Mama Beatrice and Beatrice to present to her this gift. It was wild to watch the shift within both mama and child as I shared with them (through Goudy's translation) God's desire for them to be gifted the shawl. The pictures represent well... the frown turned upside down. That is the cheesiest way I could choose to word this most beautiful perfect moment... trust me, I'm dissapointed in myself, but... I lack words in these situations and it is truth. This mama and child, living in an oppression they have no real understanding of, felt, in an "all of a sudden" moment, the grace and mercy and joy and peace and hope and love Love of Jesus and ....well, just watch the facial expressions change as the camera captures the Jesus magic moment by moment... check out that glow... only Jesus can cause that beauty After service, we were invited to the Bishops home for eats. His home was beautiful. Decorated in the style of the early fifties. Green couch cushions with a blue and white crochetted cloth laid over it, wooden furniture, lots of open space, white walls. The art on the walls fascinated me. When Africans want to vear away from African art and into a more Western style art, there arent many other options. Somehow a few families have gotten a hold of posters- some with kittens or puppies, others with little children- often there is a scripture or peom on them. These hang on the walls of these beautiful homes! It fascinates me. Anyway, the food was delicious. The company was entertaining and life-giving. This experience was yet another gift! When our time in the Bishops home had ended, Bishop asked that we leave our gathering in a spirit of worship... through worshiping. We gladly obligued and Brian, the 12 year old son was set up with his keyboard. The whole house offered Jesus thanksgiving through perfect, pure, completely beautiful (even when completely off tune) worship... in swahili and english. Voices rang, hearts cried out, raw and deep and real. The quality of voice and sound didnt matter... the words and truth behind it broke our Kings Heart. This is life. This is it.

total side note: the bishop's choo (cho)... first notice the lack of t.p., then notice the green bucket full of water and the smaller white bucket within...

On the way home, we decided to climb the mountain through Morongu headed towards the waterfalls. The drive up the slopes was amazing. Morongu is a tiny mountainside village, beautiful funky wooden and tin metal shacks intertwined with wild greens and tropical colored florals. The roads were awful.... you've never driven roads like this. Alices old school suv handled them like a champ. After much up and down, back and forth, over the river and through the woods, we found the office of the tour guides to the falls. We parked the car and climbed down to the office (wooden shack). We each recieved a walking stick and then set out on our adventure down the mountain, toward the falls, wearing.... our church gear- kongas and flip flops... let me just say, not smart and not practical but not gonna stop us. We were off. I was not expecting the difficulty of this descent. I nearly lost my footing and life multiple times. The tour guide continually offered me his hand, which I proudly- I am woman, hear me roar- refused.... until we reached the river. We were instructed to take off our shoes to ensure better grip as we crossed over via rocks. The first few rocks I handled like a expert... however, as the waters got faster and the rocks more and more narrow and slippery, I very quietly and smoothly held out my hand for the guide to hold and "guide" me with. I mean, he's a guide after all... I gotta let the man do his job, right! Okay, so apparently this was another opportunity for humbling. I was humbled. Safely arriving on the other side of the river, we continued on toward destination falls barefoot. Over rocks, up little hills, through puddles of mud and water we traveled until little dustings of water rained on us... we looked up from our feet and beheld... the waterfall. It was beautiful! It was magestic! It was water... falling from higher up than we were! We took pictures. We high fived. We turned and began our ascent to home. Well, first there was a slight decent as we traveled down hill to the river, we crossed the river, slipped on flip flops, and then we began our ascent to the office and the car, then we descended down the mountain in the old school suv towards home. details details details. God is a God of details... and like Father, like daughter... at least in this one thing. Im working on the rest of it! It was a beautiful day full of beautiful experiences... ones that few are afforded and I do realize this and I will never forget any of them.
On our way home, we decided we were hungry and so headed to Indoitaliano for pizza. The five of us chatted and ate and then, once filled, departed for home... all smiles... exhausted full smiles...

(and with left overs... which I only mention because our left over pizza gave us food poisoning the next day. No joke. I almost dont want to mention this bc i risk taking away from the "oooooooooooo" and "aaaaaaaaaaaaa" of the service and the falls... but its the completion of the story and I am a woman of complete stories. It's true, I leave no details out. And even with the minor detour of a super "ewww" sickness, God was at work and still is. Ive had some raw moments this week and have even had to appoligize to a few of my loves for yucky drama. I hate regretting words... but I have to believe that even in those moments, He can still make good happen. He's breaking me. He's humbling me. He's blessing me. K, Im done. love love love

prayer and love

2007-03-14T09:25:00.000-07:00

Hello Hearts
Just a quick update. I am still in waiting about Mozambique. I am open to going where ever He leads. If I am to stay, I will let everyone know all about it. I will also let yáll know if Im to come home (which is sort how I feel He's leading... but it's silly for me to say anything yet!) At this point, it could go either way. Right now, all I need of you is your prayers and support, regardless of which way God leads.
Im slow to blog lately. I am currently healing from food poisoning and malaria. It's a slow process but Im headed towards "all better!" We had a most beautiful experience on Sunday and I believe the enemy was trying to steal that from me... but he will not prevail. My friends here are doing what they can to comfort my heart and everything else inside me. Jill made home-made chicken soup tonight. Yum! and totally good for my soul... but I super miss you mama and everyone else!
Pray pray pray
love love love
Caitlin

holili

2007-03-02T22:04:00.000-08:00

One week ago, Sunday.... I was asked to be a part of a ministry team traveling to Holili. A missionary friend, Mama Alice was going to give the message (in english) which means I'd be able to follow along!!! I was one of five asked to be there, to be ready and waiting on the Lord. I was honored and excited to be given this opportunity t o experience a new church and a new people. Also, I am ready to get my toes wet with this type of ministry, so I happily went along. We drove about fourty five minutes from Moshi, first down "paved" roads, then down dirt roads, then down a "river runs through it" dirt roads, which were 50% washed away and an awesome challenge in Alice's old school land rover suv. At 10:28am, we pulled up to a large stone, four wall, dirt floor, tin roof, half built but fully useful, church. Here in africa, people raise money- start a building, pause to raise more money- build more of the building, pause to raise more money- build more, and so on. It can and does take years. When it is a church building, the congregation will use the existing structure, in whatever form it has taken, as they wait for the more they are having faith over.

There were about forty people in the raw cut, wooden pews and then six of us, the ministry team and Pastor F., sitting way up front in orange chairs. Talk about all eyes on us... and me. It wasnt until about two hours later that I realized I was one of only two white people present in the church... and probably in the whole of Holili. That happens here in africa, not the no white people, but the gift of forgetting that you are white... different. It just doesnt matter.
As I lived this experience, observing and feeling this whole picture i kept saying, "Caitlin, remember remember remember. Dont forget this. Do not forget this.".... but there were like 777 things to not forget so I turned to the Holy Spirit and said "You know my weak thoughts and my even weaker ability to retain them. Let me keep in my heart what You desire for me to have- and share." So together- now- we'll see what He deemed most important.

For me, it was about simplicity and purity and beauty expressed through colors and movement and sounds of praise. The colors always grab me most... first. Everyone in Africa dresses up for service. The men wear button downs and pants, second-hand from America. They dont match and nothing is hemmed, but they and thier women see it as handsome. I have no opinion on this. I haven't paid much attention to the look of the males, for it is the females who catch my eye and my click click. The women and girls wear second-hand America dresses from the mid eighties- think ruffles and fluff and shiny fabrics and pastel colors- or large tee-shirts wrapped over with African kongas. There is no importance placed on matching colors or styles yet still, individually, the women are beautiful... spectacular happens when the women are in clumps... thier colors combining and uniting and playing off of each other! It's much the same as thier voices- beautiful in solo, but spectacular in unity. I dont have words to capture this depth of beauty and even my photographs fail me in this. It is the females, and all they entail, mixed with my creative mind and heart that create, for me, these awe- moments. I wonder, at times, if all this would have a similar effect on you... or if it's only me who gets to see it from this angle (simply because Im the only me). hmmmm!? Okay, so service begins, pastor prays, first "choir" steps up. One woman sings alone, the church knows when to join her. Her sound is very African- which to me means meloncholy at first, sort of like the calling of one whale to another- it is deep and desperate. It then turns sweet and deeper still, the sound of a love-sick lover. Something inside melts while simuletaneously being strengthened.

Second choir was a group of six women- who had a similar sound as the solo, but moved to a tribal dance- simple, but thiers. The "wow" here was that mid way through the song, the girls of the church stepped into the aisle in three lines of three each, and began to dance along. It was powerful! I was awe struck by these beautiful, young, colorfully dressed, spirit-filled, fun girls dancing for Jesus! Pow! and their dance is that of working a field and pounding grain and cleaning- service, but put in this context, it is a dance of service to the King. Pow! Pow! Pow! (What is Pow! right...I dont even like writing it, bc it feels super cheezy but it most accurately describes the explosions occuring on my insides - that spiritually jolt me- as Jesus reveals new Him through the beauty of others wholly, desperately, loving Him. It's Pow!) Four minutes before this greatest love song and dance ends, Mama Alice said that Pastor F. said (that he said that she said...) I could shoot it- photograph it. My heart lept (sp)! I caught only moments but it is enough. There were more choirs... lots more... third choir was five women, fourth choir was the girls alone, fifth choir..., sixth choir..., etc... Jesus was present and honored.

The message was Spirit-led.

The church of Holili is desperate for revival, for the Holy Spirit, to see His face. There are mountains laced throughout this area of Africa.... literal and figurative mountains. As in actual masses of land that rise far above ground level into a point, and then those of spiritual darkness, hindering breakthrough. The church of Holili climbed one of the literal mountains every day in February to pray for one hour over the hindering, spirtual mountains of darkness. They had been faithful and had expectant hearts... so we prayed! This was more Pow! truly, five people and the Holy Spirit laying hands on forty people- one at a time- and praying in Swahili, English, and Tongues- some hearts falling out in the Spirit, rivers of tears releasing pains, regrets, fears, doubts, loss, followed up with deeeeeeeeeeep breaths ushering in healing, love, LOVE, acceptance, forgiveness, and new beginnings. It was in this moment, as i picked up each beautiful brown hand with my hand, that i noticed a contrast of colors... "Im white!" and maybe the first and only white person to ever touch this beautiful brown skinned hand. Wow! total Pow! but it didnt matter, skin color, body size, height, hair style, face- these are just bodies to carry us from here to there, it's not about what these skin suits look like, it's about how we use them to honor Him- laying hands on His lost and loved, hugging, loving, serving. He moved through me to the exact degree that He moved through Emilie Anna, Joel, Emman Dogu, and Mama Alice. Power! Power! Power! Jesus!
He gave me a gift of visions- allowing me to see some of the women through His eyes- His plans for them and I was able to share the visions with the women. Power! God is fun, y'all. He is creative and imaginative and beautiful and He's God, so Pow Pow Pow- everything He does is God sized!

About an hour and a half into Holy Spirit praying, I realized that I was wasted- exhausted. My knees hurt, my head hurt, I was emotionally drained and I felt done. But you know J.C., He wont release me until my flesh is more than injured, it must be destroyed. It was another forty five minutes before we were done parying. God was moving, people were moved. I was so honored to be a part of this. I was done. Service went on a bit longer. We were there for a total of four and a half hours. At it's end, we were told to exit first, lining up outside and shaking everyones hand. As each person followed, they fell into line next to us shaking the hands of those after them. We ended in a huge rainbow-like, semi- circle, everyone having touched everyone else, colors alive and dancing. One last song of praise was sung and service was over over over. The beautiful rainbow of faces and hearts and color in unity, broke and we left to travel over the river and through the woods on dirt road, to an elder's home for eats. Ten of us were to eat together. This included the pastor and his wife (who I havent mentioned much yet, but they were so beautiful- pure for God, and warm), the elder and his wife, we five, and one other man. We were asked to sit down in a turquoise, green, and blue painted 10ft X 10ft room, on any seat of our choosing. We sat for only a moment before food was brought in and placed upon a small coffee table in the center of the room. I washed my hands by holding them over a large bowl placed in front of me and rubbing my hands under running water poured from a pitcher. Raw and simple and real.... not necessarily real clean, but certainly real. Lunch was a true blessing- looking fabulous, tasting "yummy"- rice, meat with some broth, potatoes, and warm coca cola. We talked a bit, I took some great photographs, we blessed the house, prayed, and then left.

The Holili experience was Holy and whole, fully African and right. Ill never forget the colors, the sound, the Pow!, the gift...

Joy Joy, Unspeakable Joy

2007-02-27T22:20:00.000-08:00

to be interupted in a game of Settlers of Catan (dont ask) by a phone call reporting the stabbing and shooting of two missionaries is surreal and shaking. for the immediate reaction of all present to circle, join hands, and begin crying out to Father God in intercession is awe-some and real and shaking. As we each cried out for our brother and sister who the enemy had just attempted to take out, the power of GOd filled the room. Jesus stood among us, joined Hand in hand, and His Peace led us down a path, through the darkness and into the great Light of His Father, our Father. There was such power and presence. We released hands and spread throughout the house, attempting to return to our activities, but we stayed united in faith.
I helped make tea, took some photographs of a fabulous maroon stool with a wooden seat top and red paint splatters (pretty much a dream come true for me- this piece of furniture), tried to hold a conversation but couldnt really focus as I couldnt stop my tongues, and then had to excuse myself... I walked calmly to the bathroom and then upon entering exploded into tears... while smiling. my tears, though deserved by the missionaries who had just been attacked, were not of sorrow or fear or sympathy. I was crying over the awe-someness of our GOd.
While trying to be 'normal' after the event and the prayer, I was overcome by Love and Fear of God, Joy and the gift of 'our reality'. As Christians, as Jesus lovers, we are so blessed with a new reality. When darkness comes against us, we are girded with the knowledge of the Blood of the Lamb, that 'He that is in us is greater than he that is in the world'. We have Faith, Truth, Light to outshine all darkness, Hope, the Healer, an awe-some, all mighty, omnipotent God to take care of all the details. Believers from all nations gathered hand in hand in a home in Moshi, Tanzania, praying with the Spirit to the Spirit, shook me.... shoooooooooook me. I am still shaking. There is such power in unity in Him. I want to live my entire life in this reality, shaken by Jesus, standing firm on the solid rock. Power Power Power. His Word, His Heart, His Will. God is in control. He spoke that to me over and over again. I was so impacted by this moment. I didnt want to run away, I wanted to run deep into Him. It put in me a cry to be in the center of the flame, where there is darkness that needs light- Light. Let me be a reflection of Your Light, Lord- in Africa, Asia, Australia, Europe, America America America... Here I am, Lord- send me. Joy Joy Joy- unspeakable- Joy!

.................................................................................
Both the husband and the wife are going to be okay... and eventually great! They sat in their pain for 10 hours. The metavac plane didnt arrive until 7am the next morning. In all that was slow and challenged the rescue, the enemy did not prevail. God's hand completely covered the entire situation. He is in control! Yahoo, He's the Boss- it's not on me to cover it. It's not on you, either! Praise Him for that. Forever praise Him.

PRAY

2007-02-23T13:39:00.000-08:00

Hello hearts
A missionary couple who lives here in Moshi was ministering near the Mosai land. they were in their room when they heard screaming and looking out the window saw a man with a machette hitting another man. the wife ran to the door to lock it but wasnt fast enough. three men were forcing the door open. as the husband and wife struggled to keep the men out, the men were swinging a machette through the door, cutting the husband. when they got in, the machette was dropped. the wife ran to pick it up and as she did she was shot once above the heart. the men who took all the money ran away, drunk and totally terrified by what they had just done.
all believers here gathered immediately and began praying God God God into the situation(although, no doubt, He was already there). Missionaries all over Tanzania were called to come into agreement, many driving to the hospital to meet the couple as they arrived.
We believe the report of the Lord and that this couple will live LIVE. He Who is in us is greater than he who is in the world. I am posting this because we need your prayer support and I know the beauty in the hearts of many who read this. You believe and we need that faith here, now. Please lift up the missionaries here in Tanzania, in intercession before our King. Specifically for this husband and wife, who will survive, but are in a lot of pain.... and in an African hospital which is not anything like our American hospitals. Pray that there are no surprise issues. Thank you. God loves you. I love you. love love love.

secret garden

2007-02-21T07:41:00.000-08:00

"...who knows but that you have come to the kingdom for such a time as this." For such a time as this. For here. For now. For this very season, month, day, hour. For such a time as this. So this is how I feel... like God, so completely in control- even when He lets me think Im making my own choices- has brought me here for such a time as this. I could have come years ago, as in I could have bought a ticket and packed a bag and flown to this land then, but I wouldnt have been ready... I wouldnt have had in me what I need to really get and give everything that is my purpose here- for such a time as this. I am in Africa! I am. It's real and raw and beautiful. I am in awe... constant awe- of being here, of experiencing God on the level that I am, of Him and His beauty and Grace and Warmth and Love, of His Heart growing inside of me (wild)! Jesus is everything I could ever want. He is romantic and deep and always ready for me with arms wide open. He is intense and jealous for my time, for my heart. He lets me know when and where and for how long! and yes, it's always the right time to sit and talk and snuggle with Jesus, but there are appointed times that He has pre-scheduled for us that He requires I spend with Him... and it's lovely!

I am just one of your everyday, head shoulders knees and toes, nothing special girls (I know, it's hard for some of you to hear me say that... but it's true- Im made of the same stuff as the rest.) My flesh and soul and heart and spirit long for the same things that all girls and boys universe-wide long for. Dwelling within my heart are the names of many. Each is snuggled into a sweet spot somewhere amidst the blood and tissue... and each adds to the quality of my heartbeat. I have been given so much to love Love LOVE... so many hearts, each a gift. Being so far away from them is trying. I get to experience a loniness here that I have been newly introduced to. It's all about feelings and it feels empty and like a great longing for something/someone that is standing on the other side of a great black abyss... smiling!

I used to have this dream... it has repeated itself many times throughout my life. In it I am running and as I run run run, faster and faster and faster into superspeed fastness- like only a superman can do- I, all of a sudden, jump and fly. I have to stay super focused as I fly or I will fail and fall.

Anyway, I want to back far away from the edge of the abyss and then run run run, faster and faster and faster and then jump... and fly over to the smile. However, as I am backing away from the edge, preparing for my run run run, I look around and see an entire brocade of colors- reds, turquoise, orange, greens- wild greens, blues, purples- (I can get so distracted by colors!) and I notice that the colors are painted on these most beautiful flowers and faces and old wooden doors with rusted metal hinges and church buildings and centers for orphans and Safari SUVs (super cool old-school style) and kongas (cloth wraps) and chickens and missionaries... and I have to stop- not even because I choose to, though my will is enganged and my heart strings are enjoying being pulled by a great force of LOVE, but because my King shouts to me that He has placed me here, a stranger in a strange land- for such a time as this!

Now stopped, lead boots on my feet, the colors are alive and dancing around and through me, the sun is hot on my skin, and the great force of Love captures me up with Him and begins to take me on a guided tour of Tanzania. I see centers for children- once orphans now children of God, growing in God. I see my classroom, my blackboard, and my smiling (sometimes not so much) Tanzanian pupils (it's one of our vocab words!) I see them running and playing, about to shoot the soccer ball at my goal- laughing because Miss Cait-a-lin just successfully defended the goal with her face. I see my guesthouse with my small collection of Afican treasures, friend's art (that's prophetic in that I dont have any yet!), my bible-the fire within- and my nearly full sketch pad, and my bed- mosquito net and all. This is my space, my special secret sacred box. I see the church where His Holy Spirit meets me on Sundays to kiss my ears, increase patience within me, and expand my heart. The tour almost complete, Jesus asks me to close my eyes. Gently, He grasps my hand and leads me through a gate. "Dont open your eyes, please. Just trust me." I, fully ennamoured by this God-man, do as He asks and am suddenly overwhelmed with a fragrance like none found on earth. It is the fragrance of His Beauty, Light, Life, and Love- LOVE, Compassion, Empathy, Sorrow, Grace, Mercy, Freedom, Victory. I am faint with Love, a depth of Love I would not have thought possible. I cannot even stand except that Jesus is holding my hand and Strength is transfered from His Spirit to mine. Knowing that I am undone, He bids me to open my hand. I do and in them He places flowers- baby soft petals... an entire wild-flower field of them- one flower to represent each fragrance I encoutered upon entering this secret garden. In my arms, my very weak, rough, dirty, undeserving arms, I hold His Beauty, Light, Life, and Love- LOVE, Compassion, Empathy, Sorrow, Grace, Mercy, Freedom, and Victory. Who is this God? Who is this King? Who is this perfect Lover of my soul who bids me to be His bride?
I burst forth with, seemingly endless well springs of water from within- but it's within Him coming forth out of me. I am ruined. I fall face first into His wild-flower field and am gone. I awake in a puddle on the edge of the abyss. Squinting my eyes, hand held horizontally across my forehead saluting the sun, I search for the smile. You are there... still smiling. The longing to be near you, with you, is not gone, but now it feels almost good. I can embrace it. To hurt because I am away from my heart loves for the sake of recieving a new Heart, His Heart, which I can then better love all of His creation with is the most perfect pain I can feel and the most perfect gift I can give. So no run run run, no fast fast faster, no jump and fly. The thing is, with that, there is the risk and almost guarentee of losing focus, failing and falling into the black abyss because it means willingly stepping off of His path... but with this, this Tanzania, this Jesus adventure planned for me for such as this (delightful pain and all).... well, I wont even presume to know what He has in store, what this mission means for my life. He tells us that eye has not seen, nor ear heard, nor has entered into the heart of man, all that God has prepared for those who love Him (who hold Him in affectionate reverence, promptly obeying Him and gratefully recognizing the benefits He has bestowed.) Ill take it... whatever it looks like, whatever it sounds like, however it feels... Ill take it!
I LoVE LOvE LOVe Him
I Love lOVe LOvE you
LOve loVE Love

OrAnge!

2007-02-15T10:45:00.000-08:00

To flow with these photographs, recall the "delicate strip of color," butterfly river rescue story from many blogs ago.... I owe you and the butterfly an appology. He is not yellow! but a beautiful brilliant orange!

This is my "Ode to a Butterfly Story" and instead of rerunning that blog, Thomas Wentworth Higginson has silently agreed to illustrate these photographs with his love words to the these delicate strips of color, expressed in his similarly titled, "Ode to a Butterfly." Now remember, each of these shots was taken after Orange!'s terrifying ordeal with the rapids, the human hand, and the torrential winds/rains. Still, he emotes such beauty that one can hardly bear it, but you may find a hair or two out of place or a wing slightly crimped. To us, it seemed more natural this way and so we decided together that we would not photoshop the blemishes out. love love love

Ode to a Butterfly
Thomas Wentworth Higginson

THOU spark of life that wavest wings of gold,
Thou songless wanderer mid the songful birds,
With Nature's secrets in thy tints unrolled
Through gorgeous cipher, past the reach of words,
Yet dear to every child
In glad pursuit beguiled,
Living his unspoiled days mid flowers and flocks and herds!

Thou winged blossom, liberated thing,
What secret tie binds thee to other flowers,
Still held within the garden's fostering?
Will they too soar with the completed hours,
Take flight, and be like thee
Irrevocably free,
Hovering at will o'er their parental bowers?

Or is thy lustre drawn from heavenly hues,--
A sumptuous drifting fragment of the sky,
Caught when the sunset its last glance imbues
With sudden splendor, and the tree-tops high
Grasp that swift blazonry,
Then lend those tints to thee,
On thee to float a few short hours, and die?

Birds have their nests; they rear their eager young,
And flit on errands all the livelong day;
Each fieldmouse keeps the homestead whence it sprung;
Burt thou art Nature's freeman,--free to stray
Unfettered through the wood,
Seeking thine airy food,
The sweetness spiced on every blossomed spray.

The garden one wide banquet spreads for thee,
O daintiest reveller of the joyous earth!
One drop of honey gives satiety;
A second draught would drug thee past all mirth.
Thy feast no orgy shows;
Thy calm eyes never close,
Thou soberest sprite to which the sun gives birth.

And yet the soul of man upon thy wings
Forever soars in aspiration; thou
His emblem of the new career that springs
When death's arrest bids all his spirit bow.
He seeks his hope in thee
Of immortality.
Symbol of life, me with such faith endow!

Beauty from ashes

2007-02-12T11:04:00.000-08:00

.....................................................................Mama Sinsia
.....................................................................Beautiful
.....................................................................like, WOW
.....................................................................Beautiful

I was once told that in missions, long term missions, the first three weeks are all "wow" and "look at that", shock and surprise to all the senses. The following three weeks (weeks four, five, and six) are about "where am I?" and "why am I here?", "God is this You?" and "was this ever You?", shock to the heart. After this sixth week, things settle down, there is an acceptance of the given mission and the distance from everything you know and love. I am thankful to have heard this because now, at the end of week three, entering week four, I am super duper homesick. In a beautiful way. I am all over "ouch", I want my mama, I want hugs and hands and smiles and voices. I want to lie and say that it's only people I miss, but I, at times, think I'd give anything to get into my VW Cabrio to drive to a coffee shop on Thayer Street or Starbucks at the Biltmore just to sit and drink and read. You all want the truth, so there, it's out. I am so so so so so so so so so soooooooo weak.
Let's hurry back to the beauty in the "ouch". I am so blessed to be able to hurt for Jesus. I word it like this because I am in Africa (originally and still- as in I havent called a taxi in the middle of the night to pick me up, drive me to Kili airport to fly back into your arms) for Jesus and I miss you... I feel it all over, henceforth the "ouch". So I "ouch" for Jesus. Grace abounds in that my "ouch" is not really physical, like illness, and there is no danger either... so it's an inner heart "ouch", which leaves me safely "ouching". You get me?! and Ill say it again... If there was no "ouch", no sacrifice of any sort, this would feel false to me. I understand that walking with Jesus, moving in His will does not always involve sacrifice.... but I love that this mission does... that this heart- my heart- is broken over you and is being broken over Him... broken broken broken broken. So praise the Lord, all you who are covering me in prayer- your prayers are being answered... beautifully! (If you were to carefully examine all of my blogging so far, for sure and for certain the most used word would be "beautiful")... isnt that beautiful! (Im kidding... but it is!).
I had a day and a half today. I woke up early... and got some of my Jesus stuff done before leaving to teach. Teaching was a challenge. The boys were tired and not feeling very cooperative. I was at a loss for creative techniques and my patience was less than virtuous. After my class, there were others, one involving a field trip to the market to buy seeds, roots, leaves, and fruits. I gritted my teeth and participated- okay, it was fun. After this, I waited for meetings to be completed, then errands to be run including an hour and a half spent at the post office (the Tanzanian postal system is a bit kookoo). As I waited in the car, I began fuming... "are you serious?" and "what can possibly be taking so much time?" I decided to go inside to get to the bottom of things... feeling incredibly disrespected and stuck in my bitterness... upon entering the post office, I see boxes and boxes of gift bags opened as if searched. (Everything sent here has to go through customs.) It turned out that a girl who volunteered here a few months ago had sent christmas bags for each boy in the center. What a blessing! Gifts for the beautiful boys! Oh, how they are going to delight in these treasure. Immediately, God pretty much slapped me across the face, and the force of it ejected the bitter and self righteous attitude right out of me. I cannot believe the attitudes I choose- free will- rotten heart-

Let me pause to include you in another fabulous aspect of Africa. It is 1038pm right now... dark dark dark outside, partially because it is nighttime and the moon is basically absent here, but also because we have lost power for the fourth time today... it's okay, you get used to this... however, the gift to me right now is that the computer screen is the only light on in the whole house so every single teeny tiny, nasty, bacteria carrying, biting, yucky, they are all over my body, insect is either on the screen or on me.... all over me... oh my gosh... it's so gross... it's Africa. It becomes a part of the everyday expectancies, these bugs, but that doesn't erase the "yuck". I wish I could freeze them to the screen and post them with this so as to give you a proper account of this environment ... truly it's not a big deal-- I have made friends with the ones living in my curtains and under my sheets.
okay, back to my rotten heart...

It is rotten- my heart! Jesus is teaching me... more accurately, Jesus has placed me in the corner with my nose to the wall, forced to recite "I will learn patience" one trillion times, as He supernaturally drags me through every possible life situation that might require me to be patient. It is so Jesus. It is so trying. I appreciate it. I hate it. Well, that's extreme, I dont like it. I am irritated by it, but that response is not what He is looking for. He knows my heart, so He expects it, but He wants it out of me. I fall into this alot lately. Africa moves slower and as a missionary... as a visiting missionary, I am living on someone else's time, someone else's schedule. I am to follow. I am to submit. Submission is more than physically and verbally bowing to authority, it involves a spiritual bow, a heart bow, a humility. I am quick to irritation, quick to anger, quick to judge, slow to learn, and sloooooooow to bow. It's one thing to bow to Jesus by reading His word, spending time in the prayer closet, and serenading Him with heart songs... it is a totally other thing to bow to Jesus in services to other humans. I came to Africa with lots of expectations, all of which I knew I would need Jesus miracles to accomplish. One biggeee was that I would become a servant to all, never ceasing to do do do what needs to be done. God is good- He is forever stretching me- I can bow lower than I could before, but I am still hesitent... I am still hesitent.... I am still hesitent. I do it, but as my body and mouth serve, is my heart in service to this King and these beautiful hearts He is allowing me to touch. Will I ever fully get it- Will I ever fully give it?

To me, this is Beautiful... As you read my words... my silly words... and among them "beautiful, beautiful, beautiful, beautiful, beautiful, beatiful" know that this is what I am speaking of. This is my definition of 'beauty', what my heart "oooooh"s and "ahhhhhhh"s over. This is the earthly, created beauty that draws from my mind, body, soul, spirit, and heart God-awe...

I am awed by this love, this desperation, this brokenness, this weakness, this dependancy, this humility, this "I will be more undignified that this" heart... for my King. He is the Creator of this beauty. He whooed her to this place and blew kisses at her and drew out of her this reaction to His touch. These photographs were taken of Mama Sinsia before, during, and after her baptism. Power- Majesty- Love- Hope- Healing- Submission. Beautiful.

joyjoyjoy

2007-02-08T13:11:00.000-08:00

So being in this new land, my eyes are never at rest. So much new, so much color, so much challenge in capturing it all... and I love a good challenge... so click click click click... it never stops! This picture to the right is my favorite so far. Mattias, a youngMassai man took it of himself... and I love it! I am seeing so much new and I do think, at this point (Kev) that when you see the pictures "the book is going to be better than the movie/pictures" because Ive finally settled on the fact that my lack of camera knowledge and my human-ness is incapable of capturing the depth of beauty that is in this land and this people. Ive also come to realize that my eye is only captivated by the small details... the knob of the super old, rusted metal door- the sink with the cool water nozzle with the ant-covered bar of soap- the turquoise in anything- the super close up of the Massai woman's wrap. So when I post the photographs I love, as opposed to the ones I will post more for reasons of your learning where I am, you will be looking through my eyes and even more accurately, through my heart, seeing Africa through Caitlin... as opposed to what you may choose to shoot if you were on a mission. This comes as no surprise to those of you who know me.

It was my second day in Tanzania, my first day in town and I was moved by just about everything I was seeing. I wanted to shoot it all but was told that it was a good idea to ask permission before shooting, unless you could capture the image from inside the car. The car moved fast, creating challenge, but at one point we parked and I was witness to this shared moment of the working together of these two different generations happening in front of a wall of grey metal against yellow metal. There was something unique about the way the two were communicating, the tenderness between two men, a respect held by the younger for the older that is not prevelant in many cultures now a days... It was, for sure more beautiful to watch than what you see here.

These, are Gaudy, Caitlin

(in case you've forgotten me already)

and Imkia.

I live and work with these ladies.

They are beautiful and fun and they stretch me-

Thank you, Jesus!

This fabulous woman is Jill Verrier or Mama Enoch. We three up top, live in her home. The three of them in the main house, I in the guest house. She is responsible for starting the Emmanuel Center, the children's center where I am teaching. She is super real and has one of the most beautiful hearts of anyone Ive ever met. She came here when she was 21 years old, seven years ago on a missions trip and, while here began meeting and befriending street children, mostly boys. Many children here dont have parents who care properly for them or dont have parents at all. She decided that it wasnt an okay thing and with a "GO" from God, moved here and began this center. She has saved these boys lives... and that is no easy task. Each struggles to overcome the abuse-neglect-fear-abandoment he has experienced in his short lifetime, each desires to be loved, each is a young boy with all the challenges that entails. Jill does everything she can to provide for these young boys, turning men. Her heart is for raising them up to be great men of God. To meet the boys and watch the interactions is a gift. She also has two adopted children, Noella and Enoch. She is an amazing mama and friend!

Enoch Noella

Some are curious about what I am eating. I dont really eat the meats. Im not much of a meat eater at home either. Here, it is too hard for me to grasp the clucking one minute, me digesting it the next aspect of the carnivorous life. Ill eat it when my body is desperate for those things.... but for the most part, nope. Also there is a new disease that is effecting this area of Tanzania... begun in buffalo and cows and goats but spread through mosquitos. It will kill you if you catch it and so I have decided to ixnayon the eatmay- you get me. I eat lots of rice, potatoes, other cooked vegetables, lots of indian foods, sometime pizza but it's not like ours. I drink alot of tea and every so often a coca cola. Lots of water. And, nope, I havent gained weight yet, I actually lost some more.... not enough to worry over- loved ones... Im incredibly healthy! I feel really good

THis is dirty rice and chicken... I didnt eat the chicken

This picture to the left is of a bathroom in one of the Indian food restraunts... yummy ahloo ghobi... but the restroom made me laugh. As I am here more, I continue to notice such blatent differences between here and there. There isnt a shot of it posted but the mens room and the ladies room are right next to each other... and the amazing feature of these bathrooms is that there is wall- of course, but it is only about 11 feet high, then there is a 4 foot open space between the top of the wall and the ceiling.... can you imagine, going to the bathroom at Chili's, hearing the men doing there thing next to you. It's wierd... but very Africa. Oh, also, the towel in the picture... also, very Africa. There are No, none, not any paper towels. Put to bed any ideas of waving your delicate hands under the automatic paper towel machine, instantly providing you with a sterile, new, fresh, clean paper towel. Everyone uses the same one, too. Im all for "when in ROme" but there are a few things that I most likely wont submit to here. Most of us, Mazungu, just air dry.

Okay, the picture below is of my cho... yup... you can figure out the "how to's" of using it on your own. It's actually quite easy to become accustomed to.

The picture to the right is my shower. I dig this shower. It is huge and I never touch the sides of it when Im in it- which sketches me out in smaller showers. I share it with a few lizards, but they stick to the walls and have promised that they avert their eyes when necessary so we're okay with one another.

moshi missions

2007-02-08T04:33:00.000-08:00

I have been in Moshi Tanzania-T anzania Africa for 10 days, but it feels like so many more. The people here... the missionaries, are so incredibly welcoming and warm and everything is carried out in the assumption that I, of course, am going to be a part of it. Examples of these activities are watching a videotape of the SuperBowl two days after the actual game, playing badmitton (sp) on Monday nights, movie night at Liz and Mary's, dinner anywhere, and/or a walk to the river. This assumed participation is sweet. It removes the "new kid" label and causes me to feel as if I have been here for some time now. The other side of it is a blessing also, in that I can politely decline any invites and go be alone. So there is something to do if Im interested, but nothing is required.

The men and women, the missionaries, truly love Jesus... but the design of which specific hearts are here is so God in that each person I have met is entirely unique to themselves... each offering a different strength and weakness to the "family". Each is beautiful and professes and lives Jesus, but as humans, faulty and weak, but made strong and capable of the impossible through our King. It is perfect... perfectly Him... perfect usage of those who chose to become the least of these... the small ones, who cant move without Him but with Him can leap over mountains... and you should see this mountain! On a clear day, I can see Mount Kilimanjaro from the window of the main house. It is a total miracle; majestic, overwhelming, strong, huuuuuge, and awe-some to behold. Let's use Mount Kili in it's vast complexity and diversity of life and many hidden dark dangerous spots to represent Tanzania, it's people, and the intensity of the darkness that inhabits much...

There is a level of access to the supernatural here that is far different from Providence, Rhode Island. I name names because I can only accurately speak on what I know through lived experience... and all I know that I know is Providence. There is a freedom... a freedom for both Light and darkness to reign in any given life. I am able to access Jesus on a whole new level here... when I call out to Him, when I sit at His feet, when I dance, when I read His word, it is as if there is no delay... there is no second or two seconds or hour before I feel Him. He is here, always, and kisses me the moment I pucker up, calling out His Name. It makes it harder to walk away and the knowledge that I am finding other things to fill my time is twice as discouraging.

Darkness has this same closeness to it's followers. Witchcraft is prevelent here... witch doctors, magic potions, skulls, power... dark power, but real power, really dark power... He that is in me is greater than he that is in the world, but many Tanzanians dont know this. A large part of the population is lukewarm, professing a love for our Savior, but living in sin. This is often because Tanzanians attend church and do as their pastor instructs... which is great, right?! except that if the pastor does not say "dont have sex" then the Tanzanians are going to have sex and if the pastor does not say "dont steal" then the Tanzanians will steal. To remark that this is silly, is silly because another aspect of the intensity of the supernatural realm here is that confusion and distraction and deception are as clouds of fog laying on the land.... they are everywhere. It is said that words are often stolen out of the air the moment it leaves the mouth, the words are shuffled and altered, and then heard... leaving the hearer discouraged and asking "what did you just say"... then the sender of the message explains that what was heard is not what was said at all. Wild! So Jesus is needed... Hearts willing to be His hands, feet, and heart are vital, to spread the His Gospel of Truth, Love, Light, Life.

The missionaries here in Tanzania serve as all different parts of Jesus body. Some work specifically with children, once orphans now spiritually adopted by our God (and they will profess this to you... beautiful, right!). The objective is to LOVe love love love LovE them, each for the unique individual he or she is, to grow them up in the ways of God, to teach them about this Father and King but also about the world and everyday studies. THe children are fed and washed, provided for, played with, and given the freedom to be children... to run and play and make mistakes- to laugh and be laughed with, to cry and be comforted. Other missionaries work with ministries whose primary objective is to evangelize the different people groups in Tanzania. This is beautiful too, and I am interested in becoming involved with some of this. God willing! Other missionaries are involved in working with Tanzanian women, educating them and teaching them trade work- sewing, cleaning, cooking- so as to increase their ability to self-support them and their children. It's awe-inspiring to witness the different ways God provides for His children, the different hearts He moves to lay down their lives and move here to be His hands, and the way He then provides for them. He is God... He is good... and His Love loVE lOve truly endures forever for everyone! Amen

London

2007-02-07T05:14:00.000-08:00

The wait was a faith builder... now is the time ...for you all to see see see that I truly am away and not hiding away in my room in Rhody or in a dark cave or tanning on some beach, writting fake blogs about a pretend Jesus adventure. Here goes, let's start with the start... London England...

Me and my reflection

... When one travels alone, one must photograph one-self. I ve been laughed at repeatedly throughout this mission... over this "self-love", some call it... but truly, how else would I prove that Ive mission-ed. Okay, I do love my reflection... in a purely artistic, for the love of discovering photography and God's many miracles (come on, reflection, how cool is that!) sort of way.

N.T.G., these are for you. I, of course, did as you suggested because your words = gold.

Trafalgar Square Lions--- roooooooaaaaaaaaaarrrrrrrrr

and decaf at the National Cafe.

The yummiest I had in England...

actually, the yummiest Ive had since my travels began.

Thanks Yo Yo

K.... this is for you... European grafiti. Sweet right?. I told Hetty that I had a friend at home who photographed this stuff and she said she knew a spot. this is sprayed onto a brick wall, but the bricks revealed by the lifted white curtain are sprayed too. THEY ARE NOT REAL. DONT BE FOOLED!

This is Hetty and Keiichi.

I stayed with them in London. 20 Fitzroy road. Beautiful people with a beautiful home!

This super brief show of London took me three hours to upload.... so we'll break.... before my roommates break parts of me. The picture show has begun so you can trust that there will be more... just in doses.

LoVe lOVe lovE

motion

2007-02-07T03:55:00.000-08:00

I have been teaching my three beautiful African babies, I mean students, for three days now. They are Enoch, Micah, and Kelvin. They are boys and really good at being boys, eight and nine years old, and very intelligent- each in his own way! We are learning more about English and Math together. It is exactly as challenging, enlightening, encouraging, energy-requiring, creative and fun as teaching in America. These boys are going to be a delight to work with and so I am really looking forward to the next three months. I wont go into details of what we do in the classroom because I love love love you and think it might bore you. All you need to know is that little minds are expanding while lips are smiling.
After class is the fun part... today we played soccer. It was just six of us- five of them, one of me. These boys can play... they rock and roll and dribble and kick and boy, are they sneaky, which only makes them better. It is super hard to play against someone so much littler than you, who is fast too. A big person cannot see the ball under a little person. Anyway, enough excuses right.......................I still won! Sorry, we still won! My goalie, Micah was amazing. As Emmanuel and I ran the ball all all all over the field, in heavy combat against Enoch, Toma, and Michael, Micah was doing sommersaults near the goal! Seriously... but I tell you, he stopped every ball but one from going in to that goal. He made some amazing saves... like stuff sports writers write about... diving and rolling and dodging feet kicks. Looking back and seeing his face was amazing... round, chub, and always smiling! The sommersaults totally add to his charm! It was a super cool game!
It is hot hot hot hot hot here.... everyday, alllllll day-- so excersize is either not happening (for big people) or it is but with consequences. To move alot here is extremely sweaty and messy and requires all clothing worn to need washing. The clothes are washed by the mamas of each house. These women are beautiful. They clean, cook lunches, do laundry, and lots lots more. It is a blessing to have them, but things take time... Africa time. So to drop an item into the wash bucket on Tuesday, means getting it back Friday or maybe even later. Washing clothes here involves using the washing machine, then hanging the clothes to dry in the sun, then because of bugs that get into the clothes, everything needs to be ironed- killing the bugs. So if you love what you are wearing and cannot part with it for many days, dont play soccer... or move at all! It is also super uncomfortable- active action- in that you are sweating out all your body fluids and so you feel dehydrated, but cannot stop for water because, come on, we're playing a very serious game here and also, Im not into the boiled tap water readily available at the center, and water in bottles means a trip to the market, so there is no soothing your drying, cracking, aching inner need for water. Lastly, there's the sun... this huge ball of molten lava hottness beating down on you... seriously, like abusively beating you!
"So why play- why move, Caitlin, if you feel so negatively about it, why?!"
I have a few responses to that.... First, sorry for being negative. Second, if Im not moving at all, I feel less good about me and how I am caring for this body of mine. How silly to pray, "Lord bless me and keep me, let me stay healthy and be strong, protect me from sickness.... on and on and on" if Im not doing my part.... so movement is necessary and feels so great, even while sweating profusely in hot hot heat. Most importantly, I play because the boys love it and I want them to know that I am all in. The communicating- yelling, small talk, snide comments (none from me, of couse, but when Michael points at me and then rants in Swahili to the other boys, I get the feeling something of a snide nature is being said)- the high fives, low tens, "whoooo hoooo" and "yeah baby"-- come on, it's all in the name of bonding! Besides, it's only a ten minute ride to the comforts of my guest home... shower, change, chill.

another river story

2007-02-07T02:51:00.000-08:00

On Sunday, I visited the church, His Dwelling Place. As soon as I entered the room, "Majungu, majungu, majungu" which means "white person, white person, white person" and all the little children ran to me and began petting my hands. They love love love white people. It's a fascinating fascination.
Tanzanian voices in song are kisses to my ears- beautiful beautiful beautiful. The praise and worship caused my heart to burst, that liquid to rise through my body then overflow out my eyes-- easier put, I cried. I cried and cried and cried... and it was to the point of me asking Jesus to "please keep me under control", because I could sense that these tears, if let free, would rock my entire body- you know, those sobbing, shaking, Jesus encouraging me to be "more undignified that this" tears. I, apparently, wasn't willing to be "more undignified" because I asked Him to control it, and Jesus and I are dealing with this issue, but moving beyond my short commings, it was a magnificent gift from God to be in the midst of real worship, to be in the presence of those who love my King with everything they are. I didnt understand the words, and therefore couldnt sing along... or even know what was being sung to our King... but I felt in me that it tugged on His heart.
After worship, the message began. It was about honey and the rod of God... The teacher spoke of Sampson and the honey in the carcass of the lion... the sweet in the center of the rough... at some point Jesus became part of the message-- Okay okay, so it sounds like I didnt pay any attention... but the message was in Swahili, with an English translator... and it was 2 + hours long(add in the worship and we were in service for 3 hours). Here in Tanzania they have a saying- I cannot remember the Swahili words for it, but the translation is "in other words"... so the message is given, then the message is given "in other words", then repeated again "in other words." I love Jesus. I love Jesus. I love Jesus. Now that you know that I love Jesus, know that I was praying for this dear man who loves Jesus, also, to stop.... "please, In the name of Jesus, stop".... then he'd say something that pinched me and I'd praise the Lord "Halleluah" then I'd get lost again and pray "stop stop stop". Dont judge me... just give me time. I have settled into the fact that here in Africa, things are not done as they are in America or anywhere else in the whole entire world... it would be silly if they were- and when in ROme... oh you know, go with the flow.... so I will flow.
After service, there was a baptism. I was asked to document the occassion and was completely content to oblige. Baptism here is a very serious step in your walk with Jesus. So these beautiful Tanzanians, dressed in their wraps- the colors! oh the colors! step off of a rock and into the lake, where the missionaries and the pastor and an elder are awaiting them- a prayer is prayed -Swahili, so I just believed- and then the Jesus lover is dunked. The rising out of the water is my most favorite moment. It is sacred and beautiful and private... I felt as if I was seeing something that I should not be allowed to see, feeling as though I should avert my eyes, as it is so intimate between Jesus and His child. The body, once dirty, is now washed clean, and is soaking wet, dripping with His Love, His Acceptance, His Forgiveness, His Kiss. I was blessed to be able to capture and freeze some of these intimate Jesus/Jesus lover minutes with my click click.
After the service, the Tanzanians kissed my ears again, with Swahili worship, free form from the heart, right beside the river. Truly, I might just be the most blessed chickee you know!

delicate strip of color

2007-02-04T11:25:00.000-08:00

I went for a walk down to the river yesterday. It was a beautiful day... sunny, not too hot. I brought my camera, of course... I was eager to see and capture newness... trees, animals, insects, people, dirt, etc... I had to go with Imkia, a friend here from Holland, because walking alone is not advised. There are dangers. Once down by the river, I began looking for things to photograph. To be honest, I couldnt really find anything too captivating. It takes a certain something, usually very colorful to catch my attention and cause me to pull out my click click. Oh, there was a butterfly, but it was quick... too quick for me. Imkia really wanted to walk across the river via the large rocks growing throughout it... I guess this is a thing here.... something to do. I obliged and as we reached the farthest rock (it truly wasnt that far out, but still provided a moment of activity) Imkia says "there's a butterfly in the water!'" I turn quickly, see it, and think "not on my watch." It was the same delicate strip of color we had seen upon arrival. I repositioned myself so as not to slip off my rock and reached down to grab the struggling, nearly lifeless, delicate strip of color.... yellow!
As a brief side, you should know that when you arrive here in Africa, you are warned that every teeny living thing carries some sort of disease and/or will most definately implant something in your skin the moment you touch it, the thing will grow underneath your - my American skin (implying that the skin is used to a sterile, clean, no risk environment), and will give birth to many teeny things that will live and thrive inside of you.... k, I got an eeny weeny bit dramatic, word is that only a few things do that, and they die quickly with a pill... but still, come on- gross right!
So as I am reaching down into the river water to grab this delicate strip of color... yellow, I am battling those words of death in my mind... save a life, things implanted in skin, save a life, things implanted in skin... so, yeah, mom and dad- I saved the life. Now that the delicate strip of color...yellow, the life is in my hand, it begins to rain... a most beautiful spring rain. Lightly, softly falling drops of African rain- the butterfly, however, is tramatized by these, for as they are sweet and nearly non-existent to us, he is already soaking from a near death drowning, being held in human hands, and is being attacked by huge balls of water- the substance he is most trying to escape. I dashed.... well, I was on wet rocks in the middle of a river, so you can imagine the quickness of my dash, to the side of the river, delicate strip of color, camera, and flip flops in hand. THis is not safe, as while I dash I am also trying to take pictures of this rescued life on this monster hand- it truly is a beautiful contrast! So we make it, I get him under a rock, a rock on top of a rock so he would be safe and I ducked under it too so I could continue taking pictures. NOw this whole time the rain is turning from light, soft summer rain into harder, heavier fall rain and Imkia is standing behind me on a rock with absolutely no shelter. She's awe-some though because she is trying to be in agreement with rescuing and photographing this colorful victim, while at the same time commenting on just how wet it and she are getting. I, am not paying attention, though as I am totally captivated by my patient turned model and want to capture his every move. He turns, I click- opens his wings, click click. Butterfly, delicate strip of color is continuously more traumatized, however, as the winds are picking up and he cannot keep his footing... and I wont leave him alone. Although, out of fairness, I was legitimately concerned for his life. So the rains are falling harder, he seems to be regaining strength, Imkia is really wet, and how many photographs can you take of a teeny delicate strip of color anyway... so I find a less windy, more suitable rock landing for our victim turned patient turned model turned friend and we bust. At this point, it is pouring. The heavy, hard fall rain is now torrential... We are basically swimming home. Up a steep hill which was slippery on the way down when dry, I went barefoot... which to bring you back to the beginning of this ... story, is not smart because when it rains there are worms that comes out of the mud and implant themselves in your skin... literally crawl under your skin... my skin. So once up the hill, flip flops go on, and we head home. We walk, because to run at this point would be like swimming faster in a pool to avoid getting wetter.
It is a beautiful thing, this African rain, but it is wet. I suppose that is most of it's beauty, the soaking wettness of it! I had my camera so many of the same prayer was cried to God- all of which He honored... graciously! The entire way home, Imkia pronounced "this is so much fun!" over and over and over. It was truth, It was fun... The Jesus magic of it is that as soon as we arrived at our gate, the rain stopped and it was dry. So you see, this whole blog blob you just read, wondering all along "why am I reading this nonsense" does have a moral... God has a sense of humor. I have been crying out to him to purify me, to forgive me for my past sins which lead to impurty, to cleanse me, to wash me, to soak me with His Love, with His everything... you see, He did just that! I was literally soaking wet, to my bones, washed clean... and, on top of it, He let me interact in love with one of His soft delicate strips of color... yellow! The same butterfly I saw and longed to experience but which was too quick, was placed quite dependently, beautifully on my very hand. It was a blessed day!
Asante Sana- Thank you very much for going back to the river with me...
love love love

Two 2

2007-02-02T03:37:00.000-08:00

What is Tanzania Africa. Moshi Tanzania... t0 me, an American? I am going to try to share this with you... I will fail in describing the depth of beauty and understanding and human-ness here... but now that you know this, just multiple my meanings by one million trillion and think JESUS and then, maybe, just maybe, you'll get it. The streets in Tanzania are dirty with the redbrown dirt- It has rained every day since Ive been here, which is a blessing because that causes the dirt to be heavy enough to not litter the air and also because it fills the streams enabling the power to stay on and the vegetation to grow. Life here depends on these rains. Simple- Raw- Hard- Beautiful.
Tanzania is people. They are black and beautiful and have a culture, a way of life very different from yours and mine. THey are quiet and super respectful. Greatings -entering and exiting- are hugely important. I am learning the Swahili... but slowly. Everyone here speaks English... well, many do and so I could get away with using it alone... except that lessens the experience and I think it respectful to learn a strangers language when in a strange land. So Jambo- Welcome!
Beauty here is not about the details of ones face or the style of clothes one wears or how wide, thin, tall, or short one is. Beauty here is found in existing... Everything here is beautiful because God made it and it moves and breathes and loves. It is strong and weak, lost and found. It is beautiful because it is alive. I love this land and these people... and it's only been four days. No wonder the hidden ones are God's favorites! There are the Massai tribal people. The men wear bright colored clothes wrapped all around their bodies- the colors are fabulous. The women are wrapped just as beautifully, but they wear less vibrant colors. I am told the bright colors are purposed to scare lions. It is custom for each Massai male to kill a lion with his bare hands at the age of 15. It earns honor and respect. I would sit and take photographs of only these people for my entire three months, if permittable. The Massai people are private and it is custom to ask permission before capturing them in photographs. Often, there will be a fee for the priveledge! They are friendly and have smiles that steal your heart. They live simply-
Life here is raw and hard. It is hot and there is not much work. Most Tanzanians work selling fruits, vegetables, herbs as medicine, meat (that's a hard scene), watches, second hand clothing, and other various items- all on street carts... in 90 degree weather! They earn maybe 1000-2000 shillings per day. People, 1000 shillings is equal to about $0.70 (seventy cents)! It is all relative so the earnings provide for life here, but that means living in a mud or cement hut, with little room and very few ammenities, walking or biking everywhere, growing most of what you eat and eating very little. The meat here is walking , clucking, mooing, bleating one minute and headless and hanging the next... and that's exactly how they sell it. Every animal you see throughout the day is for a purpose- to protect or to feed. The goat living on the grounds where I stay, yeah he's super cute and the main course for Jill's wedding in May! This is life here. My heart is to feel for the animals but life here laughs at me in this regard. There is no pittying Bambi (eat that yummy little animal, George!) Actually, more accurately, there is no pittying Mr. Tumnus.
One thing that I knew to expect but still, had no understanding of is how our Western culture truly touches the entire world- everyone carries a cell phone! and the clothing that the Tanzanians wear are all second hand, sent here from America. All of it! Just in case you have ever doubted- We, America, are the Superpower and we are blessed-blessed- BLESSED! Thank Jesus right now for everything you have and then ask Him to take it away from you so as to free yourself from the burden of being "the rich man"... or at the very least ask Him to allow you the experience of living life for a short while with those who dont have in order that you may feel the easy yoke and light burden He speaks of in HIs word. Our things add responsibility to our lives... when we get, we become responsible to not let those things become important to us, to not let those things become idols, to not let those things get in between us and Gods perfect, simple, forever, complete (with nothing else needed) Love. I have nothing here... but God- which is everything. He is my every answer. I have never know Him like this. Truly, as I walked away from all my things... from even my heart loves- my people, I found Him... more and more and more of Him and I fall more in Love every minute, every moment.
I see things, hear things, touch things everyday- over and over again and I think of how desperately I want for you all to know of where I am. "I will journal about it" I think to myself and then on my way home, I see fifty other new wonders and by the time I am typing, the details of my day have vanished leaving me sitting in a fog of wonder and wander and newness and joy and warmth, but no way of verbalizing it to you. Thank you for accepting my weak attempts. I have so much more to share but let's take a break... I will write more on another day. These writtings are long, I know and it must get hard to read through them. I write them for you, but also for me as my journal which I will print out and read when I am no longer in this land. Also, there is just so much new and you know so little of it and I want to give it all to you with all that I have- All that I have are words. As time goes on, they will shorten a bit... For now, push through. God is in the words, I believe.
I love love love you.

tanzania africa, moshi tanzania

2007-01-31T08:19:00.000-08:00

I have arrived... Tanzania, Africa. Moshi, Tanzania. We truly are located on the downward slope of MOunt Kilimanjaro! Amazing right. It is beautiful- hot air, green trees, redbrown dirt roads. THere are people everywhere, mostly black, some white- I have met most of the white people. THe Tanzanians have beautiful faces. The ones I have met are quiet and very polite.
Oh my gosh, Africa is so different from America. I have no words to explain this. There is no comparison between this and anywhere else I have been. I feel as if I am born again, as in young and learning a whole new world- learing how to speak and see and hear and touch, all over again. How can there be an America, when there is an Africa? Neither is better or worse, good or bad... but I have no understanding of how both can exist at the same time on one planet. I was completely overwhelmed as I drove from Kilimanjaro Airport to Moshi. We drove through the Massai lands. Beautiful beautiful beautiful. the Massai people, the land, the simplicity.... overwhelmingly beautiful. Night one, I cried like a baby- partly out of Gods perfection and greatness and Awesome power and creativity and partly out of the pain I feel through God's shifting.... and I miss my mommy and daddy and others. Today is day two and I am adjusting. It does get easier. The Lord truly is my strength. His WOrd is coming to Life for me. It has always been truth but now it hugely applies to my every day and I find myself depending on it for guidance and almost an inside look into what I may feel and experience tomorrow. It is easier to understand and relate to the Bible, written as it is, as I am living in the same type of simplicity and raw challenge.
I stay in a house next to the larger house where Jill and Imkia and Gaudy live. I get to be in there alone until March when another missionary arrives. In this house is a bedroom with a bunkbed, another bed, a dresser, a cabinet, a small rug, and two windows. Also, there is a kitchen but with only a sink, mostly for brushing my teeth. There is a shower room, which is a room with a shower faucet high on the wall and a drain in the floor. There is also one other room for me to use. This room has a cho, a squatty potty- so yeah, I now squat to go. I am surprisingly completely comfortable with all of this. I love simple and now I live simple.
The women I work with are beautiful and head over heals in love with Jesus. He has their hearts. This is a gift for me. I wouldnt make it through any of this if the people I see daily, weren't His. I am more dependent on Him than ever before. He guides me as I do things I have no previous understanding of, He protects me as I walk the streets of this new land (full of pick pockets and outright thieves), He soothes me as I cry at night, and He holds me as I long to be held by my loved ones at home. He is here and I feel Him every moment. When I cry out to Him, it is only a moment before His Peace covers my whole being reminding me that I am His... I am His! He has sent me here. I dont have the details yet, but He has sent me here and I expect growth, I expect struggle- more struggle, I expect tears of pain and joy and victory, I expect Jesus, I expect new revelation, I expect to be overcome and overwhelmed with His presence and His heart and His Peace, I expect to be changed... And I know that He expects much of me... to whom much is given much is to be expected.
I love love love you. My heart is broken over missing you. I want to be false and tell you I am brave and not experiencing any sad feelings... tHat I am perfectly flowing with God's call... walking tall and speaking loudly. I cannot do that though. I am following the call. I am in Africa. I am walking, I am sort of tall at 5'6. I am speaking. My heart is open. My heart is willing. I am staying. I feel deeply for what my heart loves, I cry deeply for what my heart loves. I love you... I love God more. I do love you though. Pray for me. Pray for the Emmanuel Center. Pray for Africa. Pray Pray Pray

One 27

2007-01-27T08:05:00.000-08:00

I am still in London and loving every moment of this new experience. I have been invited into the home of some lovely people for my last few nights here. Welcoming faces and warm hearts makes being away from home a bit easier. So I am very thankful for Hetty and Keiichi. I have enjoyed walking the streets of this new city, new country. It sounds and looks and feels a bit different... sort of... and actually it's a lot like Boston and New York combined... as beautiful as Boston but as busy and sort of quick as New York. My heart is to get all I can from this short stint of the trip- My prayer is to take with me what Jesus knows Ill most treasure always and to leave behind what He most wants London to have of Him and me. I have walked alot and talked little... it's best that way! I have photographed most everything Ive seen and then written about my feelings of what Ive photographed... it's quite redundant though and when I realize this, I rip up what I just wrote and decide to only rely on the photographs Ive taken to tell the details of my time here... but then the next day arrives and I continue the old pattern- photograph, write, rip- I am out of time now, and wont have access to a computer until I arrive in Africa in a few days. I believe the rest of the trip will be full of wonderful sights and special moments, planned perfectly for my by Jesus Himself- my heart is open and smiling over this! Keep praying for me. I feel it and, at times, need it. I do love this and consider it such a blessing, but I find I get lonely often. Mostly falling asleep and waking up. He is here with me, but I guess Im more of a people person than I thought. I miss you, my people!
lOve LOve LOvE

Here

2007-01-25T02:32:00.000-08:00

Hello heARts
It's Thursday, January 25th and I am safe in London. The flight was light. 6.5 hours was a breeze. I was able to sleep for some time when I first arrived and then spent the evening walking and talking and eating. London is different from home, in most all ways, and yet not and so I am quite comfortable. I have a few days here to shoot pictures and experience this and then Im off to Africa to experience something very different. I love my life, I love this adventure. Bless you all...
Love love LOve
Caitlin

praise report

2007-01-19T21:51:00.000-08:00

5 days and counting... it's wild to be so close and so prepared and, yet, sooooooooo.o.o.o.o.o.o not prepared. But do we ever really feel fully prepared for God's missions at the moment He moves us out in them?
I just wanted to give a praise report. I have been very excited but also nervous, butterflies in the stomach, about everything... but primarily about funding. I know that God provides, He has never not, and I know that I know that I know that this mission is His and that He has a greater plan- so I need to trust Him.... and well, faith and trust are materializing! From the left and the right, support is coming in. Churches, individuals, friends, strangers... there is a flow of funds. I still need more... but God brings it in His time and that means it will always be on time! Beautiful! Thank you, Jesus and thank you friends.
love love love

PrepARation And count dOwN

2007-01-13T10:19:00.000-08:00

It's been a long time in waiting, this trip, this adventure, this door opening/new beginning, page one(again) of a story begun long ago, this mission, this Africa... and very much so because God's plan for my life required for things to happen between the first "may I go" (years ago) and now... January 13th, 12 days before blast off.,. out of the USA and into Europe then Africa. more than that, though, it's about open doors... it's about a 'yes' in my spirit matching a 'YES' in His Spirit. I am still being prepared spiritually, although I feel I may be neglecting that for the practical preparation "to do's". Let's see, my "to do" list as of now, goes something like this...
(I wrote it all out to display the lengths one goes to leave known-life for a bit, and then erased it because it bored even me)
much of it has to do with Handsome Jack Dooley and sending him to Cali. It is truth for me to say "love me, love my dog". Then there were bits about England and ensuring a roof over my head, camera functions, rides from here to there and back to here when needed, packing, getting my heart right and agreeable with leaving my loved ones... get shots, IPOD fully loaded, and some stuff about money... (RAISE MORE MONEY!!!! COLLECT LOVE OFFERINGS! ROB A BANK... no, I'm kidding, you'll find no black body suit/mask/gloves in my closet.) It's amazing how God provides... it's amazing how expensive missons are... it's amazing how God provides... it's amazing how expensive missions are... and so on and so forth...
Blah Blah Blah, I know...
This will all get done... for sure and for certain! Planning to put my life here in America on hold for a mission in Tanzania, Africa has made me aware of just how much I have and am anchored here in Providence, Rhode Island... in my bubble. It's been relatively easy to plan my "pick up and leave" but there are many details, minute details that need/require attention. I have been able to minimize my life though... and I love feeling lighter. I love actually being lighter- not so weighed down by materials. That in itself has been a blessing. I don't want to own much of anything until God says "settle for a time in this specific place". Until then, I love the idea of being able to go at a moments notice.
I'll close... in closing, I get to go to England for a week, wander the streets of London alone, hearing words I know but that will somehow become new as spoken through accents I giggle and dance over. I will contribute to their economy as little as possible, stealing air and taking away only photographs... of everything! I will speak as little as possible to see if I can fool the Europeans into thinking I am one of them... but when I do speak, I will represent us well- I promise! I will make a new friend, too... I just know it. Then I'm off to Tanzania, Africa- 13 hours in the air, 7 hours on a bus (we're talking not so high class as the big yellow bus from your childhood), destination! As for what will happen there, only God knows... but it's good! It's all really good! Ill let you know what that means as I am shown. God bless you, everyone. Pray for me