My morning has begun. It’s 2:45 in the states, but in Cote d’Ivoire it’s 8:45 a.m.  By now I would either be deep into a one-plus hour commute or I’d already be on a work site. So, my body thinks I’m behind schedule – lounging around at 2:45/8:45. The past 11 days of service have rewired my system. The body clock will eventually fall back into sync with my old self. But there are some things that I hope are never rewired back to the old.

Gratitude is one of those things. When I awoke just now, I knew this wouldn’t be a typical “roll-over-check-the-clock-drift-back-off” type of waking. So, I got on up and brushed my teeth. I brushed my teeth with tap water. I haven’t done that in 11 days. In Cote d’Ivoire, the tap water is not potable – meaning it’s not drinkable or usable. So, since our departure, we’ve brushed our teeth with bottled water.  Every day, I’ve thanked God that I have the luxury of usable water at home, as well as having the luxury of options like bottled water. While brushing my teeth, I’ve also prayed for those in Africa and other forgotten places of the world that don’t have the same luxuries. I hope my body’s wiring is never regulated in such a way that I forget to consciously thank God for the easily-overlooked blessings, such as clean water.

Peaceful simplicity is another result of rewiring that I hope stays with me. For 11 days I’ve been unplugged. It’s not that I didn’t miss phone calls, text messages and television…but I didn’t miss it! I appreciate what technology allows us to do. But for all that it gives, it also takes. It takes time spent in the presence of others, when we opt to send them a quick text instead. The time we spend curled up with our Blackberrys and iPhones often steals from time spent intimately with God. Television can open doors to other worlds, but I find it even more gratifying to shut off the TV and venture off into those worlds and make your own discoveries. I didn’t text my friends upon arrival. I didn’t turn on HGTV or CNN. I wanted to. But for some reason my rewiring compelled me to stay technologically quiet for a few moments more.  

Since my American work day doesn’t start for a few hours yet, I will try to sleep again. But my sincere prayer is that I stay awake to the rewiring that God has worked in me. May gratitude, simplicity and an inextinguishable spirit of service keep me awake today and in all my days to come.

Well kids, the word of the day is “worship.”  Why?  Well, because so many Sunday mornings even we pastors just go through the motions, follow the established routine, and rarely sense the Spirit breaking through into the life of the church.

This is not a problem in Cote d’Ivoire!  Today we again were delighted to be welcomed into the fellowship of Christians who call themselves the United Methodists of Cote d’Ivoire.  There are no words to describe the experience of worship that felt like 20 minutes rather than more than two hours!  However, I will try.

Surrounded by song and prayer we entered into the beginning of the service: laity ushered to front-row seats and clergy processing in with the lively choir.  We heard a powerful sermon from our Missional Excellence director, Rev. Cynthia Harvey.  (Let me just say that in my house, I’m not the cry-er.  Not the case in this sermon.)  The text was from Ephesians 3, and the theme was “more than we could ever ask or imagine.”  And then we were blessed by all participating in the outward and visible sign of Christ’s inward and spiritual grace: Holy Communion.  Again, the clergy all participated in serving the congregation–probably at least 700 all told.  And then, the words of thanks from several clergy and lay leaders and Bishop Benjamin Boni.

Several of us were talking on the bus ride back, and Morris remarked that it’s not your ordinary worship service where the high point is the offering.  And yet it was–the glorious singing and dancing, the true joy with which all the people came to the sacks at the front of the church to share of their blessings from God.  What a joy to line up with the clergy and place my offering with everyone else’s and know that we truly were celebrating gifts of a gracious Christ.

After worship, goodbyes, and photographs, we headed to the bus for lunch at the church who has hosted us all week: Jubile Church in the Cocody neighborhood where our hotel is.  But when we got there almost every square inch of grass was covered in tents for probably a thousand people, hosted by the general of the entire Ivorian army.  And we dined again with excellent hospitality from a people we didn’t even know the week before.  As I sat in my chair and looked around at the tables, the sharing, the love, the communion of saints gathered, I couldn’t help but think that worship had spilled over into our meal, that the joyful gratitude to a God who has given us everything could not be contained by a time slot or a building but permeated down to the core of our being and was now everywhere that we were.

May the Spirit make this celebration always so fully present, so deeply a sacramental sign of God’s grace, so richly a foretaste of the Kingdom of Heaven that we carry it wherever we go to become a people wholly affected by the gift of Christ’s salvation.

Linda Marr gives a girl from the Samo village a Vitamin A capsule to boost immunity and vision.

Team member Linda Marr wrote this blog.

Greatings from Cote d’Ivoire!  Today was a wonderful way to end the week.  We went back to Grand Bassam where we had been all week and visited families’ homes to be sure they had hung their mosquito nets correctly.  We started out in an area Austin (our interpreter) called the slums.  Each alley opened into a central covered cooking area with homes surrounding it.  The homes all had concrete floors and corrugated metal roofs and the walls were covered by what looked like posters.  About half of the people had their nets up and those who didn’t were grateful to have us show them. 

We then went toward the beach to a more affluent but still humble area where some of the mothers told us they had not been given any instructions at all.  This was a little disturbing but we hoped that if we helped a few they would tell their neighbors how to hang their nets.  There was one man who was anxious to show us his hung net. He already had one untreated net where his family had been sleeping and he told us that since he had only one child he was letting other children in the area sleep under the new treated net.  What an example of radical hospitality!

A Muslim woman waits at the Methodist Hospital in Dabou to receive an insectide-treated mosquito net to protect her child from malaria.

Thanks to all of those from A&M United Methodist Church for supporting this great cause and for your prayers for me.  I have many stories to tell and video footage of Aggie Yell Practice in Cote d’Ivoire so see you soon!

What is the news?  This question (I hope I got it right!) is the first one asked upon arriving in a village, especially for an official visit to the chief or the church. It’s apparently protocol for “What are you doing here?  What’s your business?” Our interpreter would share back about the importance of using the mosquitare (mosquito nets) properly.  The leader would then share that the news in the village is also good, and we can continue with our visit.

And it is right for us to ask this question of ourselves.  After all that has been accomplished, after a 5-day integrated health campaign that has literally touched millions of lives, after the better part of a million nets have been distributed to children and families (with hundreds of thousands still to arrive, and more money to be raised)…what is the news?

The news is that in the district where I have been working, based only upon the number from 14 fixed distribution locations, they have distributed 7,143 of 19,160 nets.  This represents 38% of the catchment area that have participated in a measles vaccination, received Vitamin A, taken a deworming pill, and were given a long lasting insectiscide-treated bed net.  And those numbers were still coming in from those locations.  Moreover, there were 57 other distribution locations throughout the health district whose numbers have not yet come in.  There were sites which were having to be resupplied from the reserve, or from other locations which still had a few left.  In Alepe town itself, they had distributed 107% of the allocation for the town; that number was expected to rise to 120 or 130.  Montezo, a small village on the road into Alepe from Abidjan had distributed 59% of their allocation in just the first two of the five days.  In other words, the program was a resounding success.  In another week or two we will have better numbers, not just from Alepe, but from each of the more than 4,000 sites across Cote d’Ivoire where the campaign took place.

Listen! Your sentinels lift up their voices,
together they sing for joy;
for in plain sight they see
the return of the LORD to Zion.  (Isaiah 52:8)

Que c’est la nouvelle?  What’s the news?  The news is good!  That God has taken on human flesh, become incarnate, and lives and moves and breathes and blesses and works and saves through Jesus Christ, and Christ’s church, is very good news indeed!  Through the healing ministry of Jesus Christ in which we are called to participate, the children and families and all the people of Cote d’Ivoire have seen in plain sight the return of God to his people, to this holy place.  And the great prophesies of Isaiah about people living together in harmony, beating swords into plowshares, experiencing the healing power of the Messiah, and being led by a little child are coming true before our very eyes.  Lift up your voices and sing for joy, because the news, my friends, is good!

Two stories from today.  The first involves the Catholic hospital in Alepe.  It’s a place of healing, with nuns who are doctors and a clean, well-organized pharmacy.  They don’t turn anyone away, even if they can’t pay.  There isn’t a way I can describe the agony of seeing people suffering from malaria (and other things too, at the same time), but the heartbreaking scenes happened in the pediatric wing.  One child, no more than two, was suffering from 104 degree fever, and had anemia on top of his malaria.  An 18 month old had malaria-related pneumonia so bad that you couldn’t tell there was a lung on one side from the x-ray.  So we said a prayer and left with heavy hearts and tears in our eyes.  We came to Alepe in the hope that no parent will ever have to sit with their child and worry if they will live through malaria again.

Another story of hope centered around our Gendarmie (national police) officer accompanying us.  He has heard our interpreter explain the importance of nets hundreds of times by now, so when someone said they had their net but were waiting to use it, he lost his patience.  “Are you waiting for someone to die?” he asked…and we all began laughing.  Here he was, living in Abidjan, with small kids of his own.  He couldn’t get a net for them because the Abidjan district didn’t get nets.  And he was so irritated that there was someone who had one and wasn’t using it.  He had hope for what the nets would be used for.

May we have the same contagious hope which Silva caught for his own kids and for these villagers, that life will be better because of the work of Jesus Christ being brought to fruitiion through us.

Families wait anxiously at the Bonuoa hospital. They worry that there will not be enough nets.

I cried because never in my life have I worked so swiftly, so eagerly, so gently, so lovingly, so meaningfully. Never.

My heart cried out when a mother saw me leaving and asked with sad, sad eyes, “Madame, es fini? Es fini?” I attempted to reassure her, “No, Madame. Non fini.” It is not finished.

And, although I cried yesterday, my heart and soul rejoiced today! At 6 a.m., I began an all-day adventure with our host communicator Isaac Broune and my colleagues from United Methodist News Service, Tim Tanton, Mike DuBose and Harry Leake. The day was filled with highs and lows. The hauntingly agonizing cries of dying patients at the Methodist Hospital at Dabou. Young and old Ivorians being devoured by HIV/AIDS, tuberculosis, malaria and more within 100 yards of where life-saving vaccinations and mosquito nets were being distributed. Highs and lows that were as stark in contrast as the American-owned, hillside restaurant and hotel where we ate lunch overlooking a lush African valley that was dotted with woven huts. People dying. Lives saved. Mountaintop moments. Valley living.

The day ended with a canoe ride down a lagoon along the LaRoue Blage (LaRoue Beach). The 30-passenger boat (more people could fit if there weren’t so many bags and bins from the market and basins of fish…) operated like a bus. We stopped at fishing villages along the coast to let passengers off and on. I learned that the Catholics and the Methodists operate these boat-buses to raise money for ministry.  

Young fishermen work at one of the bus-boat stops.A working mother of Grand LaRoue, Cote d'Ivoire.

After sailing amid coconut trees and passing countless fisherman (as young as age 5), we arrived at the village of Groguida, where the United Methodist church was hosting a Class Leaders meeting. At least 60 Wesley Class Leaders crammed into the church with an exquisite ocean view comparable to any world-class resort. The pastor thanked the people of the Texas Conference for partnering with the people of Cote d’Ivoire. Translated in four languages – it was the most rewarding Methodist “administrative meeting” in which I’ve ever participated.

Ye

sterday, I cried. Today, I rejoiced. Sailing along the calm lagoon waters, within eyesight of where they meet the chaotic Atlantic Ocean, I heard God saying, “Peace, be still.” There’s so much work to be done. There are countless people to serve at home and abroad. Some days we will cry together. Some days we will rejoice together. My prayer is that every day, God’s peace and grace will strengthen and empower us to join together in service that is as powerful and sure as his joining of the lagoon to the sea.

The Grand LaRoue lagoon meets the Atlantic Ocean here.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Rev. Nancy Kellond shares a life-saving net with a child.

Remember when I said I would be delivering 300 nets a day in the villages? Well, yesterday, I handed out 1,000 nets in one day in one village. I now have a new image of Jesus feeding the 5,000 people.

Giving each child a net was like the first time I ever served communion. I knew the nets, in some way, represented the gift of Christ for every child, and I never wanted to stop. I handed it to the child as if it were something sacred.

As they looked at me with those big eyes and arms outstretched, they seemed to know, indeed, that it was sacred, and they received it that way. Can you imagine 1,000 holy moments in one day?

Mon Amis! (My Friends!)

Before I got here, I planned to blog each day – silly me! Late nights, early mornings, extreme heat and few internet connections have all combined to change my plans.

As you think of us here in Cote d’Ivoire, pull out your Bibles and read through James 2:14-26. It is a passage many of us remember as the “faith without works is dead” passage. Sometimes when I am moved to do mission work or other community service, I find myself doing the things I want to do. At some point, it becomes clear that I’m furthering my own desires, not answering God’s call.  

A joyful crowd of children welcomes Texans to Cote d'Ivoire.

Yesterday, (Tuesday, November 11) as our bus approach-ed the district of Alepe, we topped a hill. As the road leveled, we drove through a welcom-ing corridor of waving, clapping and screaming children. They lined both sides of the streets – from junior high aged tall kids in “Lakers” jerseys and T-shirts, all the way down to the tiniest pre-school aged children in precious little school uniforms.

Bishop Huie greets the launch day crowd. Cote d'Ivoire communicator Isaac Broune is at her right.

In the town center, tents were pitched to protect the gathered dignitaries from the sun.  As each speaker took their turn at the podium, a designated um-rella holder shielded them as they spoke. As we all sat in the relative comfort of the plastic chairs in the shade of the tent, mothers got in line with their babies and young children. The babies and youngest toddlers ride around on their mother’s backs – snuggled in between her shoulder blades, peeking out at the world. Some mothers have several little ones – one on her back, one of more hovering around her legs – some being shepherded through the line by older siblings. Since the program covers babies older than nine months to children who are give, we really saw the smallest members of the community.

At my site, which was located in the town center, the line snaked several blocks down the street. Mom’s stood patiently – some for hours. After they registered each child, the child would receive an open capsule of Vitamin A. For the looks on their faces, it couldn’t have tasted good. Then, they got a white, chewable tablet, which looked chalky and not too appetizing.  Then the mom would sit down, pull the child onto her lap and pull up the little one’s left shirt sleeve in preparation for the measles vaccination. If they were not crying before that, the wailing would begin there. Only then would they reach us where we would give them one bed net for each child. To keep track of the children who had received a net, we were marking their fingers with a permanent marker.  As you can imagine, they thought it would hurt, and more screaming ensued.

Healthy, but not happy.

So,   to summarize, it was hot, it was loud, it was crowded…oh, did I mention it was hot? But somehow, it felt like a little glimpse of God’s kingdom here on earth.  As we tickled the little one’s tummy to soothe the hurt; when we saw the dimples in those tiny   smiling cheeks; when that mom looked me in the eyes, held my hand and said, “Merci, Madame,” – I knew that for once, for real, my faith and my works were in complete accord – and for once, for real, God was guiding my work, not me!

Simplicity is not a choice here, not for the vast majority of the people I’ve met.  One of the team members shared last night about going into a home to see the nets we’ve been distributing all week actually being used. This was a four room house, with each room smaller than the hotel room we’re staying in here. A family was sleeping in each room; 17 total people living in the house.

The meals are simple, and repetitive.  No Mexican food one night, McDonald’s the next, pot roast at home the next, sushi for lunch…well, you get the picture.  It’s basically the same dishes in the same sauces with the same side items; same fruit, vegetables, meat, and breads for lunch and dinner each day.  Clothes are the same song, second verse; my Ivorian counterparts have been wearing their campaign t-shirt every day.  I’ve got all sorts of extra clothes so  I can rotate what I’m wearing when the laundry’s hanging up to dry.  And let’s not even start talking about my laptop and iPhone.

For us, simplicity requires discipline…and it is a spiritual discipline.  The impulse to buy and acquire is ingrained, thanks to our culture.  If you wandered through our house, you would see the books, the movies, the CDs on our shelves–some still in shrinkwrap!  If the house is clean, then the closets would be stuffed with toys for the kids, and we all have closets & dressers full of clothes.

One early Christian writer described the situation in these terms: if you were on a ship in a storm in the middle of the sea, wouldn’t it be worth it to throw everything overboard in order to save your lives?  Why would we think that our life would be any different–we are too attached to our possessions.

And you know what, it’s more than just attached; we’re downright stingy a lot of the time.  Here, we have been welcomed abundantly in every small rural village, given a full meal and places of honor, and so many more signs and expressions of hospitality by churches and communities.  It makes me think that we wouldn’t know hospitality in the States if it came up and kicked us in the shins!

Simplicity is the virtue that enables us to share in the life-giving, servant ministry of Christ.  May we live in the cruciform shape of Christ’s life, death,  and resurrection!

What kind of priorities do we

Schoolchildren dancing at the launch in Alepe.

set for ourselves?  What kind do we set as a community, a people, a nation, a world?  Right before we boarded the plane, I was reading an article in the sports section of my local paper.  That particular editor was opining that Texas was the leader in high school football.  He had plenty of good reasons to support that argument, and he went on to applaud the enormous organizations, the intensive amounts of time and money, the professional-quality programs and facilities, and the season ticket holders and sponsors who made it all possible.

It’s not that I don’t like football; but is that really what our highest priority ought to be?  I couldn’t help but think of the contrast between the Friday Night Lights and what is going on here this week in Cote d’Ivoire.  My team spent the day in Alepe, which is about an hour and a half outside of Abidjan.  The official launch celebration for the national health campaign was taking place in the center of town.  We sat with a number of dignitaries and non-governmental organization workers, as well as what seemed like most of the town.  We watched the schoolchildren play games and dance while we waited.  We also waited for a bit at the Alepe Methodist Church, where a young couple are the pastors.  They have 26 churches they take care of on their circuit.  They’ve been at it a month.

We heard the Minister of Health speak at the launch.  He named all of the partner organizations which were helping on the ground…even the Latter Day Saints are helping with communications!  It was a remarkable litany of agencies, non-profits, and the church, all working with the government.

I sat at the end of the day in the minibus with local malaria control workers and the Methodist district’s lay coordinator of the effort.  They took so much care with what they had been entrusted.  They acted as if their integrity and honor depended on how they looked after the nets they were delivering.

What priorities does a young Ivorian couple have that makes them want to spend their life preaching the gospel and sharing God’s compassion and love? What priorities does it take to bring together Methodists and Mormons, governments and organizations, sports fans and philanthropists…and try to save some lives?

Our translator is an English teacher in Alepe.  And as the net distribution outside Alepe at Monga would proceed, he came time and again to ask us questions: can we help this person? What about a child that is too old? His concern and care for his own people inspired me to care for them like they were my own.  And they are! They are my people, and yours too, and Christ’s.  The priorities which we set and the way in which we go about fulfilling them say a lot about our own character, our own values, our own faith.  The integrity and responsibility of hundreds of Ivorian volunteers, the patience and good spirits of thousands of Ivorian parents and children, the hospitality and genuine warmth of more hosts than I could count…all these teach me about the kind of priorities which I need in my life and we need in our world.

What are your priorities?