John Donne

Holy Sonnet XIV.

Batter my heart, three-person'd God ; for you
As yet but knock ; breathe, shine, and seek to mend ;
That I may rise, and stand, o'erthrow me, and bend
Your force, to break, blow, burn, and make me new.
I, like an usurp'd town, to another due,
Labour to admit you, but O, to no end.
Reason, your viceroy in me, me should defend,
But is captived, and proves weak or untrue.
Yet dearly I love you, and would be loved fain,
But am betroth'd unto your enemy ;
Divorce me, untie, or break that knot again,
Take me to you, imprison me, for I,Except you enthrall me,
never shall be free,Nor ever chaste,
except you ravish me.

 

I proposed to my girlfriend, Liz last Saturday. It was fantastic. I built a tunnel/fort that winded through the house, beginning downstairs and curling up into the living room. Along the way were pictures/memories etc. She had to spelunk through tents and under tipped couches, twisting her way to a side room where there was a black dress i bought for her. I was waiting in the room next door. She entered beautifully, looked briefly around at the candlelit room. I wiped the sweat from my hands on the sides of my black suit. I spoke through my permasmile, then knelt down to do the deed.

Oh yeah, and she said yes.

 

LIZ is back from AFRICA!! (Eric is happy) 

Neil hiking on the Tongiriro Crossing

 

Mt. Doom

 

Fly fishing the Tongiriro River

 

Day Hike in New Zealand.

 

Milford Sound.  

Class 5 rafting down the Nile River with Liz. 

 

The older guys in this picture were a part of the discipleship class that I led. With the extra money we had raised we were able to buy everyone at the TCRC a new Old/New Testament Swahili bible.

Arabic Translation: "Dew of the Mountain" 

Baraka is standing by a soccer goalpost. In the background you can see some of their classroom buildings. 

Boys ranged from age 8 to 18, but it was neat to see how they were all one family 

TCRC

TCRC boys goofing around after an English class that I taught 

My time in Africa is now complete. Hot showers, paved roads, and good ketchup are bittersweet reminders of where I have been the past few months. I spent six weeks in Mwanza with the boys at TCRC and then I was able to spend three weeks travelling with Liz. When I consider those three weeks my mind bounces from moment to moment, highlight to highlight. Memories in shorthand: Kampala (Uganda) we meet. Boda Bodas. Sudan: soccer game, sunset on a watertower, bucket shower in a light rain. Class 5 rafting on the Nile. 31 hr bus ride (!) to Dar Es Salaam. Zanzibar! Stone Town alleys felt like Arabic Nights. Fresh seaside seafood. Jambiani beach, sailing, swimming. Moonlight on the Indian Ocean.
It was a full couple of weeks. I am thankful for the opportunity to go to such beautiful, exotic places. Liz and I had a fantastic time being the dynamic adventure duo again.
But, alas, I am back home again. Four more months before she comes home. Now I am in the process of getting my feet on the ground here in America.

I'll be honest, I didn't expect it to be hotter in Minnesota than Africa when I came home. What happend there?

Brothers

Yesterday was our last day at the TCRC. The day was much like any other: futbol, ugali, bible study...but we did not end the day with smiles and "tutuanana kesho! (see you tommorow!)" As the sun relented and cast its sideways light on their faces, the boys bowed their heads and escaped eye contact. With pervading sniffles and somber gazes, our team said our insufficient parting words, then they were invited to speak. Paul, my translator for the discipleship class spoke with a crack in his normally bouyant voice, "Many of us here have never had a brother. Now we can ALL say that we have brothers." I swallowed hard, and then turned to God. "It is a blessing to BE a blessing...thank you Father."

Sleepover

"Today is a gude day because our friends are coming to our homes," said Fanke in broken English. They told us it was the first time any mzungus (white people) had stayed over night in the dorms at the TCRC. We ate ugali as the sun set and fellowshipped into the night. The big dipper hung upside down above our heads as we sang Swahili praise songs and danced around a humble fire. We made hot dogs and performed a cliche (but good) skit with candles about being a light for Jesus. African boys giggled invisibly as we all scurried off to the dorm, about 45 minutes past curfew. We all disappeared into our respective rooms, six in each--seven tonight, as I lay my mattress on the floor. The lantern-lit conversation that pervaded our room started with "R-nall Sorts negga," and progressed with them teaching me words in the tribal language. "Telehoma Gosha!" (You are welcome!)