A little video I took before going flying last week.
Monday, April 26, 2010
The Problem of Pain
To read articles in the journals of the day by the likes of historian Niall Ferguson and his myriad fellow prophets of doom, you'd think that America and much of the West have seen their last days of prosperity. But just a bit of time in even a relatively affluent African country like Botswana reveals how vast a gulf still exists in the experience of life between the average third world resident and the average American.
I do not wish to offend, but having spent a good bit of time in both places I think I can say with some authority that many Americans don't really know the meaning of the word "pain," and do the word a great injustice when they use it.
Shelley and I are reeling a bit today from the news that the first friend that Caleb and Malena made here in Botswana, a shy but lovely and clever girl of ten, is living with HIV, contracted in all likelihood from her abusive father who has full-blown AIDS. And she doesn't know it. Her "Aunt," who herself is living under the constant threat of contracting this disease, tells this girl that the mix she must drink each day is a vitamin supplement.
This is a story that plays out, multiplied hundreds of thousands of times, every day all over sub-Saharan Africa. And we in the West, myself included, have grown weary of hearing about it. I largely ignored it until it showed up, in the form of a girl that we have grown to love, digging holes in the dirt and making forts in the back yard with our two kids.
What to do with what C.S. Lewis called "the problem of pain?" I would deny it intellectually, but do I at a functional level believe that my family is destined for lives of comfort, health, and ease, high levels of education and opportunities to not only chase but achieve dreams? Do I by default believe that the haunted woman I pass in the guard shack each morning, or the guy selling oranges day after day on the noisy and polluted side of the road are due less? If you dig just a bit into many peoples' lives here, you discover stuff that just crushes you inside, stuff that would likely render me helpless and hopeless.
For now, no attempts from me at resolution of these questions. Just some time for prayer and reflection. And in the meantime, please pray for this young friend of ours.
I do not wish to offend, but having spent a good bit of time in both places I think I can say with some authority that many Americans don't really know the meaning of the word "pain," and do the word a great injustice when they use it.
Shelley and I are reeling a bit today from the news that the first friend that Caleb and Malena made here in Botswana, a shy but lovely and clever girl of ten, is living with HIV, contracted in all likelihood from her abusive father who has full-blown AIDS. And she doesn't know it. Her "Aunt," who herself is living under the constant threat of contracting this disease, tells this girl that the mix she must drink each day is a vitamin supplement.
This is a story that plays out, multiplied hundreds of thousands of times, every day all over sub-Saharan Africa. And we in the West, myself included, have grown weary of hearing about it. I largely ignored it until it showed up, in the form of a girl that we have grown to love, digging holes in the dirt and making forts in the back yard with our two kids.
What to do with what C.S. Lewis called "the problem of pain?" I would deny it intellectually, but do I at a functional level believe that my family is destined for lives of comfort, health, and ease, high levels of education and opportunities to not only chase but achieve dreams? Do I by default believe that the haunted woman I pass in the guard shack each morning, or the guy selling oranges day after day on the noisy and polluted side of the road are due less? If you dig just a bit into many peoples' lives here, you discover stuff that just crushes you inside, stuff that would likely render me helpless and hopeless.
For now, no attempts from me at resolution of these questions. Just some time for prayer and reflection. And in the meantime, please pray for this young friend of ours.
Tuesday, April 20, 2010
Flying at last
After a seemingly interminable wait, I got into the pilot's seat yesterday for the first time. The byzantine nature of licensing here has had me running around getting chest x-rays, taking a hearing test in a noisy doctor's office, submitting myriad forms, and collecting conflicting reports about the state of my paperwork. In the meantime, I've been busy helping out behind the scenes here at Flying Mission, helping to develop procedures for the flying of our aircraft, going through ground school and simulator courses, and lending a helping hand wherever it's needed around the office and around town.
But I really came here to fly airplanes, and - more to the point - to show compassion for and provide help to people who are hurting. God willing, my checkride will be tomorrow. After that, I'll be able to start flying operationally here, conducting air ambulance flights and missions flights for groups that work here in Botswana. I'm very much looking forward to posting the first pics of one of those flights here shortly.
Thanks for your continued prayers for us!
Thursday, April 8, 2010
Eating worms
Mopane worms make any burrito. . . special.
Sitting in our car, stealing the internet signal from
friends so that we can skype.
One of the first visitors in the kitchen of our new
house.
Captured!
Over the Easter weekend
Shelley spies what we believe to be a giraffe. . .
My cousin, Robin, visited us over the Easter weekend. It was a monsoon-like several days, turning our back yard into a virtual lake. Malena, Caleb and Robin made the most of it, and did some serious hydroengineering.
Caleb, Shelley, Malena, Robin, and our friend Siri Tiger. Robin and Siri are working with a ministry in Pretoria, South Africa, and took the four hour bus ride up to bless us with their presence for a few days.
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