Tandem Déjà Vu

Have you arrived at the place in your life when you received your parental shock? The day you grow up, get married, have kids and finally realize you're sounding just like your Mom or Dad?

Not long ago, my son Ted and I (14 yrs) were heading to the capital to spend a few days attending a lecture at Maritime Christian College. We left early in the morning so we could stop for breakfast in Summerside, which is about an hour enroute. I don’t recall what I said to Ted when we got back into the car after our father son breakfast. However, I remember shaking my head and commenting; “Ted, do you realize that what I just said to you is exactly the same phrase my dad said to me? I mean, I'm using the exact same wording my dad used with me.” We laughed together, and Ted concluded that he would probably say the same thing to his kids when he gets older and has a family of his own.

However, the best parental déjà vu I have ever experienced was a tandem déjà vu.

One Sunday, one of my sons was being unusually “owly”, ornery, uncooperative and disruptive in the worship service. My son would not respond to anything we attempted in the pew to get him in line; it was one of THOSE days. I finally had to remove him from the service to deal with the behavior in private. So out the church door onto the front step we went for his talking to.

The usual pattern of a talk, I’m sorry, and tears, all followed their normal sequence. However, the hilarious part was that my dear older brother, Harold, was already out there on the step with one of his children. I, finished up my duty, and we both stood there deeply exasperated and disgusted as we silently stared off into space waiting for the kids to calm down from their talking to. Eventually, I looked over to my brother and said; “Bring back memories?” He smiles and said; “Ya! Sure does”. We both remember standing on the same step for the same “talking to”; only we were on the receiving end way back then.

We realized in tandem, we had become like our parents. We both stared contemplatively off into space a little longer, and when I finally reached for the door handle to go in, he gathered up his son behind me, and we both went back in with an understanding, and a realization.

Under the African Stars!

The Malian security guard comes every night to guard the house from robbers and thieves. They arrive at dark and stay until sunrise.

When I was in the town of Abengourou (Ivory Coast West Africa), it was just me and the night guard. I did not have much to do to pass the evening while in town because my friends were in the US. So when not out to the village, I was alone in the big old empty house. (It was nice and quiet). In the village there were always people around, and things to do. The evenings always passed quickly.

Anyway, I knew Nouhou from years back when I lived in Abenourou with my family. When I arrived in Ivory Coast to do village church planting work, Nouhou and I talked a lot over that month. We would order achekkie and smoked fish from a street side vendor and have a great feast while laying on a mat on the drive way. We would eat and talk about his family in Ivory Coast, and his family up north near Timbuktu, Mali.

He and his brothers were in Ivory Coast for the sole purpose of making money to send home and support their families up north in Mali, who were terribly poor. He shared about how a drought had killed many of their families cattle the year before and the family up north had nothing. He shared the frustration and discouragement he and his brothers face as they try to convince their family to leave their home and move further south away from the Malian desert, because it is simply to difficult to live there anymore. But you know how it is, how could the old people and chief and village leaders ever agree to the idea of abandoning their home?

When in Town, other evenings I would came out with an arm load of bananas and oranges and we would roll out the mats and lady down under the stars and eat like pigs and talk and laugh. You know that is the part of mission work I miss so desperately. In Africa people are so open to relationships. They take time for each other. Here in Canada we have to work so hard just to try and break in to people’s lives. Often it’s just seen as an intrusion, unless they initiate it. In Africa one has greater freedom to initiate things. There are days Africa and the people’s demands can suck the life right out of you. However, there are the times when they seem so patient with us and eager to just “BE”- and BE with us.


I miss being so free to spend time with people who really want to spend time. I miss hanging in the hammock at night in the village just “being” and chatting. I miss our Malian guards and the time I spent under the stars with them.