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.

An Odd Shaped Box - With An Open Lid

I have a strange life. I like to Sea Kayak, hike off in the woods and examine fungus on a tree, turn rocks over to see what’s there. Did you know I always wanted to be a marine biologist? However, people are more important than that, so I abandoned that interest.

I read different books. Just read “A Nation Of Serfs” recommend it, it makes one think analytically about Canada. Last year while in Africa I read a 900 page commentary on Romans, and the Koran in French. I often wake up at night, get a cup of tea, and outline information I read, make notes and write comments. 90% of which never get discussed, or taught, and lands in the garbage after a few weeks of being stuck in the way on my desk.

My approach to life is different than others I know. I focus on quit different things.

The last six years of my life, since my return from Africa, have been the most difficult for me. I have wondered why I don’t see things like most others. People here ask questions beginning with; “ Don’t you think…………?” And I often find myself saying (or wanting to say) “no”, most of the time - further enhancing my sense of “alienness”. Am I approaching things wrong? Is there something wrong with me?

My Confession: Yes, Ok, I get it. You are right. I most certainly don’t fit most people’s box.

My Realization: God has a box that fits me, and his comes with an open lid.

He has one that fits you too! I invite Ya! Join me, jump right in!

Itty Bitty World!

I stumbled across this picture on the web today.

I was on the back of a moped with a Malian man, in Mali West Africa, who drove me around while I was researching the Banka people. I tapped him on the shoulder to pull over by this sign, and we had a great conversation right here by this sign in the town of Sikasso.

What are the chances that I would stumble on this picture from Africa on the web and be able to say;“I stood by that sign.”? Who took the picture of the sign? Why is it posted on the web? Beats me!

What a itty bitty world!

Synonym Is The Spice of Life!

I love cinnamon, and love has a synonym.

At six am this morning, Ben, Ted ,Tim and myself (missed you sweetie Lynn) arrived at the Rodd Mill River Resort aquaplex to swim, play Marco Polo tag, and of course, instigate the usual roughhousing that guys do. We were all alone in the pool for over an hour until it came time to head home and begin another day of school and office work.

The best "synonym" for love is time. Love means spending time talking, visiting, praying, playing, serving, or thinking about other people. The best cinnamon is in Lynn's apple pie (YEEEUUMMM!), while the best "Synonym" for love is time.
The Boys gave me some "synonym" today. They could have chosen to do something, anything, else. But this morning, they chose to spend time with their "dear-old-fat-getting gray-tired-Dad”. Thanks for the “synonym” of love boys. Your "synonym" is the spice of my life.

Andy

My Kids Are Nuts!

Lynn & I were relaxing in our room (The kids help themselves to supper every Sunday evening) and this note appeared as it was slid under the door:

"King Arthur, we lacketh of food in the graineries"

Signed: Knights of the round tabel

Can't help but laugh and love them.

Where in the World?

Well, it is the question of my life. It seems that I have been asking this question incessantly for the last 20 years . It has lead me to several provinces in Canada, living in West Africa for 5 years, back to PEI. Then once again back to Ivory Coast, Ghana and Mali in Africa again. But I'm still living here on PEI. I still find myself contemplating this question every day. The 3rd world (2/3 world - as most call it these days - the 3rd world is 2/3 of the world) still has this draw on my heart that never lets go. So I am still asking; "Where in the world?"

However, these past two years I have found a little more peace in this piece of the world. I have been exploring our island by Kayak.
In the late evenings, and on storm days (When I am not working at sea),
I managed to paddled well over 400 miles in various bays, estuaries, rivers, and along the open coasts of PEI. I also started to do some over night hiking, but that has not materialized as much as I like yet.
The scenery was great, the solitude refreshing. Above all, I got time to think about what I do, want to do, should do, and where in the world God wants me to do all these things - if any of them.

During those first long solitary miles, I had to shake the feeling that I was wasting precious time. I also had to shake feeling bad that my sweetie could not come with me more often. However, there was still something inside me that just needed to do this; it was my mission, my adventure, not Lynn's. However, as I paddled or hiked mile after miIe, I began to realize something. Until I know the answer to the question, "Where in the World?". The only way I can keep hopeful and sane in this part of the world, is to explore this small part, until the answer comes.
Andy