Dandelion Delight! ........So West Africans Think!

Dandelions, PEI is famous for them. There are just so many vigorous Dandelions, that by and large, people on PEI have just about given up trying to control them. Our Capital city is even considering making a bylaw against spraying in the city limits now.

However, right now there are a few die hards who fight the annual battle. Personally, I know very few. The Majority have thrown up their hands and just made peace with the pesky plant.
Needless to say, the average lawn on PEI tends to have droves of Dandelions.
My recent trip back to West Africa saw me sharing pictures of my family with some village African friends. A few shots where on the front lawn of our house, of course a nice crop of Dandelions were scattered over the lawn. My African friends immediately zeroed in on, "All pretty flowers we had in Canada." "There were so many of them and they were so yellow." The white poofy ones were extra amazing to them, as I explained they were the same flower ready to send seeds. Also when I explained they grew wild, we did not plant a one of them them, "WOW!" they exclaimed with big eyes. They could not believe so many pretty flowers just grew naturally for us like that. Of course I told them dandelions are a weed, and explained that many people pay money to have them killed with spray. They were horrified to think we would kill such beautiful flowers, and waste good money in the process. I had to swiftly divert the subject, as the concept was just not registering with these rural Africans very well. You see, their yards are swept down to the bare dirt so that poisonous snakes and scorpions can not hide near the mud hut.

Anyway, I for one, don't spend money to, "kill pretty yellow flowers". But it goes to show, that it's all about perspective & attitude. Point of view does make a difference doesn't it? Something to remember; when God made things if nature; for each one God said "It is good". So who am I to question that exclamation with any authority? My African felt we have none. :-)

Two Amazingly Memorable West African Pilgrims!

In 1997, we took the family out for a day to get away. As we drove we saw the cross at the top of a small mountain in West Africa, so we pulled over and hiked up to the the top of the steep hill. On top was a small "A" frame church with heavy carved wooden doors weathered by years of torrential rain and scorching African sun. We pushed the wooden doors open and stepped in to see that it was barren except for an alter stationed at the front. It was made from a single 6 inch thick piece of rough sawed African lumber about 4 feet wide. The small chapel was obviously not used, and it never was really used as a "church", we were later informed.

However, so the story goes, the small chapel was built by a German Pilgrim. Many years ago he had come to West Africa in pilgrimage seeking the will of God about something. This German pilgrim, moved by what insight or work God had done in him while living and praying and studying in solitude on this hill, built this small place of worship and erected the cross for all to see miles in any direction. We could have seen 15 miles in every direction, except for the dust coming down from the dust storms of the Sahara Desert drifting down from the North.

It was one of the most touching places I have ever been. It moved me! I think I knew, in part, what questioning desires might have been in the heart of that pilgrim man. I realized the difference between him & I was simply that we sought answers & direction from God differently. Anyway, on the top of that hill, I made a connection with a German pilgrim whom I did not know, and a Father God whom I did know, in prayer.

When I finally pulled myself out of the place after praying in there, I made another immediate connection with yet another pilgrim. I came out and walked around back of the small Chapel to see Lynn sitting on the low stone wall that surrounded this place. She was watching the kids run and play. I stopped and looked at her with a heavy heart full of realization as I took this picture of her there. I was overcome by the realization that my dear sweet Lynn is a pilgrim, of the greatest kind, too.

This gracious, beautiful, and godly young woman (Click photo to enlarge) has made clearer to me the meaning of grace than any preacher I have ever heard. Why she did, I don't know; but she has followed me at my side to some of the dampest and driest corners of this earth. She has ministered by my side to hordes of kids in rain forest villages, and alone, when I was out in forest churches for days and days on end. Lynn was (is) an effective servant in her own right & capacity. I wondered why she followed me here to this hard African place. As I looked at her, I knew why she did- because like that unnamed German pilgrim, Lynn was a pilgrim too.

It has not been easy for Lynn, but I have never heard her complain about what this pilgrimage has called us to do, or where it has called to do it. Lynn continues to help me go back to Africa each year, even when I know it's hard for her home alone for weeks on end. Lynn is my constant encourager. Week after week, as I drag myself into the pulpit to speak a word of God, finding myself asking sometimes; "For what good?" Lynn reminds me for what good.

Since that day on that small African Mountain, I knew why Lynn did it all so graciously. Because she is a true genuine pilgrim, and she fully accepts that I am one too!

Together, we have once for all set our hearts on Pilgrimage, and I'm honored & blessed that God allows me the grace of walking with this one!

Beer Bottle Blues! ......This Bud is For You!

We bought a 5 acre woods to build our new house. The kids enjoyed running around the trees playing, shouting, and hiding. All kinds of treasures where hidden in the woods just waiting for the boys to discover them. The Kids found a host of old car parts, and beer bottles. I guess the formerly vacant woods was a good place for “celebrators" to pitch their beers bottles while driving down the road.

The Kids started collecting the beer bottles for cash. It was a long time before we took them to the consignment for a refund. The bottles stood inside by the garage door for a year or more. One day, on my way out of the garage, I was a bit startled when I realized how terrible it looked for a preacher to have a bunch beer bottles sitting by his garage door. It's strange that this had never occurred to me until that moment. I said to myself; "Man this does not look very good". I seriously wondered how many people had traversed in and out this door over the year, each one seeing our collection of beer bottles, and seriously wondered who might have been talking.

The first conversation with myself went like this. "I should hide those Beer Bottles in the corner and cover them." Then I realized; "You know, if I hid them in the corner and they get noticed there, it would look like I was trying to hide them, and that would be even more complicated.

What should I do? Hide them? Leave them where they are?

I reflected on the situation a few brief seconds and settled on leaving them there.
I walked out thinking; "If people coming to my house don’t know me better than that, they will believe anything people say about me anyway." Eventually we took them and dropped them off for a refund – Even that is flamboyantly humorous. The preachers kids making money off of someone else’s beer bottles.

Anyway, goes to show how far we bend simply to satisfy others narrow legalism. We have been almost taught that we should satisfy legalistic demands to remove "Stumbling Blocks". Oh really? Legalistic demands and stumbling blocks are not the same thing, nor do they originate from or effect the same kind of person. Anyway, I get the blues more often because of judgmental legalism, than from beer bottles by the garage door.

Our 13-14 yr old Kids are Viewing P*rn!

Research by the University of Alberta.

By Sonya Thompson,

Here is what our 13-14 yr olds are telling researcher Sonya Thompson at the University of Alberta, when she did research on our kids ages 13-14 yrs old.

Accessing sexually explicit media content at least once.

90% boys
70% girls
33% of boys reported viewing pornographic DVDs or videos "too many times to count", 8% for girls said the same.

That means 1 in 3 boys are heavy users of porn and almost 1 in 10 girls.

How are Our 13-14 yr olds getting access?
74% View p*rnography on the Internet.
41% Saw it on video or DVD.
57% Specialty TV channel (Or Satellite Dishes & Cable).
9% Accessed p*rnography because someone over 18 had rented it.
6% Rented it themselves .
20% Viewed it at a friend's house.

In what context is P*rn being viewed by 13-14 yr olds?
“Boys doing the majority of deliberate viewing, and a significant minority planning social time around viewing p*rn with male friends.”

“Most of the online viewings were deliberate. 75% of the boys and almost 50% of the girls surveyed said they had consciously searched for Internet p*rnography.” (FOTF)

“Girls reported more accidental or unwanted exposure online. However, girls tend to view p*rn in same-gender pairs or with mixed groups.” (Girls encourage each other to look in pairs, or groups of girls & boys)

“The media environment …. makes access to p*rn easy for teens and viewing p*rnography at a young age can set children up for problems later on” Sonya Thompson,

“In a few quick years, p*rnography has come out of the sleazy fringe into the mainstream,” Edmonton Journal.

What are parents doing about it?
60 % said their parents had no rules about what kinds of movies they watched,50% said no one bothered to monitor their Internet activity.

“And while the majority of teens surveyed said their parents expressed concern about sexual content, that concern hasn't led to discussion or supervision, and few parents are using available technology to block sexual content.”

“Rural boys also reported a lower incidence of parents talking with them about sexual media content. Urban girls were most likely to have had discussions with their parents.”

50% Rural youth (Country kids) have seen p*rnographic video, 33% of Urban kids have. Thompson is unsure why rural teens access porn more on video and DVD, but suggests that parents may think distance acts as a buffer. "Maybe they have a false sense of thinking they are far away from unhealthy influences."

What should Parents be doing about it?
“Discussion of p*rnography and rules in the home . . . make a difference in kids’ overall access [to porn], particularly for boys,” she said. “There [have] got to be rules and boundaries that are clearly articulated.”

"It indicates there is plenty of room for better parenting around p*rnography use. Parents need to improve dialog with their children and their own awareness level.” Thompson said.

I will personally add Computer filters. They are one piece of the puzzle, but are no substitute for parental monitoring. Remember, if the kids can’t get access at your house, they more than likely will at a friends – So talk to them.

Anyway, I need to go for a walk after this one!

Condensed from: “1 In 3 Boys Heavy Porn Users, Study Shows.” (Link)
“Porn rampant among 13-year-old boys” March 7, 2007 (Link)

Jewels in an African's Crown

Kuadio Ambrose's face slowly turned into a smile that became a full grin as all the men began to sing together for the evening worship. So did mine, for I had forgotten the power with which my African brothers sing. When these men sing at night, they sing loud. I am sure the whole village could hear us as I chocked back tears of joy.

This was the beginning of a week long meeting where we were to plan our strategy for the next year. We sing every night for 5 nights while we ate and slept together in the village of Adou.

Kuadio Ambrose is a single man who lives 8 km in the woods from the nearest village (Adjame is 40 km in the bush from a paved road), where he works his fields all week. His small mud house by his fields is referred to as a "campement". Kuadio Ambrose walks 8 km each way to Adjame to lead a group of people every week.

He was almost in tears that night when he gave these words to his brothers near the end of the evening.

“What have I got back home? I go out to the campement and there’s nobody there. I work all day in the field and I come home to nobody. I walk 8 km to the village, and I walk 8 km back home at night, and what do I have to look forward to when I get home? But when I am together with my brothers and sing like this, it encourages my heart.”

Brother Kudaio Amboise, I’m praying for you today out there in that nameless bush where you scratch a living. You encourage my heart too. When I think of all you do, with what little you have been given, and for the little thanks you receive for doing it, brother, I know your crown will have many more jewels than mine, fand you deserve them most.

See you there brother!

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