A new school year. Whew. When I was five and six, we lived in Maji. One of the big things Presbyterians were doing in that part of Ethiopia was running a clinic (with a nurse and someone whose title was “dresser”) and running a school. We had church in this school building on Sundays, and
For much of my adult life, the question just about every American could answer was, “Where were you when you heard that JFK was shot?” I was in boarding school in Addis Ababa. I can remember leaning against a cement block wall, smelling that musty, mineral smell of rock and sand. There had been a sense that
Last Sunday’s profound thought: the journey is hard. Maybe there are people for whom life’s path unfolds with gentle warmth and meanders over rolling hills in the sunshine. For most of us, it’s a foggy grope at best. A thorn in the foot. A blister on the heel. Throat-choking thirst. Terrible despair–and that’s just the
I know I’ve said it before but I simply have to say it again…I’m astonished and oh so pleased that my parents were willing to let go of their moorings, shake their foundations, and head to Ethiopia with three toddlers. Okay. My older sister would have been insulted to be called a toddler at five-years-old. Still!
Four years ago, my brother and I took a group of teachers to Ethiopia. We told everyone it was an experiment–an experiment in good listening. An experiment in teacher-to-teacher sharing. One of the teachers, Alicia, turned out to be not only a terrific trainer but an incredible fundraiser–and her community in upstate NY really got behind
There’s nothing like a trip to Ethiopia to remind a body that happiness does not lie in the amount of stuff a person owns. Many households in Ethiopia can fit inside one small room of middle class American houses. How is it that people still laugh and dance and tell stories and hug their families and
Kids in American schools make surprised noises to hear that the enormous continent of Africa even has cities. They gasp to see photos like this one I took last time I was in Nairobi, Kenya. When I was a teenager, Addis Ababa was a fun city to get around. Change was in the air–I was waiting
In a great green room there was a telephone… Goodbye, room. It’s a good thing that teenagers are mostly obnoxious because putting up with obnoxious stuff day after day lessens the grief and pain when they move out. It’s a good thing Kansas flung 100 degree + weather at us this week…and that packing up the dregs
I don’t remember the first big goodbye of my life. This is what my dad looked like when he decided it was important for the five of us–my mom and dad, my older sister and baby sister and me–to move to Ethiopia and help with the rebuilding effort after World War II. Maybe it was
Sometimes life feels so step step step and rich with plans and goals and paths toward those goals. Sometimes it’s a tumble-bumble swirl and I stumble along awash in feelings and hardly able to think. Hardly knowing what to think. In short, it’s a mess. That…umm…might just be how I feel right now. But I often say to my
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