Light of Togo

Because this is such a long story, I decided to do two versions of it.  Feel free to read the longer one if you’d like , but I wrote it more for ourselves as a memory and for our family who may be interested in the added details.  This is the abbreviated “journal version.”

Friday early afternoon: I get a phone call.  It’s a missionary friend asking for our help for their coworkers who’ve just had a car accident 3-4 hours North of us.

Two hours later: Tiffany and I take two vehicles up to the accident site.  We meet Glen (who was driving) and his wife, Karen.  Rick is the owner of the truck.  He was in the backseat with no seatbelt, so he’s in the hospital with some possible broken ribs.  Broken ribs and busted truck, poor guy.  Glen and Karen are fine, but their stuff isn’t.  They were moving from Togo to Mali, so all their personal belongings went through the wreck too.  We load all their things into the two trucks and head to the Dapaong hospital.

Five hours later: It’s been decided that Rick’s in too much pain to go anywhere by vehicle.  I coordinate with Randy Alderman to have him fly up the following morning to get Rick and Karen and bring them to Lomé.  Rick has a great attitude about the whole thing - amazing.

One hour later: Tiffany and I are settling into our hotel room after deciding it’s way too late to attempt the drive back home to Kara.

45 minutes later: Tiffany and I have just finished a successful preemptive strike against the flock of terrorist mosquitoes living in our hotel room.  We go to bed not realizing they have called for reinforcements.

30 minutes later: I have become the target of the mosquitoes’ counter attack.  I decide these must be some kind of specially-trained covert ops mosquitoes, since they’ve somehow figured out how to bite me through the sheet! I get up and exterminate another 20 or so of their forces when I realize that this could go on all night.

10 minutes later (now 1:30 in the morning): Changing rooms.  Check…double check…ok, clear.  No evil, winged phantoms of death in this one.

2 hours later: “Why am I awake?  Why do I feel like I haven’t slept at all even though I’m exhausted?  Why am I itching…again?”  The hunt begins…again.  Found out that one mosquito can ruin your sleep just like 500 can.  Thankfully he was fat and slow due to sucking half the blood out of my body, which inevitably ended up smeared on the wall and my palm.

5 minutes later: Aaaah, sleep!

90 minutes later: Randy calls letting me know the weather is good and he’s clear to fly.

Around 8 o’clock: We discover the hospital’s sole ambulance is broken down.  I’m the new ambulance.  Rick laid in the back seat as I drove slowly, like 2 mph slowly, down the 15km bumpy road to the airstrip.

5 minutes later: Bump.  Rick, “ouch!”

3 minutes later: Bump.  Rick, “Are we there yet?”  Me, “Sorry, it’s gonna be a while.”

50 feet later: Bump.  Rick, “Can anybody see the plane yet?”  Poor guy.  He asked “are we there yet” more times than a 7 year old kid on a road trip to Disney World.  I don’t blame him, the back seat of a pickup truck is the last place I’d want to be with broken ribs!

Around 9:30: Saying a prayer for Rick, Karen, and Randy as they take off headed to Lomé.

30 minutes later: Picked up some sandwiches at our hotel’s restaurant for our trip back to Kara.  More on the sandwiches later.

Two hours later: Took Glen to the gendarmerie (local government office) so he can sort out the formalities of the accident.

Three hours later: Home at last!  Glen is sorting through all his things in our living room, picking out what’s damaged or broken.

27 hours later: I’m feeling unusually tired, my back aches, and I feel chilled.  Guess what?  It’s malaria time!

Two days later: Malaria’s gone.  Wasn’t nearly as bad as the first two times I had it.  But remember the sandwiches?  Tiffany and I think the chicken was bad.  For three days she couldn’t wander more than a stone’s throw from a bathroom, and I’m still fighting it.

Summary: Thankful.  Thankful we could help people in need.  Thankful to see God work even in bad circumstances.  Thankful for the new friends.

Oh, and as for the truck, it was rolled twice and looked to me like it was only good for scraps.  The mechanics, however, managed to do a couple temporary fixes, drive it all the way to Kara (2 hours), and they say they’ll have it looking and running like new.  I’m beginning to believe the missionary myth that Landcruisers are indestructible.

This is a very detailed version of the story that is meant to keep a memory for our family that we can read in the future, but if you like all the details of a story go ahead, but you’ve been warned…

This time last week I was having a pretty normal Friday afternoon when I received a phone call from some missionary friends of ours in Lomé.  They explained that some of their coworkers had been in a terrible car accident near Dapaong, and asked if we would be willing to drive up and help them out if necessary.  They didn’t know many details at the time, but we told them we’d of course do whatever we could to help.

Two hours later Tiffany and I were headed North with our SUV and our coworker’s truck, still not really knowing what exactly what the situation was, what we needed to do, or how long we’d be gone.  What we did know is that one guy, Rick, was in the hospital in Dapaong and that the guy who was driving, Glen, and his wife, Karen, were not hurt but had all their personal belongings sitting on the side of the road next to the accident.  They were in the process of moving from Lomé up to Mali, so the vehicle was packed to the brim with all their household things.  In case you’re wondering, it’s generally not a good idea for all your possessions to sit on a roadside in Africa.  On top of that, it had been raining all day.

When we arrived we met Glen and immediately started loading all their things into the two trucks.  One of the many miracles of this whole situation was that the accident happened not even one mile away from one of their mission’s Bible schools, so the first people to show up on the scene were the pastor of the local church and some of the members!

While we did this, Tiffany talked with Karen to make sure she was alright.  She was visibly shook up what happened, but not hurt in any way.  Once they explained the accident we understood why she was so shook up.  They were traveling through a rural area when they came up on a village, going about 60 miles per hour.  Coming up on their right side were three large cows and a small boy “leading” them.  At the very last moment one of the cows stepped into the road directly in front of the truck.  Glen quickly swerved to the left and managed to miss it, but because of their top and rear-heavy load the inertia caused them to spin out, bringing them to the right side of the road where the truck went down an embankment and rolled two times.  When it finally stopped, Glen’s window was flat against the ground, Karen was suspended in air by her seatbelt, and Rick had been bounced all around the back because he wasn’t wearing his seatbelt (kids, take note!).

Then it was off to the hospital to check on Rick.  Because of the poor quality x-ray machine, we did not know at the time what the extent of his injuries were other than some possible fractured or broken ribs.  It turns out that he broke four ribs on his left side, one on his right, and the membrane from his lungs separated from the ribs.  I’m no doctor, but that just doesn’t sound good!  He was amazingly in great spirits though.  By the end of our four hours at the hospital it was decided that he was in too much pain to drive, so we arranged for Randy Alderman to come up the next morning in his airplane to pick him up and bring him to Lomé.

By this time it was too late for Tiffany and I to head back down to Kara for the night so we ended up staying the night in a local hotel.  We learned an important lesson that day: always come prepared to stay the night!  In typical only-in-Africa fashion, our hotel room evidently was the local breeding ground for mosquitoes.  I killed 30 or so, was satisfied that I had got them all, and went to bed only to be bitten through the sheets from head to toe.  After killing another 20, I figured there had to be a hole in the window screens where they were flooding into the room.  After changing rooms (it’s now 1:30 in the morning) I discovered that there was one, yes only one, mosquito in our new room.  How do I know this?  Because at 3:30 I awoke from a very restless and itchy sleep to kill the accursed blood-filled agent of death.  Then I went to bed for a very restful hour and a half when Randy called letting me know he was clear to fly that morning.

This is the part of the story that gets very painful for Rick.  Because the hospital’s sole ambulance was broken down, we had to load him into the truck I was driving, bring him 15 kilometers to the airstrip, and load him onto the airplane.  Even though I drove a maximum of 2 mph down the bumpy road to the airstrip, he often winced in pain and asked at least 10 times, “Are we there yet?”

As he and Karen took off in that tiny airplane, I remember thinking how thankful I was that the situation worked out as it did.  After seeing the vehicle, I was amazed that the worst that happened was a few broken ribs.

The next few hours were spent taking Glen where he needed to go in order to take care of the legalities regarding the accident, then we finally headed home.  I had a really great time talking and getting to know Glen while we drove and Tiffany, well, she followed behind us.  I felt bad that she had nobody to talk to, but I think she probably enjoyed the peace and quiet.

That night we emptied both vehicles’ loads into our living room where Glen sorted through all the broken and damaged luggage.  Surprisingly, there was not a lot that was broken, even from the two trucks that were strapped to the roof and therefore had been crushed, twice.  The trunks have seen better days, but the only major losses were Glen’s Kindle (he’s an avid reader) and their coffee maker (a great tragedy!).

The next morning some of Glen’s coworkers came and picked him up along with all his things to bring them back to Lomé, which is ironically where their journey started.

That night (Sunday), I started to feel unusually tired, achy, and chilled.  Guess what that means?  It’s malaria time! Thankfully after having it twice I know what it feels like at the beginning so I was able to begin treating it right away and by Wednesday morning it was completely gone.  Unfortunately, Tiffany and I both picked up some kind of illness, probably from Dapaong, which has caused all kinds of stomach issues including not being able to wander too far from a bathroom.  Thankfully Tiffany got over this pretty quickly, but I’m still having major problems with it a week later.

We are incredibly thankful that God allowed us to help out these people in need and to make three new friends in the process.  It was a very unfortunate circumstance but we’re glad to see that everyone came out of it with their lives.

Oh, and the truck?  It’s a Toyota Landcruiser, which are evidently indestructible because the mechanics simply changed the tires on one side and drove it three hours South to Kara!  I didn’t think it was good for anything but scraps, but the mechanic says he’ll getting running like new!  Only in Africa.

Early this morning I got a call from a Togolese friend saying there had been an motorcycle accident, and that Tchala, a member of one of the churches in town, had been injured.  He wasn’t able to ride on the back of a motorcycle to get to the hospital, so they asked if I could bring him.  I rushed out of the house and headed to the “round point” (the major roundabout intersection in Kara).  When I arrived, there was a large group of people standing around.  I parked and got out as a couple men brought Tchala over to my truck.  Frankly, I was quite shocked when I saw him.  He is normally a very cheerful guy, always wearing a big smile.  Being a mason he’s also incredibly brawny.  This morning, though, with the help of two men he limped over to the truck like a wounded dog.  He had a massive lump on the front of his head, as if he had a baseball under his skin.  He was coherent, but barely.

Since there wasn’t anything more I could do for him after arriving at the hospital, I left some money with his pastor  to help with some of the expenses and headed home.  A couple hours later I received news that he had left the hospital and was resting at home.  He didn’t break any bones, but his knee was hit pretty hard by the guy who ran into him. Many people in Togo don’t wear helmets, but thankfully he was.  Otherwise, his head injury could have been fatal.

Please pray for Tchala that he can make a full recovery quickly.  If he is not able to get back to work soon, it can cause major financial difficulties for him and his family.

A couple weeks ago as I was returning from a walk in the neighborhood, I met a 10-12 year old boy named Calbert who is from Burkina Faso.  We talked for a little while, then he came to church with us the following day.  He said that he’s a Christian and that he goes to church with his parents in Burkina, but that he’s staying here in Kara for a while with his aunt.

After that day, I did not see him again and assumed that maybe he had returned to Burkina.  Then suddenly yesterday as I was driving down our road I saw him again but he looked very distressed.  He explained that he did not have the necessary supplies for school and therefore was not allowed to come back until he had them.  As always, I was looking to help if there was a true need, but something just didn’t seem to add up in his story as I dug a little deeper.  I decided to make him wait for a day as I thought more about it and tried to verify the story.  In the mean time, our gardener went to his school and talked to somebody who said he didn’t think there was any problem with Calbert.  Looks like we might have a liar on our hands!

Then this morning as we were leaving for church, he was again on our road waiting for me.  This time he said that his aunt kicked him out of the house, he had slept on the street, and that he needed money to take a taxi back to Burkina.  This time there was no doubt he was lying.  He had spit into his hands and wiped it under his eyes to make it look like he had been crying.  This was very obvious due to the little white “spit bubbles” that were all over his cheeks.

I told him we had to leave right away for church, but that he could come with us and that we’d talk afterwards.  So, after church I sat him down and confronted him about his lies.  At first he denied it, but when I presented him with the proof he admitted to having lied to me to try to get money.

I had already decided that I wasn’t going to get mad, yell at him, and tell him never to come back, which I’m sure is what he was expecting.  Instead, God showed me that this was a perfect opportunity to explain the gospel to him.  I showed him from the Bible that lying is a sin, that God hates sin, that every sin must be punished, and that the fair punishment for our sin against a perfect God is eternity in hell.  Then I told him of Jesus’ perfect life, His voluntary death on the cross as our sin-bearing substitute, and His offer of total forgiveness to those who come to him repenting of their sin and putting their faith only in what He has done.  I believe he completely understood what I explained, and expressed some interest in it.  I gave him a new testament and some material to read about the gospel and told him that he is welcome to come back any time to talk.  Please pray for Calbert that the Holy Spirit will use this sin in his life to show him his need of Jesus Christ.

As I look back on these events, it’s clear to me that it was one of those times when we must be ready at any moment to take a bad circumstance and use it for God’s glory.  I pray that God will continue to move me (my feelings, desires, comfort zone, etc.) out of the way so that He will be glorified more and more through my life.

What do you get when you combine a broken bridge, 200 semi trucks, angry taxi drivers, and four tired missionaries?  A big adventure!

After a few days in Lomé, Jim and I started heading back for Kara around 11 am, which normally means arriving home around 5 pm.  Around the half way point, however, things started to get interesting.  We came up on a 4 mile-long line of semi trucks that had been building up since at least Monday.  It was at this point that we just “happened” to run into a couple other missionary friends from Kara who were only two cars ahead of us.  They had a map, and we had no clue, so we decided to follow them.

We got turned around, drove back to the last village, and asked about a road on the map that could have brought us out north of the bridge.  The locals, however, told us that the road is impassable.  So at this point we had two options: sit in traffic, going nowhere; or sit on the side of the road drinking Coke, going nowhere.  The decision was unanimous.

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Once we started seeing vehicles coming from towards the bridge, we figured it was time to move out.  Our progress was stopped short, though, by all the traffic trying to go north. After two hours of stop and go, we were diverted off the main road and onto a narrow dirt road.  This road wasn’t at all a problem for our 4×4 vehicles, but there were all kinds of small cars, overloaded taxi vans, and huge semi trucks trying to make one lane into two.  As night fell we slowly crept along, hopping out of the vehicles from time to time in order to direct traffic, push vehicles out of the mud, or just to find out why we weren’t moving.

A couple hours later, we were past all the traffic and on our way to wherever that road would take us.  Five and a half hours after starting into the traffic jam, we came out a whopping 7 miles north of where we started!

Now it’s late, we’re tired, we’re hungry, but at least we’re past all that mess…right?  Let me interrupt my own story here and explain something.  I have learned two things about frustrating circumstances in Africa: first, that you don’t get too excited about a bad situation getting better because it’s usually not over; and second, that you don’t get too worked up about it because it just makes everything worse.  Just take a deep breath, say “WAWA” (West Africa Wins Again), and go with the flow.

So, not even an hour of driving on the main road brought us to the toll booth where we would normally pay 300 francs and pass right through.  But not tonight!  A line of taxi vans was blocking up both lanes of the road, making it impossible to pass.  Walking up to the booths, we saw a group of about 150 people standing around, some talking, some arguing, and some shouting loudly at nobody in particular, and some just watching the whole scene like a movie that you don’t want to be in.

We eventually found out that several taxi van drivers wanted to protest the bridge situation by blocking the road and refusing to pay their toll.  We soon realized that there was nothing we were going to do or say to fix the problem.  They wanted to voice their complaint to the local authorities, so until they showed up nothing was going to change.  We had the idea of just jumping the curb with our vehicles, and going around everyone, but we seriously felt like it wouldn’t have been the smartest move at that point.

We felt like the best place to be at this time was back at our vehicles, which is where we stayed until everything settled down.  Once the local “préfet” arrived, they came to an agreement that those who wanted to pay their toll and leave could do so, and those who didn’t could stay as long as they wanted.  The only problem is that the people blocking the road were the ones staying and they had no desire to move so that everyone else could leave.

With the situation having settled down a bit, and us getting more tired by the minute, we went back to the curb-jumping idea.  We moved several small concrete barricades out of the way, payed our toll, jumped the curb, and drove off into the sunset.  Well, the sunset part isn’t exactly true since we missed it by several hours.

In all, the 6 hour trip took 12.  A 12 hour trip doesn’t sound that bad, but I’m sure you’ve heard this phrase before: “You just had to be there.”  Honestly though, I wouldn’t have traded it for anything!  It was a great adventure and something that we’ll remember for the rest of our lives.  I can imagine us missionaries sitting around 20 years from now laughing about the “good ‘ole days.”  Just do me a favor and please tell me if 20 years from now I’m repeating this story over and over again as if it’s the first time you’ve heard it.

A few weeks ago, a friend of ours at church told us about his boss at work and about a unique donation that he had given to help missions work.  He works at Cutco, which is a very large knife and kitchen utensil maker.  His boss had heard about remote villages where the people spend countless hours peeling their potatoes and other vegetables with whatever tools they have available, which is usually just a very dull knife.  So, he donated a bunch of Cutco potato peelers to help some remote villages, in South America if I remember correctly.  Anyhow, they had a huge impact on the daily lives of these people.  They were able to peel and cut their potatoes in a fraction of the time it used to take, which freed them up to do many other important tasks around the village.

So after Eric finished telling me this, he said that he wanted to do the same thing for us in Togo.  Eventually, he was able to get 50 potato peelers which he gave to us to take over there and give to people in a remote village somewhere.

OK, so maybe potato peelers doesn’t sound to you like a profound way to do missions work, but as Eric and I talked it was very encouraging to me to see how he had thought through the implications of what a simple potato peeler can do.  He said, “You know, if these potato peelers can make a difference in some people’s everyday lives, that just might be the one thing that opens a door for you to talk to them about Jesus and what He’s done for them, and that is what it’s all about.”  I smiled and said, “You’re exactly right!  It’s all about Jesus Christ being glorified in all the world.  God is seeking people to know Him and worship Him in Togo, and if He can use potato peelers in the process, then He will.”

See, many times our problem is that we “compartmentalize” our lives into the “spiritual” and “non-spiritual” or “secular” categories.  But in reality, as a Christian, every part of your life belongs to God, and He desires that you glorify Him with all of it, not just the “churchy” parts.  What are the everyday, “non-spiritual” things in your life in which you could be glorifying Christ?

We are always amazed to see the unique ways that God provides things as we’re headed to Togo.  Last night we saw this happen again.

In my last blog post I mentioned the problem we are having with getting our appliances for Togo.  What I failed to mention is that it’s going to cost a lot more than we were first expecting.  We mentioned the whole situation as a prayer request in our Sunday School class yesterday morning.  What we didn’t know is that God had already been preparing to provide for the financial part of this need.

Last night at church, some good friends of ours pulled us aside and told us how they had been thinking for a couple months about doing something out of the ordinary to be a blessing to some missionaries.  They really didn’t know the who or how or what yet, but they just knew that God wanted them to do something. One day, the wife really prayed and asked God to show them what they should do.  The very next day, they were notified by their insurance company that they had been over charged a long time ago for some medical bills and that they would be receiving a $300 reimbursement.  Then yesterday when we mentioned the appliances, they knew that this was where God wanted them to direct their blessing.

They were such an encouragement to us as they told us that we were the first missionary family that they have known personally, and that it was a great example for their kids to see that we are just a normal family like them who God chose to go to the mission field.  Now, I don’t know that I would define myself as “normal,” but I think I know what he means.  Many people have the idea that missionaries are some kind of mutant species from another planet and God only calls them to serve Him, but the fact is that we are real people and God has just happened to choose and call us to be a part of His work in another part of the world.  It’s not because we are any more special or different than any other family at church, it’s just that God told us to go and we said yes.

OK, sorry for the rabbit trail.  Anyhow, they were such a blessing to us and we thank God for their friendship, their generosity, and for their willingness to follow God’s leading in their lives.

We just can’t help but give all the glory to God for His goodness to us.  We don’t deserve a bit of what He does in our lives, but we know that He does it because we are His children and He loves us.  It’s our responsibility to simply be content with whatever God gives us, whether poverty or riches, health or sickness, trials or victories, because we know that through all of it He is seeking to bring glory to Jesus Christ through our lives!

There is a long-running story about missionaries and used tea bags.  It comes from many years ago when people had the mentality of “well, we can’t use this junk, so let’s give it to a missionary!”  Occasionally, missionaries would actually receive tea bags that had already been used.  Thankfully that mentality is long gone…well, almost.  A couple weeks ago, we received a package from the States with a few goodies in it, and to our surprise some used tea bags as well.  Yes, that’s right, used tea bags.  What made it even worse is that it came from our home church! However, if you knew the people who sent it to us, you would immediately know, as we did, that it was completely a joke.  It was from our great friends Mark and Tami Norwood.  We have told them that story and they have often joked around with us that when we are gone they will send us some.  I never thought that they would really do it though!  Just in case you’re wondering, they did send some other, more useful things too!

Since Malerie has left I have started teaching Joshua Pre-K.  I  am thoroughly enjoying the opportunity to teach him; he is progressing very quickly, and is eager to learn. During class the other day, Joshua was trying to write the letter N.  He was having a hard time because he was beginning the letter at the top, so therefore the letter N was turning into the letter W.  He was becoming very frustrated, so I told him to try starting the letter at the bottom.  He then placed his head on the desk and started crying.  When I asked him what was wrong he said “I don’t like to be wrong, I want to do everything perfect.  I want to color perfect inside the lines, I want to do school perfect, I don’t want to make mistakes.”  Don’t we all!

After he explained why he was sad, I asked him to sit in my lap, and I began to tell him that no one is perfect, that no one can do everything perfect because no one is perfect. I began naming people that we are close to, telling him that none of those people are perfect.  He then looked up at my face and said, “But mom, God is perfect, He does everything right.”  WOW! What a statement and what a great reminder, that He can’t do anything wrong; that everything He is and does is perfect. I kissed his little cheek and told him, “You are absolutely correct, He is perfect.”

After our little chat I began to tell him that all he needs to do is just do his best, that he might not be able to do it perfectly but it will be the best he can do and that is important.  I am reminding him often that everything he does well is because God gave him gifts and abilities that allow him to do his best.  Joshua did finish the letter N and he started at the bottom and did a wonderful job, and afterward he said, “I did my best mom,” and leaned over and kissed me on my cheek.  What a reward!  I love being able to teach him and spend time with him, it is so rewarding.

Later on that night Joshua was helping Jesse with something and Jesse said, “Okay we are finished, it’s perfect,” and Joshua spoke up and said, “It might not be perfect, Dad, but it is the best we can do!”

I thank the Lord for such a wonderful, loving son.

Just a little background first:  Joshua is five years old now, has a mind of his own, and is constantly saying things that seem to come out of nowhere.  He has been saving every bit of his own money - from his birthday, from grandparents on holidays, and from his occasional “jobs” around the house - for more than six months because he has been wanting to get his very own little camera.  He talks often about it, but this time it completely caught us off guard.

Sitting at the dinner table last night, I asked Joshua if he would like to pray to thank God for the food before we ate.  He quickly agreed and began praying, but not for the food.  He said, “God, can you please help me not to spend any money…long pause…and help me to get more jobs…long pause…and help me to do my schoolwork slowly…amen.”  We managed to hold back our chuckles, and Joshua just began eating like nothing out of the ordinary happened.  It’s amazing how cute kids can be and be entirely clueless to it.

By the way, the reference to the schoolwork was because Tiffany has been working with him lately and she’s often telling him to slow down and do the work correctly rather than quickly.

You just never know what will come out of the mind of a kid!

Today we met at a restaurant with our tutor, Suzanne, and all of her students, who all happen to be friends of ours. There were five missionary couples, plus my friend Dmitry and my conversation partner for a grand total of 16 people. We had quite a good time, and a good meal. Tiffany and I both had Greek salads with tons of fresh veggies - yum! - and Joshua had the longest chicken strips I’d even seen. They must have come from some kind of super hybrid turkeychicken.

I spent most of the time talking to Dmitry, which was nice since I haven’t seen him for a while. He told us about an event going on next weekend at the city port, where 8 battleships from all around the world will be docked for three days and open for tours. Then on Sunday afternoon as they are leaving they will fire off 20 rounds each from their canons. We are planning to go together with Dmitry, so we’re really looking forward to that. I’m just hoping that the guy in charge of loading the canons remembers to put the blanks in rather than the real rounds.

It’s amazing to think that we have been living in Quebec now for almost one year.  We have been thinking a lot lately about our first few months here and the amazing ways that we say God work in our lives.  Here’s a brief summary:

May 6th, 2007 - last meeting of deputation, Pasco, WA ~ May 7th - La Grande, OR…journey begins ~ May 8th - weird van noise, overloaded back end, prayer ~ May 9th - really weird van noises, squealing, grinding, more prayer ~ May 10th - arrive in Quebec, 2,851 miles in 4 days, decided never to do that again…no apartment reserved, no furniture, no French, no plan, no idea…more prayer…stay with missionaries we’ve never met, poor missionaries ~ May 11th - meet another missionary we’ve never met, gives up his whole day to drive us around and translate…thanking God…appointment to see the only available 3 bedroom apartment in all of Quebec City…nice, good price, 5 minutes from the university, no bugs or crazy neighbors…we’ll take it…thanking God again ~ May 12th - thrift store marathon, no translator, lots of hand motions…and prayer…not finding furniture…receive random phone call from unknown furniture-collecting lady, offers furniture, next thrift store, receive call from furniture-collecting lady’s friend, offers more furniture…thanking God ~ May 13th - Sunday, church…what are they saying? ~ May 14th - classes start at university…what are they saying?  more prayer ~ May 15th - morning classes, more random calls from more unknown furniture-collecting people ~ May 16th - classes, still no idea what they’re saying, is this even French? …moved into apartment, slept on floor…thanking God ~ May 17th - classes, feeling very lost…prayer…another call from furniture donator, this is borderline weird, wondering where they get our number, only explanation is God…thanking God ~ May 20th - fully furnished apartment, everything free…speechless ~ May 9th, 2008 - Jesse still trying to regain sanity from 2,851 miles in 4 days, Tiffany doesn’t believe it will happen

Without going into every little detail, all we can say is that what God did was nothing short of a miracle.  Since then we’ve seen God work in so many other ways, but mostly in giving us the ability to speak and understand French…finally.  I know that we’re not fluent, but just to be able to carry on basic conversations is light years ahead of where we were a year ago.

We really appreciate all of you who have prayed for us in the past year, but please don’t stop.  Many people have told us that our last several month in language training will be the most important because we are now at the level where we can make the most rapid progress.  And as we look ahead to January of next year, we see the next big obstacle of getting to Togo.  We really have no idea yet how it’s all going to work out…we just know that it will.  It might not all happen exactly as we plan, but it will happen as God has planned, and we just want Him to get all the glory for everything, good or bad, in our lives.

Today I was looking forward to a nice Saturday around the house catching up on homework and some personal work. However, our washing machine had other plans in mind. We were surprised to hear an unexpected doorbell ring, and looking through the peephole I saw our downstairs neighbor. Now let me stop here and explain that on the previous three occasions when we have met him it has been because of our seemingly paper-thin floors. As I saw him, I thought, “We were barely making any noise! How could he be telling us we’re too loud?”

When I opened the door, he looked a bit frantic and began telling me (in French) something about water coming down his wall. I thought, “Hmm, that’s not good!.” Then he said it was coming from our “laveur.” I thought, “Laveur…laveur…laveur…OK, I know this word…’laver’ means ‘to wash,’ ah-ha! Laveur is the washing machine!” So quickly I told him thank you and ran over to our washing machine and looked behind it, surprised to see a large pool of water on the floor.

To make a very long and frustrating story a lot shorter, I spent a few hours looking at the thingamajigs and the doohickeys, and not to mention mopping up a very wet floor, trying to figure out where the leak was coming from. Finally, I found what you see in the second photo. After a repair diagnosis by my dad via online video, who was a washer repairman many years ago (back in ‘09, as he says). He said that there’s very likely a bigger problem than what I can see from the exterior. In order to find out for sure would require a major repair attempt with tools that I don’t have, and then once I did find the real problem, he said that the cost of the part, and my time, would likely be just as much as a new used washer.

So, after much contemplation (about 2.7 minutes), I decided that it’s time to get a washing machine! Probably on Monday we will head to a couple stores and check out some used ones, so please pray that we can find a cheap but reliable washer.

As Tiffany said, “Well, at least we got 11 months out of a free washer!”

Following the ancient Scottish traditions of our Shanks forefathers, Joshua and I constructed quite a handsome snowman a little over a week ago. We had been waiting all winter for the perfect snowman conditions, since they are very picky as to the type of snow that they like to be made of. Every time it snows here in Quebec, it is very dry and powdery snow that is impossible to make anything with. However, after a recent rain the top 3 inches of snow became optimal snowman material. Once he was finished, we enjoyed seeing his smiling face from our back window for a few days, but then disaster struck. Watch the video below to see how the saga unfolded.

When I showed up to class yesterday morning, I was surprised to find a man waiting there to talk to me. He told me that a reporter from Radio Canada wanted to interview me for a news story that he is preparing for the radio. The story has to do with the recent grossly inflated tuition prices in Quebec for foreign students, and the reporter wanted to interview somebody who could have been affected by this.

Now at this point in my very brief French experience, I do not feel like I’m ready to do a radio interview answering complex questions! So, I told the guy that I’d love to do it, but that my French is not great. He said that this wouldn’t be a problem and that I could answer in English if I wanted and that they could just translate it when it’s broadcasted. This sounded like a much better arrangement, so I agreed and he said that he would put me in touch with the reporter. Now keep in mind that this man with whom I was talking works for the university, not the radio station.

After school I called the reporter without really knowing what to expect. My assumption was that he would set up a time when we could meet or something. So after a few “preliminaries,” all in French, he said that he would transfer the phone to another line for the interview. “OK, no problem,” I thought, “I would have preferred to have some preparation first, but that’s a problem. After all, I can respond in English, right?”

When the reporter picked up the other line and asked the first question I started to answer in English when he stopped me and said, “No, in French please.” Doh! This is exactly what I feared.

Now, I think it’s necessary for me to explain something about myself to you at this point. I am NOT good at just coming up with things off the top of my head without any preparation. I just don’t do well at all in those situations. I’m the type of person who likes to know what I’m getting into so I can plan and prepare accordingly, and that’s even when speaking English! Throw in the French factor and now I’m sure to make a fool of myself. Well I thought, “OK, I’m just going to do the best I can and hope that he doesn’t ask anything too difficult.”

The first two questions were relatively easy and I felt like I didn’t butcher the responses too bad, but then came the third. He asked something about if I had known what was going to happen with the tuition prices before I came, would I have still come and if the tuition is higher this summer will I be able to continue. Without getting into all the complexities of French grammar, I’ll just say this: Have you ever posed a question to a young child, then realized that they might have understood you, but they had no earthly idea how to correctly answer the question? Got the mental picture now? OK, well that was me! As I hacked my way through the response, I can just imagine what the reporter was thinking, “Man, is THIS the best student they could find for me?” “Maybe they accidentally got me somebody from the Antarctican language program.” or “This guy has been studying French for HOW long?” Well, whatever it was he was thinking, he evidently came to the conclusion that he wasn’t getting much helpful information because after this question he said, in English, “OK, well thank you for the interview, have a nice day.” And that was that.

So, as I think back on my 15 minutes of fame (more like 3), I have decided two things: first, I don’t want to be a celebrity anymore so I’m officially retiring and telling all news agencies, tabloids, and the paparazzi that I “have no further comments.” (don’t you just love it when they say that? I wonder if that would have worked with my parents when I was growing up: “Jesse, did you tell your little brother to do a back flip off of the trampoline into the rose bushes?” “Dad, Mom…I have no further comments.” haha!) Second, I have decided that I really hope that they don’t air this story, or at least my interview. I have also learned that, when necessary, it’s better just to ask for some time to prepare rather than slaughtering a very beautiful language!