Beautiful Scratching

We’ve been back in Pagosa for 3 weeks now. The early mornings find me on my sister’s patio watching the sun peak over the San Juan Mountains.

Quiet time.
Seriously quiet compared to noises clamoring for attention outside our compound in Kisumu, Kenya - a city of almost 2 million. “Tuk, tuk, tuk” rattles, beeping horns, buzzing motor bikes, and voices exchanging business in Luo and Swahili while children's sing-song repetition of numbers carries from the small tent school across the road.
Now, enjoying the slightly crisp air of Colorado, I feel more than I hear. A soft breeze stirs. Sun streaks across pages of my bible and hits my face with warmth. Aspens’ slight tinge of fall dance on slender boughs.




 
Yes, it’s quiet. 
I’ve been quiet. Not writing, not “unloading” the thoughts that churn my mind in the slums of Kisumu among the broken. For a few weeks I silently watch graceful trees stretch strong into the end of summer. The mountain peaks, a skyline scratching across enormous blue.

I realize I know that strong stretching, a beautiful scratching.

Weathered-white bark enduring seasons of change. Rocky peaks rising from the ground and scratch their rough edges against the heavenly expanse without leaving scars.

I know that beautiful scratching.

For me, it’s about a love that outlasts pain…



His course little black head sweating against my chest, and I cuddle his small body. Praying. He wiggles down, scraping my arms with rough hair - unkept, unwashed, ringworm patches hidden under moist tight curls. That evening the scratches on my arm’s tender part raise angry red.

Painful.
Loving sometimes does that.



Remembering, experiences flood me and thoughts of charcoal-black mamas embracing hungry babies, wide-eyed and unresponsive with suffering that bites their hearts yet carries hope that keeps looking. Crippled children ignore their oozing sores, crawling along chipped cement because they see us coming and their longing for a touch, a smile will come true that day, even if it’s just for a day.

The lavish cost of loving includes the scratching, the scraping, the grating, the aching wounds.





Why?

Because it’s worth it.

It’s worth taking a risk, to be hurt, to live hard so others might live free. I don’t think people were made to stay comfortable, and I wonder if we resist suffering at the expense of loosing our ability to truly care.

Love in it’s purest form is raw, and real and firm, not wavering because He, LOVE made flesh, might take my hand and move me to search in the ugliness of life to find beauty.

Jesus loved.

Without reserve.

He, who could have walked in the cushioned kingdoms of men, chose to live within empty painful places, filled with lost, lonely people. His love stretched strong across the expanse of humanity. He accepted the sore scratching, knowing in the end His wounds would let us love without enduring eternal scars.

That’s how we share a horrible crisis like death, enter unimaginable struggles with children, travel into darkness to bring light. We do it with grace and pervading peace because it’s not the throbbing sting that lasts, it’s His LOVE.

In my quiet, I’ve see this, in the mountain crests surrounding me, like carving a message in a tree that grows high with boughs that can carry the weight.
A beautiful scratching.

Requesting Prayer

Yes, as a good friend said well - our little guy who's waiting is the "E." 

Lisa? Well, she's the photographer.

Habari ako dear Friends.
 

First, I want to thank the many who responded to my (Lisa) last post with gracious words of encouragement.  The experiences this last year have tried us - from months of political upheaval that sporadically fueled riots, tear gas, automatic weapon fire and death, to consistent relationship challenges among those we serve; gossip, jealousy and greed - reduced communication to unwanted confrontations. But thank GOD, whose love covers us; those with repentant hearts grew stronger. Ministry among the least calls for commitment and integrity. Where the enemy holds tight straps of bondage, our Father’s amazing grace releases freedom. We refuse to give up; we’ve seen those who sit in darkness embrace His redeeming light. Hope matters.

As we prepare to travel stateside, we know prayer will help us stay focused. Below are some requests. We would sooooooo appreciate knowing you are lifting us up before His throne room.

1.  Praise God! We finally had our long awaited home study. After months of praying, waiting and numerous cancellations (actually no-shows) we hosted a children’s department representative for all of 20 minutes. We’re tentatively “approved,” pending some unexplained requirements where she’ll “get back to us.”  The little guy we long to take as our son was abandoned in a tea field.  He manages mild cerebral palsy. I can’t even write how much he’s a part of us, how difficult it is to leave him behind. Please pray for him to know the Father’s comfort while we’re separated. (Immigration requirements forbid him to travel.) 

2.  Please pray for traveling mercies, smooth flights, easy connections and  maybe some unexpected blessing to overtake us. We could use an uncomplicated journey. 

3.  Please pray for those managing the ministry while we’re away – Carolyne, David, George, Mary and Gaudencia. 

4.  Please pray for the widowed mamas and their families. 

5.  Please pray for the children at Joyland School for the Disabled and the orphans at New Life Home (where our little guy lives). 

6.  Please pray for our family to make healthy transitions, knowing that God - the Maker of all destinies - is at work in our lives.

Asante sana for the kindness you’ve shown to us. We want to also pray for you.   Send your requests. We’ve got plenty of “airport time” to intercede!  Feel free to contact us if you would like to catch up. We’re excited to know whatGod is doing in your lives and share more about what God is doing in Kisumu,Kenya. We’ll give contact information when were in Pagosa on August 10th.

 

Mungu akubariki Rafikis.

hugs from the haugers Ooo0o

My Truth About Tired

Once again, it's been a while since I've posted; I really don't know why... Trying to put my finger on the reason I currently avoid a task I yearned for - writing about all God does in the lives we share in Kenya. Maybe my aversion to posting is due to the fact that we're winding down another year here, and it's time to take Tavin back to Pagoga to enroll him in 10th grade; I'm engaging in an "ignorant-bliss-thought-pattern" concerning the inevitable of leaving my son on the other side of the world.  Maybe I've not written because the constant influx of visitors, whom we LOVE, absorb our attention. Instead of writing posts, we spend our time watching them see God in the faces of the forgotten. Maybe I don't post because I constantly forget I use a wheelchair, that my muscles are tired. I'm tired. The reality is - chosen comforts allude those who cry out for the fatherless.

Yes, I'm tired; but, it's a content tired - the tired that knows I put in a good day. The connecting with widowed mamas and seeing them engage in ministry. The sweet closing of my eyes and seeing interns from stateside colleges and universities embrace the challenge of loving the unlovable. Knowing the peaceful certainty that God is moving in the miracle realm - not the miracles that happen in seconds, but the miracles God preforms over lifetimes - interconnecting passions, destinies with hopes that don't disappoint. Just speaking of these things makes me want to curl up under my mosquito net and slip into gentle thoughts of mercy and graceful justice, remembering daily experiences of wounded ones being restored.

I will never tire of the joys of hugging children rescued from pit latrines and lonely tea fields. Imagine watching the needs of those neglected - silent with crippled limbs and empty days - enjoy books and colors so they can learn about God's great glories of friendship and belonging. Helping widowed mamas know their ability to raise their children. Sharing with Kenyan churches about missions and adoption. These things inspire me to know that even in my weariness, Jesus carries me. All I am, all I do belongs to Him.

I think I haven't written because I've come to a place where words don't work. I can't find the way to bring you here on paper; so, I leave the keyboard quiet and embrace the work God set before me. I'm grateful for that honor, that privilege. Thank you, Dear Ones, for helping us love the least of these.

 

 
 

 

 

 

 
Asante sana for your encouragement, support and prayers.

hugs from the haugers Ooo0

Library Day: Starting From Scratch

Today, children who opportunity doesn't see, found books for joy.

It was a day that started years ago...

A small mountain town on the other side of earth collected books long forgotten.

These treasures waited in storage, cocooned in closets. Then shipping crates, traveling countries and oceans, landed in this neglected place. 

Today, these treasures opened in hands that rarely hold, to eyes that hardly ever see the glory of pictures, and in ears that long to hear stories.

Imaginations unfolded. 

Today, a young Somali boy shared Anne Frank's journey. Another imagined adventures with Louis L'Mour. Some colored the continent of their birth - a map they've never known.  Still more lost themselves in puzzles and images making the empty day full of learning. The world of knowledge - so familiar we might have forgotten it's deep value if not for today - Library Day at Joyland.

Aro camano Kiki and Carolyne 

for helping to organize and catalog these paper treasures.

Asante sana Casey for sharing this beautiful experience with us.

Bwana asafiwe.

with grateful hearts,

hugs from the haugers Ooo0

We've Been Lost!

Aye! As I look at the last time we posted I realize we've been lost! That's what they say here in Kenya when you've not been seen around; "You've been lost." That usually follows with a story as to why. Well, here's our story...

We had visitors. Not just anyone visitors (although we had those too) but family and friends from our Pagosa town.  Loved ones who've traveled this mission journey with us through encouragement and support came to share our lives among the poor and experience God's rich blessings.  We've learned some things hosting these great people like the awesome, Silas Thompson; my amazing sister, Vicki Hujus; sweet Shea Johnson; and our "long-timer" return intern, the passionate Casey Crow. The lessons follow in photo form:

 

Silas reminded us that life is never dull. When opportunity presents new friendships, embrace them and always finds ways to express kindness. He made us laugh. He experimented with food and fun. Ministry flowed from him with ease and comfortable conversation never seemed to end. Plans for next summer are in the making. We're pretty sure he'll bring USA friends to meet his Kenyan friends. That's just what Silas does.
 

Shea showed us that first time short term missions trippers can jump in and be useful regardless of the situation. We saw Shea participate with joy. Her humor lightened the burden of neglected children. She kept us aware of prayers for Pagosa, especially the wild fire crisis near South Fork. We also know now that Skype and Ritz crackers are daily staples. We hope Shea follows her desire to come see Kisumu's children again.

 

Having Kiki, Lisa's sister, with us made dreams come true.  Ever since Kiki was a little girl she wanted to travel to Africa, and ever since Lisa followed her call to Kenya, she wanted Kiki to come. But that's not all. We learned that Kiki's thoughtful diligence to service changed teachers, mamas and orphaned children. She kept us smiling as she touch lives with her welcoming ways. Of course we stayed up too late, laughed till we cried, and prayed we minister together again on Kenyan soil. Soon.

 

Casey's back to Kisumu this summer continuing to show us that passion for justice will not be extinguished. Her knowledge, dedication, and willingness to stay teachable reminds us that nothing is impossible with God. Casey's vision to make the voice of those forgotten to be heard is big, but she knows Jesus is bigger. We're grateful to welcome her into our family again. We know our Kenyan friends are delighted to see her  too.

Our time with these precious visitors was full but fast. Their presence created warm connections. Their hard work lightened our load. We're grateful for their service and sacrifice. Mungu awabariki Rafikis. 

Asante sana for your prayers, support and encouragement!

Hugs form the haugers Ooo0