Grief and Fruits of Consolation

Once again, the end of the month has snuck up on me and I want to get one more entry in for May. I admit it is getting harder by the day to feel that the posts are relevant to the blog's title, the longer we are away: Paul and Rebeca Mosley in Tanzania? Not so much. This marks the end of our second month out of the country on a completely unscheduled stint back in the US. And yet, it hardly feels anything like our annual summer home leave as we live in a kind of limbo between worlds. Although truly this limbo can feel like a kind of paradise, isolated in an estuary of the Chesapeake Bay to watch the arrival of spring and summer, it really does not feel anything like a return 'home.' We really don't go out to public venues at all, and only allow ourselves visits to the home of Rebecca's parents. 

It is a strange time here, as the weather finally begins to warm, there is a temptation to look at the slowly downward sloping death toll from COVID-19 here as a sign that, with the return to life in nature, we will all be able to emerge from our hibernation and go about business as usual once again. And many Americans clearly want to embrace this myth, to believe it was all a bad dream or some political mischief that put us in this predicament in the first place. And yet for us, it has been a fell season. We know several people personally who have been afflicted and even died of COVID-19, here and in Arusha. As some restrictions are lifting in Maryland we have allowed ourselves to visit more regularly with grandparents, but still are quite strict about social distancing in public, and have not made any trips as a family to a mall or restaurant, and are not likely to do so in the near future. Thankfully the Sack grandparents recently offered us a 24-hour overnight to process all that is going on, taking the kids for a sleepover. Later, we had a fun, spontaneous afternoon gathering with both sets of grandparents (outdoor, distanced) on Memorial Day. But we have had a lot to discuss and digest...

We have had several big events transpire in the past 2 weeks that need to be documented. The lesser of the two was a move 2 weeks ago to a new house. We had been staying in a lodge at a retreat center owned by a group of families from Rebecca's parents' church. It is usually quite busy with rentals from April through the end of the year. All these bookings had been canceled at the time of our return to the US (fortuitously for us) . With the approach of Memorial Day and the loosening of restrictions in Maryland, we knew that we had to find other accommodations--groups would start to want to use it again. We were very happy to find that a property just a half kilometer down the coast was available --  it was primarily a summer vacation house for a family living in Pennsylvania, who weren't planning to spend time here til later in the season. 

We talked to the owner and made arrangements to rent it until the end of June. (Actually, we are going to do some painting in exchange for use of the house.) The house is not quite as big as the 8-bedroom lodge we were in, but is quite comfortable. It has a Swiss chalet kind of feel-- a large A-frame with a vaulted ceiling over the open plan living room, dining room, kitchen, and 2 bedrooms in a loft space accessed by a spiral stairway. There is also an office, master bedroom, and a large enclosed sunporch. The Bay-facing wall of the A-frame is all windows top to bottom, so it has a great view. It was built in the late 1970s and is well appointed for the era. Notably, every square inch of it is carpeted in deep shag. This includes the bathrooms. With the spiral stairway and the furnishings, it feels like the house one sees in the Brady Bunch. I know I would have envied this place when I was a teenager.

Despite the retro decor, it is all in really good condition, probably because it was mainly a vacation home. Sadly, the dock over the bay was beaten up pretty badly in the last two squalls we had this spring, and several sections are missing. 

We moved in and set up places for kids to do school. We also found that the internet connection (through our phone hotspots) is not as good as our former residence; some connections for school have been a challenge. We were lucky that we have only had one week of classes in the past two weeks: we just finished a week of half-term break. We start up again Monday for the final 4-week push. I will confess that doing school online from home is very exhausting for parents and puts a considerable amount of stress on our family emotionally. (Lots of arguments and coercion to motivate kids to work.) We really dread the thought that this might still be necessary when we return to Tanzania in the fall. But we are beyond the point of planning ahead at this stage of unpredictability in life.

There is news of another move to share, this one far more significant and frankly shocking. It has been a major focus of our work in the past month, but not one I could speak about publicly. The official word is out now so I am at liberty to explain, but before I can, I need to back up and give some context.

Last year, Sharon, our country Director (Rep), let MCC know she would be ending her term this summer. MCC started a search process at the end of last year, and after much prayer and discernment, Rebecca and I put our hats in the ring and applied for her position. Long story short, we were selected to succeed Sharon when she finished her term in June. This was an additional three-year commitment to being in Tanzania for Rebecca and me. There were a number of factors to weigh, including stability in the kids' school situation. It meant Oren would graduate in TZ with the Cambridge system before going to the US for college on our return after year 3. The fact that Oren and David really seemed to feel at home at St. Constantine's International School was a great weight on the balance in favor of continuing to work in Tanzania. Our involvement in our small group and church, where we were finally making a community were also factors in favor of staying. Most importantly, we already knew the MCC program and partners very well and understood how to work within the program that had already been built. We would require no in-country orientation or language study to switch into a leadership role.

The disruption of our voluntary evacuation because of COVID-19 was disappointing in terms of timing since it fell during the transition period when Sharon would be working most closely with us on the hand-over of the program. 

We watched, from isolation in Maryland, the effect of lock-down orders in the US on the economy and were warned by MCC that we should expect to make cuts in our programs as deep as 25%. But it was not until we were asked to join a Zoom call with our International Program Director that we understood just how bad things were.

We were told at the end of April, on that call, that MCC needed to make deeper, longer-term, cuts to its international programs. One of the hardest decisions was to 'consolidate' the MCC Kenya and Tanzania programs and run all projects in both countries out of the Nairobi office. This would mean closing down our office, selling all assets, and terminating all MCC staff positions (including our own) by the end of the calendar year. We were also told that our programs and partnerships needed to be reduced by about 75% in order to be manageable for the Kenya Reps. 

I have to say, the news was so devastating that I was not even able to experience it in the moment it was being told us. It was like a strange bad dream that I believed I would awaken from. We had just put a new roof over our front porch and set up a basketball goal at our home in Arusha in preparation for a longer stay. How could we be leaving? And most grievous was the thought that we were just stepping into the role as country Reps., bristling with fresh ideas and vision only to be told that our new mandate as Reps would be to terminate all staff, close the office, sell off everything MCC owned, including our household goods, tell most of our partners that we were precipitously ending their projects, and leave by December. 

We made a strong plea with as many influential people as we could to save the program, but were plainly able to see that the decision was not made lightly and the financial position of MCC did not leave them with a lot of choices. Not everything could be saved. 

MCC did, however, have something to offer us, given that they do try to reassign service workers who are laid-off due to a cut in position. The role of MCC Rep. for Ethiopia was coming open in February, and they asked if we would be interested in taking it. 

I will say that at first, the idea sounded almost repugnant. To leave a 'lived-assignment' -- not merely a job -- where we had invested years to build a new community, and be transplanted into an entirely new context to do 'the same job' in a new place, seemed callous to say the least. But that was not at all how it was presented to us, and in truth, I am very grateful that MCC makes such efforts for its staff.

Rebecca and I needed prayer, and the discernment of others to make this decision. Fortunately, we have a prayer chain and many people who could speak into this. What was important to me, was that accepting this new assignment needed to be done with an attitude of excitement and enthusiasm. It could not be seen psychologically as a 'consolation prize', especially because the Ethiopia program is huge and will require a tremendous amount of energy and commitment on our part to offer it good leadership.

I am happy to say that God did work in our hearts. Once we had done all we could to try to save the Tanzania program, we came to peace with the decision to close it, and with that peace came a slow willingness to look beyond. After two weeks, we were able to accept the offer with integrity and gratitude. 

We realize that there will be enormous challenges ahead in the next 12 months. Many are logistical:

When can we fly back to TZ? Our tickets on Qatar Airlines are for mid-August. Will they fly then?

How do we dispose equitably of MCC assets; many will want to acquire them?

How do we help our national staff have a soft landing when their positions end?

What do we do about school? We need to start enrollment for the Ethiopian International School ASAP to begin in  2021. We have permission to finish the school year in Tanzania, but one of us will have to be going to Addis for months at a time between Feb. and June while we are in transition between our two roles. 

These, as well as other questions, need to be answered in the months ahead. We are already in regular communication with our partners sharing the very difficult news of the consolidation of our program with Kenya, and the end of most of their projects. There is a lot of work to be done in the days ahead, and more unknowns than knowns it seems. Still, I am glad that even, amidst the thorns of grief, we can see early blooms of some fruits of consolation. 

I leave you with  one of Rilke's poems from Sonnets to Orpheus:

XVII

WHERE, in what ever-blissfully watered gardens, upon what

trees, out of, oh, what gently dispetalled flower-cups do these

so strange-looking fruits of consolation mature?

 

Delicious, when, now and then, you pick one up in the poor

trampled field of your poverty.

 

Time and again you find yourself lost in wonder over the size of the fruit,

over its wholesomeness, over its smooth, soft rind,

and that neither the heedless bird above nor jealous worm at

the root has been before you.

 

Are there, then, trees where angels will congregate,

trees invisible leisurely gardeners so curiously cultivate,

that, without being ours, they bear for us fruits like those?

 

Have, we, then, never been able, we shadows and shades,

with our doing that ripens too early and then as suddenly fades,

to disturb that even-tempered summer’s repose?

 

here, now, in this...practicing being present

Scarlet Tanager

I realize that half the month of May has past and we have not posted anything this month. Looking back over several years of entries from Tanzania, and Burundi before that, I do appreciate the meticulous chronicling we have been practicing over our time in these assignments. But life here, the stillness we are experiencing, is hard to put down in words. I know Thoreau was able to write an entire book about his life of solitude at Walden pond, but perhaps I am not as observant as he is. I suppose he also was not trying to homeschool his two children and keep up with rapidly changing events at his job online, so perhaps I can be forgiven.

Flower Moonset, 6 am

We have been able to watch the change in season come in a way we might never have experienced had we not been here. The last time we experienced a North America spring, we did not know it was a "last time" so we are noticing every detail this time. Granted this has been an unseasonably cold spring; even mid-May has only offered a few warm days, but we have seen new life spring into being in the flora and fauna in this relatively remote estuary of the Chesapeake Bay. Sadly, the last few weeks are a reminder of the fragility of life. After the excitement of seeing new life in the early weeks of our return--goslings, and fox kits a daily sight, we have witnessed a number of young animals dead or dying. David found a gosling, abandoned near our porch and brought it into the house in a shoebox, shivering. Despite trying to feed it back to health, it died in a few hours. One of the fox cubs, a runt, was seen limping badly before they all disappeared from the hole near our driveway.

Wave jumping, not typical Charter Hall activity

We had another squall this month, worse than the first one. The water pushed up to within inches of some of the lower doors of the cottages on the property. The front yard was completely underwater. Waves crashed over the seawall feet from our porch. The front dock was almost completely unmoored but somehow survived with limited damage. We spent a full day cleaning debris off the property and pushing driftwood trees off the lawn back into the bay.

indigo bunting

 Several days later we found over one hundred dead fish along the beach by the house at low tide. They were all the same species and not familiar to me--they looked like they came from the ocean, about a foot long and white (in death) with small mouths. I think they might have been shad. I don't know if this was a natural process, perhaps spawning up in the Bay and dying, or if this was a result of toxic algae bloom from sewage overflow after the flood.

Rebecca has been enjoying the bird migration of late spring with an astounding number of species passing through the marshland here. Among the highlights are indigo buntings, scarlet tanagers, northern orioles, blue grosbeaks and a number of species of finches.

David and I continue to enjoy the ever-improving fishing season as the weather warms. The many lures he has scavenged on his beach walks have proved to be still quite viable and we have caught a number of big large-mouth bass off the front dock in the past several weeks. (We have thrown them all back lately.) Despite the coolness of the air and water David and I finally ventured a swim! I will say, being a swimmer in Arusha has inured me to chilly water, although the bay in May was certainly a new test. We went in slowly from the beach accustoming our legs and feet before dunking our midriffs and finally heads in the water. I would say it was in the low 50s. We ended up splashing around for about half an hour before coming out. I will confess that after the past 2.5 years in Arusha swimming daily, I seem to have developed a bit of a fetish for the icy chill of dowsing oneself into very cold water. There is a strangely satisfying tonic effect that one experiences (maybe a dopamine rush?) Probably an acquired taste (not for everyone).

David baked his own baguettes

We have taken a few canoe trips in the past several weeks, although wind has been a factor as well as the hazard of cold water. (We can't risk capsizing). We also had a cookout outdoors with s'mores and hotdogs, although many days we have preferred inside activities, like baking bread and doing puzzles.

Henry and Bunny visiting

Despite social distancing, we have had the chance to see our parents several times this month. Both sets have come out to Charter Hall at different times. It is about 50 minutes away from where both sets of parents live. My mom and dad came out last week. We have to be especially careful with them because they live in a retirement community and have very strict regulations about leaving and going out. This is because they live with over 1000 other people over 75 and there is zero-tolerance for a coronavirus exposure. (We are not even allowed to go onto the campus to visit them.) We have really enjoyed seeing them out here twice, although one day we were sitting outside in a 50mph wind. The second time was sunny and calm though.

cookout by the bay

We have been to see Rebecca's parents almost every weekend at their house, They are in the midst of spring gardening and even added a large new garden in their front lawn (where they took out a bunch of weed trees). We have helped them haul horse manure to fertilize their vegetable garden, mowed the lawn, weeded, planted, and David and I have been building a brick pathway through their new front garden. We usually have dinner with them afterwards on their back porch and enjoy seeing the bluebirds, red-winged blackbirds and other species that gather at their feeders while we eat.

On Mother's Day, we enjoyed a lot of social time: a Zoom gathering of our international Bible study spanning 4 continents got us started off at 7 in the morning. We had a Zoom church service mid-morning, which includes the opportunity to actually share prayer requests with our community or offer reflections on the sermon. We shared an online Mother's day lunch with my parents (on Zoom once again), that included my brother's family also. In a great act of generosity, the pastor of our home church here drove all the way out to see us and sit 8 feet away with a mask on so that we could talk and pray together. And finally we enjoyed a lovely end of the day with Rebecca's parents coming out to walk, share a cup of coffee and conversation on the sunny lawn, and then have a ham dinner together.

Bird migration puzzle

Work-life, although all online, has been momentous. I am not at liberty at this time to talk about all of the changes that are going on at MCC related to the coronavirus crisis, but it has required us to be diligent in preparing contingency budgets and plans for our program and projects. It is very hard, in this time of uncertainty, to plan effectively with so many 'unknown unknowns'.

We hear optimistic, probably 'too good to be true,' news from Tanzania. The President wants to open schools and sporting events and has lifted quarantines on international travel. Tourism is supposed to return fully by August. It is hard to know what to believe, there are no more official reports about the number of cases or fatalities. I would like to believe they have passed through the epidemiological curve and are in decline, but have no data to confirm this. We are still planning our return for the beginning of August.

I think school remains the biggest challenge and we need to get through the end of June with the kids before they have a break. We will keep you updated in the weeks ahead. This coming week, we will shift into another empty vacation house on the same peninsula, as we need to vacate the retreat center. Maybe groups will be allowed to use the place again soon.

I am posting a photo essay of life here in the past few weeks with some captions.

Great Heron

Bald Eagles

Black Racer

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Surviving Adverse Seasons

Fox kit near our driveway.

At the quantum level, a body can be in two places at once. In ordinary life, however, that is exceedingly difficult... at least for me. We have been out of Tanzania and making life in an entirely new setting for a bit over a month, and it is beginning to feel hard to believe that we have a fully furnished home in Arusha, complete with cat. I don't know how long it will be before we can go back, and what the new normal there might look like. We have tickets for early August, but it is hard to know what restrictions will be on travel then.

Tanzania has active community spread of COVID-19. The Govt. is working hard to control disinformation or create panic about the spread by making it illegal to report any numbers that do not come from the Ministry of Health. I understand the desire to keep information as accurate as possible, but I am also aware of how limited the capacity of the Ministry of Health is to test and track all cases in the country. Thus far, most of the cases are in Dar Es Salaam. I do not know how severe the virus will be in a country with such a wide population pyramid (more than 50% of the population is under 16). Could it be less severe? Unfortunately, we will probably have the answer to that question in the next few months as it will not likely be contained. Social distancing and lockdowns are even more severe in such a resource-poor setting and may not even be possible for more than a few weeks.

Life at Charter Hall has settled into a sustainable routine. Rebecca and I are very committed to daily ritual and having had to give up swimming, we still get up early but either walk, run, or do a high impact interval training youtube video to start the day. Starting out vigorously is helpful to both of us, as Rebecca spends much of the morning overseeing the school work of David and Oren, and I go to virtual work with MCC on my computer.

Things that are not replaceable, even with virtual technology is the sense of community we have been building the past three years. Rebecca and I have both been very active in our church in TZ. She has been on the Church Council and the Worship Committee, while I have been very involved in Christian Education and head of Sunday School. I realize now how traumatizing the precipitous ending was. We were there one week, then school was cancelled, church was closed and we were gone the next. This is just as true of our small group and our home. We really had no time to say goodbye, and of course, there is nothing to replace those things where we are, in isolation.

And yet, surviving an adverse season requires stillness, I believe, and the capacity to forget as well and fully experience the present. Nietzche said it more poetically:

We immediately conclude that no happiness, no serenity, no hope, no pride, no enjoyment of the present moment could not exist without the possibility of forgetting.

In the present, there is much for which to be grateful. Watching spring come in has been a rare gift out here in the marshlands by the Bay. We have a regular cadre of visitors who pass by our windows in the morning. Two geese, a mated pair who occasionally even bring their goslings down for a swim by our dock. A piliated woodpecker, looking for bugs in a tree stump in front of our house. A mated pair of bald eagles, who roost between fishing expeditions in the tree over our chimney. A highlight is the fox family, a male and female and four kits who have a den by the drive. We see them frequently and can often get within a few meters of the kits when they are resting in the sun on one of the few warm days. Other animals include a herd of deer, a rat snake, box turtle, field mice, toads, great blue herons, ospreys, cormorants, and merganser ducks. (Pictures all over the blog.)

David likes to take walks along the rocky beach at low tide, or into the woods when the water is high. Fishing is also a pastime that David and I enjoy. He has been scavenging many old lures and bobbers on his beach expeditions and we have tried several out. Spring is a good season to fish because the watermilfoils (grasses) are not overgrown so it is easy to cast a line. David and I catch bass off the dock every day on worms and salvaged plugs, and have eaten some of them.

Weather in April was hard. We had a bit of a tease in March with a warm couple of days on our arrival (around 70F). It gave us hope that we had missed the worst of winter, but were disappointed to find most of April very cold. We had fires in the fireplace in the evenings, but getting out for exercise in the morning, or even in the living room required a sweatsuit and a hat. Many days were grey as well, which added to the sense of melancholy that seemed to hang in our suspended lives. We were able to go out in canoes about once the entire month, and there was no room for error in terms of tipping over into the frigid water. 

We had one exciting weather day, a squall, about two weeks ago. One of the risks of living 20 feet from the shoreline is a high wind and flood tide. The morning of the storm we could tell something was different. There was a warm wind coming up from the South. Not the cold North wind to which we are accustomed. The wind became more and more intense all morning and pushed the tide higher than we have ever seen. Our front yard was underwater, as well as the dock which usually sits about 6 feet over the low tide mark. Another foot and it would have been at our front door. There was a tornado warning as well, but for the most part, it was mainly windy with high water. Very little rain, and weirdly warm, like a hurricane. After rising for most of the day, the water began subsiding in mid-afternoon. By the time the water went back down we found a number of trees and driftwood lying on our lawn and we spent several hours cleaning it up. By evening the weather was clear and we had a beautiful sunset that seemed to be gaslighting us. (Storm, what storm?)

We have gone to Rebecca's parents house twice since being here. We make some effort at social distancing with them and do wear masks. Most of our time together is spend outdoors. We helped them pick up several trash cans full of horse manure for their garden. Oren and David helped with weeding and lawn mowing. This past weekend they came out to Charter Hall and we went out on canoes together, took a hike, and had dinner together. I think it was great for them to get away from the house.

The last thing I will mention this month is the loss of a dear family friend, and the first virtual memorial service I have attended. Charlene was a family friend of both Rebecca and I for nearly 50 years. She was also a great lover of the outdoors and used to bring her kayak out to Charter Hall quite a bit. When we came back she was in the final stages of cancer and died in our third week here. Sadly we could never go visit her in hospice during this time of coronavirus. Fortunately, her children were allowed to be with her at the end.

We had a memorial service for her on Zoom. Someday there will probably be a funeral service for her. It is a reminder of the unique challenges this virus poses. Dying alone, and grieving privately. These are difficult times.

Life Interrupted Part 3: A Fell Spring

I am aware, by the calendar on the computer, of passing time, but the similarity of the days has not been terribly inspiring to sit down and write a blog entry. That is not to say, that our situation here is intolerable in any way. To the contrary, it is idyllic in many ways. Rebecca and I have also been very intentional about setting up a daily rhythm to make this time in isolation as life-giving as possible.

There is actually a lot of marrow to suck from life at Charter Hall. Rebecca and I both get up just before 7am. We have coffee then she goes for a long walk to pray. I prefer to run, and take a gentle run while listening to the Daily Audio Bible for about an hour. We come back and make breakfast for the kids. At 8:30 am our day starts.

Oren in 'school'.

David and Oren are now 'in school'. Which is not unlike a regular school day in many respects, except it is all online. They go to their computers and open Google Classrooms and follow each class's daily assignments in the order of schedule for that day. They finish at about 3:30 pm so it is a full school day. Oren is able to do this almost entirely independently (except when we need to scan or photograph certain assignments. David on the other hand basically needs an executive secretary (Rebecca) by his side at all times. This is partly because of his lack of executive skills at this point in his development, but just as much because teachers at St. Cons are very new to online teaching and create many challenges in trying to access and complete work. (Ex: No, a pdf is not an editable document).

View from the dock.

For the most part, there are no sessions in real-time as our children are 7 hours behind Tanzania time. But each of them has had occasional sessions with teachers who are willing to meet with them in the evening (their time).

Rebecca and I are also trying to keep up with MCC work. I am able to do that for most of the day, but it is far more challenging for Rebecca when 'homeschooling' and keeping David focused. This was especially true in the past week as we had several important meetings with our country rep. Sharon who is currently in Alberta, Canada, as well as with our team in East Africa, and our Area Directors there as well. We have a narrow window of time when we can all meet together on Zoom. It is about 9 am our time.

Needless to say there has been a scramble at the local and global levels as MCC manages the health and economic fall-out of the pandemic. All of the health and education partners I oversee have had to suspend project activities, but are also needing to send in their year-end reports. At the same time, MCC is dealing with the grim reality that the severe economic downturn in the US and Canada will have significant consequences for the main income streams of the organization. That is: thrift shops, church giving, private donation, and large fundraising events, (especially this year which is MCCs Centennial). With all of these income streams in jeopardy for the foreseeable future, we are already testing 15% and 25% budget reduction scenarios for our program in the coming year. It is hard to believe that this was not imaginable even a month ago.

All that to say, there is work to keep us both busy, although I definitely have more time for it. Working remotely from our country program is a bit of a challenge as far as communication, but for the most part, our work with partners does not require much face-to-face time for the time being. (There is a nagging feeling in the back of our minds about when we will be able to return. We have tickets booked for early August but do not know what the reality will be then. For the time being Tanzania has suspended ALL international travel in and out of the country. So we would not be able to go there foreseeable future even if we wanted to.

When we are not in a school/workday, we do try to take full advantage of the place we are in. Nature walks are the easiest diversion, and at low tide, David loves to take daily walks on the rocky beaches looking for old fishing lures and bobbers among the flotsam and jetsom that washes along the marshy and rocky shoreline. We have been enjoying watching the sputtering beginnings of spring, with many perennials now in bloom including daffodils, wild violets, dandelions, and tulips. Leaves are budding on trees. The temperature is not at all stable with some days approaching freezing while others have been as high as 80F. On some of the warmer less gusty days, we have even taken out the canoes. One can almost feel that this is a kind of self-imposed 'Waldenesque' retreat for the purpose of spiritual renewal. But we cannot retreat from the slow drumbeat of tragic news, coming from the urban centers on the East Coast. I feel guilty imagining the nightmarish reality of health professionals in New York, some close friends, who are risking their lives to try to save others or at least those who are dying alone. And yet, we are told (even by them) that the best thing we can do is to stay home and stay healthy. Don't risk making it worse.

Our daily routine also includes times of family exercise, which seem a necessity. Besides my morning run, we also to 40 minutes of high, or low-intensity interval training (HIIT, LIIT) using a youtube video. It keeps us from going stir crazy on cold rainy days. We have also done multiple puzzles while listening to Harry Potter (again), built models, played games, and done a number of crafts. (But screen time still remains the favorite pastime of the kids when they are not under adult supervision.)

church

We also have been able to participate in our church  (North Baltimore Mennonite) via Zoom. This has been a blessing during Holy Week. It is amazing to see over 100 people participating live. I am hearing more and more prayers for those suffering with coronavirus, but the community feels good.

Our family celebrated Maundy Thursday with a family foot-washing ceremony and a communion meal. Then we shared in a Tenebrae service with our church via Zoom. We listened to a Good Friday service put on the Facebook page of our church in Tanzania. On Saturday we dyed some Easter eggs and made Easter baskets by cutting up cereal boxes into strips and weaving them together. It was a good activity as a family.

Easter Sunday was quite special because we got up very early to be able to have a meeting with our small group who are currently spread in: Australia, Tanzania, Germany, the US, and Canada. There is about a 15 hour time difference between all of us so we were able to catch the Australian family just before bedtime. It was fantastic to see everyone together on Zoom and we had a nice time of sharing that seemed way too short. We followed this with an Easter Sunday service at our church.

Somehow, all of these Zoom calls and contact with our parents by Skype in the past 2 weeks has made us feel we are not really isolated.

I have thought about ways to be intentional about using this time for some spiritual growth. One way has been to think carefully about reading. I do listen to a part of the Bible every day that is part of a one-year reading. I have also decided to listen to an audio version of the Lord of the Rings because it seems like the right kind of story to hear right now. A story about a long hard journey, with much wisdom about enduring suffering and still seeing what is fair. I hope to be able to keep that perspective for the many days we are likely to be isolated from each other.

Other Photos from the past week:

Life Interrupted Part 2: Be Still

The sun is setting across the Bay from us, clear and bright and cloudless. We are sitting inside an old wooden hunting lodge, near a fire that we keep stoked for warmth. It’s been just over a week since we last posted and the contrasts between what we left and where we are could not be starker.

It had been an intensely stressful week, watching the pandemic unfold around the world and on our doorstep. I was having difficulty breathing –but nothing to do with any physical illness. So many decisions to make with not enough information too quickly. On our final Sunday in Arusha, we decided to take Sabbath with the kids in ways that we would not be able to for months to come. We went for an early morning swim at Gymkhana, all of us getting some much-needed exercise. Then Paul and the boys did some golf practice with one of the caddies (who washed his hands very well and professionally beforehand). We welcomed a remnant of our Bible study group to meet on our newly-roofed stone patio, at 2 meters apart. Those of us who could come really needed the time of debriefing and prayer. We and another woman were planning to leave (she’d just booked her ticket that afternoon) and the other couple was counting on staying. A few other families were still in town, not yet gone, but worried about leaving home. We struggled to sing some songs of encouragement and faith for this time, and speaking for myself, there were more tears than musical tones. We prayed fervently for the time when we would be able to be together again, reading and studying and singing and praying.

In the evening, we had worship together as a family. I was really encouraged when the kids requested songs for worship, some I hadn’t expected. We read the lectionary scriptures for the week and closed a day that was a needed respite from the tension we’d been dealing with.

Monday and Tuesday included a lot of preparations to leave. We needed to meet with all our colleagues together and discuss a few key issues. There were papers to sign. I took the cat to the vet (a somewhat heroic feat, in and of itself, getting that animal into his travel crate!). I was so incredibly thankful for our neighbor Kay, who was willing to keep an eye on Tramp while we will be gone for this extended period. She will share that task with our housekeeper –it’s better to have two possible people for every task these days. As Paul said, I had been preparing for a long lockdown at home, and so many things needed to be undone and given away. We needed to pack and prepare the house for a very long absence in which anything is possible – people might need to house-sit or find refuge. We were deciding which things we really loved and needed to take with us if we were to be gone longer than we anticipate. I decided that I just couldn’t leave my guitar and my music files, collected over many years. David had some special toys. Oren had about 23 kilos of schoolbooks alone, but also wanted to include a few projects to do when he got to the US.  

On Wednesday morning, Paul and I went back to the office to say a last farewell to Sharon. It was very strange to know we were seeing each other for the last time after working together for nearly three years. No time for a farewell party or a long preparation. It’s even harder for her, leaving Tanzania on such short notice after a five-year term, packing up her life and getting it all into 3 suitcases. We were glad that our Tanzanian colleagues had acquired small solar back up power systems, which will hopefully let them work from home in the likely case of a lockdown. We talked briefly, prayed and departed.

We left home before noon, with our trusty taxi driver Japheth, and had little trouble getting checked in to our flight. We were trying to be very careful, not touching any surfaces before wiping them down, social distancing, etc. But as soon as we got on the flight, we realized how futile it was. The flight to Doha was at least 2/3rds full, and then filled up completely after a stop in Dar to pick up more passengers. We had a few masks, left to us by my cousin Julie when she visited 2 years ago, and I was grateful we could wear these on the flight. We arrived to the crowded Doha airport about midnight, and struggled to find any secluded place where we could spend our 9 hour layover. In the end, we had to settle for an unoccupied aisle of chairs. David crashed out on a blanket on the cold hard floor, and I joined him. Paul and Oren did their best to sleep sitting up in the chairs, when the floor got too uncomfortable. Thankfully, by about 2 am, the airport was much less crowded and we were less worried about breathing other people’s air.

Our first flight was a wonderful 787, but the second flight was completely full and a much more cramped. Again, we wiped down everything around our seats and kept our masks on, but there was always the possibility of touching something or someone as we walked to the restroom or tried to keep moving. There was really nothing to do to make the 14 hour flight more bearable, except to escape to Hollywood. Actually, Paul and I both had the time to finally explore the recent films about Fred Rogers, both the one starring Tom Hanks, and the documentary. We found his approach to life and his transparent goodness really inspiring, a reason to pay attention to the person right in front of us, as someone worthy of respect and love.

Doha airport sculpture

Washington-Dulles airport was as deserted as I’d ever seen it. Health screening amounted to a few questions from the immigration officer. No tests, no thermometers, nothing. This doesn’t really inspire confidence, I must say, but maybe that’s because the USA became the country with the highest number of Covid-19 cases in the world the day we arrived. I guess they realized that travelers were not really the problem at this point.

My parents had gone to heroic lengths to get things ready for our arrival Thursday evening. They drove both their cars down to the airport, and waited for us in the parking lot (so as not to enter the airport). We had a few minutes to talk and share at a distance—it was really hard not to hug each other or have the chance to spend the time driving together back north. But, we were very tired, so we needed to hit the road. And that was another shock. The DC beltway was deserted, and there was little traffic even on I-95. No one was commuting back home from work. No rush hour whatsoever. We made a trip that would normally be 3-4 hours, in less than two hours, to a point an hour north of Baltimore on the northern tip of the Chesapeake Bay.

When I was 8, my parents joined with a number of families from their church to purchase an old hunting lodge and turn it into a small church retreat center, rather than allow it to be developed as condos. Charter Hall has been a place that I’ve always been able to come home to, throughout my life of travels here and there. Recently, it’s been hard to even get a weekday night when we could stay in one of the small cottages, because it is fully booked and rented. But with the coronavirus, all the normal groups using the lodge had to cancel. And so the owners agreed that we could stay in the lodge for the time being.

We found that my parents had been gracious once again in stocking the cupboards and the fridge, making up the beds, providing games, puzzles and sweatshirts. My dad had figured out solutions for internet access. Cousins had shoes and sweatpants ready for David, and a basketball pumped up. We walked in the house, showered and went straight to bed. We woke up the next morning in awe of where we had landed and how well-prepared things were for us.

So, the past few days have been kind of a blur, trying to get through jet lag, keep active, get settled. We’ve gone through a period of intense stress, to a time with few boundaries. We do have work to do, keeping up with our MCC projects, and the kids will start online school in earnest next week. But meanwhile, we’re trying to learn to be still. We are enjoying the marvelous wildlife around us. A red fox calls this point on the Bay home, and we’ve seen him four times. A pair of bald eagles seem to be courting just about the boat dock. We’ve spotted a river otter swimming home, and a black rat snake in the stack of cord wood. We’ve already taken about a dozen walks up and down the farm lane, the best exercise available to us (we really miss our lap-swimming!!!). David is in fishing heaven. Oren is trying to figure out what to do with all the free time.

We’ve had two highlights since we arrived. Yesterday, Sunday, we were able to participate in a worship service with our home church, using Zoom. There were probably 50 households who logged in, each from their living rooms. The pianist played from her home, our pastor preached poignantly about Ezekiel and the dry bones and invited us to write about our fears and hopes in the chat function. My brother’s family offered special music, led by my niece. The worship leader led us to share prayer requests aloud. It was an innovative way to share as a community and to be grounded in power of the resurrection, in this time of fear and separation.

This afternoon, my parents couldn’t resist coming out for a visit, and to bring a few more provisions. We all were very disciplined about maintaining distance, sitting outside to chat for over an hour. All of us were glad to have time to talk with someone else besides the person(s) we are living with full time.

So, tomorrow, we really begin to work in earnest towards a schedule, a routine, making sure that we pay attention to the needful things. Our governor today declared a total lockdown of the state. No non-essential travel, not even after we are finished with quarantine. We are going to be here, on the Bay, probably till the end of April. It’s time to learn to be still and know that God is God.