Morgan's Abroad

I just spent the weekend with my brother Daniel, his wife Janette, and their beautiful son, Shiloh. We walked through Lithia Park, snapping corny pictures, drinking Starbucks, laughing together. This was one of the last times we’ll spend together for God-only-knows how long. They got the green light from their mission board just yesterday to go ahead and buy their tickets to Guatemala. It’s hard to believe it’s already time for them to leave. Daniel has talked of being a missionary since he was a little boy and now they are walking in obedience to the Lord’s calling, stepping out in faith, and moving to Guatemala in a few weeks.

I thought they were crazy when they quit their jobs and sold all of their possessions a couple months ago, before they even knew if, when, and where they would be going (details that seemed important to me). But they were confidant the Lord would show them which way to turn as Isaiah 30:21 says, “Your ears shall hear a word behind you, saying, ‘This is the way, walk in it.’ Whenever you turn to the right hand or whenever you turn to the left.” It seemed a little foolish to me (I am so quick to judge!) and yet now I see what Paul meant in 1 Corinthians 1: 25 and 27, “Because the foolishness of God is wiser than men, and the weakness of God is stronger than men… But God has chosen the foolish things of the world to put to shame the wise…”

I asked them tons of questions today about what exactly they will be doing and they didn’t know a whole lot (working with churches, opening a clinic), but they are not worried. They are trusting that the Lord has it all figured out. It’s such an awesome testimony of putting your hope in Christ alone. Please pray for Daniel and Janette and Shiloh as they step out in faith and serve the poor in Guatemala.

"Greater things have yet to come and greater things have still to be done in this city..." ~ Bluetree

When I drove across the country with Graden and Jono, we listened to lots of music, to say the least. The song "God of This City" came on and I skipped over it. Jono asked, "You don't like the song?" I explained how it was kind of annoying to me because it had been played on the radio so much. And how the lyrics were extremely repetitive - "Greater things have yet to come and greater things have still to be done in this city," over and over and over.

"Cheddar, do you know the story behind the song?" Jono is well-versed in the history behind songs (similar to a man we met in a Mormon-country coffee shop who stated that the "Encyclopedia of Rock 'n' Roll was his Bible). He then told me of a band (Bluetree) who played a concert in a bar/brothel in Thailand. Surrounded by drug traficking, child prostitution, debauchery, and thousands of lost souls the band began to sing to the Lord, "You're the God of this city..." They saw that even in the midst of the depravity, God was still the God of that city. And He wasn't done - He still has things He wants accomplished in that seemingly hopeless city.

Hearing that story gave me new ears to listen to that song and it is now a favorite of mine. Last week as I walked through the favela (a slum in Rio) called, Morro dos Macacos (Hill of the Monkeys), that song played in my head as a prayer the entire afternoon. Jeremy and Jason (two of the missionaries down here) teach some soccer classes and Bible studies at a community center within the favela. Six teenage boys in their afternoon class took the three of us up to the top of the favela. It was quite a trek to the top. It felt like we were climbing stairs for years, weaving in and out of little alleys between the homes. The further up we walked, the poorer the homes were. Some were just cardboard and trash nailed together to form four walls. The people who live at the top have to walk those stairs anytime they need anything (there are no roads for cars at the top). Some even have to carry water up because they do not have access.

When we got to the top of the hill, there was a little pasture with a large cross off to one side. The pasture overlooked the enormous city of Rio de Janeiro. As we made our way towards the cross, there were about 10 young men with guns overlooking the other side of the hill, to make sure that drug dealers from the rival gang were not trying to invade. They didn’t really seem to care that we were up there so we just kept walking.

When we got to the cross there was a man, R*****, about the age of twenty sitting by it, gun in hand. He was very friendly and started talking to us (in Portuguese of course). He ended up telling us that he had been shot five times in his life and pointed to each scar. At that point, Jason said something along the lines of, “You know, R*****, God has spared your life for a reason.” I’m not sure who initiated this, but the next thing I knew we were standing in a circle, holding hands (the drug dealer, the 6 teenage boys, the three of us) and praying.

God is the God of the people of Morro dos Macacos, whether they know it or not. He created each of them, fashioned their hearts individually (Psalm 33:15), and longs to give them the full life that He died to give. The drug dealers, the prostitutes, the kids who are stuck growing up there. It's encouraging to remember that God isn't finished yet - greater things are left to be done in that city.

Acts 17:26- 28 “And He has made from one blood every nation of men to dwell on all the face of the earth and has determined their preappointed times and the boundaries of their dwellings, so that they should seek the Lord, in the hope that they might grope for Him and find Him, though He is not far from each one of us; for in Him with live and move and have our being…”

Brazil

Things I am thankful for:
1. Brazillian coffee
2. Warm Weather
3. Beautiful mountains in the heart of the city, sceneries, and beaches
4. No traffic rules
5. Warm, friendly people
6. Kissing both cheeks when greeting or saying good-bye
7. Playing ultimate frisbee with Brazillians
8. Playing street futbol (soccer) with the kids of Reame (orphanage)
9. One of the teen girls at the orphanage washing my feet and giving me a pedicure (talk about humbling!)
10. One of the little boys at Reame sitting by me all morning long, being content to chat away with me in Portuguese even though I couldn't speak back
11. The smile of a little boy in the favella as I cleaned a wound on his foot
12. The way Jacob dances (the little 2 year old boy of a missionary couple here)
13. Conversations with Jeremy, Jason, and Kristin (the missionaries of Sombra Road)
14. Staying with Carol (pronounced kah-rowe) and feeling a part of her family
15. The delicious bread and fruit on every street corner
16. Watching the Office and eating Thai food with new friends. Such a "normal" thing to do in this foreign place.
17. The way that certain towns and streets remind me so much of Benin, West Africa - the smells, the people, the dirt roads, the tiny shops
18. Everyone's patience with my complete lack of language skills
19. Getting a small glimpse of life in a favella
20. Being able to laugh and feel comfortable despite the language barrier
21. Discovering this new found desire and heart for Brazil, when 6 months ago it was the furthest thing from my mind
22. The way the Lord provided for my airfare, getting my tourist visa, and the expenses of being here
23. The rich diversity of the people (many with roots right out of the country I was in while in Africa)

Dickinson Prose

I cannot live with You –

It would be Life –

And Life is over there –

Behind the Shelf.

Hope
Hope is the thing with feathers

That perches in the soul,

And sings the tune--without the words,

And never stops at all,

And sweetest in the gale is heard;

And sore must be the storm

That could abash the little bird

That kept so many warm.

I've heard it in the chillest land,

And on the strangest sea;

Yet, never, in extremity,

It asked a crumb of me.

My cup overflows

Oscar is gone. I named the squirrel Oscar, mostly 'cause he lived in the garbage can. I think he may have gotten thrown away. I'm hoping he just moved to a different location.

Everyone at camp assumes I am the expert on any and every single medical issue. Sometimes I say I don't know. Sometimes I just make up an answer that sounds legit. Sometimes I know the answer. But unfortunately, most of the questions or issues they have don't have to do with cervical exams or hyperbilirubenemia (jaundice in newborns). "Cheddar, why is there pus coming out of my knee?" "Cheddar, what is this rash?" "Why is my toe green?"

We have a mini petting zoo at camp. I've joined the Nature Activity the last couple of days and have learned a lot about the farm animals. For instance, goats have rectangular pupils (like an Octopus). When a goat give birth it's called kidding. "Are you kidding?" has a whole new connotation. I love it.

Somehow my junior high days have made there way into conversations at camp. Wearing mo0-moos to school, wearing a measuring tape for a belt, and of course the infamous interpretive dances. One girl almost lost it when I explained the dance Janna and I did for the talent show in 8th grade. To a song by Carmen. I was Satan. Janna was Jesus. We coerced some other girls who didn't have any friends to be our minions, the demons in the song. Needless to say, my crush, Cory Albright, did not talk to me after that 10 minute long "dance."So now the plan is for me to do an interpretive dance at some point this summer, which will always be more mortifying to me than peeing my pants on stage. What joy is mine.

I think you may be a kindred spirit, after all. I love that no matter where I go in this country or in the world, I find kindred spirits. It's so amazing to work alongside a bunch of believers towards the same end. Three weeks ago I didn't know that any of these people existed. And now I feel as though my life has been changed by them as we spur each other on towards the Lord. God is so good. I am so glad He created us to have fellowship and friends and family. I feel so rich and blessed by the people the Lord has placed in my life. What a mighty God we serve.

It’s hard to believe I’ve already been at Redwood Camp for over a week. The counselors arrived a few days ago for training and the first campers arrive this Sunday. So far it has been an amazing time of getting to know everyone on staff, cleaning and organizing the infirmary, and preparing for 10 crazymaking weeks of summer camp.

Thankfully, I have not come across any Brown Recluse spiders in my bedroom yet. Although I am very careful to check my sleeping bag before crawling into it and my shoes before slipping them on. Images of Brown Recluse and Wolf Spiders still haunt my dreams, but I can handle that. I do however have a pet squirrel that lives in the garbage can just outside my door. Each morning when I step outside, he pokes his head out and watches me walk down the porch. I haven’t come up with a name yet, but I’m thankful he hasn’t lunged for my face.

It is absolutely beautiful here in the Redwoods. There is an old train track that runs through camp and I like to go jogging down it early in the morning. A creek runs through camp, not far from my little cottage (built in the 1800s) and I wake up to the sound of running water and singing birds each day. Yesterday we woke up with the sun climbing over the Santa Cruz Mountains, one ribbon at a time, as we drove to check out some local tide pools. They say sometimes you can see dolphins and whales playing in the frothy waters from shore. We didn’t see any dolphins but we did see a plethora of sea anemones. I stuck my tongue in one. When the staff saw that the nurse survived the experience, half of them did it too. The tip of my tongue felt like it was being stabbed with thousands of needles for about an hour afterwards. It was worth it.

Last night we had a scavenger hunt downtown Santa Cruz. All of us program staff dressed up as the counselors searched for us to find clues. I wore a standard “Bri” outfit – a dress over pants and a cowboy hat. Santa Cruz is very similar to Ashland (artsy, hippies, homeless people, coffee shops), so I blended right in and the counselors had a hard time finding me. Many of them walked right past me as I sat against a wall, near some homeless people, reading poetry and drinking coffee.

Missions and Africa are very heavily on my mind these days. I’m reading through Deuteronomy now, which is the book we read the summer I spent in Benin, West Africa. I don’t want to make any rash decisions just because of some recent disappointment and heartache in my life. But I also don’t want to live an unlived life. I’m tired of living in fear and anxiety that I’m making all the wrong decisions with my life. I want to be wholly available to the Lord, no matter the cost. I’m learning that it’s a good place to be – this uncertainty of what’s next for me, but a steadfast certainty of who God is and what He’s doing.

Camp - How I love thee

It's hard to believe it's that time of year again. Time to load up my car with things I mostly don't need and head to camp. This time not to New York but to a camp called Mt. Hermon, near Santa Cruz, California. Instead of a counselor or program director, I'm going to be a camp nurse. Which seems fitting since my nursing degree cost close to $100,000, not to mention blood, sweat, and sleepless nights.

Camp has always had a special place in my heart. I can't think of anything I love doing more. I am so blessed to remember how much of my life had been spent at camp and so impacted. Winter camp in junior high, where I dedicated my life to the Lord. Living at the Christian Renewal Center where my parents fell in love over chocolate chip cookies and hand-written letters. Wildhorse Canyon - first as a camper, later as a leader. The summer I spent washing dishes at Breakaway in Gearheart, Oregon and learning stupid, but awesome, skits like, "People with shirts on their heads!" And of course, my beloved Good Tidings in the Catskills of New York. Where I truly fell in love with truth, with the Gospel.

My first year as a counselor at Good Tidings, I was seventeen, awkard, and shy. I overcompensated my shyness by being obnoxiously loud and sarcastic (yeah, unfortunately, I still tend to do that). I was the only girl on staff who had never been to Good Tidings before. It seemed that everyone else knew their way around, knew the rules, knew what their place was in this world. I didn't. That summer, Carolyne Hall, took me under her wing. She encouraged me, laughed with me, talked to me as an equal. She listened to me, prayed for me, prayed with me. She was a Spanish teacher from just outside of New York City and dedicated her summer to working at camp. At the time, I couldn't understand why a woman with a successful career would decide to spend her summer doing what she did. But it impacted my life more than I realized at the time.

I have so many hopes and prayers for the summer. My nurse heart hopes that I will remember what I need to know in emergency situations. That I will make medically sound decisions and not let my pride keep me from asking for help. And that the staff and campers will just stay healthy and injury free :).

But a huge part of my heart is for the staff, as they pour their lives out as ministers to the hundreds of campers that will come through this summer. I hope that I will be able to speak truth and life into their lives, encourage them, listen to them, pray with them. Just as Carolyne did for me once.

I pray that our purpose for being there will not get lost in the hustle and bustle that comes with a busy camp schedule. That we will remember our first love - Jesus Christ. That we will keep our eyes steadfast on Him and run this race set out before us with endurance.