dark people-shapes might confuse

Well, folks, here's the skinny. I live in Africa right now. Today it is raining and thundering and lightning...ing and it's "cold" out. There are 2 horses running around outside my cottage. There is a peacock living in the next yard with his harem of guinea hens. There is a lot of wet, red dirt and green grass. The land that the TLC ranch (maybe 20 acres) is on is very flat, but low, uneven hills rise up all around, and at night, city lights glow in at least two directions. When the night is clear, the stars are magnificent, although we don't go far from the cottages at night because dark people-shapes might confuse the enormous gaurd dogs and armed security guard (it's not quite that scary, but it sure sounds impressive).
So that's a picture of where I live. The next logical sentence to follow would be something like "I love it here!" but I don't think I'll use quite that sentence. I AM very glad I'm here. I have an assurance that it is right. You know those situations that are both immensely challenging and immensely rewarding? I think I'm enjoying one of those situations right now. It is SO tough being here sometimes, and sometimes it is so wonderful. I believe God's got me exactly where He wants me; where I HAVE to depend on Him. (An aside - for those of you who may not know, I'm currently working at an orphanage in South Africa)
The children are wonderful. The toddlers are a true challenge, but they are so loving and clever and beautiful. The younger ones are adorable, probably my favourite group to work with. The infants are tiny and fragile, and, honestly, right now I'm a little afraid of them. There is one little one named Nathan who is 5 months old, but he was born 11 weeks premature, so he's absolutely minute. Pretty much whenever I feed him, he vomits and has diarrhea, and we're talking sick diarrhea (Sorry). When I change his diaper, he shrieks at me, and it's so overwhelming. There's NOTHING I can do to quiet him until he's changed, clothed, wrapped up tight, and stuck back in bed with his monitor on and his pacifier in. Nathan is so beautiful, but he's so fragile. I'm slowly getting used to that.
All that being said, life is very good here. I eat well, I get time off, I even jog when I have time. When I get lonely, I clean, because our cottage is pretty much always filthy. I live with 2 guys and 5 girls. I share a room with a 2 German girls, and a bunk bed with a Canadian girl. Apparently out here that's no big deal, but it definitely took me a while to get used to it. In the other room are a guy from Canada, and 2 girls and guy from England. In the other cottages are Hollanders, Danes, an Austrian, more Germans, a couple Canadians and some more Englishwomen. So we got a good mix.
Thus ends this post. I'm on night shift right this week, and it's after 5PM, so I need to get supper and psych myself up for my shift: 7PM to 6AM. I miss you guys and I hope you're well and enjoying the snow I miss so much.
Feel free to email me at simonf@tlc.org.za. I can send and receive email pretty easily.
Also, I've attached a couple pictures that I'm hoping will work out. First is Jamie, my favourite baby. She is pretty much the beautifullest little schnerps around. Next is Rosie, about 3 months old. She is a cutie, but she doesn't like sleeping very much. Finally, a group of the toddlers (which they call "Creepy Crawlies" here). They are a lot of fun and work, all at the same time.
Thanks to those who are reading this - hopefully more will follow soon. Sleep well.

who needs sexy when you've got French radio?

I don't quite feel like sleeping yet, so, in the words of the late Peter Sellers,
"Now is zee time."
There are no good excuses for why I haven't posted for so long, but, to the present.
In twelve days I'm climbing onto a plane, and two days later I'll land in Johannesburg, South Africa (It sounds even more exotic if you read the "Johann" like "YoHHCHAANN"). That will mark the beginning of a long-awaited six-month adventure taking care of abandoned babies in an orphanage. It's actually true. I bet most of you have heard me dream randomly to you about this over the past 5 or so years, and now, whether you (or I) actually believe it, it's happening....and I'm getting a tad nervous.
I'd love to tell you all about the orphanage, but I really don't know much myself. Oops. Anyone interested, check out or something like it. Also, I'm going to do my best to keep up this weblog a bit better, like one big mass email, only with a black background. The catch is that I apparently won't have direct access to the internet when I'm at the orphanage (TLC). They apparently give you an email address, but you don't access the interweb. I don't really understand it, but I'm beginning to realize that there are several other things in life that I don't understand either, like time zones, for instance.
So that's the skinny. I'll try to get my new email address out once I'm over there, and if I don't, call my parents. Bethany folks, the number's in the yearbook. Everyone else, 411. That is, assuming anyone wanders across this unchanged wasteland anymore.
Having a little writer's block these days (weeks?), so this post is going to be a record shorty probably. But speaking of "shorty," I think a lot of popular, radio-type music is really unhealthy. I've done a lot of traveling in my car over the last 2 weeks, and current radio music seems to have little to offer in the way of edification or even reality, choosing rather to glorify fancy money and empty, ugly sex. I don't know how a woman can stomach being objectified in that fashion song after song, and I'm furious that merely listening to a few of these empty songs actually begins to tickle me into believing that such an attitude towards women could possibly be acceptable. End of rant. I'm just a little sad, I guess. So I'm spending a lot of time tuned in to Radio Canada (read that all frenchy, like Rad-yo CanaDAAAHH - who needs sexy when you've got French radio?).
Now I think I should get some sleep. Everyone, give folk music a try.

the colour and the air and the wave of the world

I'm not sure I know how to do this anymore.
I'm sure you've all had a two week stretch before where you were so busy you forgot which way was up. I have. Busyness can become physically sickening. There have been so many fun and wonderful things during this busy time. Here's one of them, and it's about clouds again, for goodness sakes. I'm killing me, Smalls!

We've been driving an hour and a half each way to our job site for what seems like forever. I leave the house at 6AM and get back to it around 6:30PM. It makes for a long day. Currently we're building a quonset shed in Shellbrook and to get there, we cross the Petrofka bridge each morning. The mornings are so brilliant these days. About two weeks ago I noticed a change in the air, as if summer had baked this pie to the perfect crisp, releasing the texture and aroma of autumn on our senses. The colour and the air and the wave of the world all sing "Fall" to me, and as much as I'll miss summer, it makes me feel cozy and excited for the winter that will happen here, whether I'm around to see it or not.
Wednesday morning was such a morning and I was napping between jolts as the the work truck roared out to the site when we capped the rise above the North Saskatchewan River valley at Petrofka. I came clear quickly when I saw a thick tuck of clouds lying over the river, drifting soft edges onto the farmland above. Almost as if God had spent a child-like night spreading clean white cotton on the prairie like a freckly red-head spreading her first peanut butter sandwich, and then, seeing the sun rolling in for the day, He wiped a hand across the flats, skimming it away with the moon, and tucking the rest in over the river so He could watch it into the morning. Coasting down into the valley and swooping over the bridge, I could have drunk that fog. I would have liked to have oozed it cool into my eyes like a healing balm. I would love to wash my face with God. I would love to be free from the mess I'm in - I am free by creed, by belief and in truth, but to actually ACT FREE. To REMAIN free from sin and pain and darkness. I would love to hide in the gentle quiet light of God.

It is very much time for me to go home. Peace of Christ be with me I hope, and I know it's the best thing anyone could hope for you, too.

everything good drawn from the earth

It seems every time I finally sit down in front of one of these screens to type a few lines, clouds come to mind. I'm sure I've mentioned before my fascination and true love for all kinds of weather, and I'm beginning to think that clouds are one of my chief passions. The sad thing is, there are only so many ways to describe them without grabbing you all by the hand, pointing up, and saying, "All right, now LOOK!"
If you live anywhere in the Saskatoon area, you probably know about the brief howler that whipped through yesterday afternoon. I was working in Warman when it happened, and feeling very much like the manly construction worker I seem to be (I'm typing that in my best Will Ferrel/Ron Burgundy voice, for those of you who are dry-heaving over that last sentence). We were clearing some brush and trees for a new condo complex, binding up lengths of elm and poplar and stacking them with a big payloader. My colleagues and I worked quickly as we watched the clouds roll in, although "roll" is not the right word for what they did. They seemed to start somewhere just east of North Battleford, and then not move towards us, but swell exponentially from that point instead, like ripe and raging foam from a giant, slow fire extinguisher, towering and leaning out and over us. We exchanged brave phrases like "You guys don't mind workin' in the rain, eh?" and "Let's finish this today!" When the wind hit the ground and exploded across the site, we all looked and sounded less brave. The rain came slowly, 3 and 4 drops, and then thousands in the next breath. I was quite safe in the loader, and so I momentarily kept working, piling some knotty stumps on top of the scrub pile. Nathan, a co-worker, suddenly yelled "Wait!" so I yanked the park brake and looked to see what he wanted. He rushed around the loader to the side sheltered from the storm, and looked up with an innocent smile. "Okay go ahead." I spent about 45 seconds outside the loader before driving it back to the shop, and I was thoroughly soaked.
I didn't truly see the fury of that storm, however, until I arrived home to find our neighbour's GIANT poplar had dropped 15 year old limbs all over our driveway and lawn. I headed right back to the shop and borrowed a chainsaw for the night. Needless to say, my restful evening was "postponed", but I did get to run the chainsaw (making me feel even more manly) and when that broke, I finally had a good reason to use my axe. The fallen limbs fled apart before it - it was almost like they wanted to be separated into 6 foot lengths. My axe is so strong and keen and wonderful, and poplar is so soft and moist and yielding. There is nothing quite like the texture of wood in a broken tree limb. The heart of a tree feels almost as if you could mold and shape it, nearly soft enough to run through your fingers and give you everything good drawn from the earth. The smell is so fresh and new; sweet and thick, bitter and like green water would smell if it smelled good. Once when I was pruning a similar tree, perched high in its boughs with a blunt saw and rope, I was overcome by the smells and textures and actually took a small bite from the bark. It tasted quite similar to the smell, but I was instantly set back by the reality that I was just not built to chew through wood (a truth you'd think I would have learned after the "eat-an-entire-banana-stalk-and-all" incident in Bible college).
All in all, it felt good to cut wood again and enjoy some sweet clouds. But I have work to do. I came to this computer to finish applying at an orphanage I hope to serve in in South Africa this winter, and my time is almost up. So off I go. God go with us.

like brothers who love each other

Shoot. If you're actually reading this, I commend you. I'll be amazed if anyone still checks this.
My sister got married on May 20, and, as a bridesmaid, my life on and around that date was both delightful and busy. Blogging has not been a priority. I've had all sorts of things to write about, and no time to write any of it down. Here goes.
Hey Saskatoonareans, how about the weather these days? Heat in the day, electricity in the night. On Tuesday morning was the Crackaboom. At 5:30AM my alarm went as usual - sigh - so I turned on my lamp, stumbled out of bed, put on some of my clothes, and then fell back into bed. About 5 seconds had passed by then, and suddenly the lights went out, then back on, and then crrrrackaBOOM. The thunder was so loud and scary I had to scowl and climb under the covers like a little boy. I was freaked out.
Also, I've been watching these horses that live halfway between Dalmeny and the # 16. If ever the weather is changing or the night is deep and dark, they're restless. I was humming home from Kids Cub the other night, and the sky was on the move. The clouds were drifting and towering and tearing from earth to earth, and when I put my elbow out my window to rest my head on my hand, the evening air rushed right into my eyes and nose like ice wine and grey hikes in steep, sparse trees. It was all I could do to keep my eyes open; if you're like me, when you sense something good and true, you shut down as many of the other senses as you can and try to ooze it all in. Anyway, all this was happening, but I took a break to check out those horses, and they were on the move, like brothers who love each other and want nothing more than to tick each other off. They were dancing in short movements, speaking an out of this world cause and effect body language without sound. It was the same as the dark nights, except the brothers were focusing on the fence. And as I flew by, I saw a dirty little fox across the fence from them. If only I had been going slower to catch more then the 110km/hr snapshot I caught. Were they angry? Were they confused? Were they excited? I'll never know because I drive too fast.
This has been a bit of a ramble. I'll get back in the swing soon I hope. My limited internet access has made the swing hard to get into, but I just found a window. Dana and Erica said I can come blog at their apartment anytime. And I am here. What a perfect place; cool air, quiet enough, foreign languages wandering in the open window. Thanks Dana and Erica.
Before the end, I have to say I can't get enough of these kids. I write about them every time, and I'm running out of words, but for me it's like new each time. Each relationship, each deep dark eye, each hug, each tug on my beard, each "You look silly", each shoulder ride, each time a tiny set of butt-cheeks finds a spare 3 inches on my lap. Each ounce of love is so true and alive here. Here's another thing I've said before; it's time to learn about true love.
It's 20 to 10 and I have to get up at 5:30AM to get ready for work. I'm not even home yet. My lunch is unmade and I'm still filthy from the sock tan line up. Peace of Christ go with you.

a riot in brown and black

Poor Shannon was being attacked and the only thing I could do was let the kids play with my hair, too. There were at least five kids hanging off her head, so I distracted two or three long enough for her to get a break. I was squinting against the pain and steeling myself for a few grueling moments of "hair care," when I heard a harsh snip sound from somewhere behind my head. It didn't register until several of the girls gasped and a little hand appeared in front of my eyes clutching a two-inch tuft of my hair between greasy fingers. I looked at it for a while, and then took it in my hand, and then looked at little 3 year old Ali, a tiny, silent Afghani boy who had no idea he had done anything wrong. His eyes were completely clear; he wasn't lying or joking or even mischevious. Ali simply got caught up in the fun, picked up some scissors, had a thought, and acted on it. I have more than enough hair to go around, so it's actually no big deal.
It's hard to describe what Kids' Club is like these days. Most of the club has moved outside, so it's impossible to distinguish who's there for club, and who's just playing outside. It's like a riot in brown and black; a symphony in screams and ivory smiles. The children are so wonderful. When the evening was over, I slipped into my car, rolled down my window and tuned up Saskatoon's French Jazz station (88.7). Smooth jazz and North African lyrics floated around me and the city lights passed fast and slow as I rolled around corners, light to light, stop to start, smelling the air and watching the people. Then sun was a half inch out of sight, and a big cloud was torn open in the west, dropping long fringes into the gold and orange, and all I could feel was love. This is going to sound sappy but I even said it out loud a few times. "Love, love, love." From within those kids oozes the good in humanity; maybe even the goodness of God. Bright eyes, soft hands, quick simple words, and long hugs and deep touches. The color in the sky was a glimpse of Heaven, a glimmer of peace and simple joy after a long day of concrete and crooked back. In that moment I felt like God was drawing out the final strains of the song before He dropped the lid on the day.
So thank You God for Wednesdays. All the glory and the love and the beauty comes from You. It all belongs to You. Thank You for putting us here. Teach me to love You.

Lighter notes: I accidentally bought a guitar the other day at Underdog Music on 2nd Ave in Saskatoon (check it out; very HEL-esque). It's apparently one of the first Seagull acoustics ever made, 100% cedar, good volume, good action, good vibration. And only $294. Half an hour after I saw it I bought it and left. Once the shock of what I had just done wore off, I began to really love the guitar.
Also ... I was walking one evening about a week ago and I saw a pile of snow sitting against a puddle. The water was still and it threw a reflection that reminded me of the Livingstone Range northwest of Pincher Creek; a long line of tall, snowy mountain crowned with brooding November cloud and a false promise of snow. If anyone from Pincher Creek still checks this, I miss you folks all the time.
Everyone sleep well and may we meet Jesus Christ this weekend and forever.

giggling in the wings

Once again, it's been a long time - and I doubt this one'll be worth writing home about. I'm sitting at a lethargic old computer in Jimmy Java and I've got maybe 9 minutes left.
I got a job. I work for Janzen Steel Buildings and I am currently helping to build a steel building. I work hard and come home tired. I spend my days out in the weather, and, when the rubber meets the road, I wouldn't have it any other way. Saturday is usually a write-off after a full week, but by Sunday I am usually border-line excited to get back to work.
Today is an especially quiet Sunday. A Vancouver Sunday, complete with thin rain and a warm bookstore. Peppermint tea makes so much sense on a day like today.
I haven't exactly impressed myself today, but I suppose I'll be okay. Whomever wrote the adagde about idle hands being up to no good was right on. Lying around does not bring out the best in me.
Here's a couple good things. My good buddy Matt is back in town. Dana is back from Ethiopia/India. I really like my job. And spring is giggling in the wings, itching to come out and party. I hope you're feelin' wherever you are today. Maybe it's melting, maybe it's mild, maybe it just smells different. I just hope you're feeling some spring today.
I'm going to go watch King Kong now. I hope you'll hear from me again soon. It sure warms a guy up to hear all your comments. Peace of Christ stay with you this week.