Hollyhock Memories

Likely there are lots of people who do not know what a hollyhock is. But we grew them in Oklahoma. I remember that they were Mom's favorite flowers. Our old clapboard house wasn't much to look at, surrounded by farm land and a chicken house on one side, and a brooder house for baby chicks on the other, with a woodpile in between for the woodburning stove. The cellar was behind the house, a place where Mom stored canned goods and where we feared to go when the tornadoes came, because there might be scorpions or snakes down there. An old chinaberry sat determinedly near the front porch. Mom had tried to cut it out and my brother and I helped because Dad's favorite switching stick was a limber green limb from that tree.

Mom planted hollyhocks all across the front of the house and the sides - yellow and pink and white and something nearly red. I had no idea it would create such a vivid and lasting memory for me. What I seem to remember best from my childhood are the things my mother loved.

She loved the poor family down the road, the Ballards who lived in a rented house and had even less than we did.
She loved the church and worked hard for her kindergarten class - for 23 years.
She loved every hollyhock.

Today I was rereading the little jewel Safed the Sage by William Barton. He also loved hollyhocks and planted them each place where he lived, moving about now and then as preachers often did. Hollyhocks I Transplanted is a great little treatise on suffering in God's plan. And his story in which spring has come because you can anticipate it in the seeds from the mail order store is a lifter of the spirit. Reading his book made me think of Mom again. I often go for months without strong memories of Mom, but when I do remember I feel the pain of losing her. I'm 7 years older than she was when she died. I have no regrets, for her life was good, even with the suffering. But I do wish she had been given more time with my daughter, for I treasured the moments I saw them together.

Ah, well, as Safed says, now the hollyhocks rest secure in their bed hard by the house of God.

Rest in peace, charles

Things Go Wrong

Things go wrong even on wonderful days. Yesterday the Team of Made in the Streets went to the Eastleigh slum to visit the "bases" where street kids sleep. It's a great time that kids who sleep on the streets really enjoy; they experience the care the Team has for them. And those of us who stayed at Kamulu with the street kids who are now our students also had a great time, experiencing once again what a great group of kids we have now. Reading books and playing games and sharing lunch and writing letters -- it's all a great experience.

And our construction projects are coming along well. Darlene and I are building our own home on a piece of land we own near the girls' center; the trusses and stringers went up yesterday. And the John Connor Brown Memorial Training Facility, where we will teach hairdressing and cooking, is nearing completion. There are so many good things in our lives and ministry.

But things still go wrong. We have been getting ready for the Conejo Valley Church in Thousand Oaks, CA, to visit, and they arrived last night. We had a toilet to repair in the women's guest quarters, and John Wambu and I turned off the water to the girls' center and removed the toilet so he could repair it. And of course I misplaced my glasses -- this happens every day (I think it's a sign of my age), and I went into the guest quarters to look for them. Now the kids had finished lunch and were doing some work on the farm, watering banana trees and pulling weeds and such, and they were working behind the girls' center. Of course no one admitted turning on the water valve at the back of the compound, but when I walked into the guest quarters, it was a flood, and water was spurting out of the open pipe where the toilet had been. I had to hold the end of the pipe, and I felt like the Dutch boy as I yelled at the kids outside. No one seemed to know where the valve was, and one of the farm workers ran all the way to the boys' center to turn off the water from the main tanks. Good thing I have a cell phone; I called John, and he came back from working on the toilet (with his one leg!) and turned it off.

Then I was called out by Joel and a couple of the church members. Samuel Mburu, a member of the church who was taught in World Bible School, had fallen off a donkey, who got spooked and turned the cart over, which crushed Samuel's leg; The bone above the ankle was sticking out. Joel took our car and I gave him some money to rush Samuel to the hospital. Upon getting there, Samuel and Joel and the family waited for hours while getting the runaround. Of course the national hospital is always very busy. Samuel was in great pain, but was finally tended to in the middle of the night.

We have been beautifying some of the property, and we have 4 of our older boys painting at the boys' center. They have used up 40 liters of white paint and 8 liters of cream. Darlene and I went up to the boys' center to lock up the guest quarters there, where we had painted the bathroom and touched up the room and door. The place looks great. But it started raining, and it's about half a mile home. We were soaked when we got home, but it's not so bad, since we love the rain, and at this time of year, the rain is welcome.

But that also meant we didn't get to go over to see Susie, a 9 year old whose birthday was yesterday. We had a present and some goodies to eat for her, but the rain prevented it. She was disappointed.

So bad things happen on good days. It is part of the life that God has given us. We are to remember that it is not this life that is permanent. We are not to get too comfortable in this world, but to remember that this world is not our home. Bad things happen on good days to remind us that our trust is in the unseen, the God who sees us.

Can we learn to rejoice even as the bad things are happening?