Akisyon a Yesu, the name of our clinic, translates to “The Compassion of Jesus.” It’s the name on the roadside sign, the first thing you notice when you come to the gate. It’s also at the heart of the tension that I have felt ever
reflections
When we closed the clinic a month ago, the local leaders, in our first meeting on the subject, said “You have to open the clinic, otherwise people are going to die.” It’s easy to dismiss this as a rhetorical flourish, a hallmark of Karimojong oratorical
Now therefore, thus says the Lord of hosts: Consider your ways. You have sown much and harvested little. You eat, but you never have enough. You drink, but you never have your fill. You clothe yourselves, but no one is warm. And he who earns
The cost of presence is absence. To want to be everywhere at once, is to want to be God. Yet in this nomadic life I often mourn my limitation to one place, one body. I have felt this price keenly since coming back from furlough
In my feeble attempts to observe Lent this year I read (mostly) a devotional by Walter Brueggemann, A Way Other Than Our Own. It has short daily devotionals and prayers, just enough for a busy mother to be able to swallow each day. In one entry,
My own conversion to Advent appreciation came several years before our children. A combination of authors I was reading at the time, that love-to-hate relationship most people, myself included, have with the ever-greater and ever-earlier commercial observances of Christmas, and a new marriage with its
Since Chloe and I have returned to the field with new, super-official OPC creds, we were asked to write short biographies for the OPC newsletter, New Horizons. Since not all of you subscribe, or if you do, you may be wondering why one would keep
This morning Mount Kadam wore a wig. A judge’s wig, with white puffy curls that blew behind him in the wind. He monopolizes our southern sky, as we live, sleep and work in the fringes of his robe. He gazed toward the pink and orange
