blessing or curse?

Coming to Uganda has not allowed me to escape the blessings and curses associated with the acquisition of natural resources. In fact, I'm consciously more exposed to conflicting perceptions and understandings. Some of you may have heard that large oil reserves are suspected to be found in western Uganda. After limited public discussions and international debates, oil exploration near Lake Albert has been initiated. Lake Albert divides Uganda on the west with the Democratic Republic of Congo, and is found approximately three hours west of my home in Ikoba. The opportunity of visiting Murchison Falls allowed me to observe some of the initial consequences of oil exploration. Despite park regulations and agreements, machinery is found and oil exploration activities are conducted within unapproved areas. Discussing the effects of oil exploration with a Uganda Wildlife Authority (UWA) employee revealed an acute awareness of, yet indifference to, the destructrion associated with oil exploitation. Just a few weeks have passed since exploration began, yet large mammals have begun relocating due to the obtrusions within their habitat. Vegetation and landscape are no longer untouched, rather fencing and markers are created as boundaries for the employees.

Although the discovery of oil no doubt can create economic benefits in the form of employment, of increased revenue from exports, and of furthering the economy simply by having access to a resource that is defined as necessary for development, oil can also lead to economic decline. Foreign investment and companies will acquire the wealth and temporary benefits rather than the local communities who labour. Additionally, the site of the oil is in a popular tourist attraction, namely Murchison Falls. As a country dependent on tourism for signifcant revenue, to begin extraction of oil in a tourist site will yeild to revenue losses in the tourism industry. Is a temporary source of high income better than a permanant source of stabilized income? In terms of the environment, little is known about the specific effects of oil exploration. However, we are all aware of the ways in which exploiting the environment has led to and will lead to environmental degradation in its many forms. In sum, I disapprove of the oil exploration taking place in Murchison Falls based on the economic, social, and environmental concerns.

But perhaps my disapproval is all too easily identified and critiqued from a foreigner's perspective who daily lives in over-abundance. I know that I will always have access to nutritional food, to health care, to education, to opportunities for travel, to employment, to leisure and relaxation, to spiritual growth, to safety, to loving and supporting friends and family. As a Canadian individual living in Uganda, I don't need the economic benefits of oil. But as a Ugandan living in Uganda, I do need the economic benefits of oil. With a family of over eight children, with land sufficient only to adequately feed three mouths, with an unemployed husband, with children who lack access to education, with fatal illnesses easily acquired but no treatment available, with clothing only to cover a fraction of the body, with wounds continuing to open, am I selfish for wanting money immediately? Or am I a loving mother who truly desires the best for my children? I don't know the advisable approach to such a dilemma. Easy for me as a Canadian to refuse and reject the practices of oil exploration but how do I sufficiently explain my reasoning to the millions of people who daily struggle to eat one basic meal that hardly meets the nutritional demand of the child who labours eight hours digging and planting and weeding in the garden? How do I visit my friend's small, broken, home that accompanies a growing family, and honestly tell them that money accumulated from oil will not be beneficial?

Am I being selfish for wanting to stop oil exploration? Am I consequently hindering the possibility for Uganda to develop, to improve, to be rid of poverty and injustice? Or is my desire to stop oil exploration rooted in my shame that oil exploration too often results in exploitation of undeveloped countries? Continuing to search for and discover oil will not allow Uganda to develop, but I fear instead the oil companies, and consequently the powerful nations of the west, will further their wealth and destruction. Instead of bringing economic stability to Uganda, oil exploration may bring increased poverty.

While I recognize the impossibility of me being able to stop oil exploration, I know I can stop exploiting the poor. Instead of purchasing clothing created by young orphans, instead of purchasing medications that were tested on vulnerable weakened patients in developing nations resulting in unaccountable deaths, instead of consuming foods whose profit does not benefit the depressed, exhausted farmer desperately trying to provide for his family and his family's family, instead of by-passing the fearful, lonely woman on the street who does not know where she will rest her head because she was evicted out of her home, I will do something. I will listen, I will talk, I will cry, I will laugh, I will share, I will borrow, I will give, I will receive. I will experience life with the poor and become one of the poor. Yet is it truly possible for a white Canadian to become one of the poor here? Can I really experience hunger and the fear of not knowing when I'll eat? Experience disease and not receive adequate treatment? Have no bed or shelter to house my body at night? Feel isolation from the community?

I truly am blessed and cursed. I have been blessed with so much (food, shelter, family, friends, education, leisure, health, employment, security), but having results in seeing what others don't have and feeling shame, guilt, selfish. I am cursed because I am blessed.

thanksgiving

Walking to school early morning on Sunday November 25, I felt the effects of a heavy and loud rainstorm: the moist green grass, the softened red soil and the cool breeze. Not the optimal environmental conditions for attending an outdoor thanksgiving party. Regardless, as I approached the school compound, the cool breeze was replaced by laughter, excitement, anxiousness, and some confusion as 30 students prepared to attend the party as dancers and entertainers. After a hurried consumption of porridge, five day scholars (students who are not boarders) ran to where the coaster buses remained waiting. The white bus soon filled with students, drums, and costumes. After some re-arrangement, the dozen staff members were seated, causing the capacity of the bus to surpass the legal limit of passengers - a common occurrence for public transport. The blue coaster bus was reserved for villagers attending the party, including my host mother. We departed from school expecting to drive the 50 miles to Hoima in time for the church service scheduled at 10 am. Like students worldwide, the bus ride was characterized by songs (both in Runyoro and in English), clapping, and noise. Blue and white decorations quickly identified the site of the party: beginning at the church then proceeding across the street to the home of the Head Teacher (HT). The church service was fully attended, with many people sitting outside because of insufficient seating inside. Following the service, heavy rains prevented us from relocating 500m to the HT's home, so we sat inside the church singing and dancing. Once we arrived at the HT's home, entertainment and eating began. We first enjoyed some traditional dances performed by the students, followed by some speeches and additional entertainment. The cake was cut and served then around 4:00 we lined up for lunch. The party was organized to give thanks to God for His healing power and mercy. The HT had been very ill with breast cancer but miraculously recovered within a few months, although she continues to feel the effects of having cancer. Thus it was necessary to publicly thank God for His healing, praise Him for His grace, and thank family and friends for their support.

As we were celebrating and being thankful, the Commonwealth Heads of Government Meeting (CHOGM) was concluding in Kampala. At this meeting, of which Canada was a participant, issues surrounding poverty, human rights, the environment, education, and sustainable development were discussed. Leading up to CHOGM, there had been significant media criticism and concern about the credibility and validity of the meeting. Yet I am reminded of the HT's life: although still weak and fighting cancer, she chose to give thanks for the healing that has already occurred. Similarly, we must also chose to give thanks for the blessings we have and trust God for His provisions of our needs. Despite the challenges and struggles, the commonwealth countries and individuals worldwide must celebrate God's power and love even though it may not be fulfilled as we desire. With God's strength we shall continue to fight the evils of this world in hope for the eternal life promised to us.

I am thankful for the many blessings I experience here in Uganda. My physical needs are met because I know I will always be supplied with food, water, shelter, and clothing. My social needs are met as I converse with friends, share experiences together, and learn together. My spiritual needs are met mostly through some highly encouraging and challenging discussions with Ugandans. I give thanks for what God has done, and trust God for His continued provision of my needs as I approach a new year and the Christmas season. Thanks.

satisfaction

While highly significant and necessary in Ugandan culture, being served meals results in a loss of personal control over the quantity and type of food I eat. Consequently, too often some of my food remains untouched because my stomach has not quite yet adjusted to accommodate the abundant, hearty, carb-loaded meals. To inform my hosts that I have thankfully enjoyed sufficient food, I politely say "Thank you for cooking. I am satisfied.". In response, hosts may accept this statement as valid, or may offer additional food, or may (inaccurately) conclude my distaste for certain foods. Thus I am learning that being satisfied may bring contentment or may bring disapproval.

On a more philosophical note, satisfaction is good because we reveal a level of contentment, of joy, of pleasure, and of wholesomeness. Perhaps more importantly, acknowledging satisfaction affirms the many effective, productive, and healthy aspects of life. We begin to develop a positive construction of the world, in which gratitude, appreciation, and learning evolve. Moreover, being satisfied allows for personal and communal enjoyment without engaging in gluttonous behaviours. We sufficiently enjoy the blessings of God in their many forms, giving thanks for His provisions and promises. In essence, we must be thankful for and satisfied with that which we have: friends, food, and fun, and not lustfully desire more.

Alternatively, satisfaction can result in stagnant behaviours, misunderstandings, disapproval, or lack of motivation. Constantly being satisfied yields a lack of opportunity to improve, to grow, and to develop. Dissatisfaction helps us to understand our weaknesses and failures, ultimately enabling us to strengthen our character and environment as desired. Moreover, we learn about the nature of ourselves, our community, and our world as we identify dissatisfactions because we understand faults and areas for improvement. Thus, being dissatisfied helps us to conceptualize and practice virtues as they relate to our specific situation. Overall then, dissatisfaction is also healthy because we are constantly being challenged in all facets of life.

Now when asked if I am satisfied, I have learned that both the affirmative and the negative are appropriate, reasonable, and expected responses. As I thank my hosts for cooking, affirming "I am satisfied", I must ask myself am I really satisfied? In some circumstances I am, but I also hope dissatisfaction will continue to infiltrate areas of my life in which struggles can become accomplishments, failures become successes, fears become pleasures. A wise teacher here advised me that it is natural for all human beings to have problems. In other words, to be healthy and functional, we must balance satisfaction and dissatisfaction.

net ball

Within the daily routines, each day boasts of new learning. Whether I develop more Runyoro vocabulary, meet a smiling person full of curiosity, indulge my taste buds in new foods, learn a traditional custom, or gain greater understanding of Ugandan society, I happily rest my head on my soft pillow at night thanking God I am still able to acquire new abilities and knowledge. One of my personal more enjoyable new learning experiences has been learning to play net ball. Foreign in Canada, my only exposure to the game was through watching sports highlights on UBC (Uganda's Broadcasting Channel). Even though I lacked any experience, my curiosity led me to organize a game. With a personal belief that effective teaching and learning is achieved by doing or experiencing, I decided it best to actually play to learn. So, after a heavy rain on a Saturday afternoon, I put on my sports cothes, equipped with sunscreen and a water bottle, and walked to school for a schedule game of net ball.

With an understanding of the basic rules, we divided into 2 teams of 7 each, and positioned ourselves accordingly. Thus began a couple of hours of confusion, of fun, of jumping, of diving, of shooting, of falling, of congratulations, of disappointment, of questions, and of laughter. I won't go into detail explaining the rules but do consider net ball a combination of handball and basketball. I thoroughly enjoyed being engaged, once again, in organized sports that I returned the following day after church to play again. Amid the visible reflections of net ball, my body reveals my sometimes successful, sometimes failing attempts to play: bruised legs, scratches, fatigues muscles, grass-stained clothing.

Net ball has also been beneficial in non-visible ways, by helping me to demonstrate that females are capable of playing various sports, of throwing and catching, of co-ordination and balance. Whereas males play soccer, females are restricted to playing net ball. To people's surprise, maybe even disapproval, I proudly tell people I have played soccer, baseball, basketball, volleyball, football, and field hockey among other sports throughout my life. Although I don't intend on changing traditional activities, I do hope to provide equal opportunities for males and females. I encourage both males and females, for example, to become involved in playing volleyball. Within the next week, I will begin instructing students on proper volleyball playing techniques and skills. Instead of preparing myself for the football field, I will get ready for the net ball pitch. Perhaps I shall share this new sport with Canada when I return.

why?

Having correctly answered my English or Mathematics question, I now stand in front of my students and ask of them this particular question: why? Although correct, I want the students to develop critical thinking skills that will enable them to account for their particular reasons for doing certain tasks or responding to situations in a particular manner. To know why something is correct demonstrates a more complete understanding of and comprehension of a concept, an issue, or a rule. In turn, this comprehension will enable the students to respond favourably in similar situations and to effectively analyze future problems and possible solutions. In response to my question, I receive questioning looks from students or bowed faces, silence, and uncomfortable squirming. Undoubtedly, students are rarely asked to provide explanations for their answers. In consequence, students fail to acquire critical thinking skills as well as creative problem solving strategies. Alternatively, students develop excellent memory skills because they are required to simply memorize and reiterate all material taught. By probing, encouraging, positively reinforcing student responses, and using group discussions, among other teachings trategies, I am slowly beginning to yield constructive results. The silence that once haunted the classroom has now become a very dull and faint murmur. But in reflecting on the silence initially produced, I have begun to draw a comparison between the students' response and the western practice of always needing to question our behaviour, our motives, our procedures, and ultimately our lives.

I now ask myself the same question: why? Perhaps the most obvious is why am I here? Why am I teaching English and Math? Why am I living with a Ugandan family? Why one year? Why? Instead of practicing what I teach, namely to think critically about the answer to such questions, I shall follow in the footsteps of my students. I will be silent. In contrast to deconstructing and analyzing such questions, I have faith. I am learning that faith is critical to my spiritual, emotional, relational, and physical health. Faith in God for spiritual renewal and nurture, for emotional stability, for strength in and healing in friendships, and for physical safety allow me to cast aside burdening anxieties and imposing criticisms. Although I fail to completely understand the extent of my role here, I understand that there will be mutual transformation, both in the present and future. The beauty seen, the laughter heard, the people I touch, the heavy rain tasted, and the fertile soil I smell, is enjoyed by, possible through, and continues in faith.

In trying to teach my students critical thinking and creative problem solving strategies, the students have taught me to live by faith. To not always demand answers for questions affirms our reliance upon God's grace, love, and compassion. More importantly, I am learning that we need both silence and discussion, faith and questions.

independence

As I began preparing an English unit focusing on Independence Day, which in Uganda is celebrated on October 9, I began questioning the perceived and actual meaning of independence. To not be dependent on someone or something, to complete a task or live individually, or to be separate from the actions of others explains independence. Highly valued, taught, and sought, independence proudly defines the characteristics of the people from whom I established my rudimentary worldview, namely the western world. Goals of living individually, obtaining employment outside the family, and creating distinct compartments of life separate from each other penetrate our minds. Conversely, independence is rarely alluded to in Uganda. The entire notion of being individual or, alternatively, communal is not discussed. Rather, life continues irrespective of how society is structured.

Having spent over one month in Uganda, I am beginning to conclude that the social structure of the west is not as dissimilar to Uganda as once perceived and believed. Instead, the difference rests in the way in which the west emphasizes the pursuit of independence compared to Uganda's acceptance of the natural social structure. Although the west idealizes and boasts of independence, in reality the west is as estranged from being independent as are Ugandans and non-western nations. Simply examine the origin of the various products you consume and you will notice that the vast majority are imported. Research the background of the technology you utilize or the entertainment you enjoy. Count the number of people employed before you are able to use a product effectively. Virtually impossible to rely solely on one's own, we must embrace the natural tendency to unite with people to produce effective, or ineffective, results. Such a relationship is defined as interdependence. Interdependence supports our needs and the needs of others including our need to give, to share, to serve, and to befriend.

I cannot even imagine desiring a life of independence. Constantly relying on my own inexperiences, lack of concrete understanding, untrained skills, and immature beliefs would certainly lead to my emotional, physical, and spiritual destitute, deprivation, poverty, and ultimately death. Instead, I embrace interdependence, or the ability to share life while still maintaining a personal sense of accomplishment, of learning, of ability, and of purpose. Undoubtedly, I would have failed to experience many joys here in Uganda if I sought a life of independence: no shared laughter as I unintentionally shower my back with soil while digging barefoot in the garden, no surprised and proud faces as I converse in Runyoro, no welcoming hugs as I enter the internet cafe, no one to teach me how to evict a poisonous black snake from the latrine, no courageous person to spray the unwanted cockroaches, no generous offer to share tea while examining photo albums and telling stories.

Happy Independence Day. I think instead I will celebrate my interdependence by recognizing my need for others: the skills, knowledge, presence, comfort, and resources. Such acknowledgement is not a weakness but an affirmation of God's most important creation, namely humans. I celebrated Uganda's expressed legal independence, but ultimately I unite with Ugandans to celebrate our interdependence. So thank you for sharing life with me and letting me share life with you.

let's pray

These two words embody powerful meaning and consequence. Not simply sacred to the church, before meals, or during personal devotions, this phrase is as common and expected as the bright light from above. Bidding safe journeys to visitors, meeting a weakened person, discovering mental turmoil, enduring personal or social struggles all demand intentional gathering of people whose purpose is to pray. No longer an indiviual responsibility, prayer meetings are announced to corporately share problems with each other and with God. Upon knowledge of any type of emotional, mental, physical, or relational burden, people nearby immediately petition for God's deliverance, healing, comfort, and love. Belief of God's power is ever present, with an acute realization of God's ultimate control over our lives which sometimes results in pain, suffering, and afflications. Despite such obtrusions, dependence on God is acknowledged and provides spiritual peace.

Alternatively, prayer is not simply restricted to times of struggle. Thanksgiving for salvation, healing, deliverance, and fulfillment of promises is necessary to the health of the church body and each individual person. By recognizing God's power, we ultimately demonstrate understanding that, unlike human incapacity, God saves, heals, and delivers. Publically rejoicing and offering praise attests to God's character and grace. Furthermore, such proclamation not only reveals God's power, but relieves us of blame, shame, or guilt when struggles do arrive.

I am continuing to learn of the magnitude and effect of prayers. Thankfully, prayer has no limitations or restrictions: available to all, at any time, in any form of communication, under any circumstance. Through prayer, we begin to appreciate who God is and how we are intimately connected to each other and to God.

Amen.

liberator

Of critical importance to learning the Runyoro language is mastering greetings. I have quickly learned that proper greeting is a measure of acceptance in this country, of friendliness, of companionship, and of politeness. Thus, my first two hour language session was spent learning and understanding the nature of greetings. A main aspect of greetings in Runyoro is the adoption of a pet name. With a limited number of pet names, about 13 to 15, I have met numerous people who share the same pet name. I personally share the same pet name as my host mother and my language tutor: Akiiki, meaning liberator.

Liberator. The word invokes images of release from bondage, of making free, of empowerment. Inasmuch as I hope to bring liberation to many of my Ugandan friends, I am equally hoping to become liberated. Historical western practices have created an unequal relationship between colonizers and the colonized. In consequence, colonized nations have been forced into dependency on colonizing nations. Similarly, the colonizing nations are also bonded to their former colonies. The liberation then, of former colonies is intimately integrated with the liberation of colonizing nations from their colonies. In a more personal situation, my liberation from the prejudices, assumptions, privileges, and supremacy afforded to white people is intimately connected with the liberation of my Ugandan family and friends.

Naturally, to share the same pet name with my host mother and my tutor is not simply coincidental. I am called liberator because there are beliefs that the knowledge, skills, and presence of white people bring liberation. My mother and tutor are called liberator because they also share knowledge, skills, and presence to liberate me from the history of mistreatment inflicted on non-whites by whites. Liberation is an intentional process made possible through forgiveness, grace, and compassion. May God bless my relationships with these such characteristics so that liberation might begin.

diversion

The drive from Kampala to Ikoba revealed concrete evidence of a country attempting to become more developed. Among such reminders were red and white signs warning motorists and bypassers of a "diversion". Rerouted to avoid construction and infrastructure improvement, vehicles became trapped behind each other. A main reason for such diversion is to improve and create. Despite the temporary inconveniences, annoyances, frustrations, and waiting, a diversion will help this country develop efficient transportation routes.

My life has immediately encountered a diversion. I experience inconveniences, annoyances, frustrations, and waiting. Yet I am relieved that this temporary state will produce growth, efficiency, creation, improvement, and learning. Even throughout the diversion, hope and appreciation flourish. Hope for betterment, for learning, for refreshment. Appreciation of the past, present, and the future, of history, immediacy, and vision. I pray my life will continue to be filled with diversions: periods of necessary rerouting away from the familiar and comfortable filled with growth, challenge, learning, and beauty.

home

Enduring two long airplane rides, albeit with nutritious and satisfying meals and entertainment, a day touring London with other friends, and sleepless nights aboard the aircraft which allowed us no more than five hours of sleep in two days, Megan and I safely stepped on the soils of Uganda. Nonetheless, we have been blessed with traveling safeties, warm greetings, well wishes, and invaluable support. Thank you to those who have been praying for us, supporting us, and sending emails or other communications.

Tomorrow will be my initial encounter with what I will define my home for the next year. I continue to marvel that my dream of living in and embracing African culture will soon become reality. I patiently anticipate each opportunity to engage in Ugandan community, in Ugandan joy, in Ugandan struggles, in Ugandan laughter, and in Ugandan pain. Only God knows how the path of my life will be shaped, molded, straightened, cut, and softened by the experiences of which I choose to become part. Beginning with language training over the next couple of weeks, I will actively seek opportunities to develop and nurture relationships and friendships. Only upon these relationships and friendships can I begin to define my home.
HOME is Hope, Openness, Memories, and Experiences.

shoes

Just a few days remain before my shoes which are embedded with Canadian mud and American grass will mix with Ugandan dust. Although my running shoes have been in my possession less than one year, they are accompanied with memories, stories, experiences, pain, victory, and uncertainty. My shoes have supported my body running through suburban neighbourhoods, sprinting along gravel pathways, pedaling faster on my bicycle, tracking a football for a touchdown, jumping to block a spike, and various other endeavours. Through endurance, flexibility, movement, and willingness, my shoes have offered me comfort, protection, stability, and growth.

These same shoes will travel with me to Uganda. Additional memories, stories, experiences, pain, victory, and uncertainty will follow. With hope and and humility, I will learn to mold a new pair of shoes according to my life in Uganda. Yet unlike my current running shoes, these shoes will be uniquely Ugandan. They will not possess the Western assumptions, power, wealth, and values. While the wearer of these shoes will offer a Canadian perspective based on personal experiences and limited knowledge, the shoes will ultimately mold to the Ugandan landscape, the Ugandan pathways, the Ugandan mountains, and the Ugandan valleys. Through personal endurance, flexibility, movement, and willingness, these Ugandan shoes will offer me comfort, protection, stability, and growth.

beach

After a needed coffee stop at Timmy's for those who malfunction without their caffeine, we headed off to Point Franks to spend the day relaxing, playing football, volleyball, and building sand objects. We left the overcast and humid weather in Waterloo, opting instead for the somewhat cloudy but hot temperatures near Grand Bend. Unfortunately I cannot comment about the scenic drive there since I was sleeping in the backseat.

The water was clear, a pleasant temperature, and provided excellent opportunities for swimming, for throwing each other, for engaging in chicken fights (to which I can attest my friend and I proudly won), and for playing football.

Molded, dampened, and shaped from our hands, the neutral-coloured granular sand soon took the form of a sea turtle. Later, however, a family also seeking refuge at the beach strategically placed their belongings in the direct presence of the turtle. It appears this particular type of turtle has now become endangered. More sand later became the mode of transportation rarely adopted by my sister, namely a kayak. Standing waist-deep in sand, my sister was equipped with a branch-like paddle as she maneuvered her sand kayak which was complete with "bungee-wood".

The beach always seems to entice people to bring fresh fruit, candy, and snack foods. After indulging in sweet green grapes, we soon planted a grape forest. Unfortunately, the grape forest was deforested by loggers (also referred to as people's feet). Not to worry, though, I reforested the grape forest, but alas I fear the soils are not fertile enough at the beach to support my ambitious endeavours. Overall though, it certainly was a relaxing and fun adventure at the beach!!

camping

Gratefully, after 22 years I can finally confidently assert that I have “gone camping”. We arrived at our site early Friday afternoon where I learned how to assemble and position a tent. Once our supplies had been properly unpacked and stored, I began to crave adventure. Equipped with my mountain bicycle, I set off to locate the various trails in the campground. Later that evening, red and orange flames rose from the fire pit as we grilled our pizza sandwiches and later, our s’mores. My first evening sleeping in a tent produced no dramatic stories or exciting events - only a very strange dream. I awoke not to the sounds of animals or humans, nor to the brightness of the sun, but simply because my body wanted to be rid of it’s restraint in a sleeping bag. After a delicious breakfast of my homemade cereal, I enjoyed the company of a friend while playing cards. Beckoning us towards the sandy beach, the sun continued to provide light, heat, and pleasure. With no football to occupy my time at the beach, I began to practice my swimming techniques learned many years ago: front crawl, breast stroke, elementary back stroke, back crawl, side stroke, and varying positions of treading water. Later Saturday afternoon, I welcomed my friend’s company as we explored additional trails on which I had earlier hesitated because of my lack of companionship and therefore assistance. Unfortunately, we were forced to return back to our site when a flat tire became noticeable. After dinner, I went back to the beach to observe a beautiful sunset over the waters, to listen to the laughter of families, to watch teenagers playing baseball, and to think about my future. Warmed later by the fire, I sat in contentment. Pancakes were served Sunday morning after an equally comfortable sleep. I was able to wander around the campground a bit more after I packed up my belongings. Before returning home, we spent early afternoon at the beach. Undoubtedly, my first camping experience has been very gratifying. I am thankful to my friends who encouraged me to use this opportunity to advance my knowledge of and personal encounter with camping. I wonder if “gone camping” will be an expression I can practice in Uganda.

refuse

Reduce. Reuse. Recycle. These basic actions are commonly discussed, analyzed, and evaluated, yet my experiences reveal a generic lack of practicing these actions that were exhaustively learned in elementary school. Synthetic materials unnecessarily clog our soil, recyclable waste still largely escapes the blue bins laid out on the curb, and pristine commodities are easily rejected to be replaced by bigger and apparently better things. Allow me to introduce a fourth R, and arguably more critical, that would actually limit our need to practice the three R's: refuse.

Instead of spontaneously purchasing one more pair of pants, shoes, cookie bag, gasoline fuel, [. . .], say no. Avoid the sin of gluttony, of possessing too much, of loving money, of loving material possession by refusing to be tempted. While I recognize, appreciate, practice, and approve of reducing, reusing, and recycling, I believe we must refuse. By refusing to indulge our human senses and desires, we begin to practice environmental stewardship. Consciously limiting our impact on the environment consequently produces a healthier environment and appropriately reflects our relationship to that which is entrusted to us by God.

Ironically, the large, obtrusive, grey buildings that sit isolated near the edges of our cities and towns help to perpetuate the problem they have been created to solve. Waste management facilities seek to safely destroy human-produced wastes. Yet perhaps the erection of these buildings satisfies the human desire to consume and dispose. Instead of analyzing how to properly get rid off waste, perhaps our energy needs to focus on how to eliminate the problem of getting rid of waste. In other words, refusal to consume would easily lessen the burden of waste management facilities simply because there would be less waste to stack, less toxins to burn, less pollution emitted from the rotting waste, and less land degradation.

Reduce. Reuse. Recycle. Refuse.

football

Lately I've consciously been engaged in activities in which I knowingly will not be able to participate in Uganda. This past weekend was no exception. As I laced up my cleats after properly positioning my knee pads, I was reminded that this would likely be my last football game before I leave for Africa. Although this reality does not bring a smile to my face, I still exuberantly jogged onto the dry and hardened field for one more (competitive) game of touch football. To offer you a written description of my enjoyment of football is challenging.

Arguably, football is a defining feature of my life: from learning the basics of hand-eye co-ordination as a young child to competing in the Kitchener-Waterloo Touch Football league for the past two years. Amidst all the games and practices, I fondly recall my childhood where my introduction to the skilled game of football took place adjacent to my side door. Thursday afternoons, my sisters, father and I would change into our play clothes to begin our weekly ritual of playing field hockey, soccer, and football. Those blades of grass, dirt, ant hills, and twigs supported my little running shoes, my bony legs when I fell, and my blond hair as I somersaulted and rolled. Thus ensued over fifteen years of constantly developing my athletic abilities, notably in the area of football, and later together with fastball and volleyball. Although I have not always been privileged to play competitive football in a league, I have often considered many games played with friends and family as competitive with the purpose of winning. I feel privileged to state that in over twelve years and about fifty games, my father and I have never lost a football game against family or friends in which we have assumed either the quarterback or rushing position. Having played with my father for over a decade, we have developed a unique relationship on the football field whereby we understand the reasons for strategic split-second decisions, the conscious placement of team players, and how we will move in unison down the football field. This bond is beneficial because together we consistently complete critical running and throwing plays.


Without getting too involved in technicalities, I want to say thanks. Although presented with very minimal risks and dangers, my mother has supported my pursuit of competitive football. Because of my lack of relative quickness compared to my male league counterparts, I am indebted to my father's teaching of strategy, of proper offensive and defensive positioning, of moving my body to create the desired effect, and of unifying my timing of throwing and running. Competitive football is incomplete without the many fans, so thank you to those who have watched, cheered, and commented on the football games. Finally, thanks to those who have repeatedly pulled out their running shorts, jerseys, cleats, receiver's gloves, and other gear to throw around a pigskin during the melting heat of the summer, the icy chill of the winter, the pounding raindrops, and the blinding snow flakes.

Focusing on the goal, my father runs with determination and confidence.

Playing in the K-W Touch Football league, 2005 (right) and 2006 (below). You will notice I am #10.

Christmas isn't complete without football. In 2006 Christmas took place in Banff, Alberta.

celebration

As I comfortably sat on a warm sleeping bag, covered with a large blanket and layers of clothing, snug between family and friends, I realized I have much to celebrate. Having filled my stomach from a delicious and abundant meal in the company of friends and family and after exercising my fatigued legs by playing football, the laughter and cheers accompanying the firework display were easily absorbed by my attentive ears. I reflected on the luxuries and privileges I easily and undeservedly obtain as a middle-class Canadian. Yet I am burdened that my materially extensive world contrasts the life of billions of materially deprived people. The question now becomes not one of who possesses more but who is more possessed? While affluence supposedly leads to happiness, comfort, joy, and betterment, poverty is supposed to lead to sickness, death, pain, and sorrow. Affluent nations possess more: more money, more resources, more education, more space, more medicine, more. Incidentally, affluent nations are more possessed: controlled by the advertising companies, controlled by credit card businesses, controlled by money, controlled by human lusts for things. Non-affluent nations possess less: fewer resources, fewer opportunities for vocational change, fewer policies, less available money, less. Similarly, non-affluent nations are less possessed by human desires. Whereas non-affluent nations certainly demonstrate an acute awareness of the spiritual, of God, and of community, affluent nations rely more on human derivatives. In short, affluent nations seem to be possessed by the pursuit of acquisition, while non-affluent nations submit to the power of God for fulfillment of life and of needs.

I wonder how my needs will change, increase, or decrease, when I leave my home of 22 years. But this I do know: I am loved by God. I am loved by my family. I am loved by my friends. Because of God's love I will love. I will love my new family, my new home, my new community, my new environment, my new friends. I will celebrate my life: the riches, the poverty, the beauty, the pain, the maturation, the vulnerability, the talents, and the weaknesses. I will possess less things and be less possessed by things.

triathlon

Sunday June 24 at 12:45 pm, my father Charles and I began our short triathlon measuring 27 km from Waterloo to Cambridge, Ontario. Through this triathlon, additional funds for my upcoming one year mission trip to Uganda was sucessfully raised. Abiding by the seasonal law of the Northern Hemisphere, the sun emitted radiation and heat that our sunscreen-smothered bodies quickly absorbed. Equipped with five watter bottles, two maps, two hats, one bicycle helmet, one camera, one cell phone for emergencies, one first aid kit, one bicycle, one pair of rollerblades, and two pairs of running shoes, we began our two-and-a-half hour journey. We quickly learned that to change from bicycling to running, the cyclist would go ahead a few hundred meters where the cyclist would leave the bicycle, the helmet, and backpack, and proceed to run at which time the runner would then continue on bicycle. A rather efficient and effective system! Dodging some remnants of geese presence, we passed through the University of Waterloo soon coming to Waterloo Park. Cautiously stepping into my rollerblades, Charles slowly began gliding along the Iron Horse Trail. Admittedly, he quickly gained confidence and comfort as he bladed the five kilometers on this trail. Partway on the Iron Horse Trail (kilometer 7), our friend Barbara sat cheering us on! What a blessing to have fans! We ran and bicycled to Wilson Park where I excitedly packed my running shoes opting instead for my rollerblades. Gaining lost time from a few map checks, my dad and I soon found ourselves at the entrance to the Grand River Trail. Tall trees shadowed the sun, green leaves allowed a slight breeze to evaporate our sweat, and rocks cushioned our running feet and bicycle tires for the next five km. We then rollerbladed and bicycled through Doon Village, past Conestoga College to Homer Watson. This busy intersection was where Charles packed the rollerblades where they stayed sheltered from the pebbly roads for the remainder of the trip. Getting a head start, I began to lightly run down Homer Watson which soon became Fountain Street. Following Fountain Street until Riverside Park, we ran and bicycled exchanging positions twice. As I ran into Riverside Park with Charles bicycling beside me I appreciated the claps, cheers, and congratulations of family and friends. Thank you to the many who sponsored me during this triathlon. I particularly enjoyed reminding myself who sponsored the km on which I was running, bicycling, or rollerblading. There are few other stories to share so I will let some pictures disclose the beauty and fun of the triathlon:

Start: Our home in Waterloo

Km 1: Charles bicycling, Michelle running

Km 4: Charles running

Km 5: Michelle bicycling

Km 7: Our fan along the way! Michelle bicycling, Charles rollerblading

Km 14: Packing away the rollerblades after Michelle rollerblading, Charles bicycling

Km 18: Michelle running up the big, bad hill

Km 19: Charles bicycling down the big, bad hill

Km 21: Charles rollerblading

Km 22: Michelle getting ready for the last stretch of rollerblading

Km 22: Michelle rollerblading

Km 27: Finish at Riverside Park. Michelle running, Charles bicycling

Rehydrating after the triathlon.

adventures on a bicycle

Yesterday highlighted my last lengthy bicycle adventure with my father before I leave for Africa. I am writing this blog to honour the individuals agreeing to accompany me on these bicycle endeavours or who have hesitantly allowed me to pursue this activity, and as a reminder of the many bicycle adventures I have appreciated during the past seven years. Beginning notably with the two-and-a-half day bicycle journey from Rodney to Waterloo, Ontario, my father and I initiated our seasonally appropriate bicycle trips. Among the countless trips, my father and I have:

- tested the limits of the unity of our aerobic and muscular capacities in the steep hills near Talisman, Ontario while abruptly being reminded of our inability to control the hydrological cycle

- explored extensively the gravel roads and rocky trails of Collingwood, Blue Mountain and beyond including parts of the Blue Spruce Trail, using our sense of spontaneity and my need for off-road detouring and adventuring

- disappointingly retreated from Luther Marsh in search of longer, more challenging bicycle routes

- appreciated the beauty of Grand River and surrounding small villages using a slower and environmentally sensitive mode of transportation

- battled each other up and down hills, mostly resulting in me defeating him to the top only to realize his speed downhill supersedes mine

- too frequently confirmed our geographical location on a map then discover we've actually traveled much farther than anticipated

- covered more kilometers in tourist populated areas on bicycle than attainable inside a motorized vehicle

In addition to my bicycle adventures with my father, I fondly remember my spontaneous early morning or afternoon bicycle explorations of Waterloo Region: leading me towards fertile agricultural land, being chased by property-protective dogs, pedaling harder to pass the relaxing cyclist or slow moving vehicle so that I could be accompanied with the powerful drugs known as adrenaline and endorphins, and more recently adopting a mountain cyclist perspective from within the forested area surrounding the landfill adjacent to the hydro lines only to realize the inadequacies of a simple bicycle to overcome geological formations. Last year was especially memorable because of my bicycle trip from Waterloo to Collingwood, a trip lasting no less than nine hours. A special thank you to Mom, Dad, and my sister Laura for being persuaded to allow me this privilege and for picking up my exhausted body at the end of the day, and an equally special thank you to Doug for energetically agreeing to bicycle with me!

And so, I am sad that next year will not permit me to continue this tradition with my father. Instead, I am praying I will befriend someone in Africa who will agree to share the joys of enduring a five hour plus bicycle trip, adventuring through the wonders of God's creation. Or, more favourably, I will be able to ascend the embankments of a mountain or numerous mountains in Africa. As some of you know, I promised myself that when I return to Africa I will climb a mountain. Even though Mount Kilimanjaro is especially appealing and must be climbed before the snow melts entirely, Mount Kenya has been recommended to climb. Hike anyone?

infection and safety

Imagine this situation: halfway through a fun yet competitive baseball game, the score is tied and players appear to be evenly matched. With a runner on first, the batter positions himself to take advantage of the strong winds, hoping the ball will effortlessly drop among the blades of grass in the outfield. The echoing sound of the bat contacting the ball is faintly heard because of passing automobiles on the neighbouring highway. Rounding second, the first base runner quickly judges the position of the ball in relation to the location of third base. With some confidence but complete commitment, the runner sprints towards third, realizing too late that the decision ignored the advice of the third base coach. To avoid being out, the runner must slide to third praying that the throw is delayed by a millisecond to ensure their safe arrival. The result:
Less concerned with the actual fact that I was safe, I became increasingly aware of the unique pain and sensations being emitted from the upper half of my lower left leg during the next few hours. Admitting the following morning that I had developed an infection , I began to experience unique sensual feelings from my leg. A small moving creature appeared to be inhabiting the surface below my skin, trying to claw an opening to escape. Foamy bubbles seemed to develop near my knee, gradually descending towards my ankle, then returning back to the comforts of my knee. I describe these sensations not to sound like I have defeated some grave illness and least of all to sound heroic, but to discuss the idea of release. Many of us have these abstract creatures lingering in our hearts, our minds, or our souls. Desperately wanting freedom, the creatures inflict pain on their guards. To be liberated, the creatures and the guards alike must unify in understanding that release is for the betterment of both entities. In comparison to us, that which inflicts pain needs to be released so that healing and fulfillment might be achieved. In other words, as I experience pain in all facets of my life, I realize that the creature must be rid or forsaken so that I can mature and develop as intended by my Creator.

The third baseman asked of me "Didn't your parents ever teach you not to slide in shorts?". Before I provide an answer, let me dissect the question. Being safe meant taking a risk. Arguably though, I recognize that complete safety, to which I refer as sheltering, would have meant staying on second and not furthering my opportunity for success. I knew within a few steps of third base that the only possibility of avoiding failure would be to risk my physical health. Thus, safety required risk. Sometimes, being uncomfortable or taking a risk or being challenged is mandatory to be safe or secure or successful. In other words, finding satisfaction and joy and bliss is imbued in experiences of pain, of disappointment, and of challenging other's advice. So, to respond to the third baseman, no my parents did not teach me to passively journey through life without ever extending beyond complete sheltering. Instead I must take a risk to experience safety.

I think I will take the advice of a ten year old: "Michelle, don't run. It hurts. You go see a doctor.", but not before I conquer the mountain bicycle trail through the hydro power lines; aptly referred to as the Hydro Cut.

music and concerts

Regrettably, I was unable to join my sister Laura and her boyfriend Doug as they sauntered beneath the melting sun this past weekend at Ontario Place. Attending the Christian Heritage Day, thousands of people happily splashed in the water, screamed on the rides, and wandered the acres at Ontario Place. Most significant, at least to my sister and myself had I been able to attend, was the concert and subsequent worship time guided by Hillsong United. Seated upon the inclined grass, Laura and Doug participated in the worship led by Hillsong. My only involvement with this particular concert was through the few photographs and video footage lovingly taken by my sister.

To those of you unfamiliar with Hillsong, I only wish I could immediately forward a CD to you. One of the dominant modern Christian worship teams, Hillsong originated in Australia and has grown immeasurably, planting worship teams throughout the world. Having produced countless songs and CDs over the years, Hillsong never fails to create new lyrics and music that reflect God's love, the sacrificial life of Jesus on earth, and the power of the Holy Spirit. Strongly equipped with musical gifting, leadership abilities, and a daily life imbued in the Spirit, Hillsong effectively ministers to people while worshipping and glorifying the Savior.

I mention the above as a sort of prelude to what I will soon experience and expect. Highly anticipating this evening, I will attend a worship service at a church tonite. Atypical of traditional and most modern services, Friday evenings boast of songs, dancing, clapping, other creative methods of worshipping God, profound confident prayers, intimacy with God, and a short challenging practical message, altogether lasting hours although incidentally this is not long enough. Although I embrace all these facets I personally await the music time. Ungifted in music, I nonetheless especially appreciate and enjoy the truth emitted through music. I conclude by encouraging you to unify with other people and together worship the Almighty.

re-conceptualization of urbanization

Urbanization. The term itself stirs paradoxical emotions. Rich and poor, young and old, developed and underdeveloped, modern and ancient, good and evil, purity and sinfulness, certainty and mystery all reflect the complex relationships of urban environments. My perception of urbanization, the trend towards urban environments in which mass numbers of migrants flow from the rural areas to relocate in larger areas, has admittedly been attached to destruction. Although with limited quantifiable research, I have defined this modern and recent phenomena as degrading: both to the environment and more importantly, to the human population. The poor and unemployed rural inhabitants either voluntarily or involuntarily seek hope for an improved quality of life in the urban world. Falsely assured of employment, housing, sanitation, education, and health care, these rural migrants envision a future radically different than their traditional past. Instead of being embraced by the urban and modern realm, the migrants become increasingly marginalized, discriminated against, wrought with disease, and savagely treated. Consequently, unity among the urban poor forms from their shared mistreatment and the urban poor establish what is known as squatter areas. Marginal in size and limited in resources, the shelters the urban poor seek fail to adequately accommodate a person, let alone an entire family. All human senses are enveloped with appalling disgust: constant smell of rotting feces amidst the odors of unwashed human bodies, sight of malnourished fragile bodies daily digging in mounds of waste from the rich for something to fill their frequently empty stomachs, sounds of stories recounting the realization of a traditional fruitful past swiftly erased, taste of poisoned water from the outstanding amounts of pollution emitting from the urban environment, and the feel of rough crooked material erected to blindly direct nature's renewal away from their meek resources. Describing such environments in this manner evidently arouses distaste, disapproval, and a general dissatisfaction. In addition to the reproachful conditions of the urban poor, I am disheartened by the trend toward urbanization due to the effects on the environment. Acutely aware of environmental needs and responsibilities, I am frequently saddened by the actions of humans on God’s creation.

Having recently read a few articles passionately arguing for increased urban ministry that conclude that perhaps the international augmentation of urbanization is a means for God to guide unreached people groups towards areas where evangelization can effectively occur, I am challenged to redefine my understanding of urbanization. The romantic and adventurous ideal of penetrating the luscious jungle forests or ascending steep rocky mountains to the isolated communities has historically attracted thousands of missionaries. Less appealing is the urban environments harshly described above. Yet theologians, missionaries, and followers of Christ agree that the urban environments boast of unreached people groups seeking both hope and faith. Thus, the personal challenge presented by the articles relate to my own conceptualization of urbanization. While I likely will never regard urbanization as an entirely positive process, whether correct or incorrect, I do however maintain a more optimistic outlook of urbanization.

On a more appreciative note, last year I was privileged to hear about a friend’s short experience in urban ministry in Vancouver, BC. I was especially encouraged by his accounts of what God is doing there. Following the converstaion, I have thought regularly about Vancouver, even envisioning living and serving God there, as some of you know. For the current time, however, I anticipate serving God in Uganda.

rain

I was reminded yesterday of the joy and blessing of rain. Bicycling home from the University greeted me with an intense thunderstorm. With the impossibility of avoiding wetness, I embraced the powerful winds, inches of water, and subsequent showers from passing automobiles. In any case, I couldn't help but silently laugh as my clothing turned from its normal colour to a darkened shade.

Last evening, much of Waterloo Region changed in appearance: tree branches helplessly soared above ground, the sky gradually transformed from sun to cloud, and large droplets of the powerful ingredient needed for growth majestically infiltrated every crevice and speck of dirt. Running this morning with my father was less of a speed workout than a flexibility and agility experiment. Snail oceans (also known as human puddles), branches, and soggy dirt was the foundation upon which my running shoes touched. Coming home, I was freckled with dirt. A natural reminder of human uninvited presence in forests and tranquil environments. The newspaper boasted of public complaints of power outages, of clean up, and of property damage, yet I thought less of the rain in Canada and thought more of the curse of rain in Africa, notably central Africa.

Allow me to briefly explain. The inconsistent rain patterns confusing local African agriculturalists hinder the productive ability of the soil to produce Africa's life support. Extended droughts, accompanied with short and intense rainstorms destruct the land on which central Africa has traditionally thrived. Familiar to each of us is the necessity of water for growth: human, animal, plant, or in summary: the ecosystem(s) in which we each belong. I will not burden this post with emotional reminders of the effects of drought but I will gently ask that the next time a rainstorm destructs an eaves trough, a front porch, a mature tree, or a running route, thank God for the blessing of rain and say a prayer for the countries of Africa depending on rain for sustainable development.

running solo and running buddy

Last week, my father and I resumed our weekly running time together. For him, this is preparation for football season in the fall. For me, it is a welcome change to the solo running I do four times a week. This year, however, there is also another purpose to running for me. I am training myself to participate in the "Drewitz Triathlon" - a combination of running, bicycling, and rollerblading from my house in Waterloo to Riverside Park in Cambridge, an estimated distance of 25 kilometers. Apart from time spent with my father, exercise, and fun, the Drewitz Triathlon is a means for me to raise funds for my service with the Mennonite Central Committee beginning August 11 in Uganda for one year.

Running solo enables me to engage my mind and body in ways otherwise not attainable. Sorting through challenges, life situations, and small tasks is best accomplished for me while I run. One complete hour of solitude in nature, or worse in suburbia where the cars are coughing their morning gasoline drug, also allows me to draw closer to God. Through running I am reminded of my purpose on earth, God's blessings over my life, and challenges God has helped me to withstand. Notwithstanding, however, running solo dissuades necessary new adventurous challenges brought forth only with the smile and running shoes of another person.

Running with a buddy offers a unique perspective. Destroying previous physical limitations, I am able to defeat what I thought I could not attain. Cramped walking and shortness of breath become more enjoyable with someone else. Realizing each other's strengths and weaknesses offer "friendly" competition. Talking in changing paces creates an environment in which discussion of trivial to the basic can occur. At the very least, and sometimes more importantly, a running buddy provides the needed comfort of companionship.

practice teaching

I have finished my practice teaching placements for my undergraduate degrees with Wilfrid Laurier and Nipissing University. I wish I could say that my last day teaching was highly successful and effective. Yet, this I know is not completely true. Suffering from pink eye and a raspy throat that left me whispering inconsistently, I struggled to communicate to over 30 students today. After discovering late Wednesday afternoon that my eyes were abnormally itchy, burning, and filled with fluid, I was kindly informed that I likely had pink eye. Not allowing myself to be overcome by this bacterial infection, I purchased over the counter medication to try and remedy the situation. Thursday morning produced swollen eyelids, eyes the colour of cherry tomatoes complete with the "juice", and a throat imitating a sick frog. To be fair though, my throat initially displayed the weariness of teaching one week ago. Having received the legal yes to attend school from the physician, I began teaching. I am sure, however, that I saw more of my eyelids than the students from the constant blinking and closing eyes. Sent home early from my concerned associate teacher, I headed to the doctor for prescription medication for my eyes (I had already received some fluid to gargle for my throat earlier in the week). After awaking from my limited sleep-filled night, due to my inability to swallow comfortably, my eyes were nearly functioning as normal. My throat, on the other hand, lacked any type of coherent purpose. Nevertheless, I drove to school so that I would not be absent from my last day. The extend of my teaching time lasted no more than one period. Yet I can undoubtedly attest to the success of my teaching weeks based on the feedback received from students, teachers, and parents alike. And so, although I have been greatly limited physically, I know that this last day and the last week were definitely memorable. Thanks.

Hundreds of other student teachers have finished their placements this week as well. Of special note, I want to acknowledge those student teachers who have completed their practice teaching placement overseas. Stories of challenges, misconceptions, learning opportunities, adventure and fun, and appreciating a new culture have helped to affirm the privilege of being able to teach in a new country in a new environment. I applaud the efforts of so many wonderful aspiring teachers who have embraced teaching in a foreign country with eager smiles and daunting fears. Having the opportunity to experience a different culture in the context of a profession is invaluable to any person, both in terms of professional aspirations and personal growth.

Thanks to the teachers who have mentored me and equipped me to become even more effective as a teacher. Thanks to the students from whom I have learned much about uniqueness, humour, and the importance of saying "good morning". Thanks to the parents who have partnered with me to educate their children. Thanks to the student teachers who have demonstrated insightfulness to developing stimulating and effective lesson plans as well as encouragement. And thanks to family and friends who have listened to my mock lessons, offered creative adaptations for lessons, provided resources, and have gently reminded me to seek activities apart from teaching.

weather

It is our second week of April and there is serious discussion of the possibility of having a snow day. In other words, our school board might decide that the amount of snow that has fallen is high enough to cancel school bus transportation. Since I am teaching in a school that relies nearly exclusively on bus transportation, I will not be required to teach.

The previous paragraph is more of a preamble for this next topic of discussion. I read in the newspaper today about some of the effects of climate change on agriculture and weather patterns. I recognize that the weather patterns and agriculture are not exclusive but rather are intrinsically connected. Thus, the weather patterns severely influence the agricultural output. The article described how scientists predict that climate change will modify the type and quantity of agriculture produced in various regions around the world. Africa will endure the most challenging situation. Entire types of agricultural harvest will become extinct in regions of the world once fertile with such productions. Droughts and famine contrasted by floods and intense hurricanes or other naturally occurring events will increase in quantity and severity. Pessimistic outlooks of the future are evident. Although I appreciate the immediacy and saddened visions of the future, I believe that positive change is slowly penetrating society. I have noticed, for example, emphasis in our public education system on environmental stability and consciousness. Nonetheless, I plead with each person reading this somewhat scattered blog to reduce your ecological footprint. Reduce your waste consumption, carbon emissions, energy consumption. A general guide line to follow is to live a simple life.

planning

For the past few weeks I have been privileged to observe my sister (and her group) develop and create a design plan for a piece of urban land in uptown Waterloo. Since her education at UW for planning, I have grown considerably interested in planning. I will even report that if I had not pursued teaching, I probably would have studied planning. And so, I am dedicating this blog to all the committed and undervalued planners of our times. My sister and I regularly discuss proper and appropriate land use. I am significantly bothered by ignorant and illogical decisions made by various people that result in environmental and social catastrophe. Let me explain.

1. suburbia: In a short sentence, suburbia has created that which it sought to eliminate (among other things): community cohesiveness. In suburbia, we see many large houses, double-car garages, excessive spaces, wide roads. We do not see small businesses, amenities, bakeries, community engagements, or simply people together.

2. low density housing: In a city where growth is increasing rapidly, logic and simplicity show that high density housing within downtown or city limits will assist to stabilize the economy, the environment, and preserve farm land needed to grow food. Yet, the city expands its limits to accommodate for people pleading for more space, bigger houses, bigger cars, bigger.... While driving to volleyball, work, etc. I drive past signs boasting of development and lots for sale, I debate the wise use of land for farming or growth development.

3. environmentally sensitive lands: Respect. Stewardship. Appreciation. Love. Just some of the words that come to mind when I consider how we should actually be treating our environment. Instead of permanently damaging our precious water sources and ecosystems by erecting buildings on land, we must recognize the continual consequences of our actions. I think specifically of the Waterloo Morraine.

Just a few thoughts. Seems this blog took a slightly different twist than intended at the beginning. No doubt I will have future posts about environmental responsibility and stewardship (or I like to refer to as eco-consciousness), especially once I begin my course in May about the environmental and global responses. I also recognize I've written mostly about problems. A follow-up blog shall come soon offering some suggestions, although the most basic is this: waste not, want not, use less.

volleyball

With sadness but satisfaction, my church volleyball season ended following a 3-2 loss. Not much more can be said but thanks for the friendships, laughs, high-fives, peculiar team cheers, and the opportunity to shout/yell encouragement ... a lot!! Having waited years to play competitive volleyball with Laura, I thoroughly enjoyed the v-ball season.

Here are a few pictures of the past few weeks of volleyball:

welcome

With surprise and perhaps unrealistic ambitions, I have decided to tip-toe into our electronic global communication system by creating this blog because I want to:

1. stay in touch with friends and family because honestly, our paths dissipate constantly
2. articulate my thoughts and feelings about global issues
3. reflect on life in general (wow - this is taking a very philosophical appearance)
and finally,
4. communicate what I call "mustard moments" - minute personal experiences and beliefs that I believe and hope will make a difference somewhere somehow.

So, please, enjoy!!