Trip to Iles de la Madeliene: Part one

Howdy to all you folks!

Thanks to the Lord’s mercy, I made it safely to Iles de la Madeleine yesterday after a long night of flying. The trip began in San Francisco where my mom and Kevin dropped me off.

After a quick pass through check-in and security, I hopped onboard a plane to Toronto. As you can see, the sunset was beautiful:

My face, on the other hand, is not:

(As a forewarning, throughout the first leg of the trip I amused myself by taking pictures while making faces. So beware! Also, I apologize for the blurriness of some of the pictures. Due to either wind or low lighting, some pictures ended up blurred.)

I must have made several people chuckle to themselves at the Toronto airport. I had an 8 hour layover, so to pass the time and try and make up for a lost night of sleep, I made my own bed on the airport floor, curled up, and tried to sleep.

Luckily, it was pretty empty in the airport at that time. :)

After checking in my baggage, I headed through security again and waited out the last little while until my next flight took off.

This next flight was about an hour long, but in that hour the sun came up and I was able to see the change in landscape. On all of my flights, I wish I was allowed to take pictures during take-off and landing. Despite the ability of the camera to capture landscapes, it can’t fully do it justice. In San Francisco, there was a low fog, barely reaching higher than the top of the skyscrapers. Coming out of it and looking down as the sun was beginning to descend was truly a wonderful sight. Flying over Toronto and seeing a maze of lights, laid out in rows and curves, soaring over mountains and iced over rivers, watching people venture cautiously out onto frozen streams, seeing the landscape change from coast to desert to mountains to snowy tundra, all was breathtaking and wonderful to behold. God is truly an artist.

After reaching Montreal, I got on one last plane for the final leg of the trip.I was now in the middle of a country of French speakers, so the only people who spoke English were the flight attendant and a few other people scattered over the plane. With each successive stop for fuel and other passengers (there was one in Quebec and another in Gaspe), the plane only seemed to get more and more full. For most of the flight, I was sitting next to a friendly older man who tried several times to talk to me, though, of course, in French. I, of course, could not speak French and was left with no choice but to shrug apologetically. He eventually realized that I couldn’t understand a word of what he was saying, though at one point he did turn to me (forgetting that I couldn’t understand), said something, and then seeing my blank expression, turned around and said the exact same thing to someone else. After that, I was chuckling to myself and hoping that I'd be able to understand at least a little on the way back.

The Lord continued to bless my journey and provided clear skies and sunny weather. Touching down in the Magdalene Islands, the Adams gave me a hearty welcome and introduced me to the rigors of a walk on the beach.

After scrambling over rocks and getting slightly wet from accidentally slipping into the shallows, we all hurried back to the house to get warm. The next morning, another beautiful sunrise greeted me.

After breakfast, Mr. Adams let me ride along as he ran a couple errands and stopped at a house to try and get contact information for some old friends of theirs. The Magdalene Islands are basically several islands joined by sand bars on which roads have been built. We traveled to the end of one of these where Mr. Adams showed me one of the oldest settlements on the island.

At one point, we saw a cross on a hill and so we stopped to hike up to it. The wind at that point was pretty strong, though not as strong as it is right now. It was only about 40 mph then.



Most of the islanders here are Catholic and so it was no surprise to see a shrine at the top of the hill.


After we got back, we had lunch and then went for a hike up a hill right by the house. One neat thing about this mountain is that there is a path through the trees on the side, almost like a tunnel that you can go down holding a rope for support.

I'll end with a picture of the house.


There is more to come soon!

~Corey

The Journey

As I have time, I'll post all the details, but here is a post I sent to our church family (with photos now added) while in Uganda.  Thanks to all those who prayed so faithfully and gave so generously to bring Caleb home!
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I’ve hesitated to write an update, not because there is nothing to tell, but because it is difficult to put into words the emotions and events of the last several days. But now, in the quiet, early morning hours, as I sit, for a change, with Caleb still asleep, I have decided to write. It is tempting to paint a rosy picture, for there are happy moments: laughs with Corey, the exciting find of a refrigerator next door where we can put our drinks and have them cold; music-making with Caleb as he beats on the trash can or sings us a tune; walks to the one little store nearby to purchase peanut butter and jelly for lunches; magnificent storms that clear away the thick black smog that pours from the vehicles and the brown smoke that snakes from the endless piles of trash that burn along the roadways; the discovery of rainbow-colored birds, large, blue lizards, and brightly decorated moths; late-night games of Settlers of Catan with Corey. We treasure these simple pleasures. But we’re homesick. Bored. We miss the rest of our family. We’re tired…exhausted, really. We have no guarantee that we’ll return home on our ticketed flight. And yet we know, here in our little Ugandan compound, just like in California, God is on His throne, orchestrating the events of our days, tenderly caring for us, His beloved children.

We talk of adoption as glorious. A child becomes part of a covenant family. A family gains another blessing. A child is rescued from orphanhood. These are accurate statements. Adoption is glorious. But if we are to understand God’s adoptive love for us, we must tell the whole story. God’s love, while glorious, was also gory. Our adoption was purchased in sweat, blood, and tears. While I have not sacrificed my heavenly prerogative, nor given my life for Caleb, I now understand, in small part, the cost of my adoption into God’s family. Caleb did not come running to me, asking me to be his parent . Corey and I have traveled a distance to redeem him from poverty and fatherlessness. We make seemingly endless drives into the city and wait in ninety degree heat with high humidity and an unhappy child to see officials who often treat us like stupid Mzungus (white people). Dragged from all he has ever known, Caleb’s world has been turned upside down. He’s been given new garments and a new name. Yet he has clawed, hit, bitten and scratched us. He screams to be put down and then screams to be picked up. He doesn’t really know what he wants or needs. He operates with the mentality of a child raised in an orphanage. How like me.

For me, Christ was mocked, spit upon, beaten, bruised, and crucified. And yet, I did not naturally come running to Him. God dragged me from fatherlessness to make me His. When I was made his child, I gained all the rights and privileges of an heir. Caleb now has all the rights and privileges of a Walker. When I was given my new name and clothed in Christ’s righteousness, my former world was rejected. And though at times, I respond, as does Caleb, with loving affection, I often forget that I am God’s child and attempt to still live the life of an orphan, kicking at my Father, begging selfishly for my way, not His, clawing and scratching at the One who redeemed me. But He loves me yet. And I love Caleb. Not easily; but with sacrificial purpose because this is what adoption must be. I continue to be sanctified and hopefully will act more and more as a Christian with each passing day. I pray that Caleb, too, with devoted training, will act more and more as a family member in both the Walker home and in the family of God . Adoption isn’t necessarily pretty. But it is good.



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On another note, we need your prayer. Our visa interview is Monday and that will determine, in large part, whether or not we’ll return home on February 11th. There are also things in which to rejoice with us. We had visitors last night at our guest house (hotel). A couple from a local church came to call. We couldn’t find the church last week, but Steve finally tracked down a phone number and we contacted them. Ben and Lovin, our visitors, and church members, stopped by to introduce themselves and kindly arranged a ride for us so we can worship with them in the neighboring village this Sunday. And, on Saturday, Corey and I will head about 5 km north of Kampala (we’re staying about 8 km south) to visit the Ugandan girl, Ruth, that we sponsor through Compassion International. Though we gave short notice, Compassion was able to coordinate a visit to Ruth’s Project and home. We’re excited to meet this young lady for whom we’ve been praying and to whom we’ve been writing.
Since I'm posting this after-the-fact, pictured here,
Ruth shows me her grades while we sit at her Compassion Project

Well, Caleb awoke about five minutes into this post and I can no longer concentrate on my thoughts nor find time, between disciplining him, to write more. Please pray that I will be patient and long-suffering. Corey has been such an encouragement and example to me in this area.
We send our love to each of you. How terribly we miss you and long to be with you!

Love,
Wendy, for the three of us

Africa: Part 2

I wrote this back a couple months ago to let you all know that we are alive and well. Well, now, at last, I’m posting this to let you know just how alive and well we really are. Let me begin by briefly telling you what happened the last week we spent in Uganda…

After numerous appointments with the Ugandan passport office, we finally got our passports. That was a joyous day, knowing that all we had to go through next was the U.S. Embassy. However, we were running out of time. It was just over a week until we were scheduled to leave and stress levels were high as we tried to deal with crying babies, restless nights, grumpy officials, and above all, a terrible longing to be home. After meeting with the Embassy a few days later, another load of stress was added as we were told that it would be at least two weeks until we were issued our visa. It was Thursday and we were leaving the next Thursday night. Over and over we prayed that the Lord would work out the details and speed the process along so that we could come home. Day after day was spent in restless anticipation as we wondered whether or not we would be able to get Caleb’s visa on time. Every other night it seemed like one of us, exhausted and worn out beyond our own strength, would burst into tears which would set the other off in a second. But in His mercy, the Lord sent relief.

The previous Sunday we had been unable to find the church at which we hoped to worship and so we were forced to hold our own worship service. The following Sunday it seemed like the same thing would happen, but right when we were about to give up, an elder from the church showed up and drove us the fifteen minutes to the church building. To many people, Sundays are social events: chances to see friends, eat food, and overall have a good time. They are missing out, though. Unless one is in a situation where they are deprived of Christian fellowship when they desperately need it, they can hardly understand the joy it was for us. We hopped out of the car to be greeted by a joyous chorus of voices. Soon we were in the midst of a group of African Christians, with a scattering of white skin here and there. The seven person choir swayed rhythmically to the music and passionately sang praise to our Maker. After the singing was over, the pastor gave a sermon that can only be described as doctrinally sound coupled with African enthusiasm. Though we missed worshipping with our church body at home, how much we enjoyed the encouragement of that morning! The Lord is truly a refreshing stream and He revived our spirits through the ministering of His people. Looking back on that day, I think of how blessed I am to have experienced the worship of another people group. Here in America, we often forget that the reason we go to church is to worship an all-powerful, all-mighty, all-seeing God. Many don’t go to contribute to the meeting of His people. Often, we go to worship the Lord in the company and fellowship of others who have come to do the same but how little we follow the commands of Scripture which say, “As each one has received a gift, minister it to one another, as good stewards of the manifold grace of God,” (1 Peter 4:10-11) and also tell us that “God is not unjust to forget your work and labor of love which you have shown toward His name, in that you have ministered to the saints, and do minister. And we desire that each one of you show the same diligence to the full assurance of hope until the end, that you do not become sluggish, but imitate those who through faith and patience inherit the promises” (Heb 6:10-12). We so often want our own needs to be met that we forget to minister to the needs of others. Yet we truly had our needs ministered to that day. We returned to the hotel with renewed hope and trust in the Lord’s provision.

The next day, that hope was dampened somewhat when we returned to the Embassy to check the status of the visa. It was still predicted to be done in a week and a half with the possibility that it would be done early enough to arrive the day after we were scheduled to leave. Our biggest worry was that we would have to reschedule all of our flights: a task that would cost well over a thousand dollars. For the next four days, we were on the edge of our seats, hoping and praying that we would get the visas before Thursday. On Wednesday, we were told to come back the next day to check and see if they were done. So Thursday morning, we got all packed-up in anticipation that we would be leaving for our flight at 9:00 p.m.. At 12:00 noon, my mom left for the Embassy while I stayed behind to watch Caleb and pray. And pray I did. 1:00 came and passed, followed by 2:00. 3:00 passed and still nothing. At last, at 5:30 p.m., I heard my mom talking with another mom who was also in Uganda adopting. The moment I heard that voice I was excited, but told myself to stay calm. I could tell that my mom was cheerful, but this could be attributed to a blessing of peace from God. Yet the moment I saw her face, I could tell we’d be going home. For fifteen minutes we did nothing but smile, dance, and shout for joy. Even Caleb caught on to the excitement and began frantically bending up and down, laughing hysterically with eyes half-closed. When 9:00 p.m. rolled around, we began our journey home. Several events occurred during that trip home, but I will leave that to a third and final post as this is already quite lengthy. However, for now, suffice it to say that we made it home safely and are now in the midst of training this young bundle of black-skinned energy in the path of the Lord. May the peace of God be upon you and may He reveal His bountiful mercies to you, even as He has so richly opened our eyes.

Until next time,

~Corey (for the seven of us)

Update numero uno

Sorry for the late update everyone! Between late nights, crying babies, and sketchy internet, we’ve been either unable or just plain too exhausted to post.

Also, in advance, I’d like to apologize for the lack of pictures. We didn’t realize the laptop doesn’t accept our camera card and so aren’t able to show you what everything looks like. However, we’re trying to figure out a way, so don’t give up hope!

Ahhh, where to begin? It’s been such a hectic week that it seems like I have enough information to talk your ear off for a week. We left from Modesto on Sunday for a quick hop to San Fran. We must have set a game speed record that day, because we finished three games of Settlers of Catan in a little over an hour, and for those of you who play Settlers, you know how long it usually takes :) Though it was a foggy day, we quickly got above the clouds and were greeted by a beautiful sight: blue skies and the coastal mountains partly submerged in a white blanket. This leg of our journey quickly ended and we disembarked in San Francisco for a couple hours until it was time to leave. Our trip to London was uneventful and by this time, the reality of our situation was starting to kick in. We looked at each other and smiled excitedly at the thought that it wouldn’t be long before we got to London and from there, a short time before we reached Africa. After a ten hour flight, with about four hours of that in sleep, we reached London where we had a loooong layover. However, we were able to take a walk around town during that time. Though we were tired, we still were amazed by the city. When we download the pictures, we’ll let you see, too :) The transportation there was what first struck us. We were trying to reach Westminster Abbey before it closed and so we hopped aboard what is fittingly called The Tube. It is a series of interweaving networks of trains that serve all parts of London. We got aboard and four minutes later got off, walked ten steps to where our next train had just arrived, got aboard this second one and rode for another five minutes ‘til the station.

After our short stay in London, we hopped aboard a plane for our final leg. After we got through customs, we were greeted by our driver and driven to our hotel for the night. Having just come from London, the weather here was a shock to our systems. We went from about 43^oF to 83^oF with humidity. My first view of the country came the next day (it was already dark when we got here). We hopped aboard another rickety van and went down the road to pick up some water and orange time (a.k.a. phone time). As we drove along the road, we were greeted by a mixture of extremes. Even as I sit here, I can look out and see what looks like a Los Angeles view: hills covered with lush landscapes and dotted with fancy-looking houses. Yet it only takes a few steps outside of the gate to see reality. Every street is filled with shacks and architecture that looks like it was beautiful once, but due to no maintenance, is falling apart. Yesterday, we drove into town and on the way I saw a sign that said, “Showroom: Mattresses, Beds, and others.” This sign was hung on what looked like a dumpster flipped on end.

The sky here is almost always smoggy, due to a nationwide custom of burning your trash. Though this leads to few waste sites, it gives the air a continual smell of smoke. Driving here is an adventure to say the least. First you hop into a car that usually has a broken windshield and uncomfortable seats. The roads are full of potholes and bumps that shake you without mercy. The windows are always down, since there is no air conditioning, and this lets all the smoke and exhaust into the car. There are no stoplights and everyone passes whenever they wish. Taxis are stopping to pick up passengers in the middle of the road and crosswalks are non-existent. People run across the road and drivers honk at them to tell them, “watch out, we’re coming!” Driving in the city is like being stuck in an accident. The drivers even turn off their cars every 30 seconds to save gas.

Food here is good. It’s nothing amazing, but it’s filling and tasty. Tonight we had matooke: a plate of a yellow vegetable that tasted like potatoes, rice, a meat broth, and most importantly (at least for us :) was chapatti. Chapatti is most easily described as a thick tortilla-like bread. It even tastes like a tortilla that’s been drenched in butter. My mouth is watering now just thinking about it.

Through it all though, the Lord has shown me many things. I look around and am filled with idea for engineering and mission works. Africa has the effect of simultaneously killing ambition and firing up new excitement. When I came, I was all gung-hoe about how I could change the fate of this third-world country and make it a modernized and Christ-loving nation. However, I’ve been shown that that is not the way it works. Yes, there are many things I could do to improve the state of the country, but its problems will not be solved by one generation. Like in all foreign nations, the language barrier presents a challenging obstacle for missions as well. People here speak English, but so many words make no sense to them that you’re sometimes left wondering if they really know what you’re talking about. But even when my ambition was killed by reality, new ideas and thoughts came in. What could I do? What difference could I make? I could build wells and houses, fix the roads, build railways and dumps. I could teach the men here to be engineers and go out to do their own work. There are a thousand things one can do, if only one takes the initiative. A speedy difference looks nearly impossible, yet I hope for a speedy way to learning, so that I can begin work as soon as possible. Spending time here has only increased my love of home, but as we are reminded over and over again in the Word, Christians are called to be servants; going outside their comfort zones or first picks in order to save souls from eternal death. Though I’m not sure this is my mission field, I’m still praying and keeping my mind open for that possibility.

Well, I’ll try and figure out a way we can post pictures, but until then, I leave you with this:

“…but one thing I do, forgetting those things which are behind and reaching forward to those things which are ahead, I press toward the goal for the prize of the upward call of God in Christ Jesus… For our citizenship is in heaven, from which we also eagerly wait for the Savior, the Lord Jesus Christ, who will transform our lowly body that it may be conformed to His glorious body, according to the working by which He is able even to subdue all things to Himself….Therefore, my beloved and longed-for brethren, my joy and crown, so stand fast in the Lord, beloved.” (Phil 3:13-14, 20-21; 4:1)

"When the world my heart is rending
With its heaviest storm of care,
My glad thoughts to heaven ascending,
Find a refuge from despair.
Faith's bright vision shall sustain me
Till life's pilgrimage is past;
Fears may vex and troubles pain me,
I shall reach my home at last."

~Corey (for the three of us)