Guatemala and Mexico

World Water Day

Women carry water in Bangladesh


And in Ethiopia


Today, March 22, is World Water Day.

I vividly remember a hotel in Los Angeles near the airport where our family checked in after a long flight from Guangzhou, China. We dumped our suitcases on the bed and I immediately walked into the bathroom, turned on the faucet and started drinking water straight from the tap...just because I could. We had been in China two weeks drinking bottled water, boiling our drinking water, and being careful to use purified water to brush our teeth. Even in the shower, we closed our mouths.

In our country, turning on the tap and placing a cup beneath means almost nothing to us. It's just the way it is. In most countries, drinking water means everything because it's a matter of life and death. Here's an amazing fact: Count to 15. Now count to 15 again. Two children just died from a water-related disease. For children under the age of five, water-related diseases are the leading cause of death and a child under age five dies every 15 seconds from one. At any given time, half of the world's hospital beds are occupied by patients suffering from a water-related disease. Less than one percent of the world's fresh water (about 0.007% of all water on earth) is readily accessible for direct human use. A person needs 4-5 gallons of water per day to survive. The average American uses 100-176 gallons of water at home each day. These facts amaze me, and now when I brush my teeth I turn off the water instead of letting it run down the sink. That simple amount of water could mean life or death for a child. Could it save a child's life in another part of the world by turning off the teeth-brushing water? I don't know. But at the very least it is a reminder that this resource that I take for granted and rarely give thought to is something that women in countries like Ethiopia will walk three hours to get, and more often than not the water they bring back is from a polluted source.

When I began hearing about our church's work digging water wells in Tanzania, I had no idea of the world water crisis, and so I was largely ignorant of the fact that what we are doing saves lives. I just thought we were making things more convenient for them. I've seen photos of the water that these Tanzanians drink - brown, sludgy and certainly filled with all kinds of microscopic bugs that I wouldn't want planted in my intestines - and the water that now comes from the new water wells - clear, clean and life-saving.

For more information about World Water Day and the world's water crisis, you can click the title of this post and it will direct you to a great website with information. Here is how I see it: if almost two in three people in the world lack access to clean water, then those of us who call ourselves Believers should at the very least be aware of the facts. I'm not trying to be preachy, but if we claim that "God so loved the world" - then we must believe that this breaks His heart, and it should break ours as well. I know for myself that just turning off the water while I am brushing my teeth isn't enough, so I will be researching other ways to be a good steward of the water that is at my fingertips. We, who have so much must share the resources. This means that we don't treat what we have as if it our right to waste it or use it up. There are those of you that are reading this and lifting an eyebrow because you have been to my house, and you know what sits right outside the back door. Yes, I have a large swimming pool in my backyard...so I'm even more culpable for waste and more responsible for water use. So perhaps it is time for me to pretend that I am back in the Phoenix desert and 'learn how to preserve'. Happy World Water Day.

Finally...

After all those guitar lessons, and Geoff Logan's attempts to get Colin to practice, practice, practice, and our hounding him to turn off the amp after 10 p.m....he finally ventured out and found a band. This is their first concert at a record shop called Under the Mooch. if you can stick with the video long enough, Colin has a guitar solo. By the way, if you don't know him, he's the guy in the gray t-shirt....with the short hair. They write most of their own stuff, and play quite a bit of folkish acoustic, which I got on video but am not posting because I'll probably get in trouble for posting this much. But Colin is in Guatemala. He'll never know...

Well Done, Old Man

I remember the day we got Raleigh. It was January in Phoenix, and the weather was perfect - sunny and mild, no wind, and we drove to the the animal shelter which was about 20 miles away. The shelter had confirmed that morning that they had a Lab mix puppy, actually a six-month old, but still technically a puppy. We hurried across the city with 5 year-old Colin and 4 year-old Erin, tossing around names on the way. We settled on Raleigh on our way back home, after the shelter worker had trotted out the black puppy with the white streak down his chest, and after we had signed paperwork and paid the requisite $50. Raleigh panted with excitement all the way home, and from that day forward he was our dog. He's been with us through two states, three moves and the addition of another child. He weathered thunderstorms and ice storms and blazing hot days. He accepted the encroachment of his territory by one grumpy black cat and a Westie named Pierre. He mostly lived outside, because that was his domain, and he was our sentry guard.

In Phoenix, we lived near a busy thoroughfare in the central part of the city. We decided to get a dog because the kids were a good age for a pet, and we wanted a reliable security system. Raleigh seemed to instinctively know that his purpose was to guard the perimeter of our backyard, whether it was located in Phoenix or Tulsa. Every house we have lived in has been protected by our faithful Black Lab/Border Collie mix. It was as if he knew his job description, and yet he rose far above it. Not only was he our watchdog, but he played with our children, learned to sit, shake and catch a tennis ball in his mouth when you threw it softly to him. He was gentle with the new puppy, and tolerant of the cat's hissing on the few occasions that he came inside the house. He really wasn't much of an inside dog. He paced and panted and showered the furniture legs. But every now and then we invited him in but it wasn't too long until it became apparent that he preferred being outside where he could roam the backyard and make sure he was fulfilling his protective role. In his later years he became afraid of thunderstorms, but that was about the only sign of old age that we saw. He still loved a brisk walk around the block and would prance like a puppy when Kyle walked out the back door every morning with his canned dog food. He savored food. He was one of those wise dogs that didn't swallow table scraps in one gulp, but instead took his time and enjoyed every bite. He loved a shoulder massage, and would melt into a laying position the longer you rubbed him. He hated baths, and as soon as he saw the hose come toward him, he would slink toward the garage until he was dragged back out into the middle of the yard. Our pool cleaning guy never liked him, but that's because Raleigh was always on duty - and refused to acknowledge that the guy had any right to enter our backyard if he didn't live here.

Two weeks ago, he was his usual healthy self, then he stopped eating. For a dog that savored food, it was a red flag. Turns out he had a tumor on his spleen, but the vet did surgery, removed it and deemed it non-malignant. We were relieved, and brought him home to recoup from the surgery. In a couple of days his paws swelled, and a few days later he could hardly walk. We took him back to the vet, and she discovered he had a valve blockage in his heart. Nothing could be done. He was miserable. So we said good-bye to him yesterday. Kyle gave him one last shoulder massage, the girls have him ear rubs, I kissed his nose, and then the doctor gave him a shot that slid him into a permanent state of sleep. He felt no pain, took five last breaths, flicked his tail and was gone. It's amazing how our pets become a part of our family, and when they are gone for good you feel a dreary kind of emptiness. Dogs give, and ask for very little in return (can't say the same for the cat). They are faithful to the last moment of their lives. You can always see it in their eyes.

Alison sat at the breakfast table this morning and through tears tried to come up with some positive spins: we'll spend less money on dog food, and Pierre can have the whole backyard. I never thought I'd say it, but I'd take the stinky dog bed back, and spend the money on the canned dog food, and listen to him bark at the helicopters and the planes if I could just see him catch that tennis ball in his mouth one more time. Fare well Raleigh dog. We'll see you on the other side.

Refreshed

There are those people who are like a breath of fresh air. They refresh the heart and the spirit through laughter and long conversations. Instead of depleting, they fill us up. We've just spent four days with friends like this, Shannon and Kenny, and although I am tired (lots of late night conversation), these days have been like taking a deep, cleansing breath. I love our friends, and feel it is just not right that we live so far away from each other. We have both prayed that God would allow us to live closer together, but God has kept them in Phoenix and we will stay in Tulsa, and so it is not the season for them to be Okies, or us to be Arizonans (we've been there and done that). So we cherish the snatches of time we have together, and wring all the best out of the moments. It was a great four days. We did a little moving, some home improvement projects, they watched our slide shows of Ethiopia and Azerbaijan trips (only true friends would do this), ate at Cafe Ole, sat with Mom, had dinner with Dad, and they made our kids laugh. They are treasures, and we are blessed.

A Friend Indeed

There are those times when you send out a silent SOS, praying for a little relief, and someone hears. My best friend heard. About a month ago, when Mom was about to have her first amputation surgery, Shannon heard something in my voice that made her book a flight to Tulsa. She gave me a choice of two dates, one immediately and one in about a month. I chose the one in about a month - March 7, because I thought if things got worse we might be hanging on by our fingernails. Which we are. So tomorrow she is coming, just when I need her most. This road is proving to be longer than we anticipated, and we are tired and in great need of someone who will come and give us some help, some laughter, some perspective, and a few tears and hugs.

I believe that it is an amazing blessing to have that one friend who is as close as a friend can get. That's Shannon. In fact, we're such good friends that I'm not even cleaning my house for her. She's bringing her husband Kenny, at my request, because on Saturday we are going to try to move a few pieces of furniture into Mom and Dad's new house. Hospital sit-ins, furniture moving, cold Oklahoma weather, a dirty house. And they are actually excited about coming. That's true friendship.

Around the Corner

I like to know what's coming. Some people prefer the element of surprise, and they tackle life with the posture of someone in the front seat of a roller coaster: eyes open, arms up, screams of excitement. They don't mind that they can't see the impossibly steep drop that appears after ambling through the dark tunnel. That just makes it more adventurous. They greet the drop with shouts of exuberance. I'm not so much this way. In fact, if someone was kind enough to take me on a preliminary walking tour of the roller coaster route, mapping out the drops and hairpin turns and upside down loops and preparing me for the unexpected jolts, I would welcome it. Then I could ride the roller coaster having been adequately prepared. Of course, that begs the question of whether I would proceed to actually ride the roller coaster if I knew it was going to slam me against the side of the car on that hairpin turn or hang me upside down on a double loop. Maybe I would walk away and opt for driving the Model T's that follow a scenic and safe track at 5 miles per hour. I've always liked those.

These days, I feel like I'm walking in the dark, wondering what might be around the next corner - maybe a drop or a hairpin turn. I'm working on this "one day at a time" idea, and it's going pretty well. I'm getting better at not worrying about tomorrow because "tomorrow has enough trouble of its own." I'm learning to suck the life out of today so that I don't spend all my time regretting yesterday or stressing about tomorrow. But there are those days when I just would really like a walking tour of all that lies ahead. I'd like to map out the scary moments, the dark days, the anxious hours. If I just knew what was coming that would make life so much easier. It's a tempting thought, but I know it's not true. How many times would I have locked myself in my bedroom if I had known what was getting ready to happen? Or not taken that trip. Or not begun that relationship. If I had known about all the tough times that were around this corner or that corner I would have run the other way. And, I would have never known what it means to walk by faith.

My wedding program (almost nineteen years old now) is a tri-fold and on the center fold is printed this poem:

"God does not lead us year by year,
Nor even day by day,
But step by step our path unfolds,
Our Lord directs our way.

Tomorrow's plans we do not know,
We only know this minute.
But He will say, 'This is the way,
By faith now walk ye in it.

And we are glad that it is so;
Today is ours to share,
And when tomorrow comes, his grace
Shall far exceed its care.

What need to worry then or fret?
The God who have His only Son
Holds all our moments in His hand
And gives them one by one."

So I'm learning that thank God for those moments - whether they are good, or bad. Whether they slam me against the side of the car or send me reeling up into the air gasping for breath. He's with me every step, ready to sustain me for whatever is around the next corner.