by Heather Plett | Dec 30, 2006 | Uncategorized
We pulled out of B&S’s driveway in Calgary at 7:08 yesterday morning. At 10:08 last night, we pulled into ours. After exactly 14 hours on the road (crossing over one time zone on the way), many many miles of prairie landscapes, dried out chicken sandwiches in the car, a few close calls where-in the arguing children almost got abandoned in the snow along the side of the road (just kidding – they did quite well), a passable meal at the Burger Baron in Regina, switching drivers whenever we tired of the other’s music selection (the driver controls the airwaves), a station break when we found out Saddam had been hanged, and we are home.
I was planning to post some pictures, and I may do that later, but first there is laundry to do, grocery shopping to suffer through, unpacking and re-packing, a haircut for Maddie, a few hundred blog posts to catch up on (I’ll try to visit soon) when the other members of the family allow me on the computer, and about a million other things I can’t think of right now. In the meantime, if you want to catch a glimpse of just how much fun we had (it was possitively delightful), check out the slide show on my sister’s blog.
by Heather Plett | Dec 27, 2006 | Uncategorized
Because it’s nearly impossible to blog or read blogs in a house full of eighteen people, I’m blogging in the dark in the middle of the night. There are sleeping people on nearly every soft surface in this house, including one on the couch beside me, and one on the floor at my feet. I can’t turn on the light, nor can I walk very far without tripping over a body.
No, I’m not hiding out in an overcrowded bomb shelter – we’re just celebrating Christmas the way we used to do it. With the whole family camped out under one roof for the holidays. It used to be that we’d all head to the farm and the first family to arrive got the best chance of getting an actual bedroom. Latecomers ran the risk of sleeping on the kitchen floor.
In the years since Dad died, Christmas has changed. Mom moved into an apartment in the city, and at Christmas time, those who lived outside the city showed up for a few days and spread out among the available homes in the vicinity. We got together for a meal or two and maybe a night of bowling, but it just wasn’t quite the same without the challenges of shared bathrooms and the joys of late night games of Skip-bo.
This year, we finally took my brother up on his longstanding invitation to converge on his house in Calgary. All of the rest of the family are Manitoba-based, so we all loaded up our cars and headed west. It may not be the farm – there are no fresh eggs for breakfast and Dad won’t come in from the barn cradling a small animal to delight the children – but this Christmas has held a charm and beauty all its own. There’s nothing quite like the pleasure of sharing a few days of undivided attention with my siblings, their spouses and children, and mom and her husband.
There are games to play, loads of food to eat, movies to watch, jokes to laugh at, cousins to entertain the kids, and conversations to fill the hours. There’s time for skating, time for hangin’ out in the hot-tub, and time for wandering around the nearby lake.
Tomorrow, we head to Banff for the day, and then we begin the trek home. We’ll be ready to sleep in our own beds by then, and the people in this house will be ready to have their soft surfaces free of sleeping bodies. In the end, we will be refreshed and reminded why there is nothing quite as good as family.
Sometimes I think that maybe those people who live in cultures where their extended families live under the same roof have got some advantages over the rest of us.
by Heather Plett | Dec 21, 2006 | Uncategorized
Perhaps it has something to do with the fact that I’m preparing for Africa. Perhaps it’s a deep desire to understand the hearts of the people there. Perhaps it comes from working in an organization trying to end hunger. For whatever reason, I seem to have immersed myself in stories of African conflicts lately.
Two of the most recent movies I’ve seen are Hotel Rwanda and Catch a Fire. Both of them are based on true stories about the brutality of conflict in different parts of Africa. Both are about man’s inhumanity to man. Both are dark and depressing, yet thankfully in both, there is a redemptive character – someone who rises above the carnage to demonstrate love, grace, compassion, and incredible courage.
Last week, a journalist visited our office. He’d spent a month in Sudan, trying to follow our food shipment into Darfur, one of the most brutal places on earth these days. He had stories of corruption, fear, carnage, and despair. In the end, the food had to be diverted to another region of Sudan because the passage to Darfur was just too dangerous. According to the World Food Programme, people in Darfur have only enough food to last them until the middle of January. Who will provide for them when it runs out and the rebels don’t allow any more trucks to pass?
Nestar is a young woman who is spending a year working as an intern in our office. Nestar grew up in Uganda, where the ironically named Lord’s Resistance Army has been terrorizing people for most of Nestar’s life. She was displaced from her home at a very young age and has never been able to return to her village. The first week in Canada, Nestar’s host family took her camping. She said she lay in the tent in complete terror, not sleeping a wink all night. To her, sleeping unprotected in the bush was the equivalent of offering herself up to the rebels.
The book I can barely put down these days is called Left to Tell. It’s the incredible story of Immaculée Ilabagiza, a young woman who survived the genocide in Rwanda by hiding for three months in a tiny bathroom with seven other women. The bathroom was so small they couldn’t all sit on the floor at the same time. During her months in the bathroom, Immaculée’s mother, father, and two brothers were brutally slaughtered by the Hutu warriors. One day, while in the bathroom, she heard the killers murder a woman on the street in front of the house. The woman’s child was left crying beside her body. All day the baby cried. At night, the crying ended, and then they heard the dogs come to tear the flesh from the bones.
I wish I had a conclusion to this post. I don’t. I don’t know where to go with all of this ugliness and hatred. Some days, it leaves me with such heaviness I can’t shake the melancholy. It’s hardly the way to start the Christmas season, but nonetheless I feel that I have to carry the stories of the people I’ve heard and find some way to honour them.
There may be no conclusion, because so much evil and brutality is still going on in many places in the world. There’s so little I can do about it. Even in Ethiopia, where I’ll be in a few weeks, there are always risks of uprising because of unstable political systems, injustice, and poverty. It’s not something that makes me afraid to go there, but it sits so heavy on my heart sometimes. How can people be so brutal to each other? What evil gets into their bones and drives them to kill?
With all of this weighing down my heart, I find myself clinging to my belief in redemption and hope. If there is evil in the world, than there is also good. There are people willing to risk their lives to save other people. There are people standing up to injustice and saying “no more”. There are people living out the call of Micah 6:8 to “love justice, do mercy, and walk humbly with our god.”
When the heaviness hits me, I turn to the things that breathe peace and hope into my soul. Sometimes it’s the Bible, sometimes it’s a quiet meditative walk, and many times it’s music. This week, it’s been the words of Martyn Joseph.
Yet still this will not be
Though all around is rage
The story getting darker
With each turning of the page
Yet still this will not last
This kingdom of the fool
Will be humbled and made low
When the broken hearted rule
There’s a journey that’s now calling
Towards the ocean’s heart
It’s an offering of mercy
Where we play the selfless part…
We’ll leave our treasure by the roadside
And our trinkets in the dirt
Giving back life and ruby riches
To the ruined and the hurt
In this context of hurt and ruin, I find myself with a few choices. I can rail against a God who lets it all happen and doesn’t rescue his children from torture and despair. I can abandon any belief that there really IS a God who could let this happen. Or I can choose to believe that God weeps weary tears as he watches his children tear each other apart, begging us to find a better way. I haven’t always made the same choice, but today I choose to the third.
Set aside all the trappings of Christmas, and I think that is what is at the heart of it. It’s God’s way of whispering to us “choose humility, choose peace, and choose hope.” The humble birth in a stable is a beacon pointing us to a better way – where power is turned upside down and the greatest way is the way of the child. Even among death and destruction, there is redemption and hope.
I conclude with Immaculée’s final words in Left to Tell. “The love of a single heart can make a world of difference. I believe that we can heal Rwanda – and our world – by healing one heart at a time.”
May you find peace this Christmas, and may you seek peace for those who have none.
by Heather Plett | Dec 20, 2006 | Uncategorized
I really don’t have time for much personal reflection or posting these days, but since I’m contributing to my work blog right now, I thought I’d at least share what I wrote there. (You’re welcome to visit there, but since I prefer to keep my work and personal life separate, I’d prefer it if you’d leave your comments here instead.)
I remember the first time I met Steve Bell. He’d visited the Foodgrains Bank office as a guest of his old friend Stu Clark. It wasn’t the first time I’d seen Steve (I’d been to several of his concerts), but it was the first time I’d shaken his hand or sat around a table chatting with him.
My first impression of Steve was “he is a man of humility”. Although he’d gained success in the world of music, was well recognized across Canada and beyond, and had won JUNO awards for his music, he did not carry himself with the air of a “celebrity”. His down-to-earth style and easy sense of humour made it quickly evident why so many people are drawn to his stories and songs. I knew, almost from the very first moment I met him, that we would become friends.
My second impression of Steve was “he is a deep thinker and an eager learner”. In our first conversation, it was clear that Steve wanted to engage. His visit to the Foodgrains Bank was not simply to shake a few hands or exchange pleasantries. He wanted to learn. He asked lots of questions about things like “food security” and “food justice”. His heart had been touched by the many people in the world living with hunger, and he wanted to know how he could get involved.
Over the next two years, a relationship began to develop between Steve Bell and the Foodgrains Bank. Periodically, we would sit down over lunch or coffee, and each time we did, his questions would reflect his ongoing learning and his desire to gain a deeper understanding of the many root causes of hunger. During that time, Steve was generous with his music, sharing songs for a few multi-media presentations. Last June, he addressed the board of directors, sharing some of his thoughts on how the Foodgrains Bank could grow and engage more and more Canadians in the fight against hunger.
Yesterday, we sat down with Steve and his wife Nanci to plan the newest and most exciting venture in the ongoing relationship. (This was the first time I’d had a chance to meet Nanci, and let me just say I knew almost as soon as I met her, that we would quickly become friends too. Nanci has a comfortable smile that draws you in and makes you feel that you have found a safe place.)
In January, Steve and Nanci and myself (Heather Plett) will travel to Ethiopia to visit a few of the projects supported by the Foodgrains Bank. A camera crew will follow Steve as he meets with people, visits their farms and villages, and learns about their lives and the challenges of living with hunger. In addition, one of Steve’s songs will be recorded for the production of a music video.
It’s hard to describe how exciting this project is for me. For one thing, I fell in love with Africa the first time I visited 2 years ago and I look forward to sharing that with Steve and Nanci. For another thing, I think the development of the resulting videos will be an exciting venture both for the Foodgrains Bank and for Steve. The combination of music and video will create a powerful opportunity for communicating the stories of the people who live with the reality of hunger.
Beyond that, though, it is exciting to travel with people who have deep and thoughtful hearts – people who know how important it is in our walk with God that we not only share generously with those who are hungry, but we get involved in their lives. Jesus paints a powerful picture when he shares the bread at the Last Supper, and that vision of sharing food around a common table is an important part of the work that we do.
Ending hunger is about so much more than sharing food. It’s about building relationships and partnering with those who are hungry. It’s about grappling with the causes of hunger and learning about how we can help change some of those circumstances. It’s also about being willing to make sacrifices and changes in our own lives so that there will be more balance in a world that seems so horribly out of balance. Steve and Nanci are willing to take some risks, ask some thoughtful questions, and get involved. We could hardly ask for better ambassadors or partners in the journey.
To learn more about the projects we will visit in Ethiopia, click here and here. To learn more about Steve Bell, visit Signpost Music.
by Heather Plett | Dec 16, 2006 | Uncategorized
There I was, sitting on the floor of my bedroom, surrounded by wrapping paper, tape, scissors, and a mountain of presents, and what was I doing? Crying. Go figure.
It started with the book I was wrapping for Maddie. Lighthouse by Robert Munsch. It’s the story of a little girl who’s lost her Grandpa. The first tears came when I realized how little the book will really mean to Maddie. She doesn’t remember her Grandpa. He died when she was only a year old.
And then, because I was crying anyway, I shed a few extra tears for the little girl who was in the basement playing with Julie. Remember T? She lost her mom a few months ago and is now living with her uncle because her dad is out of the picture. She was at our house for a sleepover. I sat there on the floor crying for her, because this will be such a different Christmas for her.
Over breakfast this morning, I asked what she’ll be doing for Christmas. “Well,” she said, “we normally open our presents in the morning, and then we go to my Grandma’s house.” And then her voice faded away because I’m sure she was remembering that she doesn’t have “normal” any more. This year, there will be a new normal, and who knows what that will look like?
I sat their crying because I feel so helpless to do anything for this little girl. I can’t give her her mother back. I can’t make Christmas happy. I can’t give her a safe and happy place to land. I feel so limited, when all I can do is give her a friendly home to visit now and then. And even as I give her that, as we sit around the breakfast table, I feel a little guilty because we have our whole family around the table.
Christmas isn’t just about joy. It’s about sadness too. It’s about loss and loneliness, and getting used to life without some of the people we love.
by Heather Plett | Dec 15, 2006 | Uncategorized
No, I’m not talking about Santa’s list. At this point, that’s the least of my worries. I’ve got way too many other lists to worry about right now – I’ve got no time to give the ol’ man in a red suit any thought.
I’m planning 2 very different trips in the next three weeks, and my brain is moving into operation overload. What needs to be done ahead of time? What needs to be packed? What errands do I still have to run? What do I have to organize for the people I’m responsible for? What am I forgetting to communicate? Okay, there’s just no way around it. Time to plug some organization into my normally disorganized brain. Yup, I’m makin’ lists.
First it’s the Christmas trip to visit family. Let’s see… what is there to think of? Gotta bring presents, clothes, sleeping bags, air mattress, stuff to entertain the kids in the car, that little magical machine that Marcel sleeps with that ensures both him AND I get a decent night’s sleep (it’s called a cpap machine – he’s got sleep apnea – if we forget that machine, the whole household won’t sleep for a week!), skates, a camera, and about a hundred other things that probably won’t fit in the trunk of the car. But first I have to finish the Christmas shopping, make sure the girls have appropriate clothes to wear at their Christmas concert, make sure there’s enough clean laundry for everyone to pack in their suitcases, attend a family Christmas party, and… oh I’ve got a headache already.
Then, a few days after our return, it will be time to pack for Ethiopia. Have I picked up my malaria pills yet? No. What about sunscreen? Nope. Packed gifts for our local hosts? Some. Bought extra memory cards for the camera? Yup – check that off the list. Oh but before I start packing there’s a press release to write, more coordination with the travel agent, an orientation with the team, a conference call with the Ethiopian consultant, money to be picked up… somebody give me something for this headache!
Ah, but don’t get me wrong – it’s all good. I’ve got so much to look forward to that the stress feels more than manageable. Once I get my lists made and I can start putting checkmarks beside things, I’ll feel much better. In the meantime, though, this blog will probably take low priority. Which, at this point, because Blogger is driving me crazy and won’t let me (or anyone else) comment in most places, may not be such a bad thing.
For all those people on whose blogs I TRIED to comment, you’ll just have to trust me that I’m still thinking of you. (Lucia, I’ve tried to tell you about three times that I hope you have a great trip!) And to those of you who sent me emails asking for an African postcard/blessing- THANKS! I look forward to the hunt for some interesting postcards.
For those who haven’t sent an email yet… there’s still time! I’m still in Canada (in relatively close proximity to a computer) until the end of the year.
