First book of the year

I love to read.  The trouble is I'm a slow reader.  And I'm a multi-reader.  Meaning I am generally reading multiple books at one time.  And, no matter how horrible a book is, I feel compelled to finish it.  This makes for the perfect storm of stacks of half-finished books that taunt me and daily call out to me... "finish me!  read me!  pick me up!".  The situation is compounded by the numerous magazines that show up at watsonopolis vying for a read as well.  

I have a friend who, in her new year's resolutions, mentioned she planned to read 52 books this year.  I'll probably come close to that goal as well.  Trouble is, she'll finish 52 books.  I'll simply start 52 books.  

49 days into this new year, I've finished my first book.  Anne Lamott's Plan B: Further Thoughts on Faith.  Lisa put me on to Lamott who is from Marin county where Lisa and I went to seminary and lived for nearly 4 years.  Her story (and her faith) is witty, raw and attractive.  She makes me laugh.  She reminds me of a place I hold dear.  Her reflections on her faith and the Jesus who saved her from alcoholism are like a field full of wheat and weeds...refreshing and blasphemous, hilarious and heretical.  I think that's what we get this side of God's Kingdom.   

Rather than rambling on about her book.  I thought I'd just pull out a few quotes that stuck with me.

"Grace means you're in a different universe from where you had been stuck, when you had absolutely no way to get there on your own".

"[We] bought everything we could think of that young children would need to learn about God: juice boxes, blankets, beach balls, moist towelettes, a children's Bible, a boom box and art supplies".

"But you don't get what you want; you get what you get.  You want to protect your child from pain, and what you get instead is life and grace; and though theologians insist that grace is freely given, the truth is you pay for it through the nose.  And you can't pay your child's way".

(on speaking of a friend with a terminal illness) "He lost the great big outward thing, the good looking package, and the real parts endured".

"I planted bulbs.  Which is a form of prayer".

"God doesn't want or expect you to get it together before you come along, because you can't get it together until you come along.  You can spend half of your time along, but you also have to be in service, in community or you get a little funny".

"I don't have the right personality for Good Friday, for the crucifixion: I'd like to skip ahead to the resurrection.  In fact, I'd like to skip ahead to the resurrection vision of one of the kids in our Sunday School, who drew a picture of the Easter Bunny outside the tomb: everlasting life, and a basket full of chocolates.  Now you're talking".

"She quoted the Reverend James Forbes as saying, 'Nobody gets into heaven without a letter of reference from the poor'".

"In church, we don't live from our minds - we live in community, which is to say, in shared loss and hope, singing and hanging out together".

"I remembered something Father Tom had told me - that the opposite of faith is not doubt, but certainty.  Certainty is missing the point entirely.  Faith includes noticing the mess, the emptiness and discomfort , and letting it be there until some light returns".

"I continue to be deeply surprised by life...But, meanwhile, in Advent, we show up when we are needed; we try to help, we prepare for an end to the despair.  And we do this together".

"Easter says that love is more powerful than death; bigger than the dark, bigger than cancer, bigger than airport security lines".

"Jesus had washed the disciples' feet, to show that peace was not about power; it was about love and gentleness, and being of service".

"I didn't need to understand the hypostatic unity of the Trinity; I just needed to turn my life over to whoever came up with redwood trees".

2007 (or 14 months later)

We have some friends in Oakland (that's a city in California for our Tennessee friends who always, for some reason, think I'm referring to the rural community just outside of Memphis that bears the same name) who each year send out an end of the year family video.  A couple of years ago, when we were just a clan of 3 and going through so much transition, we thought, "hey, that's a great idea".  

I began working on the project when we were living in Marin County and, well, the transition bug hit again and the project got put on the back burner, time passed and it seemed a little silly to finish it.  

While cleaning off the macbook recently we rediscovered the nearly finished video, and decided, despite the time and miles, to go ahead and finish it.  

Frankly, the process was humorous and theraputic.  There is something profoundly healthy and helpful about looking back at a season, a season or two removed.  Often, there's perspective and hopefully some measure of maturity that a distant backways glance can afford.  

So, if you've been wondering what the Watsons were doing in 2007, here's a 7 minute look into that 12 month adventure.  

2007 Year In Review from Matthew Watson on Vimeo.

Conversation over Breakfast

Setting: Breakfast Table.  Lisa and Matthew are looking at the latest random Christian bookstore catalogue which arrived in the mail the preceding day.  

Matthew: Look, here's a Shofar Horn for $200.  

Lisa: Yeah.  That's what we need.

Matthew: And look!  A Hebrew Prayer Shawl with the Prayer of Jabez on it.

Lisa:  That's what I need.  It's probably why my boarders are not expanding.

Matthew: Yeah.  I've been meaning to talk with you about that.

(fade to black)

To Kenya & Back, pt. 2

Upon arriving in the orphanage, we were greeted by what felt like a great deal of fan fare.  The children and staff even had been anticipating our arrival for several weeks and were glad to have us with them.  In many ways, we felt like royalty - at times uncomfortably so.  

As we piled out of the vans, the children streamed to meet us, singing songs of welcome and touching our white skin.  All of which was incredibly moving.  

For our first Kenyan meal we were introduced to Ugali; a mash made simply of corn meal and water all boiled together.  You serve ugali with a kind of stew that has either beef, chicken or fish in it along with some greens.  You eat it with your hands.  

So much of this experience was new for me.  Yet at the same time so much had echoes of places previous.  The sounds of African children singing; it has a distinct ring, cadence and soothe to it.  The language is different, the tribe different, the location - all different.  But I'm flashed back to a similar greeting in a little village in Nigeria.  I remember children rushing to the van to welcome us.  And the singing.  I can still hear it softly.  

We ate with our hands in Senegal 7 years ago.  We ate with our hands in Nigeria.  And we're eating with our hands again.  For Americans, there's something a little weird about eating with your hands.  I'm not talking about eating with your hands like you eat fried chicken, hamburgers or pizza with your hands.  I mean, like your eating the side dishes - mashed potatoes, mac 'n cheese  and your salad w/ dressing all with your hands.  Admit it.  It feels a little strange.  And again, it feels a little familiar for me.  We didn't have ugali in Nigeria, we had pounded yam.  I suspect the difference is that corn grows better in Kenya than yams do.  But the ball of mash with which to eat your stew is still present.  We didn't eat anything weird or creepy.  Now, I know there are places that eat strange things, including here in the US.  But i think the truth is, most people in most places would just prefer a chicken leg, a fish filet or a cut of beef over bugs, intestine, tongue or whatever.  It's when we're poor that we begin eating the other stuff - out of necessity or delicacy.  And though it might not seem that way, there is a very fine line between necessity and delicacy.  

To Kenya & Back, pt. 1

The blogs have been skinny recently due primarily to a flurry of holiday activity which included a 10 day trip for me (matthew) to Kenya.  I along with 5 roughneck boys went to Kenya and served at an orphanage called 'The Haven, that one of the members of Living Hope established about 3 years ago.  It was an amazing trip for me and my first trip back to Africa since we left Nigeria nearly 2 years ago.  

The purpose of the trip was to serve alongside the Kenyan staff of the orphanage in facilitating a camp experience for the children who live at The Haven and a neighboring orphanage about an hour away.  Also, I think a few of the neighbor kids popped in to have a good time with us as well.  

I traveled with Alan, who along with his wife are co-founders of The Haven and who fled the country a year ago following post-election violence in Kenya.  Also with us was J.R. our young adult pastor and 3 young men; Jimmy "Hot Rod", John "One Liner" and Ben "I wanna be Martin Scorsese".  In other words, an all around happening bunch of guys.  

Call me stereortyping, but orphanage work isn't something i typically think of a bunch of 20-30something males engaging in, but here we were.  Departing Memphis the day after Christmas and looking forward to what lay ahead.  After a day long delay in Atlanta we were on our way to Kenya via Lagos, Nigeria of all places.  

Honestly, there are so many stories to tell and pictures to show, and I don't want to be THAT guy that bores you with a slideshow.  But let me start this way...

The flight from Atlanta was a swirl of emotions for me.  We were heading to Nigeria first then on to Kenya.  Consequently the plane was full of Nigerians, loud ones.  Not unlike the ones we lived with in Jos, and that live on our street across from 'De Benjamins'.  Without going into details, the way in which the Watsons left Nigeria was difficult and in some ways, if we're not careful, could taint much of our memory of that special place and time.  So, to be headed back there, with this band of brothers from Memphis, on this plane, in this way...it was, at times, overwhelming.  So much was familiar and attractive, and at the same time strange and frustrating.  Like being pulled down a memory lane that you want to go down, but unsure if your ready.  

I found myself in the back of the plane with some of the Nigerian men drinking rum and coke and talking about the electricity problems of Africa, laughing about the ridicularity of it all.  I enjoyed it.  And was scared of it.  And was glad to be back around Nigerians.  

Our layover was in Lagos.  An airport that I've never been to.  Nothing in Nigeria is easy.  And International Airports all the more.  Nevertheless, we found favor with an immigration officer who walked us through the process, through the security, out of one terminal, over to another and to our departing gate.  As we walked, I discovered he was from an area north of where I once lived in Jos.  I spoke Hausa to him. He grinned.  We talked about pounded yam, egusi and other dishes i knew he would have eaten over the holidays.  He laughed.  And once at our gate, he shook all of our hands, wished us Godspeed and left. Without asking for anything in return.  

And then we were on to Kenya.