The Bad News.

Images of youth with their lips and noses hacked off, the story of an Iraqi doctor kidnapped and tortured, and pictures of juvenile prostitutes swathed in vibrant saris tell the pervasive story of evil, abuse, and injustice unfolding in countless countries. Lately, I have been tracking more and more with the coverage of horrific realities that the majority of the world deals with day after day. In part, this is due to my new role at International Teams. On the other hand, Facebook has opened up entire new venues for staying informed. One of those venues is the day to day updates that I receive from Invisible Children.

Up until recently, I had not realized that I.C. was singularly involved with disbanding the Lord's Resistance Army and the removal of Joseph Kony as the leader of that army. Past reads leave no doubt that the terror Kony is inflicting on five countries in Eastern Africa is bolstered and fueled by the minions of hell. Witnesses recount that the eyes of Kony turn red and I have read that he is frequently posessed by a myriad of demons...where the spirit of a deceased person inhabits the man for a time in order to accomplish some heinious task. Countless thousands of children have been abducted and enlisted under atrocious duress to fight against the government in a war that is more about one man's insatiable drive for power than any viable purpose. After a failed attempt at peace in 2008, Kony reacted in appalling fashion by cutting off the lips and noses of random innocent people, massacring countless others, and abducting over a hundred orphans, sending a clear message to the international community that he is no where near relinquishing his caustic command of terror.

Terror, abductions, and torture seek to reign in communities all around the world. A couple of weeks ago, I met a new friend. Insaf Safou is the International Teams program leader for Impact Iraq. Although she has lived in Canada for a decade, her heart resides in the Middle East. After several hours and edible Iraqi delights, it became clear that this woman is driven by God to defend the helpless and build up the church in her homeland. As we sifted through hundreds of photos, she shared the stories behind the pictures. The subject of one photo was an older gentleman. With a battered face and bandaged arms, he maintained a semblance of dignity by the way he raised his chin and looked at the camera. A Christian doctor, one day he was kidnapped and stolen away by an unidentified group. For an entire month, he was strung up from the ceiling with his hands tied behind his back. Not once was he set free to go the washroom or shower and only on occasion was he given a table to stand on to release the strain of being hung by his arms. Upon payment of a ransom, the abductors released him to his wife and family.

Release from prostitution is the hope of multitudes of abducted girls in India. Abducted or bought to be placed in the sex trade, girl after girl finds herself trapped in brothels at their physical expense and to the benefit of sleazy pimps. These children and young ladies endure endless abuses at the hands of 10 to 20 men every night. Even on their death beds, they are forced to perform. The brilliance of fabrics and paint that frame the entrances to these perverted dens downplay the severity and add to the repulsiveness of the atrocities happening inside. International Justice Mission along with local lawyers and police are working tirelessly to free the unwilling prostitutes and bring their abductors to justice.

Justice is required. Along with kindness and a humble walk with God, the pursuit of justice is what I long for. The three examples of depravity above are not meant to numb us into inaction but stir us into activity. Reading the truth about how the majority of the world lives should not depress us but drive us to defend and protest these wrongs. In this brief article, I have mentioned three agencies who are actively opposing corruption and steadfastly advocating on behalf of the suffering. Look them up on-line. Get involved. Do something. At the very least, be informed and aware that not everyone lives snug as a bug in their home sweet home.

Redefining Me.

The snow is coming. A few flakes fluttered down this past Thursday. Besides the dread of bad roads and cold that bites the skin, I am relishing the brusque air and the way it leaves the trees radiating the hues of autumn. Slippers grace my feet and the woodstove glows every evening. The smell of apples cooking in pies, cakes, and muffins is synonymous with the season and my mom's efforts to meet my dad's not-so-subtle hints for apple treats. All the sights and smells bleed familiarity and entice me with their sweetness. There is no shortage of goodness in my life.

Life is good but my bleeding heart still grieves. I miss Bolivia.

In Bolivia, I know who I am. I'm Marge. Marge, the master of pizza on Tuesday nights and queen of Shepherd's pie for Friday lunch, who brought groups of girls to Hotel Flamingo and taught them about Jesus, prayer, and how to play a game of Hearts. Marge baked and hosted anyone and everyone who wanted to come for a visit, share a meal, or use the Internet for awhile. Marge would whip up to the airport to pick up a team, lead them through the sights and work of Santa Cruz, and send the group back home with a desire to come back for more. Marge plucked out silly songs with her limited guitar skills and longed to show love to children who were more familiar with the back of a hand than a stroke of affection on the face.

There is no Marge in Canada.

But there is an Auntie 'M'. There is a daughter blessed by parents who care for and provide for her. There is a sister who's brothers and their wives show undeserved admiration and support. There is a friend, although she be changed, who appreciates and savours the laughs and memories of years past. Sara Groves sings,"I've been painting pictures of Egypt, leaving out what it lacked, the future feels so hard and I want to go back. But the places that used to fit me can not hold the things I've learned." A return to Bolivia would be fabulous. It would also be an escape from the difficulties that face me here. I just want to fit better in this present place.

Lord, make me a servant. Take me as you find me, all my fears and failures. Lord, fill my life again.