lydia

Aaahhh! We all totally forgot it was thanksgiving yesterday! We had what we always have for dinner: fried chicken and cassava leaf soup. It sounds gross, but it’s actually quite good. And you should see these people make it! Wow! One of Ben’s neighbors came over to teach Mrs. VanderHook how to chop the leaves and I thought this woman would slice her fingers off for how fast she was moving her hand. I think she could throw bullets faster than a machine gun could shoot them. Sorry for the analogy. It’s just that there are so many soldiers with guns around here, I can’t get it off the brain. They’re here to protect the people. If they weren’t here the rebels would be using those weapons on us. All that to say, we might not have had a thanksgiving dinner, but I still know what I’m thankful for. Life.

We brought Cynthia to the airport today. (She’s my dad’s boss.)

We had to wait around forever and it was getting boring, but then a skinny Liberian man stepped out in front of all the benches and loudly cleared his throat. He was wearing a shiny top hat, goofy toy glasses, purple suspenders, and size 20 shoes. A clown. I couldn’t help staring at him, and he winked at me.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” he said, “what better diversion could there be during a long wait than entertainment?” His jokes were about as funny as a middle-school history teacher’s on a bad day (sorry Mr. Jenkins), but Ben and I howled anyway. A little heat stroke would make anyone delirious.

When the clown finished his performance and carried his hat around for donations, I was devastated to not have any more cash. Most unemployed people around here simply asked for money from others, but this guy wanted to earn his income, to give something back. I admire that. I ended up borrowing from Mrs. VanderHook so I could drop some bills in the clown’s hat. I was glad to see that others were also contributing.

“Those who know your name will trust in you, for you, LORD, have never forsaken those who seek you.”
(Psalm 9:10)

This may sound crazy since I’m a missionary kid, but I don’t think I’ve ever really prayed before today. Have you? I mean, for real? I mean, knowing in your head that God is this great and amazing Creator and then telling him little things that even your best friend doesn’t know. It’s amazing!

Gotta run! So much going on! Love you! Love you!

Oh my gosh. So much has happened, I can’t possibly tell you everything. I’ll have to write a book about it.

Africa is amazing. We’re on the west coast, and all the lions and giraffes are a million miles away from here, but it’s still cool. Well, not cool—it’s actually stinking hot—but you know what I mean.

So, here’s what Ben’s house looks like. Imagine that you are a spider on the ceiling looking down—this is what you’d see. Of course, you’d need X-ray vision too. Which would make you a superhero, and you might as well just fly over here and see it for yourself then.

If I could draw a picture of Africa for you, I’d do that too—but I don’t think you’d be able to imagine it even if I were the greatest artist in the world (which clearly I’m not). Ask your mom or dad to take you on a missions trip here. It’s awesome!

it’s like 11pm and i should be in bed cuz we’re leaving early in the morning, but i’ve got 2 much on my mind … u all think i can do anything and that i’m afraid of nothin, but the truth is i really hate flying … my mom died in an airplane crash when i wuz 6 … pray for me

ps gramma’s dinner was yummy

Daddy and I ate pizza on the floor of our living room tonight. Our furniture is on its way to our new apartment. Daddy says we don’t need a big house anymore since we’ll hardly ever be home. Of course, we have ten more days until we leave for Liberia, so I don’t know what we’ll do until then. Here’s my suggestion:

Day 10 pizza (done)
Day 9 pizza
Day 8 pizza
Day 7 KFC
Day 6 pizza
Day 5 pizza
Day 4 pizza
Day 3 Taco Bell
Day 2 pizza
Day 1 Grandma’s house
Day 0 airplane food

Once we get home from Liberia we’ll be eating stuffed-crust pizza with extra cheese because we’ll be R-I-C-H. Daddy’s going to do accounting or something boring like that; but I’m going on a … treasure hunt.

I can’t tell you any more. If I did, I’d have to kill you.

Snakes, broken bones, and a cheerleader. I don’t know which was the worst. Here’s what happened:

Three hours ago—opening night!—I was drawing tears from the audience with my riveting performance as Juliet (”Romeo, what’s here? Poison? Drunk all, and left no friendly drop to help me after? “) when disaster struck: The table holding Joe (a.k.a., Romeo) broke—and Joe grabbed my arm as he fell to the floor, even though he was supposed to be unconscious. We both plunged to the floor … and I heard a crack. I think the entire audience must have heard it. At first I thought it was my tailbone, but it was only Joe’s wrist. Phew.

Anyway, the show went on. Simon took Joe’s place (we were almost done anyway)—but then I spotted something moving in the sacks at the front corner of the stage. I forgot my lines because a second later I saw the school’s missing boa coming straight for me. (No one knew it was missing until then.) Needless to say, I wasn’t very happy. I’d rather plunge a knife into myself than get attacked by a rabid snake.

Of course, I wisely go screaming to the other side of the stage, but the freak Melanie (luv you, Mel!) comes up and socks it. Melanie is a cheerleader. A girl girl. Still, she knocks it flying with her baton. This is not a joke. Then Simon grabs a sack and throws it over the boa. The Mad Scientist (sorry Mr. Langley, but this really was crazy) scoops up the boa with a shovel that was on the set and walks across the stage with it toward the science room.

After all that, guess who got the roses tonight. Yeah. Melanie.

I hate my life.