Mid-November

Well, we are now headlong into the last days of leaving. I have resigned and left my job, we have rented our home, we are studying Spanish, we are getting papers sealed and notarized and certified, getting shots, getting sad to leave our friends but encouraged that our friendships will remain strong...at the heart of all this is waiting, waiting to leave, waiting to see God's story for us unravel more...I can think of no better place to be than here waiting, a little insecure, a little scared, but waiting with peace enough to move forward in faith...

BOLIVIA BARN FEST

Benefit for the Massey Family's Mission Work in Bolivia
Nov 17, 6:30pm, Turkey Ridge Farm, Red Hill Road, Albemarle County, Virginia

» Bon Fire and Barn Dance
» Fun Activities for Adults and Children
» Silent Auction Fundraisers, iPod Raffle and More
» Hot Cider, Snacks and Dinner Food for Purchase (pizza chicken plates, and more)
» Music by Blues Soup. Band starts at 7:00pm
» Coolers welcome—bring your beverage of choice

...all in a quintessential Virginia barn setting on a cool autumn evening!

Tickets
$5 per adult, $2 per child (children 5 and under FREE)
Call or email Deb Uttaro for ticket info. Tickets available now and at the door. 434-817-2000, ext 116. duttaro@cjp.com


Directions
From 64
» Take 29S Lynchburg Exit
» Go approx. 6 miles on 29S to Rt. 708/Red Hill Rd.
» At flashing yellow lights turn left
» Go 4.6 miles
» Turkey Ridge sign on left

From Rt. 20
» Go approx. 8 miles from the 64 interchange
» Right onto Rt. 708/Red Hill Rd. towards Walton Middle School
» Go 1 mile
» Turkey Ridge sign on the right

Count Down

Hey everybody, the count down has begun, to both my last day at Carden Jennings (Nov 2) and our departure date to language school (Dec 28).

We are excited, but at times feel overwhelmed.

Here are a few things to pray for:

—That we can rent our home starting Jan 1, 2008.

—Sam has an orthodontic appliance in his mouth now, pray for his comfort and progress.

—That we can cross the finish line soon with support raising. We are at 93% of our monthly need met. Pray for more people to join with us. We have another $300 per month left to raise, and another $7,000 or so for our 1x outgoing costs.

—Angela has what may be kidney stones. Pray they are just that and nothing more. She goes for an X-Ray soon.

—For our good health, and spiritual growth over the next three months.

—God to have mercy on us as we begin to learn Spanish!

Well, it has been a while since we reported in here, that is not an indication however that our spirits are down or we don't have anything to say. In fact, the opposite is true, our spirits are high and we could tell you so much about how we have seen God at work in us and around us.

Our support raising is going very well. We still have not crossed the finish line, but we are getting close. We see God blessing this effort, and feel affirmed that the timing of our departure is right for us. Pray that God will continue to raise up a team of supporters to come around us.

In addition to raising support, I am still working my publishing job, school is in session at home as Angela is teaching Sam and Georgia, Ty is in preschool, we are laying the groundwork for so much transition that will come upon us soon—it is busy but not burdensome.

Our Developing Mission and Vision

Eleven months ago Angela and I, along with seven friends from our church in Charlottesville, took a mission trip to Santa Cruz, Bolivia. During our time in Bolivia we discovered God “pursuing” us, and like so many discoveries in God’s kingdom this one happened in the context of relationships. A friend said to me one evening, “Bubba, you think you could give it all up, ya know, you and Angela and the kids become missionaries?” My initial reaction was to say, “Why are you asking me?” Now, my reaction is to say, “Thank you, God, for using our friends as vessels for your message.”

Eleven months later, our family is actively preparing to move to South America to help build the church in the city of Santa Cruz. We will go as missionaries under the leadership of South America Mission—an agency that has been reaching South Americans with the message of Christ for 90 years. We are excited and feel affirmed in our decision to do this. However, we can only go knowing that you are praying for us and desiring to hear from us as we report back to you regarding God’s work in the lives of the Bolivians whom we will grow to love as we become integrated into their culture and community. So will you pray for us?

Right now we are orienting our lives around a December 2007 departure date, and as you can imagine, there is great preparation that will take place over the next five months. More than anything, we are eager to develop a strategy and vision for how God will use us in Santa Cruz. Our initial community of focus will be the professional class. We also care deeply about the poor and matters of social justice. Could we, then, work to establish a church, founded among the professional class, that grows to care for and embrace the millions who live undignified existences in Bolivian society—like indigenous peoples who live in slums in the city and remote villages in the countryside? Could we be used in this way, to cultivate hearts of compassion and communities oriented around a hope for Shalom?

We hope that our relationships will evolve organically as we live among Bolivians, learn from them, send our children to school with them, and study the Bible with them. We also know that there are great social barriers to overcome in order to be effective. How will we overcome? Who will our new friends be? What activities will be at the center of our relationships? Please pray that we will begin to know more fully God’s plan for our work in Santa Cruz.

In addition to praying for us, will you also consider supporting our work with a financial gift? We are required to reach commitments totaling $4,500 per month before we can leave in December. Of this amount, our family will receive a modest salary with the remaining dollars covering ministry, professional and logistical expenses.
Our work will be done well in South America only if this team of co-laborers comes together around us. Please join us. You are indispensable to our mission.

Yours in Christ,

Bubba and Angela

Santa Cruz, Bolivia

Today it became official. South America Mission commissioned us to be missionaries in Bolivia, specifically to live among Bolivian nationals in the city of Santa Cruz with the hope and aim of growing the church. The task before us is becoming more than just a plan for this chapter of our lives, but a dream that is forming deep within our hearts.

God is good to us. His goodness needs to be shared.

The New World

I came across this quote recently. Miroslav Volf, in Exclusion and Embrace, writes, "For as a rule, the Kingdom of God enters the world through the back doors of servant's shacks, rather than through the front doors of their master's mansions."

To Be of Use

A friend of mine, who describes herself as an "old Episcopalian reprobate", told me today of a poem by Marge Piercy—To Be of Use. Below is the last stanza from that poem. My friend is hardly old and she prays and loves deeply. I want to comment soon on this piece. Please, offer your comments too, I hope to foster a dialogue about beauty and hope through this blog.

"The work of the world is common as mud.
Botched, it smears the hands, crumbles to dust.
But the thing worth doing well done
has a shape that satisfies, clean and evident.
Greek amphoras for wine or oil,
Hopi vases that held corn, are put in museums
but you know they were made to be used.
The pitcher cries for water to carry
and a person for work that is real."

POTATO EATERS, by Van Gogh

My favorite painting. A half-awakened smile on a half-dead body. Light barely capable of penetrating darkness. But like stars, a beacon, a specter of hope.

EASTER MORNING

My brother introduced me to AR Ammons and this poem about 10 years ago. My favorite poem, one I have meditated on many times and for many, solitary minutes. On the one hand painfully nostalgic, on the other hand magnificently hopeful. Hope is always about the future. Nostalgia is always about the past. We live our lives on the knife edge between these two spaces. Which space will we ultimately occupy?


Easter Morning
by A.R. Ammons

I have a life that did not become,
that turned aside and stopped,
astonished:
I hold it in me like a pregnancy or
as on my lap a child
not to grow old but dwell on

it is to his grave I most
frequently return and return
to ask what is wrong, what was
wrong, to see it all by
the light of a different necessity
but the grave will not heal
and the child,
stirring, must share my grave
with me, an old man having
gotten by on what was left

when I go back to my home country in these
fresh far-away days, it’s convenient to visit
everybody, aunts and uncles, those who used to say,
look how he’s shooting up, and the
trinket aunts who always had a little
something in their pocketbooks, cinnamon bark
or a penny or nickel, and uncles who
were the rumored fathers of cousins
who whispered of them as of great, if
troubled, presences, and school
teachers, just about everybody older
(and some younger) collected in one place
waiting, particularly, but not for
me, mother and father there, too, and others
close, close as burrowing
under skin, all in the graveyard
assembled, done for, the world they
used to wield, have trouble and joy
in, gone

the child in me that could not become
was not ready for others to go,
to go on into change, blessings and
horrors, but stands there by the road
where the mishap occurred, crying out for
help, come and fix this or we
can’t get by, but the great ones who
were to return, they could not or did
not hear and went on in a flurry and
now, I say in the graveyard, here
lies the flurry, now it can’t come
back with help or helpful asides, now
we all buy the bitter
incompletions, pick up the knots of
horror, silently raving, and go on
crashing into empty ends not
completions, not rondures the fullness
has come into and spent itself from

I stand on the stump
of a child, whether myself
or my little brother who died, and
yell as far as I can, I cannot leave this place, for
for me it is the dearest and the worst,
it is life nearest to life which is
life lost: it is my place where
I must stand and fail,
calling attention with tears
to the branches not lofting
boughs into space, to the barren
air that holds the world that was my world

though the incompletions
(& completions) burn out
standing in the flash high-burn
momentary structure of ash, still it
is a picture-book, letter-perfect
Easter morning: I have been for a
walk: the wind is tranquil: the brook
works without flashing in an abundant
tranquility: the birds are lively with
voice: I saw something I had
never seen before: two great birds,
maybe eagles, blackwinged, whitenecked
and –headed, came from the south oaring
the great wings steadily; they went
directly over me, high up, and kept on
due north: but then one bird,
the one behind, veered a little to the
left and the other bird kept on seeming
not to notice for a minute: the first
began to circle as if looking for
something, coasting, resting its wings
on the down side of some of the circles:
the other bird came back and they both
circled, looking perhaps for a draft;
they turned a few more times, possibly
rising—at least, clearly resting—
then flew on falling into distance till
they broke across the local bush and
trees: it was a sight of bountiful
majesty and integrity: the having
patterns and routes, breaking
from them to explore other patterns or
better ways to routes, and then the
return: a dance sacred as the sap in
the trees, permanent in its descriptions
as the ripples round the brook’s
ripplestone: fresh as this particular
flood of burn breaking across us now
from the sun.

From The North Carolina Poems
First published in 1994