tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-73261207093822970812024-03-19T01:48:23.608-07:00Beyond our BackdoorGregory Sundhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01658124875363713717noreply@blogger.comBlogger87125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7326120709382297081.post-46600958908353970102020-04-23T13:15:00.000-07:002020-04-23T13:15:07.054-07:00Mask Making <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I've received some requests for the pattern that we use at Kibuye Hope Hospital to make masks for the hospital employees. I'm going to try to explain the process here. I'm not a seamstress, so forgive me if I don't use the right terminology.<br />
Feel free to send me a message with any questions.<br />
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-jhor_lctTSA/XqDpa-s3FxI/AAAAAAAAA_s/kMOmgP75ojMeIyXOFrUnOzXlTA4VS0xmwCLcBGAsYHQ/s1600/IMG_E2377.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1229" height="400" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-jhor_lctTSA/XqDpa-s3FxI/AAAAAAAAA_s/kMOmgP75ojMeIyXOFrUnOzXlTA4VS0xmwCLcBGAsYHQ/s400/IMG_E2377.JPG" width="306" /></a><br />
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I'm struggling to add this patterns as a PDF to blogger. But I think if you pull the image into Pages or Word and then enlarge to fill an 8.5 x 11 page then print you'll get a template. </div>
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You can also look for a pattern and instructions on <a href="https://www.craftpassion.com/face-mask-sewing-pattern/">this blog</a>, which is where I found the pattern and then we adapted it for more coverage, nose wire and open ends for adding another filter between the who layers. We made the outer layer of our pattern longer to cover the chin and longer towards the ears. But yesterday, when I clicked on the blog linked above, I saw that the author has made adaptions to her original mask pattern to meets the needs of masks for this pandemic. </div>
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-4d4uOkCeKKo/XqDHqjgWckI/AAAAAAAAA_c/SY-x226lgtMv-xvZ0WlZWlwQX_G7Y0aoQCEwYBhgL/s1600/IMG_4334.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-4d4uOkCeKKo/XqDHqjgWckI/AAAAAAAAA_c/SY-x226lgtMv-xvZ0WlZWlwQX_G7Y0aoQCEwYBhgL/s320/IMG_4334.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
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Cut two of the outer layer pieces from fabric and place right sides together. Sew along the nose to chin. </div>
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Vk0vAauN60s/XqDGzSItgHI/AAAAAAAAA9o/iw6c_MZtpjcaXetTpM9yMJ_bzXpTYIVwgCLcBGAsYHQ/s1600/IMG_4350.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Vk0vAauN60s/XqDGzSItgHI/AAAAAAAAA9o/iw6c_MZtpjcaXetTpM9yMJ_bzXpTYIVwgCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/IMG_4350.jpg" width="240" /></a><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-4a5xSnP5xng/XqDwREtt1BI/AAAAAAAABAw/Ldf6lD7AXfY9anC7VWa3umbHaPQQ79dcgCLcBGAsYHQ/s1600/IMG_4349.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-4a5xSnP5xng/XqDwREtt1BI/AAAAAAAABAw/Ldf6lD7AXfY9anC7VWa3umbHaPQQ79dcgCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/IMG_4349.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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Fold over and sew about an inch on the top and bottom on each side near the ear (pictured above) and then fold over and sew from top to bottom to make a pocket for the string or elastic to go through. (pictured below)</div>
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<br /><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-J2tfTkAGyGQ/XqDwIrHQRHI/AAAAAAAAA_4/SmTgZWMRnOkuyc0XqTEI0t9u-tO05OIaQCLcBGAsYHQ/s1600/IMG_4336.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="400" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-J2tfTkAGyGQ/XqDwIrHQRHI/AAAAAAAAA_4/SmTgZWMRnOkuyc0XqTEI0t9u-tO05OIaQCLcBGAsYHQ/s400/IMG_4336.jpg" width="300" /></a></div>
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Your outer layer should now look like this<br /><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-vSq9CcQRo0I/XqDwI48HsaI/AAAAAAAABAA/gf6hip5E9EAGBF0eBTfOcQbvf74SPkd6QCLcBGAsYHQ/s1600/IMG_4337.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-vSq9CcQRo0I/XqDwI48HsaI/AAAAAAAABAA/gf6hip5E9EAGBF0eBTfOcQbvf74SPkd6QCLcBGAsYHQ/s400/IMG_4337.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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We decided to use T-shirt for this inner layer because studies showed that it was a good material for blocking particles and it is comfortable against the skin. </div>
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-obITOZC9MBA/XqDHrXTgWZI/AAAAAAAAA_I/Mm1KMgc1ArQzndvikT-ygBBG6Z3D5S_CQCEwYBhgL/s1600/IMG_4338.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-obITOZC9MBA/XqDHrXTgWZI/AAAAAAAAA_I/Mm1KMgc1ArQzndvikT-ygBBG6Z3D5S_CQCEwYBhgL/s320/IMG_4338.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
<span style="text-align: center;">Cut two of the inner layer pattern and sew, nose to chin, right sides together. </span><br />
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Z8U9h4MzekQ/XqDHr6TuCqI/AAAAAAAAA_U/Jx9PLJBkX2sE-4FsAo64irl266YPL16JgCEwYBhgL/s1600/IMG_4339.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Z8U9h4MzekQ/XqDHr6TuCqI/AAAAAAAAA_U/Jx9PLJBkX2sE-4FsAo64irl266YPL16JgCEwYBhgL/s320/IMG_4339.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
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Fold and sew the inner mask, ear edge. This does not have to be a big fold over as it's just to keep the material from fraying, not for elastic or string to fit through.<br />
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-mbkoQhfWqNs/XqDwKWFOahI/AAAAAAAABAM/4CJCdG3vKBkHwU1nXBY5RJKLoFC1fCYcwCLcBGAsYHQ/s1600/IMG_4340.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-mbkoQhfWqNs/XqDwKWFOahI/AAAAAAAABAM/4CJCdG3vKBkHwU1nXBY5RJKLoFC1fCYcwCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/IMG_4340.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
Now you'll have two pieces as pictured above, outer and inner layer.<br />
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ET5dCBUEEMU/XqDwKn8BeuI/AAAAAAAABAQ/bEg1H7UAvOYzSLzBSPRNkCDGtWk_1CFwwCLcBGAsYHQ/s1600/IMG_4341.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ET5dCBUEEMU/XqDwKn8BeuI/AAAAAAAABAQ/bEg1H7UAvOYzSLzBSPRNkCDGtWk_1CFwwCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/IMG_4341.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
Place right sides together at nose/chin seam and pin the layers together. The inner layer should not come all the way to the edge of the outer layer. Do not sew down the sides by the ear, we want to leave these open so that later another filter layer can be added if desired.<br />
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-F7902FvfDIU/XqDwLZzCApI/AAAAAAAABAU/-hjfgymAW6gW8h2i9nSK6ZXMouL7SlGwQCLcBGAsYHQ/s1600/IMG_4342.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-F7902FvfDIU/XqDwLZzCApI/AAAAAAAABAU/-hjfgymAW6gW8h2i9nSK6ZXMouL7SlGwQCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/IMG_4342.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
Sew along the top and bottom of the mask to attach the two layers.<br />
Then sew another stitch along the top (nose) side of the mask. This is for wire.<br />
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-edVW_AF_b8A/XqDwPLTl33I/AAAAAAAABAY/h-Wt46rlE24LnGHdot6jNHj5IdJYcxrTACLcBGAsYHQ/s1600/IMG_4343.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-edVW_AF_b8A/XqDwPLTl33I/AAAAAAAABAY/h-Wt46rlE24LnGHdot6jNHj5IdJYcxrTACLcBGAsYHQ/s320/IMG_4343.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-rfkpRsFRDbI/XqDwPcndtUI/AAAAAAAABAc/O-S44KtBcUQSNMl_KF_rBZMoKh2P8t_1ACLcBGAsYHQ/s1600/IMG_4344.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-rfkpRsFRDbI/XqDwPcndtUI/AAAAAAAABAc/O-S44KtBcUQSNMl_KF_rBZMoKh2P8t_1ACLcBGAsYHQ/s320/IMG_4344.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
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<span style="text-align: start;">Leave open at both ends. Later you could slide in a piece of vacuum bag or other material to be a good additional filter.</span></div>
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Qqb173kJMig/XqDwQn854OI/AAAAAAAABAs/FliRlvbVcxkPBkeLVS1piCrS3S8YB_wEgCLcBGAsYHQ/s1600/IMG_4347.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Qqb173kJMig/XqDwQn854OI/AAAAAAAABAs/FliRlvbVcxkPBkeLVS1piCrS3S8YB_wEgCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/IMG_4347.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
Flip the mask right side out.<br />
You can slide strings or elastic into the outer layer ear side pockets. We used strings as we are cleaning the masks in the autoclave and the high temperatures would likely deteriorate elastic. <br />
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Ao90b0K6q7U/XqDwPd9h2KI/AAAAAAAABAg/XWfHDO7001E_f15AfERiGaCiIZOayr4fwCLcBGAsYHQ/s1600/IMG_4345.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Ao90b0K6q7U/XqDwPd9h2KI/AAAAAAAABAg/XWfHDO7001E_f15AfERiGaCiIZOayr4fwCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/IMG_4345.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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Bend the wire over onto itself a little so that it won't poke through the material, then slide the wire through the long pocket formed by the two lines of stitches along the nose side of the mask. After the wire was in place we added a little stitch in the material on either side of the wire to hold the wire from sliding out.<br />
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I was able to give the pattern and a few samples to some Burundian sewing ladies and they are now mass producing masks for hospital employees. </div>
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<a name='more'></a><br />Gregory Sundhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01658124875363713717noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7326120709382297081.post-52453045554565991832017-12-21T05:38:00.000-08:002017-12-21T05:47:11.578-08:00Merry ChristmasOur Christmas cards are being mailed from the states, and we're here in Burundi, so we thought we'd post our Christmas family newsletter here on our blog.<br />
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Merry Christmas from Burundi! </div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">2017 Began with our family living in Albertville, France where we were busy learning French in preparation to live and work in Burundi. While Greg and I attended language school, our kids experienced the “adventure” of the French school system, an experience none of them enjoyed. However, a perk of life in France for our kids was that, in January, they all joined an after school ski club and learned to ski. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">In July we finished our language studies and returned to the US for 7 weeks. We lived with Greg’s parents in WA, and Greg was able to work with his old anesthesia group. Stephanie and the kids traveled to Nebraska to visit Stephanie’s family. We greatly enjoyed our time in the states and the time spent catching up with friends and family. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">At the end of August we packed our 12 bags with everything from a Christmas tree to anti venom and headed off to Burundi. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Our transition to life in Burundi has been smooth, and for that we are grateful. Greg has been busy teaching nurse anesthetist and medical students as well as working as an Anesthesiologist in the hospital. He also leads a weekly Bible study for the medical students, completely in French! </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Stephanie teaches two classes a day to the missionary children. Each week she visits the NICU and malnutrition wards of the hospital to show videos on breast feeding, and one week out of the month she works with our eye team giving chemotherapy to children with retinoblastoma (an eye cancer). </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Both Greg and Stephanie are diligently studying Kirundi, the local language. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Ella is almost 13 and as tall as Stephanie. She enjoys reading, playing the piano and ukulele, and going to the hospital to play with children. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Mekdes is 12, she loves soccer, reading, cooking, and playing the guitar. She enjoys going to the field near the hospital to joining groups of kids playing soccer or play ultimate frisbee with our teammates. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Biniyam is 8 and continues to be his energetic comedic self. He’s loving life here in Kibuye where there are always kids to run and play with. He loves school, electronics, and making people laugh. A big part of this school year for him has been catching up on the things he missed learning last year in France. </span></div>
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We hope that your finding peace and joy in the midst of this busy season. As we reflect on the birth of Christ we are renewed in our hope, that our God, who fulfilled his promise to send a messiah, will also fulfill his promise to return and set all things right. </div>
Gregory Sundhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01658124875363713717noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7326120709382297081.post-91348700349148583312017-06-14T05:54:00.000-07:002017-06-14T08:40:33.517-07:00The Blessings of a House<div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">(by Stephanie)</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">There’s a term we learned in missionary training, “twang” which describes the feeling that you get when your expectations are different than the reality, it feels like a rubber band snapping on you. The degree of the twang, of course, all depends on how far your expectations were from reality.</span><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"> </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">We had been told by many of the missionaries on our team, who have gone to language school here in Albertville, to expect a hard year. I believed the hard year would mostly be due to the difficulty of language school and the less than encouraging mode of French education. But, I thought, we’ll be living in a small French town in the Alps, our time outside of school will be amazing! </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">And then we arrived, on a night that was so hot and muggy, the van pulled up on the side of a busy street and our apartment was pointed out to us, above a kabob shop bustling with young men. All our suitcases were unloaded and lugged up the dirty staircase to our 3rd floor apartment. The staircase also went down from the building’s entrance into a labyrinth of storage areas. I went to sleep thinking how I never wanted my kids coming in or out of our building on their own in fear of someone following them in and pulling them down the stairs. My first big twang. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">The next twang was apartment living with children. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica";"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">Anyone who know our son knows that words like quiet, still or boring would never be used to describe him. Biniyam has a big personality, he has a lot of ideas expressed in many words often at top volume. Biniyam and apartment living were a hard mix. He simply lives life loud, he shuts cabinets with a bang and bounces across the floor. And out of my mouth came constant correction for things that weren’t actually wrong, but just normal 7 year old boy noise ricocheting off the walls of our small space and being heard by the neighbors </span><span style="font-size: 11px;">above</span><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"> and below us. </span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Through the fall and winter we went through our routine, getting home at around 5 PM, making dinner, eating, doing dishes by hand, hanging laundry around the living room to dry, kids homework, our homework, kids to bed, and then trying to convince Biniyam to go to sleep when he could hear any movement taking place in the apartment. We usually spent all day Saturday in the apartment studying and Sunday, our day off from studying, we’d be itching to escape the walls around us and we’d head out for a hike. In all of this Bini was getting way too much electronic time and way too little time playing outside.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Life outside our apartment was hard and uncomfortable due to all the French and cultural differences (and yes, there are many cultural differences) and life inside our apartment was difficult too. One of my friends here described it best when she told me “I have no place here that feels tranquil” and that was just it. Things weren’t bad and I felt petty complaining, but there was no place that felt tranquil, for even those lovely Sunday hikes in the Alps were accompanied by at least one grumbling child. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica";"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">In January Greg and I were talking about all this when it occurred to me that there was a family who had left France early, and that they had lived in a house (rented by our school). So, we inquired, and found out that the house was sitting empty. We got the keys and went to see it, it had a yard, a dishwasher and a dryer! But the rent was more than what we paid for our apartment. We spent the night talking and praying about whether or not we should move. That night we got notified that we were getting another check, one we hadn’t expected, back from the sale of our house. The money we were getting back would cover the difference in rent for our months remaining in France. Praise God for great timing and for the comfortable home in which we’ve been living since mid January. It has made a huge difference in our enjoyment of daily life here in France. We now have a </span><span style="font-size: 11px;">place</span><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"> that feels tranquil. </span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">And Biniyam, he’s has been profiting well from our new pad. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Soon after we moved in we were able to host his birthday party in our yard, 10 active boys, 5 French, 5 American, doing an obstacle course, climbing trees and playing soccer. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica";"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"> After his birthday party Biniyam spent many weeks working on his tree climbing skills. Mekdes spent many hours reading in the tree and Greg tried to </span><span style="font-size: 11px;">camouflage</span><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"> himself into the tree. </span></span><br />
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And then the tree erupted in cherries and many more hours were spent collecting and enjoying its bounty. <br />
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<span style="text-align: start;">How many Sunds can you find in this tree?</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Then Biniyam got into elastic design. I don’t know what inspired this but it was a great occupier of </span>time.<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-6lVpFme7Ufs/WUEcJSFS8CI/AAAAAAAAAv8/45aRFIh_HY02ydOmourineq9JbelmgKJQCLcBGAs/s1600/IMG_5081.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-6lVpFme7Ufs/WUEcJSFS8CI/AAAAAAAAAv8/45aRFIh_HY02ydOmourineq9JbelmgKJQCLcBGAs/s320/IMG_5081.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
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<span style="text-align: start;">And now Biniyam's time out of school is spent outside in his </span><span style="letter-spacing: 0px; text-align: start;">Alchemist shop, making potions with whatever he can find. </span></div>
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Gregory Sundhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01658124875363713717noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7326120709382297081.post-80049619112118051942017-05-13T08:15:00.001-07:002017-05-13T08:15:30.707-07:00Oh, the things they endure <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="color: white; font-family: inherit;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;">We’ve said right from the get go that France has been harder for our kids than it has been for us. After all, the language school we attend</span><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"> has been teaching missionaries French for 50 years. They understand our lack of comprehension, they speak French to us slowly and at the start of the </span>year they<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"> even translated things into English for those of us who spoke no French. Our kids did not have that luxury. I’ve heard their teachers speak. They speak fast, very fast, and at first they did not understand how very little French our kids understood.</span></span></span><span style="font-size: 14pt; letter-spacing: 0px;"><span style="color: white;">In addition to all the language woes, there have been instances where we, as parents, have messed things up, or misunderstood, and made difficult French school even more difficult.</span></span><span style="color: white;"><br /></span></span><ul style="font-size: 15px;">
<li style="font-size: 11px; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="color: white; font-family: inherit; font-size: 14pt; letter-spacing: 0px;">Like the time this fall when I sent Biniyam to school in shorts and a t-shirt and he came home at lunch wearing pants… hum… He told me they went ice skating for PE and all the other kids had coats and gloves (and pants). Thankfully his teacher had pants for him to put on over his shorts. When we told Greg his eyes brightened “Oh, that must have been the word I couldn’t figure out in his agenda yesterday.” </span></span></li>
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<li style="font-size: 11px; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="color: white; font-family: inherit; font-size: 14pt; letter-spacing: 0px;">Or, the first day of school for our girls (they are both in middle school although Mekdes should be in 5th, the age cut off is different here). They had received a very long supply list and we had visited multiple stores, multiple times, to figure out what they needed and get it all. However, we thought that the 1st day of school was an orientation and that they didn’t need to bring anything. I sent them to school with one small bag containing 2 pens and 2 small notebooks. Then, at drop off, we saw all the other students arriving with backpacks, the girls did not want me to humiliate them by returning with theirs. But, once in their classroom and seated apart, the teacher YELLED at Ella for not having the right stuff. (Can you imagine anyone yelling at Ella?) It was so hard to have Ella, who’s always loved school, beg us not to send her back. </span></span></li>
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<li style="font-size: 11px; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="color: white; font-family: inherit; font-size: 14pt; letter-spacing: 0px;">Or on Tuesday, when I sent Biniyam to school in a speedo, a hand-me-down speedo. But alas, he’s swimming for PE and that is what the boys are required to wear. </span></span></li>
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<li style="font-size: 11px; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="color: white; font-family: inherit; font-size: 14pt; letter-spacing: 0px;">But, the one incident we will be talking about for years to come is the day we meticulously translated the note in Biniyam’s agenda at <span class="aBn" data-term="goog_845473998" style="border-bottom-color: rgb(204, 204, 204); border-bottom-style: dashed; border-bottom-width: 1px; position: relative; top: -2px; z-index: 0;" tabindex="0"><span class="aQJ" style="position: relative; top: 2px; z-index: -1;">9:00</span></span> at night. The note was about a field trip for the next day where the kids were going to walk about 2 miles to a park and then back to the school. The note said to put a reflector vest on your child. We were not sure what they were talking about, and all the stores were closed, so I took the only thing we had, the florescent yellow vest with reflectors that is part of our required car safety kit. It was way too big for him and looked ridiculous, but, the next morning off he went to school as pictured below. As we walked towards the building I noted that no other child was wearing a reflector vest. I told Biniyam I thought we should take his off, but he wouldn’t “I don’t want to make my teacher mad, I don’t want to get yelled at, I think I should keep it on.” So off to school he went. About an hour later Greg received a call from the father of one of Biniyam’s classmates, a fellow missionary. He said he was chaperoning the field trip and asked if he could take Biniyam’s reflector vest off as he was the only student wearing one. He also told us that yes, the note said to put a reflector vest on our child, be no one actually does it. We’re grateful that this dad intervened to save Biniyam from a full day of being super safe and absolutely ridiculous.</span></span></li>
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Gregory Sundhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01658124875363713717noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7326120709382297081.post-67901376333092773512017-03-22T09:21:00.000-07:002017-03-22T09:21:07.678-07:00Another Top 10(by Greg)<br />
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;">While we were in Burundi two years ago, I wrote a blog post about the top 10 things I missed about life in the U.S. As we have now been living in France for 7 months, I wanted to write a similar post, given a different perspective. However, it occurred to me that life in France is not really comparable to life in Burundi. It is true that language learning has been extremely challenging (and sometimes humiliating). However, overall France is a pretty comfortable place to live for a year. In fact, aside from our family and friends back home, the only thing I could think of that I really miss is nachos. Yes, nachos. As rich as France is in history, culture and cuisine, when it comes to Mexican food, it remains deeply impoverished. So, instead I decided to compile a list of the top 10 things I have found most surprising about France.</span></div>
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<li style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="line-height: normal;"></span><span style="font-kerning: none;">This is a beautiful country. Granted, the US is a beautiful country as well, and we have similar landscapes back home. The difference is, you cannot drive across the U.S. in a single day, as you can in France. In France, within 4 hours you can go from skiing in the Alps, to sitting on a beach on the French Riviera. But what also makes France so beautiful is the buildings. Rather than demolishing old buildings, the French preserve them. And it seems that in every city or village you pass through, there is a church or cathedral, often hundreds of years old which hovers overhead. The doors of these churches are almost always open. It often feels like being transported back in time.</span></li>
<li style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="line-height: normal;"></span><span style="font-kerning: none;">It is really hard to find a full "American" sized cup of coffee in France. When you order a “coffee” you get a tiny cup, filled with a tiny amount of coffee. In fact, the only place in Albertville where I have found I can get a “normal” sized cup of coffee is McDonalds. Sadly, there is no Starbucks in Albertville. In fact, I think the closest Starbucks is in Lyon or Geneva, both 2 hours away. </span></li>
<li style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="line-height: normal;"></span><span style="font-kerning: none;">The French do NOT drink liquids on the go. If you see someone walking down the street carrying a coffee mug, it is a pretty safe bet that they are not French. </span></li>
<li style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="line-height: normal;"></span><span style="font-kerning: none;">Despite having been the host of the 1992 Olympics, Albertville is not a tourist destination. Many people pass THROUGH Albertville on their way to nearby ski resorts, but it is rare to run into another American in town who is not a student at our language school. </span></li>
<li style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="line-height: normal;"></span><span style="font-kerning: none;">Before our arrival, many people warned us about the exorbitant cost of living in France. We have not found this to be true. Granted, there are some things that are more expensive here (such as gas), but overall, food and rent are pretty comparable to what we paid in Bellingham. </span></li>
<li style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="line-height: normal;"></span><span style="font-kerning: none;">The French word for foosball is “le baby-foot”. How cute is that? Because they have little tiny baby feet!</span></li>
<li style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="line-height: normal;"></span><span style="font-kerning: none;">Highway rest stops in France are amazing! Given our frequent weekend road trips, I like to think I have become a connaisseur of rest stops (classy, I know). They are always immaculate, with clean bathrooms and often a general store where you can find just about anything you can imagine. And the food is outstanding.</span></li>
<li style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="line-height: normal;"></span><span style="font-kerning: none;">While many Americans have trouble adjusting to “La bise”, the custom of kissing on each cheek when greeting someone, the French find hugging to be WAY to intimate. They can’t seem to understand why Americans always want to be so close to someone so quickly. </span></li>
<li style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="line-height: normal;"></span><span style="font-kerning: none;">The French are not, in general, an easily excitable people. But if you want to shock a French person who is curious about life in America, tell them how much you pay for health insurance. </span></li>
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I drive down this street 4 times each day, as our girls school is right behind the church at the end.</div>
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Gregory Sundhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01658124875363713717noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7326120709382297081.post-9621163957056270872017-01-15T12:42:00.000-08:002017-01-15T12:43:28.062-08:00Bisous Anxiety<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; line-height: normal;">
<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;">I would like to share with you a new condition which I have diagnosed myself with. I believe this may be a unique case, so for those of you interested in the field of psychiatry and mental health, this could in fact be a publishable case report. My name is Greg, and I have bisous anxiety.</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">We are almost halfway through our 10 months of language school in Albertville France. For those of you who are unaware, the French have a greeting which involves a kiss on each cheek. This is not something you do in formal or professional settings, but rather takes place on a regular basis among friends and family. It is a beautiful custom, and the French do it with complete ease. Sadly, I have been here for 5 months, and I am still struggling with knowing exactly how and when to use this greeting.</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">I am not a germaphobe, so please don’t confuse my malady with that (you can’t really be a germaphobe and function in a place like Kibuye). My anxiety revolves more around my fear of kissing someone I am not supposed to kiss, or not kissing someone I should kiss. Or doing it all wrong. I am awkward. I am an American. </span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">The problem starts with who to kiss. “La bise” is not just between men and women. After two men become friends, it is common for them to kiss as well. But how well do you have to get to know a dude before you go in for a smooch? And even with women, I just don’t know how well I am supposed to be acquainted with someone before we “faire la bise”. Often I just stand there like a deer in headlights, like a frightened turtle … just waiting, trying to anticipate their next move. </span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">I also can’t seem to remember which cheek I am supposed to kiss first. This has led to a few especially awkward moments with certain men at our church who I ALMOST ended up kissing right on the lips. I am awkward. I am an American.</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">In addition, I still don’t know exactly what I am supposed to do with my hands. Do I wrap them around the other person, do I keep them at my sides? For the love of God … <i>what do I do with my hands! </i></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">To make matters more complicated, I was recently informed that the number of kisses changes depending on which region of France you are in. Which means, I can never leave Albertville again. </span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">Unfortunately, although greetings in Burundi are different, they are no less complicated. After several months in Burundi, someone explained to me that when two men greet each other, it is common for them to grab their arm. The level at which you grab their arm (eg. wrist, forearm, elbow) conveys to the other person your understanding of their social status and your respect for them. Pretty sure I was doing this backwards for several months after our arrival, thus offending those I met in the highest positions of authority. It would probably be best if the team keeps me away from visiting dignitaries. </span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">It became clear to me a few years ago that one of the keys to thriving as a cross-cultural missionary is being willing to embrace those awkward moments, and even to laugh at yourself afterwards. If not, you are apt to become paralyzed with fear and insecurity.</span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;">And so, I will leave our house today, and I may even kiss someone I am not supposed to kiss. And if the next time you see me awkwardly looking at your cheeks or drawing near to you and then pulling back or if I seem paralyzed with confusion and indecision, please give me some grace. My name is Greg Sund. I am awkward. I am American, and I am a recovering bisous anxiety victim. </span></div>
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Gregory Sundhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01658124875363713717noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7326120709382297081.post-75183212258095721402016-11-25T09:26:00.000-08:002016-11-25T09:26:53.952-08:00On Fluency and The Art of Discouragement<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; line-height: normal; text-align: center;">
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<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">“Aren’t you fluent in French yet?”.</span><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"> </span><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">This is a question that has been posed to me by friends back home.</span><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"> </span><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">The short answer is, no … no I am not.</span><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"> </span><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">But when will I be fluent?</span><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"> </span><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">This is a question I have started to ask myself, which has caused me to think more recently about what it truly means to be “fluent” in a language.</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">Fluency in language is an interesting thing. To be honest, some days I am not sure I am fluent in English. Yes, I can hold a conversation. However, there are still MANY words in English for which I still do not know the meaning. And although I like to think I understand English grammar, I have a suspicion there may be an English teacher or two out there reading my blog who are twitching at each subtle mistake. And regarding spelling … well, thankfully my computer now fixes most of my speling mistaikes. </span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">Before we came to France, BIniyam tried to convince me that he didn’t need to come because he was already fluent in French. He knew how to say “bonjour” and “ça va?”. He also claims to be fluent in Kirundi, Spanish and Japanese. I think am going to be a little slower to apply this word to myself. In fact, I am not sure I will ever reach the point where I feel confident enough to label myself “fluent”. For me, that is a weighty word. </span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">The U.S. State Department has given me some guidance on this topic, as they have created a Proficiency Code, with a scale of 0 to 5. In fact, anyone can take this exam, which will inform you of which level you fall under for a given language. Level 5 means that you are able to use a language in reading and speaking, “fluently and accurately” on all levels pertinent to professional needs. Well, I did “fluently and accurately” order a baguette this morning … does that count?</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">After studying French full-time for the past 3 months, I stand in awe of people who speak two or more languages “fluently”. In fact, the place where I have met the most number of people who I would say fall into this group, are Africans, especially the medical students I work with. Many of them switch back and forth between French, Kirundi, and sometimes English, with complete ease. The students who come to us from Congo (where there are many more languages spoken) sometimes speak 7 or 8 languages with fluency. </span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">Learning a new language at the age of 42 offers daily opportunities for discouragement. Although I tested into an intermediate level in our school, I continue to have opportunities listening or speaking, in which I end up completely lost. We are so grateful for the language partners who meet with us each week. There are dozens of men and women here in Albertville who donate their time each week to meet one on one with the students at our school to give us practice in conversational French. These opportunities are massively important for us, but sometimes leave me feeling deflated and wondering what just happened (“wait … I agreed to do WHAT to your cat?”).</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">This morning I needed to respond to an e-mail I received from a nurse anesthetist in Burundi. The e-mail was in French. An e-mail that would have taken me 2 or 3 minutes to compose in English, took me 30 minutes to compose in French. </span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">I know I should be used to discouragement, having gone through medical school and residency, where one is often humiliated (sometimes in front of large groups of people), but somehow this feels different, and I am not sure why. Perhaps it is because I have a family now, and the amount of time I have each evening to study is more limited. Or maybe it is because trying to talk to people in a language that is new to you leaves you feeling vulnerable. Or perhaps it is because the line between success and failure, or fluency and non-fluency, is a bit more hazy when it comes to language learning, compared to the study of medicine. </span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">So, I go back to the bible to encourage me, and once again I find comfort in the words of 2 Corinthians 12:9-10: “But he said to me, ‘My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness’. Therefore I will boast all the more gladly of my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may rest upon me”.</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">Yes, I am making progress, and I am able to speak French better than I was 3 months ago, but I am weak, and I will likely continue to embarrass myself in front of native French speakers. And some days I will feel like an utter failure. But it will be okay, because His grace is sufficient. </span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">Our time here is important, and in fact is crucial to our success in Burundi. We would not be here if this was optional. We are grateful for this school, our teachers and our language partners. And we are grateful for everyone back home who is supporting us prayerfully and financially to allow us to invest this year in our future work in Kibuye. Ultimately though, we believe this is not our work, but is God’s. And so, our “success” will rest not on our fluency, but on His grace. </span></div>
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Gregory Sundhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01658124875363713717noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7326120709382297081.post-39917552099343180102016-10-30T02:00:00.000-07:002016-10-30T02:00:25.127-07:00Mamertine Prison<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;">(by Greg)</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">“Remember Jesus Christ, risen from the dead, the offspring of David, as preached in my gospel, for which I am suffering, bound with chains as a criminal. But the word of God is not bound.” - 2 Timothy 2:8-9</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">The Bible is very important to me. I start everyday by spending time in the Bible. One part of the Bible that has been especially dear to me is 2 Timothy, the letter written by the apostle Paul to Timothy, his dear friend and brother in the faith. I have had long conversations about this book with many in our church, especially our pastor Rob Berreth. In the past 15 years I have gone back to this book time and again, for instruction, for encouragement and for hope.</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">We are on a fall break from school this week and since we are living only about an hour from the Italian border, we decided to visit Lake Como in Northern Italy, to rest and recover from the past 2 months. Since we did not know if or when we would get the chance to be in Italy again, we convinced ourselves that we really should tack on a few days in Rome … for the sake of the children:) </span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">Yesterday we got to visit some incredible sites, including the Colosseum, the Palatine Hill (home of Rome’s emperors) the Senate hall (the birthplace of democracy). But we also got to visit a place that many people probably overlook. It is the site of what was called Mamertine prison. This is the prison in which the apostle’s Peter and Paul were held before their executions. It is also believed to be the site where Paul wrote 2 Timothy. Our family got to stand in the very cell where these words were penned, these words which have been read for the past (almost) 2,000 years by people from every country on the face of this earth. It was such a tremendous gift to get to visit this prison (now converted into a museum). It was a tremendous encouragement to my faith to stand in that cell and to remember that this book I read everyday is not a fairy tale, but is history and was played out by men and women who held the Gospel so tightly, that there were willing to die rather than deny it. I thank God for this opportunity, and for the reminder that He can even use a man chained in prison to bring hope and peace and life to countless people. </span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">“For I am already being poured out as a drink offering, and the time of my departure has come. I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith. Henceforth there is laid up for me the crown of righteousness, which the Lord, the righteous judge, will award to me on that Day, and not only to me but also to all who have loved his appearing” - 2 Timothy 4:6-8</span></div>
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The outside of Mamertine Prison</div>
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The cell where Peter and Paul were held.</div>
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Gregory Sundhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01658124875363713717noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7326120709382297081.post-70205552948837204192016-09-05T10:08:00.000-07:002016-09-05T10:08:39.124-07:00Survival Mode<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;">We have now been in France for 10 days, and I admit that I am guilty of not keeping our family and friends up to date on how things have gone so far. For that, I am sorry. To be honest, for the first week, we were very much in survival mode, just trying to figure out how to live and eat and to get around town. This took a lot of energy and a lot of time, but I believe we are starting to get our feet under us and are just now beginning to get into a rhythm. </span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">We arrived at our new apartment on a Friday night and were warmly greeted by our teammates the Baskins, who are just finishing their year in Albertville, before moving to Burundi (Darrell is an ophthalmologist, and will be Burundi’s first ever retinal specialist). They had dinner waiting for us, along with a supply of groceries to get us through the first few days. Our apartment is on the third floor of a building which is off campus (about a 15 minute walk, or a 5 minute car ride). Many of the students live in a dormitory on campus, but we are grateful for have been assigned an off campus residence, as we hope it will compel us to better engage in the local community and utilize our French as much as possible. Before we moved here, we arranged to purchase a used car from one of the outgoing students, a 2001 Opel Zaphira. It is a well worn and well loved car, but so far, it has started every time. </span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">The first week was filled with meetings trying to get set up with a French bank account, phone and internet, car insurance and registration, and the kids schooling. These meetings were exhausting, as they were all in French, which was a big stretch for me. My French is probably on the level of a 7 year old …. so just imagine me sending Biniyam in by himself to set up a bank account, or to purchase car insurance. I am not sure exactly what I signed up for, but put a great deal of faith in those who were helping me.</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">Thursday was orientation for Stephanie and I and was also the first day of school for our kids. It became clear to us on Thursday that what we are asking our kids to do, is massively more difficult than what Steph and I are doing. They have been thrown into schools with teachers and kids who speak no or very little English. It was a hard day for them, but they all survived and girded up to return to school on Friday, which seemed to be a slightly better day.</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">This weekend we had a bit of time to exhale and to explore this gorgeous city, nestled in the French Alps. We went to an artisan festival, and also hiked up to a medieval city on the mountainside (which we can see from our balcony). We also spent time with our teammates who are here with us, the Baskins and Wendlers. It seems I could keep writing for a very long time, describing our first 10 days, but I think instead I will close with some observations we have made about life in France.</span></div>
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<li style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: 12px; line-height: normal;"></span><span style="font-kerning: none;">The French people have been, for the most part, incredibly warm and kind to us. I think the French have gotten a bad rap in recent years, and I can only assume this comes from some bad experiences that Americans might have had in Paris or another big city, but out here, far from the big city, people are warm and generous and kind, and most of them have been very patient with my 7 year old level of French.</span></li>
<li style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: 12px; line-height: normal;"></span><span style="font-kerning: none;">Everything here is much smaller than in the US, including roads, apartments, and toilets (some of us need to work on improving our aim:)</span></li>
<li style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: 12px; line-height: normal;"></span><span style="font-kerning: none;">France (or at least the part of France we are living in) is an incredibly diverse part of the world. In our apartment complex, we live above a Kabob shop owned by a very kind Turkish man, also above a family from Poland, and below an Arab man and French man. </span></li>
<li style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: 12px; line-height: normal;"></span><span style="font-kerning: none;">France has a culture that is in many ways different from American culture. This will take time to understand and to learn how to adapt. I am not sure that a year is enough time to wrap our minds around it, but we will try.</span></li>
<li style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: 12px; line-height: normal;"></span><span style="font-kerning: none;">In France, your kids are released from school every day to have lunch with their families. I am grateful for this time as a family each day, and even more so as it gives us some time to check in with our kids in the middle of their day, and give them a respite from the onslaught of French coming toward them.</span></li>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">Again, I am sorry for all the emails and Facebook messages that I have not responded to, or responded to very slowly. In addition to the busyness of these past several days, we just got internet set up in our apartment this weekend, so we have had few opportunities to access the internet prior to this. Please continue to keep us in your prayers. Although a year in France may sound like a year long vacation to many, we know this will be a year with many challenges both for us and for our children. But we hope that in the end, we will have the depth of French that we need to re-enter into the work we have been called to in Burundi. </span></div>
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Gregory Sundhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01658124875363713717noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7326120709382297081.post-68092783187618532072016-08-13T11:36:00.000-07:002016-08-13T11:40:50.239-07:00Connecting Two WorldsThere is much I will miss about our lives in the U.S., but one of things I am going to miss deeply is the people I work with at Skagit Valley Hospital. The nurses, techs, surgeons, everyone there has been so supportive of what we are doing in Burundi. It is truly an incredible group of people, and I have never felt so at home going to work each morning, as I have for the past 8 years.<br />
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It is such a joy to connect people to our work in Burundi, and the people I work with have supported us in so many ways, from financial support, to sending us care packages while we were in Kibuye last year, to simply reading our blog posts and staying engaged. And so, you can imagine my excitement when two of the general surgeons I work with agreed to travel to Kibuye and cover for Jason for 2 weeks each, consecutively. When people ask about specific needs in Kibuye, there is so much it is hard to know where to begin, but one thing we always need is surgeons to go and cover for or work alongside Jason, who is massively overworked. These two surgeons sacrificed a great deal to go and work in a hard place (made harder by the fact that much of the long term team was out of the country at our mission agency's retreat, which happens once every 3 years). They got to experience firsthand the need and the challenges of healthcare in Burundi, and they both returned deeply affected by their experience. I am truly grateful to both of them as well as to all of my friends at Skagit Valley Hospital who have encouraged me in so many ways. I will miss you all.<br />
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I hope in the years to come I can continue to connect friends back home to this work, and I hope more and more people will go and serve. The work is hard, but it is good.Gregory Sundhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01658124875363713717noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7326120709382297081.post-9309398010977192552016-06-25T21:48:00.000-07:002016-06-25T21:48:57.238-07:00The Journey Begins<div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 13px; line-height: normal;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Some of you who live in Bellingham, might be wondering where the heck we have disappeared to. Our moving to Burundi to serve as missionaries, involves several preliminary steps. And the first step involves a month long training in Colorado Springs at Mission Training International. So, last Saturday, we packed up the minivan, loaded up the kids, put a “for sale” sign outside our house and started driving, and driving, and driving. We drove through Bozeman, MT stopping to visit some old friends, then spent half a day driving through Yellowstone Park, where Ella’s hat was blown by the wind right into a boiling hot springs (despite the children’s pleadings, I decided not to wade in to fetch it). Then we drove through the rest of Wyoming, then through Nebraska and ended up (for now) in Lincoln, where we stopped to visit Steph’s parents and her sister’s family. Thursday night Steph and I then flew to San Francisco, where we had an appointment at the French consulate to apply for our visas for language school, then flew back to Lincoln Saturday morning. We will stay here through the weekend, then Monday morning, we will load up the car again and drive 8 hours to Colorado Springs. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">So far, the kids have done a great job, and we all feel like we have gotten to see a lot of this beautiful country … maybe too much. And for those of you who think that Lincoln has nothing going on, the night before we arrived, Justin Bieber performed at their local arena. That’s right people ….. Justin Bieber. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">We have been told that being a missionary means your lives will be filled with transitions. In fact that is one of the topics I believe will be addressed at this training in Colorado, dealing with these frequent transitions (both for us and our kids). There will be many hellos and there will be many good-byes. This will undoubtedly bring much joy but also much sadness. But in the end, we believe it will be worth the price. But more than that, we believe we have been called into this by a good God who cares about us, and who cares deeply about the people we have been called to serve, the people of Burundi. </span></div>
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A snapshot of our lives over the past week</div>
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Leavenworth, WA</div>
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The famous carousel in Missoula, MT</div>
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Yellowstone</div>
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The French consulate appointment really took it out of me</div>
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The joy of cousins!</div>
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Gregory Sundhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01658124875363713717noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7326120709382297081.post-24073371412940881862016-05-02T18:17:00.000-07:002016-05-02T18:17:31.651-07:00Perspective Of A Third Culture Kid<div style="font-family: Helvetica; line-height: normal;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><i>By Ella</i></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">A. A third culture kid is a kid who is growing up in a different culture.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">That’s what we are going to be soon, third culture kids. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Some of the questions we get asked the most about Burundi are things like “ What was school like?” or “ What was your favorite part” and most of all, the basic question of “ Did you like it?”. The answer is YES!!!!!!! We all loved it there! What kind of kid wouldn’t love to run around outside all day with friends? Certainly not us! Burundi gave us a whole new perspective on life anywhere. This is an essay I wrote for a school assignment.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"> I never knew, but sometimes, less is more. When people are less fortunate, you learn to appreciate the things that you do have. I learned about that first hand.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"> My family was working at a mission hospital in Burundi, East Africa, for nine months last year. We could only bring limited supplies, and most of our bins were full of resources for the hospital. We had to adjust to living with less.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"> At first it was hard living without the things we were used to, but as time went on, we learned to appreciate the little things that we did have.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"> Whenever one of our friends back in the U.S. would send us a package, we would be so exited about chocolate chips or colored pencils, even though normally we would just have those things instantly.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"> I started to realize, the less we had, the more appreciative we were.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"> In March 2016, Burundi was named the most unhappy country in the world, with Denmark in first. My family and I came up with the solution that they must have interviewed people in the capital, Bujumbura. Out in the country, where we were, people were very happy. The people in the capital know what they’re missing, but with no internet, no connection to the outside world, the villagers are grateful for the little that they do have. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"> This is an important lesson to learn. A lot of times, when people have many things, they don’t appreciate the small things until that’s all that’s left. Appreciate all your things, because sometimes, less is more.</span></div>
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Gregory Sundhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01658124875363713717noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7326120709382297081.post-60393354641273068902016-03-22T19:59:00.000-07:002016-03-22T19:59:17.984-07:00A Global Challenge<div style="font-family: Helvetica; line-height: normal;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">For the past two years through this blog we have shared many stories. We have shared stories of individuals in Burundi who have benefited from the medical and surgical care delivered at Kibuye Hope Hospital. These are the personal stories of the patients who have made it to the hospital. What we have, however, neglected to talk about is a global problem we are currently facing. Today there are 5 billion people who do not have access to safe and affordable anesthesia and surgical care when needed, according to a recent Lancet Commission on Global Surgery. If that number sounds like a lot, that is because it is a lot. In fact the total population of the world is 7.125 billion. <i>That means the MAJORITY of the world does not have access to safe and affordable anesthesia and surgical care. </i></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">This same commission estimated that 16.9 million people die every year for lack of access to safe and affordable anesthesia. This is more than twice the population of Washington state ... dying, every year. This figure is <b>four times higher </b>than the number of people dying annually from malaria, HIV/AIDS and tuberculosis COMBINED! </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">According to the World Federation of Societies of Anesthesiologists "a lack of training in anesthesia, along with a lack of vital anesthesia equipment in low and middle income countries, is a huge part of what is making this number so shockingly high. In many countries anesthesia and surgery are simply not safe".</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">It is hard for people to wrap their minds around this. It is hard to make people care about numbers so large they are almost unfathomable. I'm sure it would be more vivid if we were all looking at the problem from inside the circle with the other 5 billion people who simply have no way of getting a needed surgery. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">This is the crux of what we are doing. We can go to Burundi and train anesthetists and surgeons and treat patients with safe and affordable care. What can you do? You can support those who go and those who are laboring to change these statistics. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">We need a team of monthly supporters fueling the work we are doing in Burundi. If you would like to join our support team there is still plenty of room. We are currently at 41% of our monthly support goal with the aim to reach 100% by June so that we can deploy at the end of the summer. Will you partner with us to be a part of the solution to this global challenge?</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><a href="https://www.serge.org/staff/id-51382/">Click here to join our support team</a></span></div>
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Gregory Sundhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01658124875363713717noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7326120709382297081.post-60607507394760474142016-02-13T12:45:00.000-08:002016-02-13T12:47:15.644-08:00Heroic<span style="background-color: #660000; font-family: "calibri" , sans-serif; font-size: 15px;">This morning I was reflecting on our time last year in Burundi, and remembered a particular moment that I am not sure I ever shared in a blog post. It was an afternoon during Reanimation (critical care) rounds, and I was seeing patients with my 6 medical students. There was a patient, a middle aged man, who was very sick with tuberculosis. We were seeing him together in the "isolation" ward. I put "isolation" in quotation marks because if you have ever been in an isolation ward in an American hospital, this is nothing like that, but is rather a building separate from the rest of the hospital, with open windows to facilitate good ventilation.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: #660000; font-family: "calibri" , sans-serif; font-size: 15px;">The man we were seeing was sitting up in his bed gasping for air. There was no oxygen in the hospital that week to give to him. After discussion with the internal medicine team, it was thought that he might have a pericardial effusion (a collection of fluid compressing his heart) as a result of his tuberculosis. It seemed to me that if we could do an echocardiogram with our ultrasound machine, we could decide if this was part of his problem and potentially remove some of this fluid. This MIGHT help his breathing. However, in order to do this test, I would need him to lie down. He said if he was to lie down, he could not breath at all. I told the students that if we could at least get him into a reclining position (maybe 45 degrees) I could do the exam. However, the beds in Kibuye are not adjustable. You are either sitting up or you are lying down. I could not think of a solution to this problem, and so I looked at my group of students. One of them had come up with a solution.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: #660000; font-family: "calibri" , sans-serif; font-size: 15px;">He took off his white coat. He climbed into bed and seated himself behind the patient, then put his arms around this man's waist and gently leaned him back against his chest, so that I could do the echocardiogram. It was hard for me to not let myself cry as I watched him do this. This patient was sweating, he had likely not had a shower for weeks, he was HIGHLY infectious with tuberculosis. And this student made himself into a human pillow, so that we could do the exam we thought needed to be done.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: #660000; font-family: "calibri" , sans-serif; font-size: 15px;">As I think about this afternoon, two thoughts keep churning in my head.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: #660000; font-family: "calibri" , sans-serif; font-size: 15px;">What this student did was so beautiful to me, because I saw in it a picture of the Gospel. I saw in what he did a reflection of the work of Jesus Christ, who took off His kingly robe, and embraced those who would believe in Him. He ate with sinners, he washed the filth covered feet of His disciples, He invited dirty little kids to come and sit on His lap. He humbled Himself out of love and compassion for His people.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: #660000; font-family: "calibri" , sans-serif; font-size: 15px;">The second thought is this. We are moving to Burundi to teach, train and disciple African medical students. And as much as I like to think that one of things I am going there to teach is compassion, oftentimes, it is they who are teaching me compassion. To be honest, I would not have done what this student did. I am far too selfish and too concerned with my own health and my own cleanness. I am grateful for the example he was to me. I am grateful for the opportunity to work with students like this, who are bright and compassionate, students who are, in my eyes, heroic.</span>Gregory Sundhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01658124875363713717noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7326120709382297081.post-82986076716253617602016-01-06T20:37:00.000-08:002016-01-06T20:50:20.614-08:00My Bad Dream<span style="color: white; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 15px;">Have you ever had a dream where you realized you were back in college and it was final exam day, and you had forgotten to attend class or study or read for the entire semester? Or perhaps you have had the dream where you showed up for a presentation in front of a class and after beginning realized you were naked?</span></span><br />
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<span style="color: white; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 15px;">During my last week in Kibuye in November, I had the privilege of having my own "bad dream" come true. I got up to present at our hospital's grand rounds, in French ... and quickly realized that ... I don't actually speak French. Okay, I speak a little French. </span></span><br />
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<span style="color: white; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 15px;">Shortly before my arrival in November, the team at Kibuye decided it would benefit the medical students, national doctors and the rest of the hospital staff to hold a weekly grand rounds, an hour lecture on a specific topic, usually given by one of the missionary doctors (although we hope soon the national doctors will be able to participate in this as well). My first two weeks in Kibuye I learned a lot about cranial nerve palsies (from John) as well as evaluation and treatment of abdominal pain (by Jason). On my third week, Jason asked me if I would present. I chose to present on the topic of "Anesthesia for the Pregnant Patient". Jason offered to find someone to translate for me, but in my foolishness, I declined, thinking it would be a good opportunity for me to practice my limited French ... in front of the entire hospital staff. Sometimes I make poor decisions.</span></span><br />
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I think this photo really captures the joy and laughter my French brought to the room.Gregory Sundhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01658124875363713717noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7326120709382297081.post-74679557735049278972015-12-13T21:10:00.000-08:002015-12-13T21:34:30.697-08:00Click Here To Get Rich Quick<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">If you are reading this and you live in the U.S. or Canada, I have good news for you.</span><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"> </span><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">You are already rich!</span><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"> </span><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">I know you don’t feel rich, but if you could just take a step back and see your life and your wealth on a global perspective, I am sure you would agree with me … you are rich.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">As we head into the Christmas season, you will undoubtedly be inundated with letters, e-mails, advertisements asking you to give to any number of charities. I am writing this blog post to implore you to consider giving and to consider giving generously. I have heard people argue against the idea of giving to charity for several reasons:</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><i>“Charity does not make a difference”</i> - I could tell you hundreds of stories of lives that were massively impacted by even small amounts of giving. I could tell you stories of lives that were saved by even small amounts of giving. Charity does make a difference.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><i>“Charity does more harm than it does good”</i> - Historically, there have been charities that no doubt did more harm than good. Even 10 or 20 years ago, this was true. Thankfully today, we stand on a mountain of research and experience which most charitable groups use to guide them in doing development and relief work that is both empowering and sustainable for the people they serve.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><i>“I won’t give money to a group that is going to take out 10 or 20% ‘overhead’. I want my entire donation to go toward the cause”</i>. - Let me ask you a question. Let’s say you want to donate $100 to the charity of your choice. You have 2 options. You can have the entire donation go directly toward the beneficiaries, and then your money ends. Or you can allow the charity to take 20% of your money and invest it in hiring talented leadership, marketing and further fundraising, which will increase your $100 over the next 5 years to $1,000. Which would you choose? We would never buy stock in a company that paid their employees nothing, did nothing to market their product, and did nothing to grow their company, so why do we hold NGOs to this impossible standard? For an excellent TED talk on this subject, click <a href="http://www.ted.com/talks/dan_pallotta_the_way_we_think_about_charity_is_dead_wrong?language=en">HERE</a></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">So, in my attempt to help you wade through the mountain of letters, emails and ads you are going to receive this month, I would like to suggest, implore, beg you, to consider giving to one of the following three causes. These are all groups which I have been directly involved with, which are having a massive impact in what they are doing, and which you will likely not receive a single solicitation for this month (aside from this one … from me).</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: 11px; letter-spacing: 0px;">1. Lifebox is a UK based charity whose goal is to provide every hospital in the developing world with high quality, durable pulse oximeters. These small hand-held devices are used all over the hospital, but are especially valuable in the O.R. where they give you continuous measurement of a patient’s heart rate and oxygen levels. With very little effort on my part, Lifebox has provided me with a total of 8 pulse oximeters which I have distributed to Kibuye hospital as well as 2 other hospitals in Burundi which were greatly in need of these life-saving tools. They are eager for me to identify and make contact with other hospitals in Burundi who are in need of these machines. They rely on donations to continue this. This is truly life-saving work.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: 11px; letter-spacing: 0px;">2. Yezelalam Minch was founded by Birtukan, who grew up a World Vision sponsor child. This entirely Ethiopian-run NGO provides food, education and healthcare for 1500 orphans in and around Addis Ababa. I have served for several years on the U.S. Advisory Board for YZM and have been able to follow the amazing work they are doing. They rely heavily on families in the US or Canada who are willing to sponsor a child in need as well as one time donations to sustain their operations. This is a project very dear to the hearts of Stephanie and I.</span><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: 11px; letter-spacing: 0px;"><br /></span><div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal; min-height: 13px;">
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><a href="http://www.helpsmission.org/givingcatalog/">Yezelalem Minch</a></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">3. Kibuye Hope Hospital - If you have been following our blog or our story for any length of time, you probably guessed that Kibuye Hope Hospital would make my “top 3” list of giving options this year. This is an amazing hospital and an amazing ministry, which continues to have great financial needs, which you can help with. Here is a link to their giving catalog. Donations can be made through Paypal:</span><br />
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><a href="https://gallery.mailchimp.com/77a57de8d08d9a91d9cf7dd2e/files/2015_HAU_Christmas_Catalogue.pdf?mc_cid=41bfb15059&mc_eid=ebdc2f8fdb">Kibuye Hope Hospital</a></span></div>
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Gregory Sundhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01658124875363713717noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7326120709382297081.post-13537810398679749732015-11-07T07:27:00.000-08:002015-11-07T07:27:33.845-08:00Stretched<br />
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One of the things I both fear and love about working in a place like Kibuye is that you are constantly stretched beyond your skill level. Stretched because of lack of resources, lack of specialists, language barriers and a million other reasons. </div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Friday morning, Joseph, our Burundian anesthetist, came to tell me that there was an urgent Cesarean section. This is not unusual. It seems that people in Burundi do not travel at night, even when experiencing life threatening emergencies. Therefore, women in obstructed labor often present for C section first thing in the morning, once the sun rises. Joseph then told me that the woman’s blood pressure was 190/120. Well, yes that is a problem. He then explained to me that she was also alternating between seizing and unconscious. She had full blown eclampsia. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Now, as a practicing anesthesiologist in the US, I have read about eclampsia many times, such as during medical school and while studying for my board exams 10 years ago. But I have never actually seen a patient with full blown eclampsia. That is because patients with PRE eclampsia are identified early with good prenatal care and if things show even a hint of progressing to eclampsia, they are transferred to a center which specializes in this life threatening problem, such as the University of Washington, where they are managed by a team of specialized anesthesiologists, intensive care doctors and OB/GYNs. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">So, as my mind is racing trying to retrieve any bit of memory about management of eclampsia, I follow Joseph to the Maternity ward. When we find her she is unconscious, and within 2 minutes starts convulsing. They cannot find any fetal heart tones (they use a small wooden tube which they place on her belly and hold the other end to their own ear). Their best guess, she might be 20 weeks pregnant. I remember that we need to give magnesium. But first we need an IV. We spend about 7 or 8 minutes trying to find a vein, but find nothing. I decide we can’t wait. I ask them to take her to the OR as fast as they can. I run to Jason’s office to retrieve his ultrasound machine. When she gets to the OR I ask them to hold her head still while I put an 18 gauge IV catheter in her internal jugular vein under ultrasound guidance. It works, we have IV access. Now, how much magnesium do I give? I can’t remember if it is 2 or 4 grams. No one else seems to know. There is no high speed internet to look this one up, and since we seem to only have a few vials left, we give 2 (it turns out the correct answer was 4, but thankfully 2 seemed to work). </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">On weeks when I am not here, there are 2 options for anesthesia for cesarean. Spinal or Ketamine. Problem is, her platelet count is dangerously low (26K), so spinal could cause bleeding around the spinal cord which could paralyze her. Ketamine will make her blood pressure even higher, which could cause heart failure or a stroke. But thankfully, this week, we have compressed oxygen and so we can do a real general anesthetic. We get her off to sleep, the national doctor performs the C section, while Jason is performing another urgent C section in the other OR. As we suspect, the baby is stillborn. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">During the surgery we continue to give more magnesium and clonidine to lower her blood pressure. We find another peripheral IV (much easier while she is not having seizures). She wakes up and we remove the endotracheal tube. Now after most C sections the women return immediately to maternity where they are checked on by a nurse once in the morning and once at night. I suspected she would not survive without more intensive monitoring. So, we brought her to our “recovery room” right next to the OR, so that we (Joseph and I) could continue to watch her vital signs and continue to give her magnesium for the next 24 hours. Now that we are post-op, I finally look at her pre-op labs. She has both renal failure and liver failure. Her urine catheter is putting out what looks like mostly blood. And there are still a line-up of scheduled surgeries to get through, including our next patient a 6 month old with cleft lip who has been waiting for me to arrive so he could have this done. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Joseph goes to maternity and finds a nursing student who can sit with the patient. I take a blank piece of paper and make a graph where she can chart vital signs and urine output every hour. I don’t have the experience to know what this woman’s chances of surviving at this point are, but I suspect they are low. I pray for her. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Throughout the day, by God’s grace, her blood pressure remained stable. She had one more seizure a couple hours after the C section which we treated successfully with more magnesium and valium. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">This morning I found her wide awake. The family tells me she had no seizures overnight. Her blood pressure is normal. Her urine now looks like urine. The nursing student had stayed with her all night and completed my vital sign chart, filling in every hour except 3 AM. I am shocked with delight. I now believe that this woman is actually going to survive. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">This case stretched me. This is not the only case that stretched me yesterday, but this is the one that stretched me the most. I am grateful for the intensive and compassionate care that was given to this woman, especially by Joseph and this nursing student. I have heard health care professionals in the US say they could not come and work in a place like Burundi because they are not “good enough”. Many of them are much better than me. They are smarter than me, more skilled at performing procedures, and better looking than me. All that you really need to come and work in a place like this is the willingness to be uncomfortable and the willingness to be stretched. </span></div>
Gregory Sundhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01658124875363713717noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7326120709382297081.post-71246027074398331242015-11-03T04:45:00.000-08:002015-11-03T04:45:34.939-08:00Back In The Saddle<br />
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">This past weekend I got the opportunity to return to Burundi. I am here for three weeks to help out with teaching and also to help Jason with a few more complicated surgeries. My route here took me through Dubai on Emirates. It was a very comfortable flight. It is my hope that by mentioning how comfortable this Emirates flight was, that they will somehow stumble across this blog post and be so flattered that they will upgrade me to business class on the way home (Emirates ... are you listening?).</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">At the airport I was greeted by Caleb Fader (Jason’s brother and our newest Kibuye team member and engineer) and my friend George Watts (PhD in business, teaching at the Hope Africa University campus in Bujumbura). It was great to catch up with them, their wives (Krista and Susan) as well as Randy and Carolyn Bond before heading up to Kibuye Saturday afternoon. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">It has been great to be back here, to see the team again and to see the progress being made at the hospital. Monday we did 5 cases in the OR. For any of my nerdy anesthesia friends reading who might be curious, Jason performed the following surgeries:</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">We do have a handful of cases lined up while I am here that will require general endotracheal anesthesia, and thankfully we have a few full cylinders of oxygen!</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">This morning, before morning report, I went for a 4 mile run with Jason, Caleb and Joel Miller. We ran on paths I had never explored during our previous time here which were beautiful. We were greeted at every turn by Burundian women with hoes over their shoulders and children with notebooks in hand for school, often staring at me, sometimes laughing, probably wondering why that pasty muzungu in the back is having so much trouble breathing. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Today, I was asked to sit on a board of 3 physicians for the thesis defense of one of the graduating medical students. I was chosen for this because I am a specialist ... and because I have a pulse. This was my first thesis defense, but I am told there will be many more in my future. The student presented his research on Burn Injuries at Kibuye hospital, a very common problem all over Africa due to cooking methods using open fires around small children (no, that is not some sort of advocacy for all you helicopter parents out there).</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">I am excited to see what the next 3 weeks will bring. As much as the pace of life here is slower than that in the US, it is never boring. Although to be honest, I actually enjoy boring once in a while. </span></div>
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Gregory Sundhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01658124875363713717noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7326120709382297081.post-42604299181400789802015-10-22T21:21:00.000-07:002015-10-22T21:36:54.881-07:00The Monster Inside of Me<div style="font-family: Helvetica; line-height: normal;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">Lately I have been thinking a lot about money, probably too much. I suspect this preoccupation has been triggered by the large pay cut I am about to get as we transition to becoming missionaries. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">It has come to my attention that money is very important to people (that’s right captain obvious). However, it is not the money itself that I think reveals so much about us as people, but rather what we do with that money, why it gives us so much satisfaction, and why we spend so much energy laboring for it, and then worrying about it once we get it. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Tim Keller once asked the following question: Five people are sitting around a table drinking wine. How do you tell which one is the alcoholic? The answer is, it is not the one who drinks the most wine. No, you take the wine away from them and see which one starts to melt down. Which one becomes angry and agitated? That is the alcoholic. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">It is the same with money. I think most of us have come to believe the lie that money will make us happy. For some of us, it is what we can buy with that money. For some of us, it is the security (or rather, the false security) that money gives us. For some of us, it is the feeling of superiority that having a larger bank account than our neighbor, gives us. But if you want to find out what someone’s heart is truly set upon, take that money away … and watch them squirm.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">We saw this most tragically when the stock market crashed in 2008. One study in the British Medical Journal suggested that the money lost in this crash resulted in approximately 5,000 suicides. I suspect the emotional impact on many families was much more wide spread. There is a monster living inside us. Most of us do not even know that he is there. But he is there, and he is eating away at our souls. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">You might think that since I am giving up the “American anesthesiologist lifestyle” and the salary that accompanies it, I am immune from this idolatry. I am not. I have spent far too much time “counting the cost” of what we are going to do. Now, I know, with my head, that more money will not give us satisfaction in this life. I know this in my head, but yet the monster inside me continues to wage war in my heart. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">It has been said that Jesus talked more about money than about heaven and hell combined. He did this not because money was so important to Him, but because He understood the destructive effect it has upon us (even 2000 years ago). And He talked about it because He loves us, and He wants us to let go of this clenched grip that we have on money before it destroys us completely. God Himself gave up the riches of heaven, and entered into the poverty and filth of life among us, so that by His substitutionary atonement for our sins, we might be made rich, forever. It is my hope in this alone which will ultimately defeat the monster.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><i>For you know the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ, that though He was rich, yet for your sake He became poor, so that you by His poverty you might become rich. - 2 Corinthians 8:9 </i></span></div>
Gregory Sundhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01658124875363713717noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7326120709382297081.post-5586270846698620012015-09-24T21:58:00.001-07:002015-09-24T22:10:00.618-07:00Intern Graduation<div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px;">
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<span style="color: white; letter-spacing: 0px;">So tie me to a post and block my ears<br />
I can see widows and orphans through my tears<br />
I know my call despite my faults<br />
And despite my growing fears</span></div>
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<span style="color: white; letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Last week was a pivotal week for our family. Stephanie and I travelled to Philadelphia to the headquarters of Serge, the mission agency we have applied to for support in returning to Burundi. The first two days were spent being interviewed and assessed. Wednesday morning, we were escorted on a tour of historic Philadelphia while the leadership team from Serge had a conference call with our team leaders in Burundi as well as the East Africa regional leaders to decide our fate. Wednesday afternoon we were brought back to the office where we were told we had in fact been invited to join the Burundi Serge team as long-term missionaries. </span></div>
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<span style="color: white; letter-spacing: 0.0px;">The lyrics above are from a song called The Cave by Mumford and Sons. Somehow these lyrics worked their way into my head last week and seemed to summarize with great precision how Steph and I felt. To be honest, I am not sure exactly what this song is about. I am pretty sure that Mumford and Sons did not write this song about long term medical mission work. But nonetheless, this is how we feel. We feel like we NEED to be tied to a post, because despite the certainty that we feel regarding our calling, this is hard, and our flesh cries out “don’t do it!”. The tears are shed in part because of our concern for the people of Burundi, but in this moment we are mostly just sad to leave the life we have come to love in Bellingham. We know our call, we believe that God has prepared a place for our family in Burundi, and He has done this not because of our abilities or our strength, but DESPITE our faults and despite our fears. </span></div>
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<span style="color: white; letter-spacing: 0.0px;">So, now, we move on to the next stage of our journey, support raising. We cannot return to this work without significant, monthly support from people willing to partner with us to improve healthcare in Burundi. And so, in the coming weeks and months we will be having conversations with many people asking for help. Not an easy thing for us to do. Our hope is that by next summer we will have raised the support we need to begin language training, then return to Burundi, to live, to teach, to learn, and to see how God will use us, despite our faults and fears. </span></div>
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<span style="color: white; letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Our time in Philadelphia was wonderful. We went through this assessment with 9 other people, applying to work on 4 different continents. We were greatly blessed to get to know them as well as the team of people working at Serge headquarters and the Serge leadership team. We left Philly with tremendous confidence in this organization and we truly believe that they will do everything in their power to care for us and to love and serve us well in the coming years. </span></div>
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<span style="color: white; letter-spacing: 0.0px;">As for the title of this blog post, you may remember that during our previous 9 months in Burundi, my official title was “Intern”. John Cropsey, our team leader, derived great joy from reminding me daily, often hourly, that I was “the intern”. Well, now that Serge has approved us, I am pleased to report that I am no longer an intern. I am told that this transition in my position has left John in a state of despair, as he now has no one left to boss around. So, for anyone interested, the position of intern is now open and seeking the right whipping boy to fill these size 9 shoes. </span></div>
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Gregory Sundhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01658124875363713717noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7326120709382297081.post-64120385188417553502015-08-13T16:09:00.000-07:002015-08-13T16:09:49.718-07:00SurrenderI have been thinking this week a lot about faith. Faith is still in many ways to me a mystery, but God is revealing to me slowly, and sometimes painfully, what it means to live a life of faith.<br /><br />Our family has decided to move forward with plans to return to Burundi "long-term", (eg. a 5 year commitment). What does that mean? That means we apply to the missionary agency which supports our team in Kibuye (Serge). In September, Stephanie and I fly to Philadelphia to be assessed regarding our fitness to serve "long-term". And if Serge believes we are "long-term" material, they will help us prepare to spend the next several months raising support, for our income, our travel expenses, our health insurance, and anything other expense that one might encounter in Burundi. If we are able to raise the support we need, then next summer our family will go to Colorado for a month to the Missionary Training Institute, where we will receive further training and preparation for "long-term" service. Then at the end of August we will move to France for 6 months .... to learn French. Then .... Burundi.<br /><br />I will confess that this decision is a painful one for me. To be honest, I like working in a hospital with oxygen and running water and patients who speaks English. I like living close to my parents. I like spending time with my friends here. I like the church we are a part of. I like drinking straight from the faucet!<br /><br />But we cannot deny that God's hand led us to Kibuye Burundi, and that He has prepared a place for us among the team that is serving there. We love the team at Kibuye. We love the country. Our family in so many ways thrived during our 9 months serving there. So why is this so hard? Why is this such a struggle for me? <br /><br />I am starting to understand that struggle (of any sort) give us the opportunity to surrender to God. And I believe it is this surrender which prepares our hearts to truly trust in God. Struggle gives way to surrender and surrender gives way to faith and faith opens the door for God to work in us and through us, according to His perfect and gracious will.<br /><br />There are still many steps to take before we return to Burundi. There are many ways that God could close this door. And so, we surrender even this, the certainty of our future, to Him. <br /><br />We will keep you posted as things progress and would ask that you, our family and friends pray for us, to surrender, to have faith, and for His plans to be done. His plan is much better than ours.Gregory Sundhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01658124875363713717noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7326120709382297081.post-27924093665857554762015-07-21T10:02:00.001-07:002015-07-21T10:02:50.125-07:00In the beginningToday is a very important day in Burundi. Today is election day in Burundi. Today is a day that has caused much fear and anxiety, as well as much strife and violence for the people of Burundi. Although no one doubts that the current president will win this election, what people fear is what this will trigger over the next few days and weeks. The blog below is one I wrote five years ago, to begin my series called the "History of Redemption". As I re-read this, I can't help but consider how drastically different life would be in Burundi today if people understood and believed these words, that "In the beginning, God created ...". If we really understood the implications of these words, we would all be led to a posture of humility and gratefulness, with hearts of surrender to God. There would be no war, no fighting. There would be peace. Today, as we who love Burundi are praying for peace, we would ask those of you who pray, to pray with us, for peace.<br />
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><i>“In the beginning, God created the heavens and the earth. The earth was without form and void, and darkness was over the face of the deep. And the Spirit of God was hovering over the face of the waters.”</i></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">How often do I meditate on God as creator of heaven and earth? How often do I ponder the enormous implications of these first words of scripture? How often do I tremble beneath the weight of this truth, that every heartbeat, every breath, every step is only because God created the heavens and the earth? How often do I thank God for creating man in His own image? How often do I worship God and give glory to Him because He is the creator of ALL things?</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">We live in a society that tells us that maybe God exists, but He certainly did not create the heavens and the earth. Yet here we have these words, in this book, which has proven trustworthy and true time and time again telling us that this is a lie. I am reminded of Paul’s words to us in Romans, “For although they knew God, they did not honor him as God or give thanks to him, but they became futile in their thinking, and their foolish hearts were darkened. Claiming to be wise, they became fools, and exchanged the glory of the immortal God for images resembling mortal man and birds and animals and creeping things.” - Romans 1: 21-23. How often do I mourn for lost and broken sinners whose hearts are darkened? How often do I mourn for our society that does not recognize God as creator of the heavens and the earth? How often am I jealous for God to receive the honor He deserves?</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">How often am I anxious because I have forgotten that God who created all things is sovereign over all He created? He is sovereign over Seattle and He is sovereign over Sudan, and He is sovereign over everything in between because He created the heavens and the earth. How often do I forget that God sits enthroned as king forever?</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">These first words in Genesis spoken to us BY GOD (see 2 Timothy 3:16) tell us volumes about the attributes of God. He is sovereign, He is omnipresent, He is eternal, He is mighty, He is light, He is spirit, He is creative! How often do I meditate on the attributes of God? How often do I think about the creativity I see expressed in art and music and literature and recognize those gifts as a dim reflection of that awesome creativity of God who created ALL things? </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">In the beginning ... God. Not, in the beginning .... me. What a wonderful reminder that this is His story, not mine. God is the author, God is the producer, God is the hero. Yes, we are invited into this story, but let us never forget that it is His story. Let my reading of scripture always be through that lens. This is God’s story.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">And how quickly I forget that this same Spirit of God which in the beginning was hovering over the face of the waters, now lives and moves inside me? This living Spirit was poured out into each of us who has believed in Jesus Christ. This mysterious Spirit of God is the very essence of the Christian life, quickening our affections for Jesus Christ, God’s Son, and guiding and instructing us day by day. And this same Spirit was there, at the very beginning of all creation!</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Today, I sit at this computer and write these words because “In the beginning God created”. You woke up this morning and got out of bed because “In the beginning God created”. We go to our jobs, and care for our children, and dream and plan and laugh and cry because “In the beginning God created”. The breath you just took which sustains you even now, you took because “In the beginning God created”. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">These are weighty words, because without them, nothing would follow. Nothing. Ponder these words daily, “In the beginning”, meditate on them, worship God the creator who speaks them and who fulfills them, the God who acts and who saves, the God who sits enthroned over every square inch of His creation, and as He looks upon it He declares “MINE”. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">God created the heavens and the earth. He filled the void and gave form to the earth. He brought light out of darkness. He is the Alpha and the Omega, the beginning and the end. He did all this to bring glory to Himself, because He is the only one who is worthy to be glorified. And we were created to worship Him. Let us today humbly bow before our Creator, with much fear and trembling and awe. </span></div>
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Gregory Sundhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01658124875363713717noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7326120709382297081.post-45291035394588025402015-07-07T09:34:00.000-07:002015-07-07T09:34:11.499-07:00His Name Was RonnieWe are very grateful for all those who have been reading and following our blog, and we don't want to stop blogging just because we have returned from our 9 months in Burundi. We do plan to continue to post updates on our lives and our future plans in the coming months, but in the meantime, it feels like we should be posting something, anything. So, what does one write about after returning to life the US after 9 months in Africa? Perhaps one resurrects blog posts from years past! <br />
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Those of you who are not a part of our local church in Bellingham may be unaware that I used to blog quite frequently for our church. A few years ago I did a weekly series of blog posts called The History of Redemption. I decided that I would try to pull up a few of these and re-post them here. But to start with, I thought I would re-post a blog I wrote which gives a bit of background and explanation as to how this blog series came to be. <br />
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Although I never met Ronnie, although he was not famous, although we lived thousands of miles apart, he had a significant impact on my life and my faith, and I felt compelled to write a few words about him. Back in 2010 I saw a video of a sermon preached by a young man from an Acts 29 church in Texas. It was not your typical sermon, but was rather a series of 47 portions of scripture put together, memorized and recited before the church by a man named Ronnie Smith. Something about watching this 28 minute video moved me deeply. I saw in what Ronnie had done, something genuinely beautiful. And when you experience something you believe to be genuinely beautiful, you cannot help but to share it with others.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">And so, I committed myself to memorizing this work, which Ronnie called “The History of Redemption”. I must have watched this video 50 or 60 times. And I must have talked about it so much, that pastor Rob eventually asked me to write a weekly blog post on each of these 47 sections of scripture for our church. And so, over the course of 2011, that is what I did. I invested countless hours in reading, listening to, memorizing and writing, all catalyzed by what Ronnie had done. He was a young man, about my age, and I knew nothing else about him, except that he was a faithful servant of Christ who was a part of a church in Texas. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Last week, Ronnie was murdered in Benghazi, Libya. He was living there with his wife and young son, and was working as a chemistry teacher at the international school, and he was shot dead while jogging. I believe that God called Ronnie and his wife to move to Benghazi, one of the most violent and broken cities on this planet, because He (God) loves those people. And Ronnie and his wife went because they had been filled with a hope that extends into eternity and they desired to share this hope with those who have no hope. Although I never met Ronnie, and I still know very little about him, I am quite sure that he understood the very real possibility of facing death in a place such as this. And still he went, to love and to serve the people of Libya and to love and serve his God and Savior. Ronnie paid the ultimate price for his obedience to Christ, and I am confident that in the moments following his death, he heard the voice of God Himself gently whispering in his ear, “well done, good and faithful servant”.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Although today we are saddened and grieve the loss of Ronnie, his life was not wasted. And today, be sure of this, that Ronnie is not sad. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">I praise God for Ronnie’s life. His was a life lived with absolute direction and purpose for the glory of God. And as we have brothers and sisters in our church preparing to move to the Middle East, motivated by the same love that motivated Ronnie, this is a painful reminder to me, to not only encourage them and support them and pray for their fruitfulness, but also to pray for their safety, to pray daily, to pray without ceasing. It is also a reminder to me that ultimately our hope is not in the length of our days or what we accomplish, but in a God who can and will use our lives to bring glory to Himself. For He can use all things for good for those who love him and are called according to His purpose. Ronnie’s life was a testimony to his love for God, and now our prayer is that God would use his death as a catalyst for the forwarding of the Gospel and the hope to which we cling. This is a worthy cause. There is no greater cause. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Below is a link to the video of Ronnie preaching “The History of Redemption”:</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px; text-decoration: underline;"><a href="http://vimeo.com/17577695">http://vimeo.com/17577695<span style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; letter-spacing: 0.0px; text-decoration: underline;"></span></a></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">“Precious in the sight of the Lord is the death of His saints” - Psalm 116:15</span></div>
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Gregory Sundhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01658124875363713717noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7326120709382297081.post-66385445603783949432015-06-08T21:43:00.000-07:002015-06-08T21:43:41.436-07:00Re-entry<div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Throughout our time in Burundi we heard other missionaries speak of how difficult it was to return home to the U.S. after living in rural Africa. Some call this “re-entry” or “reverse culture shock”. So, I thought I would write a brief update on how our re-entry is going, for anyone who may still be checking in with this blog.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">We have now been home for 10 days, and I will admit that there are certainly challenges with returning to our pre-Burundi lives. The first challenge was getting over the physical side of re-entry, including jet lag, change of diet, etc. But as our bodies now seem to be better adjusted to the time difference as well as all the processed foods we cannot seem to avoid here, now we are left with the emotional challenges. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">I had heard missionaries talk about how hard it was to come back to a country with so much convenience, only to hear those around them complain incessantly. What I have rather found is that it is ME who I find complaining. As an example, we moved back into our house last Monday, and Stephanie called a local provider to sign us up for internet. After five days, and three phone calls back to this company, we still did not have internet. Somehow this frustrated me to no end, and somehow I seem to have forgotten that we spent the past 9 months in a home without internet, and often without electricity. Yet in Burundi I just accepted it as part of life.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">For me, the hardest part of re-entry has been this feeling of unsettled-ness. As much as I love Bellingham, somehow it feels less like my home than it did before we went to Burundi. To be honest, I can’t figure out where my home is anymore. I long for a sense of feeling settled, of feeling like I am finally home. And in my 41 years of life, so far, I can’t seem to find it. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Last year I was talking to another missionary who told me that she struggled with this same feeling. And after much prayer, she felt God telling her that she would not find her home until she found her home in Him. When she said this, the following quote from C.S. Lewis came to my mind:</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">“If I find in myself a desire which no experience in this world can satisfy, the most probable explanation is that I was made for another world.”</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">We have been welcomed back to Bellingham with so much love by our family, our friends, our church, my co-workers, and we are so grateful for this community. But in the end, I believe, we were not made for this world, but for another. And so, until we reach that home, we remain unsettled.</span></div>
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Gregory Sundhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01658124875363713717noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7326120709382297081.post-30016122798048952012015-05-27T12:35:00.000-07:002015-05-27T12:35:11.741-07:00European travelsWhen we originally arranged our travel home from Burundi we allotted a 3 day layover in Paris. When we decided to leave a little early, our 3 day layover turned into a week layover. Our good friend at Serge was on the phone with the travel agent and gave us our options for flights home. Surprisingly, the cheapest option (from Tanzania) was through Dubai and then to Zurich. We were able to keep our return Brussels to Seattle flights. <br />
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Our trip started with a short flight (3 hours) from Kigoma to Dar Es Salaam. We then had a 7 hour layover in the Dar Es Salaam airport, we boarded our next plane at 11pm and flew overnight to Dubai, landing at 6am. In Dubai we had a 10 hour layover, with some very tired kids. We headed out of the airport to the Dubai mall before most stores were even open and pumped our kids full of chocolate milk and chocolate muffins then, before the sugar high could wear off, we began the process of dragging our kids all over Dubai, showing them the Burj Khalif (tallest tower in the world), the Dubai Mall (because a trip to Dubai is just not a trip to Dubai without seeing at least 1 shopping mall), and the old market (souk). <br />
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From there we flew to Zurich. When we found out we were going to Zurich we were very excited to get to see Switzerland. But everyone we talked to said the same thing "well, that should be ... expensive". Yes, Switzerland is very very expensive. We had heard that our friend Alyssa had a good friend who lived in Zurich, so we e-mailed her just asking for ideas of "reasonably priced" places to stay and fun things to do. We did not expect an invitation to stay with her and her family, but that is what we got. And they were amazing. They put us up in their home, they fed us, they showed us some of the most beautiful places around Zurich. They guided us to their favorite hotel in the Swiss Alps for 1 night, then surprised us by showing up at that hotel the next morning, after transferring all our luggage (which we had left at their apartment) to a locker at the train station, just so that we could have an extra couple hours in the Alps. It is impossible to put into words how beautiful Switzerland was, and how much more beautiful it was because of the kindness and hospitality of this family who we had never met before.<br />
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After Switzerland, we took the train to Paris, where we spent the last 3 days (as planned), and did all the things you are supposed to do in Paris (Eiffel tower, Notre Dame, Louvre, etc). Touring Paris with a 6 year old also means you are touring the bathrooms of Paris, which were lovely. <br />
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So, this afternoon we took the train back to Brussels where we are scheduled to fly out tomorrow morning. Back home. Back to reality, as we know it.<br />
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Burj Khalifa, Dubai</div>
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The trains in Switzerland have playgrounds on them!</div>
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Lucerne </div>
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Swiss Alps</div>
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Bini's favorite place in Paris ... our hotel room. </div>
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The Mona Lisa, surrounded by American tourists! </div>
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Me with my tiny coffee, holding on to my tiny man bag. Could I be more Parisean?</div>
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At the Palace of Versailles, I saw this statue behind Bini, and said, "hey Bini, that looks like us", to which he replied, "yeah, it DOES look like us ... but I don't have wings ... and you don't have a six pack"</div>
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Now THESE girls look Parisean</div>
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<br />Gregory Sundhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01658124875363713717noreply@blogger.com1