I wrote to my supporters this past week about how aspects of my personality don't seem to function well here in Zambia. According to the famous personality test, the Myers-Briggs, I fit into the 'ENFJ' description, and tested quite high in the 'J' category. This means that I love organization and structure- two things that don't seem to be high on the list of Zambian values. In fact, I'm not even sure they made the list at all. Actually, I'm not sure a list even exists. If it does, its whereabout were lost track-of long ago.
It seems that most Zambians are actually on the opposite end of the personality spectrum, and function much more like P's (hence the non-list-making). Laid back attitudes, go-with-the-flow mentalities, rolling with the punches- all phrases that make my skin start to crawl, and ones that perfectly describe almost all of the Zambians I have met thus far. Stacey, Joel, Justin, and all you other P's out there- you would love this place. I, on the other hand, am quite out of my comfort zone.
And since the likelihood of an entire nation changing its ways seems to be on the lower end of the possibility scale, I guess I will need to be the one doing the changing. Does anyone know the stats on how many people actually change personality types during the course of their lives? I'm sure it's not as impossible as I am imagining- but right now, it really does not feel like an option to my stubborn, not-wanting-to-change self.
Thing is, I am here to serve Zambians. If I am going to do that well, I need to surrender my idea of how things should work unto the way things actually work in their culture and tradition. I am not here to be some big-bad-American with all sorts of grand ideas to solve Africa's problems. I am here to join with the people of Zambia to endure the suffering, and be a part of the work against it.
I know I will never actually be a Zambian. I know I probably will never be a P either. But, according to the grace and humility I pray God gives me, I will get over myself and my ways- slowly and stubbornly, I'm sure. I simply must if I am ever going to be useful for the Kingdom here in Zambia as it is in heaven.
So, if anyone has any helpful hints on becoming a P- please, please pass them my way.
June 28, 2010
June 22, 2010
June 20, 2010
A Father to the Fatherless
Though the holiday certainly has me missing my Dad more than usual, I still got a chance to celebrate today. It was a different kind of celebrating than I have done in the past, and directed towards a different Father. Today, I got to be a part of God's being 'a Father to the fatherless' in the life of a boy...
Remember him? He was the first boy we met here in Lusaka, and the first one we found to be in desperate need of a specialized chair to fit his teeny body. We hired a carpenter who lives down the street from us, and he built us a beautiful chair- just right for a little guy with CP. Today, we picked it up and took it to this little guy's house.
When we arrived, the boy's mother (who loves him dearly) was literally speechless at the sight of a chair just for him. Can you imagine living 8 years and having no one really care for your child? I bet it was hard to believe us when we promised her this chair; maybe even harder to believe that we actually came through and were able to give her the chair for absolutely free (thanks to a grant received by Special Hope for the specific purpose of providing specialized seating devices for those in need).
This little guy's mother was so thankful. His father, however, was nowhere to be found. Apparently, he took the day- the whole weekend, actually, to celebrate his being a 'father' at the neighborhood bar. When this sweet mom explained to us about his whereabouts, the look on her face did not seem to share in his celebration.
So won't you celebrate with me today- that God is who He says he is- a Father to the fatherless. Always has been, always will be. Thank goodness He is, especially for the sake of this particular boy and his mom.
"A father to the fatherless, and a protector of the widow is God in His holy habitation."
Psalm 68:5
Remember him? He was the first boy we met here in Lusaka, and the first one we found to be in desperate need of a specialized chair to fit his teeny body. We hired a carpenter who lives down the street from us, and he built us a beautiful chair- just right for a little guy with CP. Today, we picked it up and took it to this little guy's house. When we arrived, the boy's mother (who loves him dearly) was literally speechless at the sight of a chair just for him. Can you imagine living 8 years and having no one really care for your child? I bet it was hard to believe us when we promised her this chair; maybe even harder to believe that we actually came through and were able to give her the chair for absolutely free (thanks to a grant received by Special Hope for the specific purpose of providing specialized seating devices for those in need).
This little guy's mother was so thankful. His father, however, was nowhere to be found. Apparently, he took the day- the whole weekend, actually, to celebrate his being a 'father' at the neighborhood bar. When this sweet mom explained to us about his whereabouts, the look on her face did not seem to share in his celebration.So won't you celebrate with me today- that God is who He says he is- a Father to the fatherless. Always has been, always will be. Thank goodness He is, especially for the sake of this particular boy and his mom.
"A father to the fatherless, and a protector of the widow is God in His holy habitation."
Psalm 68:5
June 17, 2010
Translation Losses/Gains
I know, I know- I wrote a post a while ago about how I wanted this blog to be really intentional and useful to its readers for their spiritual growth and intellectual stimulation. I just have to break the rules to share this with you...
We got a text message from one of our Zambian friends the other day that started-
"hello eric, please also say hello to the t wins sammie birth and hole.."
Birth?
Hole?
Seriously?
Sure, one might say that this person did indeed get a bit lost in their translation attempt here. I, however, would like to focus on the gains of this situation. Out of all the ways one could fail at their attempt of Holly and my names'- I think this is the most creative pair. Especially because they go so ridiculously and inappropriately well together. Who knows, maybe he's prophetic and God is going to use Holly and I's partnership in ministry to bring life into this world? Maybe not, but either way, I'm counting it as a very humorous gain.
We got a text message from one of our Zambian friends the other day that started-
"hello eric, please also say hello to the t wins sammie birth and hole.."
Birth?
Hole?
Seriously?
Sure, one might say that this person did indeed get a bit lost in their translation attempt here. I, however, would like to focus on the gains of this situation. Out of all the ways one could fail at their attempt of Holly and my names'- I think this is the most creative pair. Especially because they go so ridiculously and inappropriately well together. Who knows, maybe he's prophetic and God is going to use Holly and I's partnership in ministry to bring life into this world? Maybe not, but either way, I'm counting it as a very humorous gain.
June 16, 2010
Made to Be a Well
Today, our housekeeper, Amai (Mrs) Daka, sat and ate breakfast with us. Remember a couple weeks ago I asked you to pray for her, as her house had been broken into and most of her things stolen? Well, she has had a hellish couple of weeks trying to deal with all the complications, and so this morning we asked her to tell us how things were progressing.
To shorten the story- the title deed to Amai Daka’s house was amongst the items stolen, so leaving her in a very vulnerable position. Whoever it was that stole it could have her evicted, or sell the house out from under her- leaving her and her family with no place to go. In order to be protected from this, she must have the title deed reissued, and since Zambian bureaucratic affairs are not known for their speed, it has been a long, drawn-out process.
This process has also been expensive. She has had to pay all sorts of fees- most of which she had not the money to pay. God has given us the opportunity to give her the finances she needed, and she is just one step away from having the title deed in hand. She told us this morning that she will need another KW 180,000 (about $36) in order to complete the final paperwork.
I sat and talked with Eric about what to do- should we give her the rest of the money, or should we not? We talked through the potential of becoming a sort of “well” for Amai Daka- a place to go when she needs refilling, and whether or not that was a good idea. What if, in giving her everything she needs whenever she needed it we become a THE place she goes when she is in need? What if she becomes economically dependent upon us? Would that be harmful or helpful to her? And more so, would that become too burdensome for us to bear?
You could argue this all sorts of ways. But, here’s the thing- what if I was made to be a well?
What if I was given financial resources in order that I might be a place people, like Amai Daka, can go when they are in need? What if I was purposed to be a funnel of wealth unto the poor (I certainly hope that is how you, monthly supporters of mine, understand my role). What if I was created to be a well amidst a dry, dusty land where there is otherwise no water?
If this is the case- then it seems I really only have two options:
1. I pretend I am not actually a well.
2. I actually be a well.
The first option seems quite silly, huh? On top of silliness, it also seems downright dangerous when you look more closely at Scripture…
To shorten the story- the title deed to Amai Daka’s house was amongst the items stolen, so leaving her in a very vulnerable position. Whoever it was that stole it could have her evicted, or sell the house out from under her- leaving her and her family with no place to go. In order to be protected from this, she must have the title deed reissued, and since Zambian bureaucratic affairs are not known for their speed, it has been a long, drawn-out process.
This process has also been expensive. She has had to pay all sorts of fees- most of which she had not the money to pay. God has given us the opportunity to give her the finances she needed, and she is just one step away from having the title deed in hand. She told us this morning that she will need another KW 180,000 (about $36) in order to complete the final paperwork.
I sat and talked with Eric about what to do- should we give her the rest of the money, or should we not? We talked through the potential of becoming a sort of “well” for Amai Daka- a place to go when she needs refilling, and whether or not that was a good idea. What if, in giving her everything she needs whenever she needed it we become a THE place she goes when she is in need? What if she becomes economically dependent upon us? Would that be harmful or helpful to her? And more so, would that become too burdensome for us to bear?
You could argue this all sorts of ways. But, here’s the thing- what if I was made to be a well?
What if I was given financial resources in order that I might be a place people, like Amai Daka, can go when they are in need? What if I was purposed to be a funnel of wealth unto the poor (I certainly hope that is how you, monthly supporters of mine, understand my role). What if I was created to be a well amidst a dry, dusty land where there is otherwise no water?
If this is the case- then it seems I really only have two options:
1. I pretend I am not actually a well.
2. I actually be a well.
The first option seems quite silly, huh? On top of silliness, it also seems downright dangerous when you look more closely at Scripture…
“…with the measure you use, it will be measured unto you.” Matthew 7:2In this verse and following through His Sermon on the Mount, Jesus talks about how important it is that we treat others the way we would like to be treated. In particular- that we give the way we would hope to be given to. Further, He explains that we will be judged according to how we give, or “measure.” If I am to be a well, and do not give/measure out water to those in need, I imagine this verse implies undesirable consequences. Or as Psalm 109:16-17 would say…
“For he did not remember to show kindness…he did not delight in blessing; may it be far from him.”I’m sure I am not only speaking for myself when I say that I desire blessing to be close to me, not far away. O, Lord, do not let me forget that I am a well. Give me the grace to choose the second option- to actually be the well you have purposed me to be, giving and measuring out whatever it is needed, whenever it is needed. Let me look to you as the true Well- the One who springs forth ‘living water’ (John 4:13-14, 7:37-38, Revelation 21:6) for those of us in need. May my roots go down deep into the spring of the water of life- that as I live in complete dependence upon the Source, I could be a well that many others, especially Amai Daka, could depend upon in turn.
New Look!
Don't worry, it's still me! My eyes got tired of the white on black, so I thought it time for the ol' switch-a-roo-to-blue. Enjoy!
June 14, 2010
Nyanja Nugget
I finally found a Bible written in Nyanja! OK, so it's actually in Chichewa, which is very similar to Nyanja and used in Malawi and the Eastern Province of Zambia- but it's basically the same thing. And since there is no written form of Nyanja (it is a spoken language only), it will do for now.
So today, I present to you a 'Nyanja Nugget,' (first of many to come) one of my favorite passages, and the very motto of Special Hope-
So today, I present to you a 'Nyanja Nugget,' (first of many to come) one of my favorite passages, and the very motto of Special Hope-
"Tsegula pakamwa pako, ukanenere wosalankhula,
ndi mlandu wa amasiye onse.
Tsegula pakamwa pako; nuweruze molungama,
nunenere osauka ndi aumphawi."
Miyambo 31:8-9
"Open your mouth, for those who cannot speak,
for the rights of all the unfortunate.
Open your mouth; judge righteously,
and defend the rights of the afflicted and the needy."
Proverbs 31:8-9
June 12, 2010
Hearts Like Nancy's
Every week, I write an email to my best friends from college (that makes me feel really old...). Every day of the week, an Ohana girl sends out an email update of what has been going on so that we can be praying for each other, and so that we can feel closer together than we physically are. This week, I wrote about a specific story from the busy week we have had, and I felt compelled to share a part of it with you all...
Nancy (our language tutor) came over to our house for our lesson yesterday, and as Holly and I were driving her home, we told her we would like to buy her a gift. And since she cares for so many, and is constantly giving of herself to her family, we asked if there would be something special we could buy as a specific treat for her. Could we bake her a yummy treat, could we take her out for a special 'girls' night dinner, could we buy her a special lotion or hair product that she wouldn't normally buy for herself?
Nancy didn't actually understand the idea of a "treat." We had to go on and on explaining what we meant, and in the end I honestly could not have anticipated a more humbling response. Nancy replied, "If you could just buy us a bag of nshima (cornmeal that is used as the basis of every Zambian meal), and some vegetables (used to make various kinds of 'relish' to go on top on the nshima)- that would be a very special treat for me. Then, it would be something that can bless my whole family, and not just me."
After we dropped her off, Holly and I sat in the car, just looking at each other with such conviction. Especially because we had planned to go on a date to the movies that night- our own idea of a "special treat" after the busy work week we had serving others. As we sat down in our comfty movie seats, we counted up the amount of money we had spent on our tickets, popcorn, and drinks- about ZK 80,000, or $15. Ironically (or not so), this is about the same amount we would spent to fill Nancy's request for nshima and vegetables.
Everyday, I am confronted with even more suffering, poverty, and need than the day before. Everyday, I walk into a 'house' even smaller, squalid, and sparse than the one I visited yesterday. And everyday, I spend time with the people who are living in the midst of it all- praising God each moment of their day.
Because of these experiences, I simply cannot live the same way I have previously lived, although it is indeed possible to do here in Zambia. I cannot "treat myself" to a movie when I know the money spent doing so could feed a family of 11 for 2 weeks. I know from last night that it just sorta ruins it.
I want to be clear- I am not suggesting that we as American consumers need to cut back. To do so would not actually love the poor- to just 'cut back' would be a means of justifying our wealth so that we feel less guilty about having it. What I am hoping and praying is that we actually fall in love with the Nancys of the world (there are billions of them)- so much so that we actually must completely change the way we live in order to make absolutely sure that their needs are met.
The way I see it, we cannot selflessly love the Nancys of the world until our hearts actually become more like hers.
Nancy (our language tutor) came over to our house for our lesson yesterday, and as Holly and I were driving her home, we told her we would like to buy her a gift. And since she cares for so many, and is constantly giving of herself to her family, we asked if there would be something special we could buy as a specific treat for her. Could we bake her a yummy treat, could we take her out for a special 'girls' night dinner, could we buy her a special lotion or hair product that she wouldn't normally buy for herself?
Nancy didn't actually understand the idea of a "treat." We had to go on and on explaining what we meant, and in the end I honestly could not have anticipated a more humbling response. Nancy replied, "If you could just buy us a bag of nshima (cornmeal that is used as the basis of every Zambian meal), and some vegetables (used to make various kinds of 'relish' to go on top on the nshima)- that would be a very special treat for me. Then, it would be something that can bless my whole family, and not just me."
After we dropped her off, Holly and I sat in the car, just looking at each other with such conviction. Especially because we had planned to go on a date to the movies that night- our own idea of a "special treat" after the busy work week we had serving others. As we sat down in our comfty movie seats, we counted up the amount of money we had spent on our tickets, popcorn, and drinks- about ZK 80,000, or $15. Ironically (or not so), this is about the same amount we would spent to fill Nancy's request for nshima and vegetables.
Everyday, I am confronted with even more suffering, poverty, and need than the day before. Everyday, I walk into a 'house' even smaller, squalid, and sparse than the one I visited yesterday. And everyday, I spend time with the people who are living in the midst of it all- praising God each moment of their day.
Because of these experiences, I simply cannot live the same way I have previously lived, although it is indeed possible to do here in Zambia. I cannot "treat myself" to a movie when I know the money spent doing so could feed a family of 11 for 2 weeks. I know from last night that it just sorta ruins it.
I want to be clear- I am not suggesting that we as American consumers need to cut back. To do so would not actually love the poor- to just 'cut back' would be a means of justifying our wealth so that we feel less guilty about having it. What I am hoping and praying is that we actually fall in love with the Nancys of the world (there are billions of them)- so much so that we actually must completely change the way we live in order to make absolutely sure that their needs are met.
The way I see it, we cannot selflessly love the Nancys of the world until our hearts actually become more like hers.
June 9, 2010
Njala vs. Njala
As of this morning, I would have said I was making some progress in learning Nyanja. This evening, however, I can say no such thing. We had some Zambian friends over for lunch today, and took the opportunity to learn some new vocabulary. We asked them to give us the words for different body parts- as we are often asking children we work with to 'clap their hands' or 'jump on one foot.'
Things were going well- I had a nice list going, and was pleasantly daydreaming of the moment when I would turn this list into my latest set of flashcards (oh, you know I love them). And then, they gave us the word for fingernails (why, I have no idea- I guess we were just on a roll). As they spelled it out, and I wrote it down N-J-A-L-A , I looked up puzzledly and said, "Isn't that the word for hungry?"
"No, no. The word for hungry is njala."
"Right. Aren't those the same words?"
"No, no. The word for hungry is njala. The word for fingernails is njala."
(Insert blank stares of confusion from Eric, Holly, and I.)
"It's all about the intonation. You say n-JA-la to mean hungry. You say N-ja-LA to mean fingernails."
I promise you, there was no difference to my unfortunately English ears. But there was very clearly a world of difference in Nyanja. Imagine being at a restaurant, showing off your skills and telling the waiter "Njala," thinking you were explaining to them how hungry you were, only to be brought a plate full of some Zambian delicacy of sauteed fingernails? I guess I'm gonna have to be more specific on my flashcards...
Things were going well- I had a nice list going, and was pleasantly daydreaming of the moment when I would turn this list into my latest set of flashcards (oh, you know I love them). And then, they gave us the word for fingernails (why, I have no idea- I guess we were just on a roll). As they spelled it out, and I wrote it down N-J-A-L-A , I looked up puzzledly and said, "Isn't that the word for hungry?"
"No, no. The word for hungry is njala."
"Right. Aren't those the same words?"
"No, no. The word for hungry is njala. The word for fingernails is njala."
(Insert blank stares of confusion from Eric, Holly, and I.)
"It's all about the intonation. You say n-JA-la to mean hungry. You say N-ja-LA to mean fingernails."
I promise you, there was no difference to my unfortunately English ears. But there was very clearly a world of difference in Nyanja. Imagine being at a restaurant, showing off your skills and telling the waiter "Njala," thinking you were explaining to them how hungry you were, only to be brought a plate full of some Zambian delicacy of sauteed fingernails? I guess I'm gonna have to be more specific on my flashcards...
June 6, 2010
All Across the Earth
During American worship services, I've heard lots of pastors, worship leaders, prayer leaders, etc make note of the fact that as their church comes together on Sunday mornings, so too are churches meeting all over the world. They would talk about the "global church," and how God is drawing people to Himself from every tribe, tongue, and nation- that there are Christians in every corner of the earth praising God at that very moment (adjusting according to time zone, of course). Sitting in those American pews (or folding chairs, woot woot Evergreen readers), I would respond to such an idea without thinking about what that really meant. I never really pictured actual people coming together to worship Jesus in their own neighborhoods, and how very different it could be from the church where I was sitting in that pew/chair.
This morning, as I went to church, it felt like I stepped right into the thick of that very idea. We heard about Chisoma Baptist Church from a friend, and thought it would be a good place to visit this morning. After getting lost on the way there (this happens often, as most streets are not marked), we arrived at Matero Boys Basic School, where this church was supposed to meet. Little did we know that there were actually at least a dozen churches that met in this particular school; each one claiming it's own dingy little classroom as it's sanctuary. We asked someone which room was the Baptist church, and he led us down an outdoor corridor to the very one. Along the way, we passed each church; pausing to listen to their songs and trying to absorb the meaning of the prayers being prayed in their local language. Each one was so different, and so unique in their style of praise.
Chisoma Baptist was made up of about 40 people, including lots of kids (another woot to Evergreen), and was led by a wonderful pastor who preached an excellent sermon on Paul's conversion from Acts 9. He spoke in English and Nyanja; going back and forth, back and forth throughout his sermon (quite impressive, really). We sang worship songs in the local language as well, and though we could understand only a few words, it was clear that this church loved the Lord and sought to praise Him with their songs.
While I cannot vouch for each of these little churches, nor their individual theologies, I can say that this little school was resounding with the name of Jesus this morning. Maybe next time your pastor mentions churches around the world, this school will come into your mind- I pray that if it does, you will be reminded that God is indeed who He says He is- the King of all Kings, and the Lord of all Lords. As such, let everything and everyone that has breath all across this earth praise His holy name.
This morning, as I went to church, it felt like I stepped right into the thick of that very idea. We heard about Chisoma Baptist Church from a friend, and thought it would be a good place to visit this morning. After getting lost on the way there (this happens often, as most streets are not marked), we arrived at Matero Boys Basic School, where this church was supposed to meet. Little did we know that there were actually at least a dozen churches that met in this particular school; each one claiming it's own dingy little classroom as it's sanctuary. We asked someone which room was the Baptist church, and he led us down an outdoor corridor to the very one. Along the way, we passed each church; pausing to listen to their songs and trying to absorb the meaning of the prayers being prayed in their local language. Each one was so different, and so unique in their style of praise.
Chisoma Baptist was made up of about 40 people, including lots of kids (another woot to Evergreen), and was led by a wonderful pastor who preached an excellent sermon on Paul's conversion from Acts 9. He spoke in English and Nyanja; going back and forth, back and forth throughout his sermon (quite impressive, really). We sang worship songs in the local language as well, and though we could understand only a few words, it was clear that this church loved the Lord and sought to praise Him with their songs.
While I cannot vouch for each of these little churches, nor their individual theologies, I can say that this little school was resounding with the name of Jesus this morning. Maybe next time your pastor mentions churches around the world, this school will come into your mind- I pray that if it does, you will be reminded that God is indeed who He says He is- the King of all Kings, and the Lord of all Lords. As such, let everything and everyone that has breath all across this earth praise His holy name.
June 1, 2010
Delighting in the Despised
Until we get our work visas approved (right now we are in Zambia on temporary permits, awaiting the final approval of our permanent status), there are lots of things we cannot do. We can't meet with the officials we need to see. We can't go to the Ministry of Education or Health to brainstorm with them. We can't even network with similar NGO's- not until we have papers legitimizing our being here and demonstrating our commitment to remaining so.
So until then- it seems I have been purposed by the Lord for a specific task; one that must always be primary in the work I do with these children. As we meet children with intellectual disabilities, the main thing I must do and accomplish is quite simple- delight in them.
I don't yet have a good grasp on a lot of the skills (therapeutic, educational, etc) needed to care for these particular children- though I hope and pray it will come from the training I am now receiving from Holly and Eric. What I do have, however, is a heart that absolutely and completely adores them.
For most parents, it seems, that is actually the most valuable thing I have to offer them. Sure, therapy is certainly needed, as are individualized education plans and much more. But what most of these parents really need is for someone to look at their child, the one who is despised by most of the world, and love them. They need someone to look upon their child and smile, praising them for whatever abilities they do have, and not scowl because of the ones they lack. They need to know that they are not the only ones who think their child is wonderfully made, even he or she might be crafted somewhat differently.
For whatever reason, God has chosen to give me a glimpse of His heart and His purpose for these kids, and I feel a more and more privileged recipient with every child I get to meet. This morning, Sam reminded me of a particular verse that says it well-
I mean seriously, have you ever seen such cuteness in the face of a girl? I'm not sure how someone could actually look into that face and claim her to be some sort of "mistake" or glitch in the system- she is not something to be despised or abhorred, but is a little girl who was the absolute delight of my day.
So until then- it seems I have been purposed by the Lord for a specific task; one that must always be primary in the work I do with these children. As we meet children with intellectual disabilities, the main thing I must do and accomplish is quite simple- delight in them.
I don't yet have a good grasp on a lot of the skills (therapeutic, educational, etc) needed to care for these particular children- though I hope and pray it will come from the training I am now receiving from Holly and Eric. What I do have, however, is a heart that absolutely and completely adores them.
For most parents, it seems, that is actually the most valuable thing I have to offer them. Sure, therapy is certainly needed, as are individualized education plans and much more. But what most of these parents really need is for someone to look at their child, the one who is despised by most of the world, and love them. They need someone to look upon their child and smile, praising them for whatever abilities they do have, and not scowl because of the ones they lack. They need to know that they are not the only ones who think their child is wonderfully made, even he or she might be crafted somewhat differently.
For whatever reason, God has chosen to give me a glimpse of His heart and His purpose for these kids, and I feel a more and more privileged recipient with every child I get to meet. This morning, Sam reminded me of a particular verse that says it well-
"For he has not despised or abhorredUnlike most people, God does not look upon the weak and needy ones of the world with disdain. He does not reject them. He is not irritated by them. He does not ignore them. Instead, God actually seems to prefer them. When it comes to children with disabilities, it seems most people don't think this way. Seems strange, especially when you meet little girls like this one...
the affliction of the afflicted,
and he has not hidden his face from him,
but has heard, when he cried to him. "
Psalm 22:24
I mean seriously, have you ever seen such cuteness in the face of a girl? I'm not sure how someone could actually look into that face and claim her to be some sort of "mistake" or glitch in the system- she is not something to be despised or abhorred, but is a little girl who was the absolute delight of my day.
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